In the warmth of the witcher’s arms, Jaskier’s worries start to fade and the thunder seems quieter. He rests his own hand at Geralt’s waist, the other curled loosely between their chests, and lets his eyes finally fall shut.or: five times geralt holds jaskier and one time they hold each other.
Lambert does not trust the Cat witcher he keeps running into, because people are un-fucking-trustworthy. But he's starting to think Aiden might not actually be as terrible as everyone else. Or: five times Aiden and Lambert did not get together, and one time they did.(can be read without Part 1 of this series)
“Eskel, your Axii is good, and you can control the intensity. It shut it all off.” Lambert tapped his fingers on his temple. “You can quiet it down.”The understanding on Eskel’s face was infused with pity, and Lambert struggled not to spit at it. “Lam,” he said, “how long has it been since you’ve slept?”———Lambert is haunted by the world he retreats from every winter, haunted by the ghosts he encounters on the Path. The dead, the dying, the ruined, hateful world. He can’t keep his brain quiet. He can’t sleep. But Axii has a special way of clearing his mind, and Eskel has the best Axii. It’s an easy solution.If only the problem with him was just as simple.
Aiden gets caught with a curse, and Lambert is the breaker. Unfortunately, having to hold hands every day with the man you’re secretly infatuated with is harder than Lambert expected.
A ‘Hold Hands or Die’, featuring two fools.
it’s not over (i’ll try to do it right this time around)
It isn’t just love, he realizes. It takes bravery to let someone back in after they’ve hurt you the way he hurt Jaskier.
Geralt decides he can be brave, too.(or the one where Geralt treats Jaskier right and apologizes for real this time because that half-assed apology in 2x06 was bullshit.)
Jaskier met Geralt when he was eighteen.
He fell in love with him before he even really knew what love was, and he’s been paying for it every single day since.
When certain series of events take place, tying two people together, they're connected as soulmates. They can feel each other's pain and pleasure, their joy and their grief.Jaskier connects with a witcher in Posada but keeps it secret, knowing Geralt could never accept that role in his life. Despite the way it hurts, Jaskier knows that his connection with Geralt is worth protecting.Until, one day, he stops feeling Geralt entirely.
After a less than favorable interaction with Rience, Jaskier knows someone has to warn Geralt about the mage hunting him down. But with the mountain and Geralt's harsh words still fresh in his mind, Jaskier can't bring himself to greet Geralt in the same way.
Enter a pretty new disguise and a pretty new man introducing himself to the witcher as "Dandelion."
“I’m heading to Kaer Morhen,” he tells him in the dark. Jaskier hums, curiosity guarded. “Come with me.”
And Jaskier says, “I’ll think about it.”And it’s enough. Or: After the mountain, Geralt finds Jaskier.
Two weeks into traveling with Geralt, Jaskier wakes with a horrifically familiar ache in his lower abdomen and resists the urge to beat his head into the ground at the slickness he can feel between his thighs, a slickness he has a terrible suspicion isn’t from some fun dream he can’t remember. He lifts his head to take a quick look around camp and finds Geralt absent, which fills him with a quick swell of annoyed anxiety at the thought that he’s been ditched again until he realizes Roach is still standing in place grazing happily on a patch of clover. Coast clear, a quick reach between his legs confirms his suspicions when his fingertips come back red.
“Fuckity fucking fuck,” Jaskier hisses under his breath, slamming his head back into the ground. Perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect. Just what he fucking needs when he’s trying to convince Geralt to stop trying to get rid of him. He winces at a sharp stab in his pelvis and lifts the cover of his bedroll to glare at his own body. “Fuck you.”
(Jaskier bleeds every month) (Geralt proves surprisingly helpful with this)
The way Jaskier sees it, his hobby of following a witcher around was always pretty likely to get him killed. The fact that it's happening now because the witcher in question doesn't love him, he thinks as he coughs up crumpled flowers, hardly makes a difference.
"What does the spell do?” Jaskier asks desperately. “Other than make Geralt cling to me, I mean?”“Nothing else,” Yennefer says. Saintly. Smug. “You’ll be stuck with a second shadow for a week or two, though.”“You can’t fix it?” Jaskier asks. Geralt’s hand is firmly inside Jaskier’s chemise, now, and he tweaks one of Jaskier’s nipples. Jaskier slaps at him and says, “Stop that!”//Jaskier accidentally gets Geralt cursed to want to touch him at all times. Since they still haven't really talked since Geralt broke Jaskier out of jail, this means Jaskier is doing a lot of pining. Geralt's probably having a rough time, too. Not that he'll say it out loud.
One night in Oxenfurt, Geralt participated in the rape of a young man. Years later, he begins to suspect that Jaskier was the youth he and his friends raped.
He knows now, Geralt has made him know clearly where he stands. He is not a friend, but a burden.He can fix himself, it will just take a little effort on his part.(Now has a podfic! See notes for the link)
The shove comes to his chest hard, the force of a Witcher who does not know nor care the limitations of the human ribcage behind it. The words land harder. “Just one big, happy family, eh?”“No.”
