I love your writing!! I love reading all of them, my favourite pieces are the ones with the wolf pack and Jaskier! Small request for the three brothers rough housing and having fun with each other and Vesemir with Jaskier are walking into the room and the brothers all scatter because when younger Vesemir use to get onto the boys and they are use to the ‘last person there has to deal with Vesemir’ and Jaskier is rolling on the ground at the sight of three buff Witcher’s scattering like kids
The façade of emotionless, stoic Witchers fell away piece by piece in Kaer Morhen and Jaskier was delighted to bear witness to it. He never could have believed Geralt was capable of not only smiling but also whining like a spoilt brat. But seeing the younger Witchers’ antics, it fill Jaskier with a bitter kind of joy. They probably never got the chance to be carefree, foolish boys, at least now they got the chance to make up for it. In all his observations and indulgent peeking, Jaskier found an unlikely accomplice; Vesemir. He had been a wonderful reassurance and guide in understanding the others.
“Just wait. It’s when they sleep more comfortably that things will start to pick up.”
Never had truer words been spoken. Jaskier was all too used to Geralt not sleeping but rather spending the night kneeling in a meditative state. The few times he slept, it was with his back pressed against a wall and curled into a tight, protective ball. It seemed to be something that all Witchers took to doing, having met a few along the Path, Jaskier had seen them all resting and it was always the same. Just watching them made him exhausted most of the time, what they did, Jaskier wouldn't call rest. That all changed in Kaer Morhen.
Contrary to popular belief, it wasn't an early morning rise for Witchers during winter. It was a time for rest, to take what comforts they could in a world that so cruelly discarded them like used toys. So, more often than not, Jaskier was the first to wake and get breakfast going. He liked to wander through halls and check in on all the Witchers, making sure they were sleeping soundly. Some mornings, Vesemir joined him, though usually he would go out to the coop to let the chickens out for the day and then milk a goat if they were planning on a treat like a hot chocolate.
The two of them took to waking the others up together if breakfast was something that was better while it was still fresh and warm. So Jaskier got to see as, ever so slowly, the others relaxed into their home. Perhaps the most noticeable one was Lambert. Over the course of the week he unfurled from a tight ball until he was sprawled on his back, limbs splayed in every direction, even his fingers were spread wide. The first time they saw him like that, Vesemir smiled.
"Even as a pup he tried to take up as much space as possible. Whether it was to see bigger or because he felt he didn't get much in his waking moments to claimed them in his sleeping ones, we'll never know."
Eskel was a little more subtle. His bed filled up with throws, pillows and anything soft, including clothes from anyone in the keep. If Jaskier stared hard enough, he was quite certain he could see the frills of his missing, softest chemise.
"You'll probably just want to send Lambert in most mornings. If we'd let him, Eskel would hibernate the day away."
Really, Jaskier couldn't blame him. Eskel was nothing more than a mop of dark hair under all the bedding. He wasn't even a lump, just straight up disappeared and melded into his bed. How he could breathe under all the weight was a wonder but he seemed happy enough.
Perhaps the least obvious but most difficult to deal with was Geralt. He was a cuddler and aggressively so. There was nothing Jaskier could do to get out of his vice-like grip in the morning. He couldn't even be mad at Vesemir when he stuck his head in and promptly chuckled.
"Guess you've replaced the pillows," he said. "If you want to get up, grab one of the big pillows and he'll hold onto that. Eventually."
Sure enough, Geralt snuggled into the pillow after a little while and Jaskier could make his escape. Thankfully, the others tended to be able to get themselves up at some point. There was no official training, no chore schedule. They were all adults, they all chipped in where needed and, somehow, everything was taken care of.
This freedom also led to some more unruly times. Namely, they seemed to love roughhousing. As Jaskier had observed before, they were like over excitable puppies who never got a chance to be young and silly. They were more than abundantly making up for it now. When they weren't sleeping, they were causing mischief somewhere. Inevitably two of them would partner up against the third, usually with very loud consequences.
