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florianniss · 7 days ago

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Burn Butcher Burn

(An Analysis of Jaskier’s Breakup Song with Geralt)

With some help from my musician friend, @violetjayb (ily)

I hear you’re alive. How disappointing… / I’ve also survived, no thanks to you

Jaskier has had his life saved by Geralt multiple times throughout the show. His view of Geralt is, and always has been, one of a hero, and this is what he always writes him as. Here is the first indication that Jaskier currently doesn’t see Geralt this way, and is going to make that known.

He’s starting out the song by saying ‘this isn’t the same as the music I usually write for him. He didn’t save me this time.’

The ‘I hear you're alive’ doesn’t actually refer to a specific scene or conversation where he’s informed that Geralt is still alive. Instead, it more speaks to the fact that Jaskier sees Geralt as unkillable, and the fact he still believes this, despite his changed feelings for the man, was interesting to me.

It being ‘disappointing’ is fun. It reminds me of a scene from season one where some dude tells Jaskier that Geralt’s dead and his response is an unbothered ‘eh, he’s fine!’ The idea of Geralt’s death used to be something that Jaskier didn’t take very seriously - because how could Geralt die? But now it disappoints him that he’ll stick around.

There’s also something to be said about how Jaskier may be unable to ‘burn all the memories’ of Geralt like he sings later in the song, and that this is potentially the way in which Geralt is still alive.

Did I not bring you some glee / Mr ‘Oh-Look-At-Me’

While Jaskier and Geralt travelled together, Jaskier would sing and chat and just be in a consistently cheerful mood, which contrasted Geralt’s constant state of quiet moodiness. Here, Jaskier seems to be asking if his presence was ever actually wanted or appreciated, because he was genuinely always trying to put a smile on Geralt’s face.

The ‘Mr ‘Oh-Look-At-Me’’ carries a double meaning. If that line is referencing Geralt, then Jaskier is almost calling him a poser and an attention seeker, which doesn’t fit with how Geralt actually is, but does fit with other descriptions Jaskier has given him, such as ‘[I forgive you for] your sulking and posing, which are unworthy of a man’.

There’s also potential he’s referring to himself. That he’s saying either that’s how he thinks Geralt sees him (poser, attention seeker) or that in his act to bring Geralt ‘some glee’, he was making a fool of himself. Performing rather than being honest. That he was seeking Geralt’s attention. It’s clearly a negative connotation based on the fact he says it so mockingly, and it could speak to Jaskier’s self-esteem being much lower than it appears at first glance.

The meaning you take from that lyric really depends on how you punctuate those lines. Is it ‘Did I not bring you some glee, Mr ‘Oh-Look-At-Me’?’, in which he’s addressing Geralt, or is it ‘Did I not bring you some glee? Mr ‘Oh-Look-At-Me’?’ In which he’s referring to how he tried to bring glee to Geralt

Now I’ll burn all the memories of you…

It’s giving Eliza Hamilton and I love it. Additionally though, and somewhat in the same vein as Eliza, everyone knows that a lot of Jaskier’s music has been written by him to reframe Witchers and create a positive reputation for Geralt in particular, which makes him famous and gets him more coin. While Geralt, as far as I’m aware, never acknowledges Jaskier’s help in literally promoting him, he himself knows what he’s done for Geralt and acknowledges it frequently.

Jaskier has a unique position where he truly can hurt Geralt, not physically, but by once again altering the way he’s viewed, and undoing all that progress they made. Burning the memories equates to burning any positive image of Geralt that their society started to hold. It just makes me think about ‘I’m burning the memories, burning the letters, that might have redeemed you’.

All those lonely miles / That you ride / Now you’ll walk / With no-one by your side

Self-explanatory. Geralt is alone without a travelling companion after Jaskier leaves, and since Jaskier doesn’t yet know that he’s found Ciri, he thinks Geralt is completely alone.

Did you ever even care? / With your swords and your stupid hair? / Now watch me laugh! / As I burn… all the memories.. of you.

When Jaskier first met Geralt, These were the first things he pointed out about him - “white hair, big old loner, two very, very scary looking swords… I know who you are.”

Pointing that out again is like he’s reverting back to that surface-level view of Geralt, as if he’s forgotten everything else he got to know him as. This time, when he says he’s burning the memories, he means it much more personally than in the sense of burning the positive reputation.

The idea of him laughing as he does it suggests that he’s better off without Geralt, or at least trying to present himself that way.

Ladies and Gentlemen, you have been the most beautiful audience! Remember to toss a coin, if you can! If anyone needs me, I’ll be at the bar.

This bit is spoken and obviously not part of the lyrics but I think it’s worth mentioning that in the scene from the show (as opposed to the song on Spotify) this is where Jaskier actually becomes fully audible. Something about everything he said before this being effectively silenced is interesting to me but I can’t think of what the meaning of that is, character wise.

What for d’you yearn?

I think this lyric is alluding to the famous scene where Jaskier bathed Geralt:

Jaskier: “Come on. You must want something for yourself once all this monster hunting nonsense is over with.”

Geralt: “I want nothing.”

Jaskier: “…Well, who knows! Maybe someone out there will want you.”

Geralt: “I need no-one. And the last thing I want is someone needing me.”

Jaskier: “And yet… here we are.”

It’s the point of no return / After everything we did, we saw / You turned your back on me / What for d’you yearn?

Of course, a reference to the mountain breakup that inspired this whole song, in which Geralt did literally turn his back to him after he ‘basically told (Jaskier) to fuck off’, as he puts it later.

