#geralt is a badass pirate captain

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

under pressure

(hey guys, welcome to another installment of the swashbuckler au. Geralt’s gonna get very very Protective in this 'chapter'.

warnings for this chapter include: a very brief mention of blood, being threatened with a knife, and mild peril)

Why? Jaskier wondered. His back was pressed tightly against the rough brick of an unfamiliar alley wall and the man who had demanded his nonexistent coin-purse was pressing the tip of a very sharp dagger just below his navel. Why am I always the one getting into these kinds of situations? 

“I told you, good sir, that I have no money on my person.”

“Everyone around here keeps gold ‘im. What kind of idiot goes around a port town full of pirates without some kind of insurance against coming to harm?”

“Are you saying that because I have no money you are going to do me harm?”

“Somethin’ like that,” the man leered. The dagger pushed in again and Jaskier knew that it had ripped through the fabric of his shirt when the tip suddenly bumped against the skin of his stomach. “Since you don’t have any money you’ll just have to come back and explain this misunderstanding to my captain yourself.”

“Excuse m-”

The man yanked Geralt’s lucky red bandanna down and tugged it backwards, sliding it between his teeth and effectively gagging the ex-nobleman. He spun Jaskier around and shoved his chest up tightly to the brick. The brigand roughly yanked his hands behind his back and tied them with a length of rope that appeared from seemingly nowhere. The newly minted pirate struggled violently, kicking out his legs and wiggling his torso in an effort to dislodge or disrupt his attacker. Maybe his struggling would get someone’s attention (although it was highly unlikely in a town such as this). Unfortunately the mugger was practiced and nothing Jaskier tried seemed to bother or slow him down at all. 

Starkey and Lambert were only a few feet away! He could hear the rise and fall of their voices as they bartered for supplies with the hardtack merchant around the corner. The anxious brunette whined, trying to make the sound high enough to reach his friends and crewmates. If only he could get the kerchief out of his mouth for a split second, then he could whistle or shout…

He felt the surface of the wall scratching his skin through the hole in his shirt and he frowned. That would leave an unpleasant mark for the next few days and make wearing his sword-belt an absolute nightmare. If he was still part of the Kaer Morhen’s crew by nightfall, that was. If this man didn’t succeed in his current mission of pressing Jaskier into service aboard some other pirate vessel. Jaskier’s blue eyes widened even further as a real sense of panic set in. They might not be able to find me in time. We might head out to sea before Geralt even knows I’m missing if they don’t turn around and noti-

“Hey, where’s Jaskier?” he heard Starkey ask. Oh, thank gods. 

“Shit.”

“We’d better find him quickly because I can see Geralt from here,” Starkey added. “I don’t want to be the one to tell him that we lost his precious little siren while we were busy bickering with a shopkeeper.”

“Fucking hells,” Lambert groaned. C’mon, Jaskier pleaded silently. Just around the corner, lads. Please, Starkey. You guys know I’m too annoying to stay quiet for this long. 

The man with the dagger had already started yanking him backwards down the alley towards a questionable-looking wagon. Jaskier’s attacker kept one hand fisted into the back of the kerchief and used it to maneuver his head around, much like one would control the reins of a horse. The ex-noble made a loud, wordless noise from behind the cloth. Muffled as he was, he was praying that any one of his crewmates heard it and felt the need to investigate. 

Another stranger in dark clothing appeared around the corner and helped the first man lift Jaskier onto the back of the wagon. The newcomer reached for Jaskier’s wildly flailing legs and pulled them together. He tied the brunette’s ankles with another piece of strong hemp rope and tested the knots with his fingers for any slack or give. There was none. The young man screamed and grunted, trying with every ounce of strength he possessed to free himself from their twin grips. It was a fruitless endeavor; they were strong and clearly practiced in the art of stealing other people’s crewmembers.

“Jaskier! Oh, fuck! Hey you there, let go of him!” Lambert was running down the alley towards them, hand on the hilt of his cutlass. The man keeping the gag cinched tight pulled his dagger out again, holding it up against the column of Jaskier’s throat. The second kidnapper released Jaskier’s tied ankles and made his way towards the front of the wagon. Lambert slid to a stop, eyes narrowed threateningly. “Captain! Starkey! I found ‘im. He’s in danger!”

Had Jaskier not been scared witless by the threat of having his life ended rather abruptly via blood-loss, he probably would have smirked. These men, regardless of who their scurvy-ridden captain was, were about to get their asses handed to them by one of the most wanted pirates to ever sail the seven seas. Certainly one of the most renowned and fearsome.

The blade of the knife pressed even more tightly against the skin of his Adam's apple and Jaskier flinched. Maybe, if I even live long enough to see Geralt kick their asses. At least my death will be avenged quickly, otherwise. 

As if summoned by his lover’s thoughts the handsome, white-haired Captain appeared at the opposite end of the alley. Jaskier thought he might cry from the mere sight of him. He definitely wanted to let out a relieved sob when Geralt growled out, “It’ll go easier for both of you if you just put the dagger down and release the boy now.”