Even better was their reaction when caught mid-shenanigans. Jaskier was pulled into Vesemir's secret and was permitted to join the fun.
"I just love how they scramble to pretend it wasn't them," Vesemir had admitted one morning. "They're idiots but they're my endearing idiots."
Right on cue there was an almighty crash from the library, followed by a yowl and raucous laughter. Immediately, Vesemir started towards the noise with loud, measured steps.
"Listen," he urged Jaskier.
There were definite sounds of a scuffle, grunts and yelps. It was only as Vesemir turned the door handle that a cry went up.
"Shit! Vesemir! Run!"
As the door opened, Jaskier gotto see three grown Witchers falling over each other in an attempt to...who even knew what. Maybe they were aiming to sit on the couches and look presentable, maybe they were trying to flee. Eskel had somehow managed to hop up onto an armchair and was in the process of pulling himself silently into the rafters.
"Just what is going on here then?" Vesemir asked. A smile was wisely hidden under his moustache.
"Nothing!" It was a chorus of fake innocence. When Vesemir fixed Eskel with a stare, he got a few pullups out of it.
"Just exercising."
"In the library." It wasn't even a question, Vesemir's voice was full of disbelief.
"What better place to exercise the body and the mind?" Lambert piped up, edging towards the door.
In front of Geralt was a coffee table, or rather, what was left of it. He was the unlucky one to be blamed this time.
"It wasn't me!" Geralt protested, hands up to show his innocence. "I found it like this." In the silence, Vesemir stared flatly at him. Looking around desperately, Geralt gulped. "It was Jaskier!"
Nobody moved for a moment at such a brazen lie. Jaskier was behind Vesemir, there was no way it could have possibly been him. However, Jaskier was the one to recover from the shock first. "Indeed, it was me. My apologies. I took a tumble while...dusting, yes, dusting. I was dusting the-" there was nothing in the vicinity of the table, "-carpet."
Jaskier stared Vesemir in the eye, everyone aware of how bad the lie was. In the end, Vesemir nodded.
"Very well. And because I raised three very polite and kind pups, they will help you tidy away the broken table. And they'll take over the dusting from you. Can't have you falling and breaking something again. What if it's your neck next time?"
Punishment handed out, Vesemir cast his three wayward idiots a final glare.
"Well, hop to it. Breakfast can wait until you're done."
Ah! I’ve posted the first chapter of part III of the Witcher Soldier saga. This time our boys will be facing the (sort of) plot of Infinity War. Without, you know, the problems of End Game.
Here’s a teaser:
“Are you sure?” he had to ask.
“Are you frightened, dear heart?” Jaskier teased with another heart stopping grin, “I promise I’ll go easy on you.”
Geralt gave a mock growl for his impudence and swatted at him. The bard dodged it easily and walked over to the row of weapons, looking them over with a calculating expression. Hesitating still, the Witcher stood beside him, unable to decide whether to trust Jaskier’s autonomy or his own knowledge of his own mind.
Jaskier seemed to sense why Geralt was so quiet because he let himself brush against Geralt’s side in a comforting sweep of warmth. “You can’t protect me forever,” he whispered.
Soooo, does anyone have Jaskier x other witcher fic recs for me? Because I’m really getting into both insanely jealous Geralt realizing how much he fucked up when he pushed Jaskier away when he learns Jaskier is with another witcher (whether that’s a good loving relationship or the witcher being more predatory) and the ones where Jaskier finds love with another witcher (your loss, Geralt!).
I know they are out there but you wonderful writers are so prolific I simply can’t keep up with you here and on AO3 so please, send it all my way so I can go on a bookmark frenzy.
Pssst @eriakit, your tags are quite lovely and rather inspiring. Also, I love seeing people digging through this blog, you’ve made my day by leaving so many notifications of likes and reblogs behind.