He’s also bringing up their history here, all the things they did and saw together, and how betrayed he feels. It’s clear Jaskier held him in very high regard and has no idea why he isn’t given the same respect, or how Geralt could betray him at all. Jaskier himself has ‘such a capacity for love’, according to Joey Batey, that the idea of Geralt being truly careless and indifferent just feels foreign. He was certain there was something deeper and that Geralt could love, but at this point he’s struggling to believe that.

The ‘Everything we did, we saw’ is an echo of something Jaskier said in Episode 4(?) after he thought Geralt was dead. He said that he wanted to write Geralt another song and tell everyone what they did and saw. This callback makes me think that Jaskier, when writing this song, is thinking of Geralt as being dead to him, as he believed him to be the first time he used this phrasing.

My musician friend informed me that the key of this song is C minor, which she says is perfect as it is usually put to laments. According to google, it's a key for 'declarations of love and at the same time the lament of unhappy love'

Watch that butcher burn!

Geralt hates the ‘Butcher of Blaviken’ title because it implies an uncaring person who kills for the sake of killing, which is not who he is.

Jaskier knows how much Geralt hates the name because he got punched by Geralt the first time he used it.

He’s been the only one trying to help Geralt bury that name and the things it stands for. Deciding to call him a Butcher tells everyone what Jaskier now thinks of Geralt, and makes it increasingly obvious that he no longer cares to change the reputation of that emotionless mutant.

At the end of my days, when I’m through / No word that I’ve written / Will ring quite as true / As ‘burn!’

There’s a certain tragedy in the implication that Jaskier believes he will be spending the rest of his life in the shadow of this time period, the years he spent with Geralt and the aftermath of it, and that nothing he does will ever mean more to him than this.

More importantly, it serves as another reminder of Jaskier’s changed views. He’s written many songs about Geralt, portraying him in a positive light, as a saviour, a protector, a human, and someone that’s good. But he’s taking all that back now. The truth of the matter is, after the mountain breakup, Geralt is nothing but the Butcher of Blaviken to him, and he wants everyone to know it.

Jaskier also mentioned the ‘end of his days’ when he believed Geralt to be dead in episode 4. I find it noteworthy that losing Geralt always seems to make Jaskier think about his own demise. Additionally it drives the point further home that he’s tearing apart Geralt’s reputation, because again, the last time he thought Geralt was dead, he wanted to write songs to make people remember him in a good light. Now, he wants the exact opposite.

Also, Look at the sheet music for this part:

My musician friend pointed out how there’s a lot of ascending and descending notes in this part, which helps to reflect Jaskier’s inner turmoil and his overwhelming emotions.

Burn, Butcher, burn! Burn! Butcher, burn!

At the end of it all, in spite of all his anger, there’s also a sense of desperation. Maybe Jaskier is trying to get Geralt out of his head, forget all that happened, but he can’t. He’s still writing songs about him, at the end of the day.

Maybe he wants to burn the Butcher, as a separate entity to Geralt. He wants to forget the hurt he’s been caused, and wants Geralt to change. Maybe Jaskier wants to see him as heroic again.

He’s angry. But he’s not as over it as he says he is.

Burn! burn! burn! burn. burn. / Burn, burn, / Burn…

As he sings, he gets more overwhelmed, the anger leaves, there just seems to be a bit of a numbness leftover after everything. Jaskier isn’t someone who gets angry often, and he seems to dislike the feeling. It exhausts him. In a way that he doesn’t usually get exhausted after a performance.

Watch me burn… / All the memories… / …Of you.

After the song, he insists that it ‘could be about anyone’ before finally admitting it’s about Geralt. He’s ashamed of the fact he’s still effected by him, and afraid to admit that the song ‘came from the heart. Perhaps a broken one’.

If that’s not enough proof that he had a major crush on Geralt, I don’t know what is.

#I love these analyses

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florianniss · 7 days ago

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‘Her Sweet Kiss’ Analysis

(AKA: how Jaskier sees Yennefer.)

I’m going to make my way through this bard’s whole discography.

This analysis is a lot longer than my Burn Butcher Burn analysis, and a lot more is discussed than just the lyrics, so I’ve split it into three sections.

The first section is context, which delves into what inspired the song, and why his view of Yennefer is so negative. This section covers the events of episode 5 and explains why those events are important to Her Sweet Kiss.

The second section is the lyrics, which is the main body of the analysis, and delves into the song itself, the language and methods used in its writing, and what my interpretation is of Jaskier’s opinions based on how he portrays himself, Yennefer, and Geralt through the story he tells in the song.

The third section is the placement, which focuses on how the song is used by the writers to foreshadow events, fill in some blanks, develop Jaskier’s character, and frame Yenralt.

The Context: What Jaskier Knows About Yennefer

In Episode 5, it’s heavily implied that Jaskier has amnesia in relation to the Djinn, and by extension, Yennefer.

While his throat is cursed from Geralt’s first wish — “I just want some damn peace!” — Jaskier isn’t unresponsive. He talks to the healer, attempts to talk to Geralt, makes facial expressions that are clear reactions to things happening around him, and waves at Yennefer.

But afterwards, he doesn’t seem to remember any of it. He asks Geralt if he knows Yennefer, despite having been present when the two met. He asks Yennefer if he slept with her when he wakes up healed and she’s at the end of the bed, and describes the orgy as if it were simply a dream.

He never mentions the Djinn or his cursed throat. Geralt does tell him that he can’t let Yennefer die because she saved Jaskier’s life, and he doesn’t protest that, but he also doesn’t look like he fully believes or understands it.