The ex-noble felt his captor’s muscles twitching nervously as he released a humorless chuckle. Don’t slip up now, Jaskier prayed. Not while you’ve got a knife against my neck.

 “Why should we do that?” his captor questioned. The man tugged at the already taut bandanna and Jaskier whined in pain when the damp material bit into the skin of his cheeks. The fury written across Geralt’s features was absolutely terrifying; he looked like an avenging angel, his strong stature defined by the light of the square behind him and his silvery hair wild around his face. 

Jaskier didn’t want to die, not in the slightest, but this wouldn’t be the worst last sight to see, all things considered. The man tugged the material again and Jaskier’s eyes widened when his neck scraped against the edge of the dagger’s sharp blade. “He’d fetch a fair price from our captain. He’d probably fetch a very hefty bit of gold if we took him down the coast a-ways, actually. Your threats aren’t going to lose me a nice bag of coin.”

Geralt took one slow, measured step forward and drew his cutlass with an effortless extension of his arm. “I’ll give you one last chance to let him go peacefully before I start slitting throats,” he snarled. The scowl on his face would make any ordinary person soil their knickers on sight, but the man holding Jaskier had probably seen something like this before. He was experienced. He teasingly nicked the young man’s tanned skin with the dagger and Jaskier hissed. The sound had Geralt’s eyes going wide with rage. His nostrils flared and his hand twitched. The kidnapper smirked confidently as a thin line of blood beaded on the brunette's skin, “Oops.”

There was a blur of movement from Geralt’s end of the alley, a whooshing sound, and then a wet thud. The man keeping Jaskier captive fell back, dropping his dagger to the ground below as he did. Jaskier wriggled forward in an attempt to reach Geralt and ended up toppling heavily off the back of the wagon and onto the cobblestone street. Lambert dashed to his side and pulled the kerchief out from between his teeth. The younger man was panting, blue eyes wild and confused. “Did Geralt just hit that guy with a knife!?”

“Yeah.”

The ex-noble gave a short, hysterical laugh. His eyes took on a glazed, unfocused quality and Lambert looked to Geralt for help. “Neat,” he muttered.

Jaskier wasn’t sure if it was the shock of having his life legitimately threatened, the smell of his own blood invading his nose, or the impact from hitting the stone walkway, but just as Geralt knelt down at his side, he passed out.

----------

When his eyelids finally fluttered open again, Jaskier had to squint. The late-afternoon sun slanted in through the porthole of Geralt’s cabin, surrounding the grim-faced Captain with a halo of golden light. “My hero,” Jaskier sighed. He was a lucky man to have a lover so attentive, protective, and also incredibly sexy. 

“Jaskier!” the pirate pulled him into a sitting position and wrapped him in a hug, crushing the slightly smaller man against his broad chest. “I was so worried that he’d gotten your vein or hurt you some other way that we couldn’t see. Are you alright, little nymph?”

“I’m alright,” he blushed. Geralt’s nose was buried stubbornly in his hair, breathing in repeatedly as if he’d been afraid he’d never see Jaskier awake again. “Really, darling, I’m just a little shaken. That’s all. I thought we were running errands today. I wasn’t expecting to be taken captive and threatened with a life of piracy.”

“You’re - Jask, you’re living a life of piracy.”

“It was a joke,” the ex-noble teased. Geralt relaxed his grip slightly and leaned back. His amber eyes searched Jaskier’s blue ones for any sign of dishonesty or hidden pain and found none. His siren was telling the truth. The Captain took a seat on the edge of his small bed and dragged his lover onto his lap. Jaskier noticed with a sly smile that he was draped in one of the White Wolf’s overly-large burgundy shirts. One he didn’t wear very often but that Jaskier found him endlessly attractive in nonetheless. “Geralt, did you change my shirt for me?”

“Your other one was ripped. It had blood on it. We also had to bandage your wounds.”

“Oh. Thank you for letting me borrow it,” Jaskier flapped his arms a little, letting the sleeves roll down over his hands. “I love roomy shirts to sleep in.”

“You can just ask to borrow them,” the Captain relented. “You don’t always need a scheme to get what you want, little nymph.”

“Hmm,” Jaskier sighed, cuddling close again. “I absolutely did not think up the idea of coming to bodily harm in order to borrow your shirts, as likely as that sounds. Thank you for rescuing me, Geralt.”

“I am not an easy man to scare,” the pirate intoned seriously. His grip on Jaskier tightened and his voice grew scratchy with emotion as he continued. “But seeing you like that today had me more frightened than I’ve ever been before in my life. I’ve faced down bigger ships with better guns and more men than mine. I was briefly incarcerated by the mayor of Novigrad and sentenced to hang. I’ve seen my fair share of scary things, my sweet siren, but I would never be able to live with myself if you came to harm. That’s the most terrifying thought of all.”

“Geralt,” the young man gasped. He wrapped his arms around his Captain’s shoulders and moved to straddle the larger man’s wide lap. He pressed a brief but bracing kiss to the White Wolf’s saltwater-chapped lips. “The thought of never seeing you again is the worst thought in the world. Let us never be parted.”