Somehow, Kaer Morhen was full of life. Against all odds, despite Witchers not meaning to feel anything, let alone love, the old keep was stuffed to the brim with it. Maybe Geralt and Jaskier’s relationship was the easiest to define which was saying something. But not even Jaskier wanted to hazard a guess as to what on earth was going on between Cahir, Eskel, Lambert and Aiden. What was more important though was that Jaskier got on quite well with them all. Especially Cahir and Aiden who were also so called guests, even if they had been pulled into the family unit of the School of Wolf. This unlikely friendship was only made better by everyone’s dedication to mischief. Somehow, the commentating incident had launched a whole game for them.
“Behold-” Jaskier murmured in the kitchen, “-as the two older pups of the pack fighting over the choice cut of dinner.”
In front of them Geralt and Eskel were bickering, shoving more or less playfully at each other’s shoulders as they both tried to reach for the same piece of meat on the serving tray. Jaskier continued, “But watch as the youngest sneaks in, approaching the platter from the other side and snagging the cut. Being the smallest and the youngest means that he has to be sneaky to get what he wants in the face of the others’ brawn.”
“What is a lesser known fact-” Cahir picked up, “-is that this is a deliberate ruse by the older ones, knowing that the youngest would see their offering of the best as an offense.”
Twin glares were turned at Cahir as Geralt and Eskel stopped. Their glowers morphed into the worst look of innocence when Lambert growled a “really?” in their direction, meat on his plate. He snarled and threw the plate on the table before storming off.
“Thanks, dickhead,” Geralt snapped at Cahir.
Aiden, innocent as ever, picked up Lambert’s discarded plate. “It seems the hierarchy in this pack is more complex than previously assumed.” He piled the plate high, enough for two before sauntering off after Lambert, whistling.
That evening Jaskier stumbled across both Cahir and Eskel in the great hall, sulking on sofas and trying to sleep. It seemed Lambert’s wrath had meant they were both kicked out of the bedroom for the night. Feeling a bit of pity for them, Jaskier returned to his and Geralt’s bedroom, only to drag their bedding into the hall, making it an impromptu cuddle party. Thankfully Eskel was more than willing to join Geralt and, after a few huffs, grunts and shoulder bumps, it seemed that Cahir was forgiven because he was pulled against Eskel’s chest and clamped down in a tight hug.
“The wolf has forgiven his mate,” Jaskier started up with a snicker and a wink at Geralt. “The powerful hug is both a signal of affection but also dominance. There is no way anyone could get out of such a hold. So much power and strength channelled into holding someone just tight enough to warn and love at the same time. The Wolves are truly magnificent and gentle creatures. To feel such a hug is high on many observers’ wish list.”
“For fuck’s sake Geralt, just hug your bard and shut him up,” Eskel growled.
Of course they weren’t left alone, Vesemir liked to stroll through the halls and corridors at night, making sure everything is safe. He took one look at the pile in front of the fire and turned on his heel. Not three minutes later Lambert and Aiden appeared with their throws and blankets.
“Ah,” Jaskier sighed. “The offended pup and his mate arrive upon hearing about the cuddle party. Thankfully there is plenty of room for them to -oof.”
He was cut off by Aiden ‘accidentally’ lying on top of him as he tried to wriggle in behind Eskel. The fact Geralt didn’t snap at him suggested that maybe Jaskier’s commentary was more than enough for the night. They all settled in, a tangle of limbs, furs and throws. As they approached the edge of sleep, a new voice gently narrated the scene.
“As we can see here, the pack has curled up for the night into a protective ball. They’ll let their leader guard them for the night, trusting him to keep them safe. It is a touching sight to behold though the smell of sweaty pups is one that only a proud father could tolerate.”
Smiling to himself, Vesemir watched his pups slumber, happy to have so much love within the walls of Kaer Morhen.
I've been doing nothing but read your fics for three days straight and I am in LOVE with your wolf pack fics. I love me some happy witchers and their bard.