On another note, He says to Geralt “please don’t tell me this is the moment you’ve finally decided to care about someone other than yourself”, and after having been travelling on-and-off with Geralt for a decade now, as stated earlier in the episode, it’s clear that he doesn’t understand how Geralt can care about this woman so quickly when, as far as Jaskier can tell, Geralt doesn’t care about him at all, even after so long. (Jaskier being unaware of the lengths Geralt went to in order to save his life, the way Yennefer has to keep asking Geralt if Jaskier is ‘just a friend’, or the conversation where Geralt states that he doesn’t want the last thing Jaskier remembers to be the horrible things Geralt said to him).

Jaskier then proceeds to stand around waiting until the house collapses, which makes him believe that Geralt is dead. He’s left questioning why he went after a ‘mad witch’, before then seeing the two of them having sex through a window. After that, we know that Geralt repeatedly sees Yennefer, and that they keep having sex, and Jaskier attempts to steer Geralt away from her with little success.

Something else in relation to the timeline that strikes me as important is that I think there’s a pretty big jump between episode 5 and episode 6. In episode 5, Jaskier says that he and Geralt have known each other for a decade. Ciri, who is thirteen in season one, would only have recently been born at that point. But the mountain breakup happens in episode 6 and when Jaskier is being tortured by Rience in the second season, he says he hasn’t seen Geralt “in months” rather than ‘in years’. Meaning this third wheeling for Yenralt would’ve been going on for the best part of another decade.

So, to recap:

He wakes up in bed with Yennefer, covered in blood, and she starts a ritual

He escapes and sees Geralt, is relieved, tells him about the crazy witch

Geralt goes into the house to save said crazy witch

The house collapses and Jaskier laments Geralt, thinking he’s dead

He sees Geralt and Yennefer having sex through a window and is dragged away

Geralt and Yennefer run into each other multiple times since, Jaskier is third wheeling, this goes on for a decade

Jaskier tries to stop Geralt from going to hunt the dragon when they find out Yennefer is going, but this is what makes Geralt agree to it

After the dragon hunt, the mountain breakup happens

You can imagine why he wouldn’t be her biggest fan. I think this is important for understanding his views on her and on Geralt’s relationship with her, because I think there’s a lot of jealousy there as well as some feelings of betrayal, and there’s also definitely a lot of reason for Jaskier to be afraid of Yennefer, based on the things he remembers versus what he’s forgotten.

I want to make it clear that Yennefer is one of my favourite characters, and I do not hate her or think that Jaskier’s view of her is correct. I actually love the way their relationship develops in season 2 and 3. But I’m analysing things from Jaskier’s point of view here, and at this point he (understandably) hates her.

The Lyrics: Jaskier’s View on Geralt’s Relationship with Yennefer

The fairer sex, they often call it / But her love's as unfair as a crook

The term “fairer sex” is referring to females, and means that females are ‘pleasing to the eye’. Jaskier could be saying that yes, Yennefer is attractive, but she’s dangerous. But I don’t think that’s actually the definition of ‘fair’ that Jaskier means. He also uses the word “unfair”, and that doesn’t mean unattractive. He’s using the ‘fairer sex’ term to equate to moral fairness. It’s fun wordplay, because that isn’t commonly the use of the phrase.

It steals all my reason / Commits every treason / Of logic, with naught but a look

This line mirrors a conversation between Yennefer and Geralt, but I’ll get to that in the placement section.

I want to touch on the “my” pronoun here, because Jaskiee isn’t the one being ‘seduced’ in the song, nor the one who feels that way with Yennefer (Geralt states that she makes him “say more than [he’s] said in weeks” and that he always regrets it). It’s possible that Jaskier is saying that Yennefer’s love for Geralt affects him personally by making him jealous and therefore stealing his reason.

A storm’s raging on the horizon / Of longing and heartache and lust

The storm idea is self-explanatory I think — the storm represents something negative. The first few times I listened to Her Sweet Kiss, I thought that all three of the adjectives used were supposed to represent Yennefer, but upon closer inspection I like to think of longing, heartache, and lust each representing a different character in the song (therefore, one is Jaskier, one is Yennefer, and one is Geralt).

I think he’d see “longing” as himself; he longs for Geralt, for the love that he gives to Yennefer. Geralt would be “heartache”; anguish and sadness, negative emotions that Jaskier is used to seeing Geralt feel, and since it particularly relates to sadness caused by the absence of a loved one, it’s the heartache Geralt feels when he isn’t with Yennefer. Finally, that leaves Yennefer as “lust”; I don’t think that’s what her character truly is but it fits with Jaskier’s interpretation of her at this time, and is the most shallow of the three emotions, which would fit with Jaskier’s negative view of her.

The reason I believe viewing them each separately fits better than seeing them all as Yennefer is because I don’t think Jaskier would ascribe her so much emotional depth in a song that is clearly meant to portray her as a negative force. It would show a lot of empathy and that would fit his character, but I don’t think that’s how he’s trying to portray her.

Though I also would personally attribute the adjectives to different characters if I were talking about my own view. I’d make Yennefer “longing”; she is desperate for a child and something to make her feel less emptiness at this part of the story. For Jaskier, I’d make him “heartache”; while Geralt isn’t absent physically, he is emotionally, and he is absent when he’s with Yennefer. Finally, I’d say that Geralt is “lust”; I can��t personally see a lot of chemistry between him and Yennefer in episodes 5 and 6, and the way he talks to her so mockingly (in the bathing scene and when Yennefer tells him she wants to be a mother) aggravates me. Plus, he bound her to him with a Djinn wish while barely knowing her.