“Hmm.”  Geralt’s left hand moved to grip Jaskier’s corresponding hip while his right arm went around the back of his nymph’s slender shoulders. He gently pulled their chests together and nibbled his way up the uninjured side of his little nymph’s neck, reveling in every soft, yielding noise the brunette made. He pressed a rough, wet kiss to the soft skin behind Jaskier’s ear and growled possessively, “Never.”

(of course 1/2 of all my swashbuckling au credit goes to @limrx)

[bengalaas]

For the ask game : 11, 12, 23, 26, 37? :)

Thanks for asking ^^ Some of the questions seem to work only for canon ships, but luckily I have some of those too :P

11. Talk about your favorite first kiss.

Ohh, hands down, Captain Swan! And I'd like to count this as their first real kiss, not the Neverland dare, because this is the start of the ship, this is the first crazy, scary taste of what it could be like between them, if they only let themselves trust, if they let it grow. 

There's this heart-breaking tenderness and this sense of gobsmacked wonder: he traded his ship for her? he's finally kissing her? And look at that ringed hand in her hair. Look at the candle, it's so peaceful. And I love that she felt his absence at the party and came to seek him out, the pirate, the wildcard, the idiot. I ship Captain Swan so hard, Lewis, and I'm blessed to have it a canon ship with amazing actors and real chemistry; Captain Swan kisses are good for the soul <3 :D

12. Have you ever been disappointed when your ship finally got together?

Kinda? I wasn't impressed with the Yennefer/Geralt line in Netflix's Witcher, mainly because I wasn't impressed with Netflix's Yennefer. In the book it's set up as this fateful meeting, and it does feel epic, and then in the show the whole timeline is kinda chaotic, with little to no character development for Yen, and just, ugh. The relationship somehow just falls flat.

Aand one more ship comes to mind -- Jim Rainor and Sarah Kerrigan from Starcraft -- because the're both badasses in their own right, but forcing them back together after Kerrigan's mutation, because love? Nope! I was so proud of my girl when she mutated right back and disappeared with the Swarm into the sunset. To save the Universe, no less.

23. Which of your ships deserve better writing?

Kili and Tauriel. Because, frankly, their story has no resolution and serves no purpose in the movie. Here's a nice and concise breakdown. I realise they're both side characters, but still. Fortunately, we have fanfic ^^

26. Have you noticed a pattern in your shipping? Is there a romantic dynamic you’re more drawn to?

Dwarves and elves, lol. I just *bites fist*. I ship Kiliel. Heck, I write a Filiel fic. I ship Merrill/Varric. And Cadash... ok, Blackwall's not an elf, but I've been wanting a Cadash/Abelas fic, or at least friendship fic. And then there's Brosca/Zevran. Coincidence?  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

37. Do you have a favorite trope and/or AU for your OTP?

I adore the little things on a Friends to Lovers path. Small touches, random acts of help, growing comfortable in each other's presence. Personal stuff ending up in wrong pockets, using each other's things like no big deal. Knowing they're welcome in each other's space. Learning and accommodating the other's tastes and habits, anticipating their reactions. That's my current grand love in terms of trops. Bonus points, if they don't even notice the changes lol.

This was fun! <3

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

So, I've personally always been a fan of sick fic type things. What would the crew do if/when Jaskier gets sick while they're at sea? I'm not sure if all the crew are Witchers but that would make for funny shenanigans because being Witchers they probably don't get silly human sicknesses. I imagine at least some of them panic. (I'm no good at prompts but I hope this counts?💜)

Jaskier never got seasick. He’d taken to the rolling decks like a newborn horse takes to walking. Unsteady at first but quick to learn. Whatever was battering his body now was not simple seasickness.

This was different. This was a fever that didn’t seem to break. This was several long nights at his side while his body cramped and convulsed, his eyes rolled so far back into his head that only the whites still showed. He couldn’t eat. He barely slept. They couldn’t even get a spoonful of water to stay in his stomach for more than a few minutes. 

Geralt didn’t know what to do. 

He was afraid to go to sleep, worried that if he let himself nod off Jaskier might die in his absence. He couldn’t bear the thought of his little nymph disappearing from his life forever. He stayed awake, a vigilant guard against Death itself. He’d only just met the man, after all. They’d only had a few joy-filled months together. It wasn’t fair. 

On the fourth night of his illness, Jaskier’s fever finally broke. He fell into a deep and dreamless sleep, his sweat-damp hair clinging messily to his forehead and cheeks. Geralt wiped his siren’s skin clean with a damp cloth and changed him into clean, dry clothes. He held the younger man in his arms while Starkey and Lambert changed the sheets and stuffed the mattress pad with fresh hay. They brought a small tin of rum and a tin mug of water

As he slipped into his own little patch of darkness, Geralt wrapped his arm around Jaskier’s slim waist and hauled his body close. Death could not steal his siren away in wakefulness; he wouldn’t even give Death a chance to get close in sleep. 

“Sleep well, little nymph,” the pirate Captain whispered into his darling’s matted hair. “And when you wake I will be here with you. Every morning until you’ll have me no more.”