Jaskier doesn't know where he belongs here.ft. jaskier and yennefer friendship, an overuse of the word 'fuck' and all its conventions, and my unhealthy obsession with joey batey/the amazing devil
“Please don’t do this, Yennefer.” She leans back. “Do what?” Jaskier swallows hard, bringing one knee up and pressing his forehead to it, his arms wrapped loosely around his leg. His voice, when he finally speaks, is soft, pain clear in his tone. “Don’t give me hope.” He tells her, swallowing hard after he says it. “I can’t do it again.” He turns his head to look at her from beneath his fringe. “I spent decades hoping, Yennefer. And it got me fuck all besides the dressing down of my life on top of that fucking mountain and a fun little session of torture later.” (Jaskier hoped that he could have more with Geralt once, and all it had gotten him was abandoned on a mountain. He won’t make the same mistake twice.)
Geralt realizes, quite suddenly, that Jaskier is aging. He desperately asks the mages for any possible solution, something that could make Jaskier not so terribly mortal, and he finds his answer in an old elven ritual. Geralt decides to use this on Jaskier and himself. He can share his slow aging with Jaskier, and he won’t have to lose the person who, aside from Ciri, might be most important to him.He just has to make sure that Jaskier doesn’t figure out that they are, technically, getting married.
Geralt is just supposed to pass through the quiet Lettenhove area. He's not anticipating being begged by its people to help save their viscount from a curse that keeps him from daylight. Lord Jaskier, they call him, and he's likely dying.As Geralt struggles to untangle the ugly web of history that has lead to the increasingly complicated curse, he finds himself spending more and more time with the strange young viscount and wondering just what he might have been before the curse, and who he might be after. But things are not always as they seem, and as the curse tightens its grip on Jaskier, Geralt is forced to face the fear of failing yet another person whose choices were stolen from them.Or- Jaskier is kept from becoming a bard. Geralt finds him anyway.
It occurred to Jaskier, as he forced his own feet to move, one ahead of the other, that Geralt hadn’t once shifted from where he stood on the mountain, arms ridged by his side, staring out into the valley, ass clenched like there was no tomorrow.He really had just let Jaskier leave.Jaskier clenched his jaw. Guess this one is for real then.When he arrived back at camp he gathered his things and gave Roach a gentle pat.He’d told Geralt “see you around,” but he didn’t think it would happen.No, actually, he decided. He was planning on it.jaskier and geralt lose each other. it takes a long time to be found again.
Jaskier knows he's a placeholder.A warm body and nothing more, someone familiar and comforting who’s responsive (too responsive) to Geralt’s advances. It’s a matter of convenience, when Geralt takes him to bed. Jaskier knows. And he’s totally, definitely, absolutely okay with it.
He’s seen the same townsfolk — the barkeep with that grease stain on her apron, the handsome (yet married, and unfortunately happily so) butcher with the charming green eyes, the healer’s grandbaby, born only two days ago. Of that one, he’s a bit jealous. At least you get to be born in a new world, he thinks. Or: Jaskier is stuck in a time loop.
At least Geralt knows, now. He knows he’s cursed. He knows what it does to living things - both animals and plants. It’s like he’s diseased. He stands, and there’s a clinging wheeze in his chest, which he does his best to ignore.
After a contract hunting a mage goes awry, Geralt finds himself cursed with sickness, bubbling beneath his skin like a plague. It’s easy enough not to touch anyone - not to pass it on - until he meets Jaskier on the Path.
Somewhere further in the courtyard, Lambert yells out a colourful curse while Ciri cackles maniacally. Eskel is taunting the former through his laughter, and Vesemir’s voice joins in with barked commands and corrections once the clang of steel against steel continues. Somewhere above them, on one of the balconies overlooking the yard, Geralt can hear the scratch of quill against parchment as Yennefer works on her correspondence, interrupted every now and again by the tapping of nails against an inkpot.He realises what’s wrong an instant before everyone else grows suddenly, eerily still; Jaskier is quiet.
Three days after the incident with the djinn, Jaskier mistakes a sex potion for water. The Witcher informs him he needs skin-to-skin contact for the next seven hours, or he could die--and Geralt is the only warm body for miles. Jaskier is terrified that, under the spell, he'll betray himself. That he'll tell Geralt how badly he wants him even when he's not hopped up on sex magic. But what he doesn't realize is Geralt harbors a dark desire of his own. Desire he can never fulfill, no matter how Jaskier now begs for it."I will not destroy the one pure thing destiny has sent me: your trust."(An exploration of personal convictions and consent under dire circumstances. I have been told this is not your average Fuck-or-Die.)
Jaskier had wanted Geralt to love him back for years, and now he did... but it wasn’t real. It was all just implanted thoughts, re-wired pathways, magic. Jaskier wished he could believe the things Geralt was saying - wished they were true - but they weren’t, and he knew they weren’t.
After vanishing in the middle of the night, Geralt returns changed, with love on his lips. Cursed, bespelled, or maybe just concussed, Jaskier has to get him to a mage - for both their sakes.
“Let me see?” He asks. Jaskier’s face is pale with pain, although Geralt can see red creeping up at his ears. “Truly, Geralt. It’s nothing-”“Your pain is not nothing, Jaskier.” Geralt says, as gently as he can manage.(In the aftermath, Jaskier is still not okay.)