To be clear, I love Geralt. But I have very negative feelings about Yenralt as a ship. Especially in season one. It feels very out of character for Geralt.

She's always bad news / It's always lose, lose

These lyrics interest me purely from the standpoint of knowing it’s been a decade since Geralt and Yennefer met in episode five, and clearly a lot must have happened for Jaskier to take the perspective that interacting with Yennefer always brings negativity. There’s a possibility that Jaskier sees how obsessive Geralt is over her and that’s what he’s referring to, as he clearly thinks that Geralt is looking at Yennefer with rose-tinted glasses.

So tell me, love, tell me, love / How is that just?

The love in question he is referring to is Geralt, of course. Depending on when he decided on this lyric, he could be asking a few different questions here. Either, ‘how are Yennefer’s actions just?’, ’how is it just that you love her more than me?’ or, if this part was written after the mountain breakup, ‘how is it just that you blamed me for what happened between you and her, when she’s clearly the problematic one?’.

But the story is this: / She'll destroy with her sweet kiss / Her sweet kiss / But the story is this: / She'll destroy with her sweet kiss

The repetition of this emphasises this point that Jaskier is trying to make and shows his desperation for Geralt to listen to him. He’s not letting it go, he really wants Geralt to hear this.

Her current is pulling you closer / And charging the hot, humid night / The red sky at dawn is giving a warning, you fool / Better stay out of sight

Seeing Yennefer as a current pulling Geralt in implies that he doesn’t have any autonomy in the situation and it puts the blame of the relationship onto Yennefer. Which I find ironic considering Yennefer is the one bound by a wish that Geralt made. If Jaskier knew about that wish I’d say this reeks of misogyny, but luckily for my favourite bard, it’s actually more likely he has no idea about the wishes at all, least of all that one.

The idea of her controlling the humid (therefore uncomfortable) weather plays into the idea of her being a bad influence. The use of weather metaphors is actually quite intriguing because weather is a natural and inescapable phenomenon, but in contrast Jaskier sees all of this as preventable if Geralt just stays away. It also speaks to the idea of Yennefer being dangerous, as a force of nature.

Jaskier doesn’t understand how Geralt can ignore the signs that seem so obvious to him. The red sky at dawn lyric references an ancient rhyme: “red sky at night, sailors’ delight / red sky at morning, sailors take warning”, because it alludes to a storm coming, which refers back to the previous lyric of a storm on the horizon.

Because of the original rhyme referencing red sky at night being a good thing, I’d suggest that Jaskier is saying that Geralt’s relationship with Yennefer is toxic because they have sex and then, as we know from one of their conversations in episode 6, one of them always leaves in the morning before the other wakes up. So yeah, the relationship is great during the night, but by morning it isn’t. So it’s better to “stay out of sight” altogether.

I like how Jaskier calls Geralt a fool here. This song isn’t as angry as Burn Butcher Burn or Whoreson Prison Blues, but it definitely sets up those later songs well with establishing the clear hurt that causes Jaskier’s shift in worldview, just expressed in a sassy and far more concerned way than after the mountain breakup.

I'm weak, my love, and I am wanting

Once again calling Geralt “my love”, and this constantly shifting term of address between loving Geralt and calling him a fool really foreshadows how Jaskier’s character is going to develop while also portraying this inner conflict he has.

Jaskier admits that part of the reason he dislikes Geralt being with Yennefer is because he wants what she has with Geralt for himself. He recognises his own apparent weakness, perhaps believing this is why he doesn’t have the relationship with Geralt that he desires.

This also mirrors one of his later songs, Extraordinary Things, in which Jaskier states that “it’s not a want, it’s a need”.

If this is the path I must trudge / I welcome my sentence / Give to you my penance / Garrotter, jury and judge

I’ll talk more about this part in the placement section of the analysis. It’s my favourite bit of the song and I have a lot to say about it.

The literal path that Jaskier is trudging is Geralt’s, following ‘The Path’ he takes as a Witcher hunting monsters, which Jaskier decided to follow him on for two decades. What I find interesting here is the idea that he ‘must’ take it, that he doesn’t have a choice — because he does. Nothing and nobody is forcing him. In fact, Geralt actively discourages him being there rather than forcing him to stay. But it’s more dramatic to assign this finality to his situation. What's significant is that there’s also a sense of determination here. He isn’t helpless to his situation, he welcomes it and he’s firm in his position.

A “penance” is a self-inflicted punishment to make up for wrongdoings. Jaskier giving Geralt his penance is saying that, for one thing, he knows that continuing down Geralt’s path while he’s with Yennefer is only going to hurt Jaskier himself more. He’s also saying that, for the wrongdoings he has committed (which I think are probably him being ‘unworthy’ as a travelling companion, since this is a sentiment that comes up often throughout episode 6) he’s going to let Geralt decide his fate. And, ironically, Geralt does, in the end of this episode. And the things he says to Jaskier on the mountain lead to Jaskier no longer trudging the same path as he stated he would.

Notably, the act of giving Geralt his penance kind of stops it from being a penance at all, since penance is self-inflicted. Unless Jaskier views himself and Geralt as two halves of a whole, or the very act itself of leaving his fate in Geralt’s hand is his punishment, because Jaskier already is sure that Geralt doesn’t want him around and knows that he will be abandoned, in which case the punishment is willingly subjecting himself to that heartbreak.