I’m always so humbled when people read my stuff :) Thank you for coming along on this odd ride of who the heck knows what’s going to come next. But I am right there with you on happy witchers and their bard. So have some more :D
To say Jaskier was pissed off was an understatement. Nobody sent him packing with such cruel words. He would prove to Geralt that he was better than that. In fact, he would prove to the whole world! Revenge was a dish best served with a delicious side of “I told you so” and what was the point Jaskier had been trying to prove over the last 22 decades? It was that witchers weren’t the terrible, heartless creatures that the world liked to demonise them into. Well, maybe Geralt was but the others didn’t have to suffer because of his buffoonery. That left Jaskier with only one choice. He returned home to lick his wounds and prove his very own point.
It started, like many things, as an uphill struggle. Gone was Jaskier the bard and his place was taken by Julian Alfred Pankratz Viscount de Lettenhove. His parents had wanted him to take a more active role in ruling the lands and that was exactly what he was going to do. But on his own terms. The decree went out that no witcher was to be turned away. Payment was to be prompt and fair and, of course, it would be subsidised by the Pakratz treasury. If word got out that a witcher was shunned or shortchanged, that particular village or town would be paid a personal visit and not a good one either.
Word started trickling back. Witchers were suspicious at first. Some outright refused the offer of a decent bed and a meal, opting to kill the creature in the area and flee with a bigger than expected pouch of coin. However, it seemed that a few more intrepid witchers sniffed out the area and deemed it ripe for the plucking. One corner of the Lettenhove lands even seemed to get a resident witcher. At first, the locals were wary but, it turned out, they could only see a witcher a handful of times doing very human things like fumbling a pouch or staggering back injured before they bonded. And suddenly, a cat witcher found himself a home. Not only that, allegedly he had a friend in the shadows, elusive and rarely seen. A rare sighting or two could confirm he was grumpy, suspicious and more likely to pick a fight than accept any kindness. Jaskier would put money on the fact that it was a wolf.
The fortune of one cat meant another was bound to turn up to try and get in on the good fortune. It was just as well Lettenhove was big enough and this cat took the southernmost corner which also happened to be the warmest. Surely nothing to do with the viper witcher that scouted the area before settling in too. So now Lettenhove had three, possibly four witchers who didn’t seem inclined to move on to other contracts. In fact, the settlements nearest to them seemed to be doing a great job of finding contracts for them - not all monsters but a witcher’s might was definitely needed in the fields when the ox were being stubborn and rumour had it, the wolf was quite impressive if let loose in a forge.
A messenger came pleading for help on a sunny afternoon. The wolf witcher had dragged another one into the village but seemed aggressive to any who came near and tried to help. Even the cat was no use, seemingly preoccupied with tracking down a human companion of the injured wolf. Without hesitation Jaskier jumped onto a horse and rode hard and fast, heart breaking already. Surely Geralt hadn’t found another human companion so quickly. Even worse, he hoped that the companion wasn’t dead, he didn’t want Geralt on his own again.
It was an odd relief to see a mop of dark hair than white. Not that Jaskier ever wanted anyone to be hurting but he still did hold a torch for Geralt despite his cruelty. While he wasn’t allowed near the injured witcher, Jaskier could make an educated guess that they were Lambert and Eskel which earned him a sliver of trust. He was allowed to get things from the local healer and apothecary to help Lambert care for Eskel. Even better, Lambert finally accepted a room at an inn that he could carry Eskel to. If only that had been all the drama. Jaskier didn’t expect the cat to come into the village at a pull gallop, a body slung across the horse’s back. Thankfully the healer got there before Lambert and the human got carted off with worried cat in tow.
Jaskier only left when he was confident everyone was healing and was staying put for the foreseeable future. The little he gleaned of the unusual group had his heart warming up though, glad that even out on the harsh Path, they had each other.