A “garroter” is someone who kills someone else by strangling them. It comes from ‘garrote’, which can refer to any handheld weapon used to strangle another. The jury are a group of randomly-chosen people who have to attend a court hearing and decide whether or not an accused person is guilty. A judge is the person who decides the punishment/sentence after someone is found guilty.

If Geralt is the jury, he’s given the power to make decisions about who Jaskier is without having the qualifications to do so, only based on the evidence presented to him, which isn’t always easy to understand. Such as deciding that Jaskier is an unworthy travelling companion, that he’s “just a bard” and that they are decidedly not friends.

If he is the judge, he gets to decide what happens to Jaskier in the future. Such as by abandoning him on a mountain, but also by having saved his life more than once prior to this.

And if he’s a garrotter, then he violently ends Jaskier’s life by preventing him access to something he needs to live. Which, literally, is oxygen. But metaphorically, it’s love. Connection. Inspiration. Even just acknowledgement, a lot of the time.

If he’s all three, then he has a very large amount of power over Jaskier’s life, his image, and his actions.

There’s also something to be said about the order in which Jaskier presents these three ideas. If we go based on order being equal to importance, his life being the least important is quite tragic but also does align with his values. Jaskier’s image is important because he’s a bard and he has to present himself and others in specific ways to ensure that they are treated somewhat decently. It’s not a shallow value to have — Jaskier’s image, his music, is how he survives in a society trying to oppress him and his loved ones (but I’ll probably talk more about that whenever I analyse Toss A Coin to Your Witcher, Extraordinary Things, and Song of the Seven). His actions are the most important of the three because personal freedom is very important to Jaskier, along with his ability to always do the morally right thing. Doing that is more important to Jaskier than anything else, including living or living safely.

But the story is this: / She'll destroy with her sweet kiss / Her sweet kiss / The story is this: / She'll destroy with her sweet kiss

I find it interesting that these lyrics don’t change here, because in Jaskier’s music he usually changes the chorus, but this time he doesn’t. Which further cements the idea of him trying to get this through to Geralt and repeating it again and again and again until he listens.

But the story is this: / She'll destroy with her sweet kiss / Her sweet kiss / But the story is this: / She'll destroy with her sweet kiss / The story is this: / She'll destroy with her sweet kiss

The Placement: How Her Sweet Kiss is Utilised

So, this song plays three times in episode 6.

The first takes place at the very start of the episode. It literally fades in from the intro screen to the sound of Jaskier singing and then he’s the first thing you see on screen. The episode both starts and ends with this song.

In this scene, Jaskier is staying out of Geralt’s way while he’s killing a monster in a cave, and he’s interrupted in his playing when he notices that the men who asked Geralt to kill this monster are trying to steal Roach, and Geralt’s things. He tries to stop them, but isn’t successful on his own. This sparks the comment from Geralt that Jaskier isn’t worthy as a travel companion.

And that was almost foreshadowed while Jaskier was playing, as the part of the song he’s singing is, in my opinion, the darkest part of it. I touched heavily on these lines in the lyric analysis section but I do have more to say on them here:

I’m weak, my love, and I am wanting / if this is the path I must trudge / I welcome my sentence / give to you my penance / gorgeous garrotter, jury, and judge

I’ll get to the slight change in the lyrics in a second but, like, starting with this? You know you’re in for a wild ride.

These lyrics being written and sung before they’re really given as deep a meaning as the episode gives to them. It’s foreshadowing. And maybe at that current moment the weight of them isn’t as much as it is by the end, it’s just dramatic flair on Jaskier’s part. Here it represents an intense amount of loyalty and devotion in spite of pain caused by Geralt wanting Yennefer over him. That is something that Jaskier can cope with, even if it is undeniably painful. But it grows into something a lot worse and by the end those dramatic ideas have come to fruition.

It’s also significant that the song is in the process of being written, composed, and edited as the episode progresses, because as I mentioned in the context section, it has been years since the Djinn incident. There’s something about this song that Jaskier is really struggling with. We’ve seen him compose songs in less than an hour, with Toss a Coin to Your Witcher, but writing one about Yennefer and Geralt took him years.

One thing we see him struggling with is the lyrics. When he sings it here, he says “gorgeous garroter” before pausing and trying “lovely garroter” instead. He goes back and forth for a bit until he’s distracted by the guys trying to rob Geralt.

Now, that’s the biggest oxymoron I’ve ever heard in my entire life. Someone who ends your life via strangulation, and you’re describing them as lovely and gorgeous. Jaskier, you are down terribly.

But isn’t it also fun how he ultimately decides to drop a positive adjective there altogether, after everything that happened in the episode?

The second time that Her Sweet Kiss plays, it’s just the instrumental. It follows a particularly tender scene involving Jaskier and Geralt, the “do what pleases you” scene on the cliff, but Jaskier is not actually present in the scene where his song plays. To me this could imply two things. Either this is the moment in which he’s finishing the song, and that’s what he’s doing while the scene is occurring, or he’s eavesdropping on the two of them and the song is supposed to represent his presence.

I think the second is more likely purely because I think it makes sense that the song is only finished after the breakup. I also think the second is more likely because, as I mentioned in the lyric section, there are lines in the song that directly reference a part of this conversation between Yennefer and Geralt, which Jaskier should have no way of knowing.

The dialogue is:

Yennefer: I was afraid that mountain would take you from me. Now I’m afraid it took your senses instead.

Geralt: Only my nonsense.

Yennefer: I quite like your nonsense.

The lyrics that directly relate to this are

“It steals all my reason / commits every treason / of logic, with naught but a look”

A detail that I really appreciate about this scene is that the chorus, the part where Jaskier would be singing “she’ll destroy with her sweet kiss” if the lyrics had been included, plays at the exact moment that Yennefer and Geralt do kiss, and that’s just a detail that makes me happy.

But it’s a little weird to me that they decide to play this song at all here. The writers of the show want the audience to root for Yenralt, but with this song in the background I honestly find that really difficult. I don’t like them together anyway but having this song play in what is supposed to be a moment of closeness and harmony just falls flat, because that’s not what the song portrays.

However, it is useful for symbolising Jaskier potentially listening in, and I think it also serves to show the audience just how different Yennefer truly is from Jaskier’s portrayal of her.

The last scene where the song plays is actually the end credits, after the famous mountain breakup scene, where Geralt is abandoned by Yennefer and subsequently abandons Jaskier too. It’s definitely painful for Jaskier, who I think expected this for a while, and would probably think that if Geralt had just listened to him about Yennefer, then he wouldn’t have lost him.

Whatever you do, don’t imagine Jaskier singing the full finished version of Her Sweet Kiss for the first time as he makes his way back down the mountain alone.

Rewatching the mountain breakup I also want to point out that Geralt compares Yennefer to a tornado there, and considering the weather metaphors throughout the song I find that to be a cool detail.

Anyway, the song plays in its full glory during the end credits — bringing the episode full circle, as it both started and ended with Jaskier singing. He is the lense through which the audience is told the story of The Witcher. By now, it has a lot more depth and meaning to it than it did at the beginning of the episode, and it is finally finished after the years it took to write it, mirroring how Jaskier’s time with Geralt is also over.

For now.

#god this is gorgeous #Geraskier is so heartbreaking and I love it

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florianniss · 17 days ago

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brooding men who cannot communicate their feelings if their life depended on it are only hot when they're fictional. if i have to deal with one in real life i will curse him and pray for his downfall every night before i go to bed

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florianniss · 17 days ago

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For the 'less than 100 comments' prompt for Challenge Monday: RWB by Florianniss

RWB by Florianniss

@florianniss

Rating: Explicit

24,886 words, 8/8 chapters

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, School Reunion, older but not wiser, Idiots in Love, Explicit Sexual Content, Alcohol, Drugs, Eighties References, Piercings, Tattoos, Kinky Eddie Munson, Bullying, Apologies, Love Confessions, Opposites Attract, Protective Eddie Munson, Eddie likes cars, Steve Harrington Likes Eddie Munson's Hair, Period-Typical Homophobia, not a slow burn, Blow Jobs in a Car, Tiny bit of Angst, Steve Harrington Can Cook, Eddie Munson Needs a Hug, Steve Harrington is having a mid-life crisis, Minor Suzie Bingham/Dustin Henderson, Dustin Henderson is the Best, Anal Sex, Emotional Sex, Tender Sex, Happy Ending, Complete

Summary:

Steve’s nerves are showing in the trembling of his hands, the stutter of his tongue. “Y-yeah. Ha. Guess I had one too many Bartles and James.” “It’s no RWB,” Eddie quips, and boy, does that bring back memories? “RWB,” Steve repeats, standing like a dolt in front of the screen door, reminiscing about crappy beer. “Five bucks a pack. Couldn’t get any cheaper than that, could we?” Eddie stands patiently on the last step, holding his brown bag with both hands, cradling it gently. “Nope. But you fellas probably didn’t drink that shit. You could afford the expensive stuff. Good ol’ Red, White, and Blue was for losers like me.”

This rec is a part of Challenge Monday. The challenge this week was Multi-Chap fics w/ <100 Comments.

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks or the submission box!

#THANK YOU!

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florianniss · 19 days ago

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Winston Knows - RatedE, Sci-fi AU

A second passed. Then another. And another. Steve grew hotter and more uncomfortable, and Eddie just – fucking – stared at him.

“Steve!” Eddie practically growled, looking up with anger or concern or neither or both. The wheels had begun to turn inside the man’s head, and Steve imagined him going back over the years and all their interactions. It was enough to make anyone sick.

“Eddie, I –”

He didn’t know what to say, especially pinned beneath Eddie’s brown-eyed gaze like that. Especially with the events of the past few days, and the horrors that had come to light. For Christ’s sake. They were being stalked by creatures who absolutely knew what they were up to. That fact alone was enough to addle Steve’s brain.

Eddie was breathing hard, artery pulsing in his neck in a way that Steve could see how fast the blood pumped. “I thought you liked girls,” he accused.

Steve did! He loved boobs. And he loved the way they smelled when they got wet. But there hadn’t been anyone since Nancy, not with the chaos of the past few years. He didn’t have room after his mom disappeared and his dad died.

But he had room for Eddie.

“It’s a yes or no answer,” Eddie said, sounding more frustrated by the second. If Steve didn’t choose one or the other, he’d risk ruining —

(He still liked girls, didn’t he?)

A single sharp bark sounded from below, and before Steve could speak, thunderous footsteps pounded up the stairs.

“Steve? Eddie?” Robin called into the door crack. “Let me in so I can see that cut.”

Neither man moved. Steve could hear Winston snuffling under the door. He was pretty sure Robin was doing the same thing higher up.

Steve cleared his throat. No words came.

“If you two don’t open this door, I’m going to kill each of you. One by one. The slow way.”

Eddie continued glaring at Steve. Steve continued holding his cock, willing it to quit embarrassing them and let him do the thinking, for once. They must have made quite the sight, once Robin picked the lock and charged in, nostrils flaring. Even the dog had enough sense to wait outside until Steve was ready.