Of course, Jaskier’s act of generosity had consequences. Two more vipers, another cat and allegedly a griffin also took up residence throughout the lands. Which meant that contracts around the continent were being left unfilled. Witchers had plenty of work throughout Lettenhove and were well compensated for it, they had no reason or need to go further afield into harsher conditions. However, it gave Jaskier a business opportunity he just couldn’t resist. Especially when the messengers started trickling in, begging to borrow a witcher. There was no obligation for any of the witchers he considered ‘his’ to step in. But Jaskier made his home the middleman for contracts. He could negotiate pay, accommodation and other sundries for his witchers before they were offered a contract. Funnily enough, cats were the most likely to venture out, needing the change of scenery. While reclusive and prickly, it seemed that Lambert had found himself a new stomping ground he was reluctant to leave. Sometimes Eskel headed out, feeling the need to do good but never again was he chased from a village without pay, food and rest. The one time a viper was run out, Jaskier blacklisted the whole region for contracts until the king himself came to ask for forgiveness. Watching someone regal apologise to a bewildered witcher may have been the inspiration for Jaskier’s next ditty.
A grizzled wolf turned up on Jaskier’s doorstep, assessing and shrewd. He never did leave as Vesemir’s talents were put to good use with negotiations and also information gathering. Overall, Lettenhove was becoming a force to be reckoned with. Crime was at an all time low, the people were happy and witchers were beginning to be treated better throughout the continent. Yet there was no sign of Geralt. Slowly, Jaskier stopped hoping.
“He’s a stubborn ass. Should have started a new school just for him,” Vesemir grumbled one evening. “School of the Mule.”
It had Jaskier snorting a halfhearted laugh but his still pined. Months went by and other regions began to take inspiration from Lettenhove, offering their own versions of protection for resident witchers. It both filled Jaskier with pride and dread because now Geralt could settle somewhere else. The continent was vast and the safe havens were cropping up thick and fast.
Whispers started up. An elusive witcher had been spotted to the north. Nobody quite knew what he looked like, yellow eyes flashed from below the deep hood of a cloak. That was ruined by reports of Lambert tackling the mysterious witcher and Eskel piling in. Vesemir only smiled as he listened to the messenger relay the happenings while Jaskier’s heart thumped hard in his chest.
“Stubborn idiot. But also a loyal wolf.”
There were only four wolves in existence and Jaskier already housed three. Which meant the fourth could only be Geralt. His hopes and dreams were brought to life by the thumping knock on the door. Opening it, Jaskier regarded Geralt coldly.
“I have come to apologise,” he said as a blonde head poked out from behind him curiously.
“Only six years late.”
“My head was stuck so far up my ass, it took this long to get free.”
As much as Jaskier wanted to hold a grudge, he was also relieved Geralt was alive and well. Even better, he had his child surprise in tow.
“You have a lot to be making up for. But come on in.”
@marbienl13 our chat about hibernation and Lambert hasn’t left me alone all day. So this one is kind of your fault <3
Back before the sacking, Witchers returning to Kaer Morhen were greeted with enthusiasm and awe by trainees along with warm acknowledgement from the trainers for another difficult year that was survived. It was something Geralt and Eskel got a flavour of, having their horses taken by eager to help hands, their bags whisked away, armour taken care of by others. All they had to do was fall face first into their bed and sleep for a couple of days, huddled with other returning Witchers. It was especially important for newer Witchers who werne’t so used to the rhythm and cruelty of the Path. They needed that warm welcome home. That was all ripped away by the sacking. Four surviving Wolves, two who were barely considered not green behind the ears, one only fresh to the Path and one so old, he remained at the keep to maintain what was left of it in favour of heading out for contracts.
The guilt that came with surviving was immense. Geralt and Eskel missed the welcome home and the comfort it brought with it. Even worse, they hated that Lambert never got to experience it. There was no warmth upon their return, Vesemir’s effort, while appreciated, were nowhere near the same. A room with a fire burning was nice but it just didn’t have the same feel.
There was no missing that Lambert felt very short changed. He had been part of the welcoming crowd through the years, taking bags and swords from returning Witchers. Now that it was his turn, there was nobody to help him. To make things easier on himself, he forewent having a horse, travelled light and became increasingly possessive of his things. He didn’t need anyone to welcome him back to the crumbling old keep and take his things if there wasn’t anything he willingly gave up.
It just wouldn’t do and, over the bleakness of a tiring winter, Eskel and Geralt came to an agreement. The following year they both arrived slightly earlier, giving themselves a chance to rest before Lambert turned up. By the time their youngest arrived, they could help him, ignoring his grumblings. Geralt took his swords while Eskel focused on the armour. They settled Lambert in front of the fire in the dining hall on some furs, having roped Vesemir into providing the food. Just because there weren’t many of them left, it didn’t mean Lambert had to miss out. That first year, Lambert fought back, growled and tried to shrug them off, accusing his brothers of trying to steal his hard earned things. He was thoroughly ignored and wrangled onto the furs until he stopped resisting, realising that it was actually quite cosy.
The second year Lambert still struggled, worried that the others were playing some kind of long con, trying to get him to relax and let his guard down. He didn’t sleep long that year either, the bare minimum to get back to vaguely functional before he was up. Even though Eskel and Geralt stayed on the rugs for half a day longer, dozing and snuggled up.
Years went by like that, Lambert resisting less and sleeping longer. Winters were becoming a little more bearable as he learned to trust. Those first few days after return helped build trust between them until Lambert no longer met the help with hostility. Over the years, he grew out of it though, hardened further by his years on the Path. No longer was it a necessity to curl up by the fire and only wake to snack or stumble out for a piss. However, it was nice.
Then Lambert got back to Kaer Morhen before the other two. The way Geralt and Eskel looked a little lost broke Lambert’s heart. They both looked longingly at the fire in the dining hall but couldn’t quite settle, seemed restless until Lambert settled down with them. He sat there for three days, watching over the other two as they rested.
The following year, Lambert made sure to arrive last. He didn’t need to be pampered but that wasn’t the point. Somewhere along the way, the other two had taken it on themselves to look after Lambert, give him as much of past traditions as they could. It had become a comfort for Eskel and Geralt. Looking at Vesemir, it seemed he was more settled and less grouchy if he got to make food for his resting pups too. Truth be told, it was no sacrifice for Lambert to allow himself to be looked after by his family, especially if in turn it meant they were happier for it too. For old times’ sake, he still put up a bit of a grumble and a bit of a fight but it was all for show. Deep down, Lambert could admit that the love and care he was being shown was the only reason he kept coming home year after year.
Hi! I absolutely ADORE your writing! And I have never dared to give idead to writers because it seems like I would be bothering y’all, but I really love how you adapt all these characters and make them so adorable. So I wanted to share an idea I got and see where you may take it.
Geralt gets to the point in wich he growls and bites Jaskier because he has no other way of containing all the emotions he has for this adorable and feral weirdo. So the reactions in Kaer Morhen to this would be absolutely hilarious.
Nonnie. Nonnie! This is beautiful. The perfect idea! Please, I beg you, never consider yourself a bother, you’re an absolute delight. You’re always welcome to drop by in asks or DMs if you wish. And I’m sure any writer who is open to prompts would be over the moon to hear from you (though I am very happy you came to me, I shall forever think of you as *my* Nonnie now).
Bite Those Odds
The year Gearlt finally brought his ‘friend’ to Kaer Morhen was the year Lambert and Eskel had a lot of fun. And lost a lot of gwent cards while gaining a lot more chores. While they had teased Geralt that Jaskier was just a friend, they rapidly realised that indeed there was nothing more between the bard and his witcher. It was painful to watch. Even Vesemir sighed heavily at intermittent moments when Jaskier openly flirted with Geralt but it flew over a beautifully empty white head.
“You’re going to have try a new tactic,” Eskel whispered to Jaskier in the kitchen. “Please, standing on the top of a table and singing his praise hasn’t worked, try something else.”
Famous last words because Jaskier did indeed change his attempts. Outright wooing of Geralt hadn’t worked so obviously the only thing to do was make him jealous. That wasn’t going great either to be honest. Geralt glowered and glared when Jaskier heaped praise upon Lambert then turned around to compliment Eskel. Not even Vesemir was left out of the sudden adoration of all witchers.