Robin, however, didn’t have that kind of sense. She just bullied her way into any questionable situation without putting any thought into it. Steve should take a page out of her book; maybe the direct path was the best one.

“Let me see,” she repeated, shoving Eddie out of the way.

He fell backward on his ass. “Hey! I’ve got it under control, Buckley!”

Robin had already taken Eddie’s place at Steve’s feet. Only she didn’t immediately grab for his underwear to pull it away.

She wrinkled her nose instead. “Ew. Don’t tell me you get off on pain, or worse yet, danger.”

Why, oh, why hadn’t Steve thought of that?

“Yeah,” he laughed nervously, squeezing his dick to make it seem the opposite of aroused. Although with Robin staring at it, the cringe factor was greater than Eddie’s astonished face behind her and it wouldn’t be long until it shrunk back to normal. “Yep, danger gets me hot.”

Robin rolled her eyes so hard her neck snapped back.

“Get that thing out of the way so I can see, will you?”

Steve understood she would do it herself if he didn’t obey. He avoided Eddie’s gaze as the man stood, then pulled his cock away. The second it was moved, Robin yanked back his skivvies so roughly that his balls practically dropped out the opposite side.

“Easy with the jewels,” Eddie scolded, turning his frown on her now. “Harrington’s got a future that requires him to make babies.”

“Ew,” Robin repeated and then got up close and personal with Steve’s nether regions. “You sure it’s just a scratch from the brush?”

Steve wasn’t sure at all, actually. But he was not telling her that. And he most certainly was not telling her about his mom’s ointment either.

It appeared Eddie’s lips were sealed, too.

“He’s fine. About two inches from ripping one of his gonads open, but that’s why god gave us a backup, just in case.”

He made the briefest of eye contact with Steve and mouthed the words: “We’ll talk about this later.”

Steve, terrified, nodded once.

Robin grumbled as she ripped open gauze and tape and set about finishing what Eddie had started. “You had better have a good explanation for this. I thought we agreed you were going to keep away from that place.”

Eddie made a noise like a constipated elephant and left the room, cuffing Winston by the ear and turning the corner, heading for Robin’s room. The dog looked back over his shoulder at Steve before sighing heavily and following.

“We didn’t go alone,” he tried, hoping to lessen the blow a bit. “Hopper and Joyce went with us. We took their truck.”

“And left Will home alone?”

Her voice had risen two octaves. “No!” Steve hurried to remind her. “He’s staying with his grandmother, after she broke her hip?”

Robin’s face fell as she very clearly remembered. Everyone had a job. “Oh.”

She finished ripping off a piece of tape with her teeth, looking up at him while sticking it to his skin. Then she stood and started stuffing everything back into the first aid box. Steve took that opportunity to put his clothing back on.

“They really went back with you?”

Robin was standing with hands on hips, landing him with a stern look.

Steve didn’t blame her for not believing him; she was pretty shaken up after rescuing Eddie from the coyotes. And now he knew why.

“Yeah. We got video of the things that chased him.” Steve omitted the part about how Eddie was scratched. “We took it to Hopper and he wanted to go up the mountain to see for himself.”

Her face did something complicated before she spoke. “So what happened when you went back?”

Steve figured it wouldn’t take long for her to ask. She was whip-smart, and although he had no idea what went on in her head, he wasn’t exactly sure she couldn’t read his mind.

He tipped his chin toward the door, hoping she’d understand the sensitivity of the situation with her parents downstairs. “Need to know basis,” he said.

Robin peered at him through narrowed eyes, then shoved him out into the hallway. “Stupid spy shit is gonna get you and Eddie killed.”

And then she, too, disappeared down the hallway.

Inside her room, Eddie was sitting on the bed, hunched over and studying the back of his hand. He covered his wound as they entered. They were both getting deeper and deeper into this thing.

Winston sat with his chin on Eddie’s leg, eyebrows flicking up to meet Steve, as if to say they shouldn’t have roped Robin into this.

Steve wholeheartedly agreed.

“OK,” Robin said as soon as her door was closed. “What happened tonight?”

She said ‘tonight’ as if last night should have been the end of it and Steve and Eddie were responsible for stirring up more trouble.

Steve sucked in a deep breath and told her the truth. Mostly.

“We didn’t see any coyotes tonight,” he said. Eddie’s head immediately snapped up. He studied Steve with a cautious eye.

Robin didn’t fall for it. “But you saw something. Hopper was scared shitless when he showed up at the front door. Maybe it wasn’t coyotes, but it sure was something.”

How was Steve supposed to explain to Robin that he was attacked by nothing, by a void, a cloud of darkness, and a host of very much alive vines?

“It was dark,” Eddie offered. “Difficult to see. It didn’t have a body like the others.”

In a way, he was right. Steve hadn’t actually seen the things that coiled around his legs. He knew what it felt like; the rest he’d filled in to make it make sense.

“Well, did you get pictures of it?”

Eddie looked at Steve where he stood next to Robin, and Steve remembered the frantic way he and Hopper and Joyce had rescued him.

“No,” Steve answered, wondering what Eddie had seen that they hadn’t talked about yet. “Too dark, like Eddie said.”

Robin pressed further. “But you have video of the coyotes. Can I see it?”

The two men shared a considering look, and it was Eddie who pulled out his phone.

Robin flopped down next to him on the bed, watching with wide eyes and a tensely close-lipped mouth. She surprised Steve by showing no other response, even at the end.