There was only one solution. Eskel shuffled into the kitchen and held up his most hallowed gwent card.
“Geralt will snap in the next three days.”
In response Lambert added a bottle of his moonshine. “He won’t do shit until spring.”
Dutifully, Vesemir took the offerings. “Bank says he’ll react without realising why. Three chores can be deposited for a win.”
The next day Geralt snapped at Eskel when Jaskier sat down next to him, pressing their thighs together. As soon as bard and white wolf were out of the hall, Vesemir pulled out a pair of fur lined gloves.
“Bank says he’ll get into a fight with one of you.”
Two more gwent cards and a couple of bottles of potions were pocketed as bets went about who would actually end up fighting Geralt. While Lambert bet on himself, Eskel thought there would be no fighting.
By the next evening, Jaskier was in Geralt’s lap, looking quite smug and comfortable. However, it wasn’t quite the result the others were hoping for. Because the two idiots still weren’t together.
“The benches are uncomfortable to sit on,” Geralt had muttered as he’d pulled Jaskier into his lap.
Feeling brave, Eskel settled next to them and began eating, happily pushing a pouch of coin across the table with a cheery aard towards Vesemir.
“Tomorrow.”
Immediately Lambert was tearing a page from Jaskier’s journal and scribbling a furious IOU for chores. Scrunching it up, he tossed it to Vesemir. “Spring.”
Nodding, Vesemir pocketed them with a soft “tonight”.
It made no sense and Jaskier decided he would rather ignore it than get caught up in such shenanigans. Instead, he turned his attention to Eskel. “Darling, you have a bit of food-”
Pointing at his own face, Jaskier tried to show where it was. Eskel copied him and wiped at the wrong side of his face which had Jaskier tutting impatiently.
“Here.” Reaching out, Jaskier made to cup Eskel’s cheek and wipe the smear way with his thumb.
There was a fierce, rumbling growl and Jaskier’s hand froze half stretched out because a powerful jaw had clamped down on his forearm. For a second nobody moved, not even Geralt who Jaskier’s arm in his mouth.
“If you’re still hungry, you should have said something dear,” Jaskier laughed. With his free hand he poked Geralt’s nose. “Off. Now. You have better manners than this.”
Suitably embarrassed, Geralt let go. As Jaskier was in his lap, he couldn’t exactly run away. At least not unless-
“You brute! Put me down!” Geralt was standing with Jaskier thrown over one shoulder. “Actually, nice view. Keep me here.” Stretching a little, Jaskier reached down and gave Geralt’s backside a squeeze then a pat. “I’ll die happy.”
“You could die happier,” Geralt muttered darkly, eyes firmly glued to the far wall.
“Oh could I? Yes please!” Jaskier squirmed impatiently. “Take me to the bedroom now and let me die a happy little death.”
Turning sharply, Geralt marched out of the room and Jaskier cheered.
“Fuck.” Eskel watched them leave, face creased in annoyance and Lambert echoed the sentiment.
Sitting back, Vesemir looked quite smug. “Bank wins. Again. Thanks for playing, come back for more.”
AHHHHH just scrolled all the way down your tumblr (yet again), love how SOFT (TM) Jaskier is with all his Witchers
At the moment it is very much Jaskier soft with his Witchers hour in my head. So have some more gentle idiocy at Kaer Morhen.
Winters were dreary and dull. Really, even Jaskier got bored of the monotony after three days and he began to understand why the witchers trained so much. There was nothing else to do. The ransacking had destroyed the library, there were no musical instruments to play with, even cooking was frugal and bland to preserve their stores. It made sense but it was rather dampening on the spirit to have rations yet again.
Even Jaskier was on the verge of asking if he could train with the witchers each morning, just to have something new to do. If his body was tired, he might find sleep more fulfilling because he’d gotten so bored, sleeping during the day to pass time had become quite appealing. However, if he trained, it meant the others couldn’t burn off as much energy. Which led to cagey, bickering witchers. There was nothing for it, Jaskier had to come up with a solution.
“Vesemir,” he trilled in the courtyard. “May I borrow your pups for a project?”
The prospect of doing something else, anything else really, was wonderful and Jaskier had four witchers at his disposal. They went out into the forest and, with Jaskeir’s careful instructions they felled several trees. From there, they worked them into sturdy, smooth logs. All through it, Jaskier nodded and directed while the others worked. An A-frame was coming along very nicely, as were the other bits and bobs. Eskel was tasked with honing his igni into a careful flame that burnished a wide wooden plank.
Each night the wolves fell into bed tired both mentally and physically as they assembled Jaskier’s curious projects. Even Vesemir got pulled in, given ropes to twist together into sturdy lengths.
Finally, Jaskier stood back and admired their work. It was ready.
“What exactly is all this?” Eskel asked, standing next to him.
“Those there are called swings,” Jaskier pointed to the A-frame. “Next to them are monkey bars and at the end, that’s a slide.”
It was obvious the names meant nothing to the witchers so he took them to the swings first.
“Geralt, sit.” Hesitant but trusting, Geralt sat. “Lift your feet and hold the rope.”
A grunt left Geralt when Jaskier gave his back a gentle push and started him on a slow swing.
“I’ll teach you how to swing yourself. But you can also push each other.”
Immediately Lambert gave Geralt a massive shove and cackled at the manly yell of fright. Thankfully, nobody saw Vesemir turn away with a barely stifled laugh.
“Lambert, don’t be rude. Come and look at this.”
At the monkey bars, Jaskier gestured to them. “First challenge, make your way over to the other side without your feet touching the ground.”
Lambert scoffed and hopped up onto the first rung, making quite swift work of it, crowing triumphantly at the end. Just like Jaskier had expected.
“Good job. But can you come back the other way doing a handstand over the top?”
It became apparent that Lambert could not. He crashed down onto the bars four rungs in and slithered into a pouting heap on the ground with a small thud. However, it was obvious he was absolutely caught up in the challenge, getting back up and trying again. And again. And again.
While he was busy tumbling to the ground in less graceful falls, Jaskier took Eskel to the slide.
“Climb up the back, sit at the edge and let yourself slip down.”
At the top, Eskel looked a little nervous. Jaskier stood at the bottom and gestured with a smile.
“Come on down, I’ll catch you.” A ridiculous idea really, because there was no way Eskel’s bulk could be caught and held by a human. Yet Eskel nodded and gave himself a little push. He whooped, and all but slammed onto his back as he slid, hands almost touching the edge to catch and slow himself. Before he could though, he was at the bottom and Jaskier was patting his legs.
“Holy shit,” Eskel sat up and stared wide eyed back to the top of the slide, “it’s like being swallowed by a selkimore but clean.”
Suddenly, Jaskier understood witchers in a new light. Some of their more disgusting habits were nothing more than thrill seeking. If they’d missed out on such simple things like playgrounds as children, no wonder they looked for more extreme things to get that kick. They didn’t know there were other ways to get the same rush.
Over the weeks, the playground became a popular past time. Jaskier taught them how to propel themselves on the swings, much to Lambert’s delight as he tried to get to the highest point of them all.
Vesemir even helped create a merry-go-round which ended up in asinine games like dizzy wrestling and seeing who could spin the most after lunch without throwing up.
The best part of it all though was how the courtyard echoed with laughter and mock annoyance. Lambert liked to pelt his victims with berries and nutshells from atop the monkey bars which he had declared his second home. Eskel could often be found sitting in a swing, swaying, eyes closed in meditation. But the evenings were Jaskier and Geralt’s, they often sat in a swing each, holding hands and watching the sun set.
And, when it was all dark so nobody could see. With all his pups curled up and fast asleep, Vesemir would sneak out and stifle his own little whoops of joy as he slid down the slide then turned and tried to run up it because using the ladder was for children.