They watched it two more times. Well, Robin did, at least. Eddie’s gaze drifted back to Steve. Almost like he was afraid to take eyes off him, lest he disappear. Or something.

It was intense, this thing between them. Steve pulled out his own phone to keep from falling into a rabbit hole where he and Eddie were no longer friends.

A security camera outside his house was secured to a pole fifteen feet tall. It provided a bird’s eye view of the house, garage, and pool. There were other cameras positioned in other locations, but this particular one had his undivided interest.

The coyotes were still there.

“So what are we gonna do next?” Robin asked as she handed back Eddie’s phone. “What did Hopper say?”

Steve wasn’t sure he wanted her to see what was happening at his house. The way she was all charged up, he wouldn’t put it past her suggesting they run the creepy bastards over with her car.

It was then that Eddie put a stop to everything.

“We’re not doing anything. We’re leaving it to Hopper. Ball’s in his court now, seeing as he’s the one who is leading the investigation.”

“Was leading,” Robin corrected. “He had to recuse himself after El went missing.”

She was right about that part, just as Steve’s dad had done with his mom. Too many similarities tied the two families together. It was impossible to ignore that.

“We still gotta let Hopper do his thing,” Eddie continued. “He’s lost his daughter, Robs. Your parents would do the same thing if you were missing.”

Robin opened her mouth to argue. She knew it to be true. She let out a disgusted sigh and flopped down on the bed right next to Eddie. He bounced and then leaned into her, wrapping a reassuring arm around her shoulders.

Steve loved how much Eddie loved Robin. Their shared closeness with Buckley was something that kept him from going insane. Winston, however, blew a sigh out the flaps of both jowls and found a spot in the corner to sit.

“Well, you guys are staying here tonight.”

Eddie and Steve both nodded. It was the only way to pacify her, and the only way they’d get any peace between them. Eddie shifted sideways to collect his bag, then dug out his laptop. He opened and unlocked it and tapped into Robin’s VPN.

“Movie?” he asked, as if he hadn’t been running for his life or discovered Steve’s Big Secret.

Robin shrugged dramatically. “Sure. Lemme run down and say goodnight to the ‘Rents.”

The second she was downstairs, Eddie moved his laptop to Robin’s desk and made hard eye contact with Steve. “Those coyotes still at your house?”

Steve, scared of where they would go next, offered up his phone. “Yeah.”

Eddie took it and found the camera, studying it with narrowed eyes. “Don’t tell Robin. Not yet.”

“I won’t.”

Steve was glad for the distraction, but he was being ridiculous. Eddie wouldn’t say anything in front of Buckley. It was an unspoken agreement between them. They didn’t share secrets, just like they didn’t keep secrets.

And, oh, wasn’t Steve stupid for trying to keep anything from his best friend?

Robin returned with a bowl of pretzels and three cans of soda and closed the door behind her. She dumped the snacks into Steve’s arms and then yanked him down on the bed, too. Eddie was forced against the wall, Steve in next. Robin closed off the threesome by plumping pillows at the head of the bed and then snarling at them to, “Move out of the way, Boneheads.”

Eddie’s extended legs were warm against Steve’s, his elbow pointy where it poked into Steve’s side. Normally they’d use each other as furniture all the time. Steve felt itchy and awkward and tried to keep the bulk of him more on Robin’s side. Touching him now was difficult, stunted on Steve’s part, especially with recent events in mind.

Robin made it thirty minutes in before she was snoring, and thirty-two minutes in, Eddie whispered very close to Steve’s cheek.

“You tired?”

Steve’s voice squeaked when he answered. “No.”

Eddie elbowed him. “Let’s go downstairs. Leave her to sleep.”

Lump in his throat, Steve carefully extracted himself from under Robin’s shoulder and crept off the end of the bed, following Eddie.

They left the movie playing.

Winston raised his head with interest, and even though Steve silently told him to stay, the beast couldn’t be convinced. He trotted right down the stairs after Steve, loyal to a fault.

The Buckley basement was gloriously dark, damp but cool and kept that way on purpose. Robin’s mom was a compulsive gardener, continually harvesting and processing and storing canned goods in the lower level. Steve figured they could live off jarred purple beets for a year at least.

Eddie moved down the dark hallway into the rec room and turned lights on before him. Although muted, recessed into the drop ceiling, it took Steve a few moments for his sensitive eyes to adjust.

His friend collected a pool cue from the rack on the wall and approached the pool table with clear intent to set up a game. Steve copied him, and Winston jumped right up onto the fake leather couch as if it were his very own home. He turned twice and curled himself into a ball. Steve thought that he might like to do the very same thing.

As Eddie arranged the balls into the rack, spinning each one until its number faced up, Steve rolled his stick between his fingers. There was something heavy hanging in the air. The silence was crushing.

“You wanna break?” he asked without lifting his eyes. It was something Steve always did, whenever they played. Just another of the small concessions, the sacrifices that Eddie made which Steve recognized as his friend’s attempt at normalcy. Steve collected the cue ball and set the game spinning.

They played for some time, listening to the hard, hollow sound as balls struck each other, angled off the rails and sometimes sank into pockets. It wasn’t until Eddie had a clear lead that he laid his stick against the wall and rested both palms on the table that Steve understood the time for their talk had come.

Eddie didn’t speak, and he seemed to be studying the little dings and scuff marks on the green fabric stretched over the table. It wasn’t long before the tension had Steve sweating, a huge knot in his stomach. There was zero chance that he was getting out of this unscathed.

“I do like girls,” Steve blurted. “But –”

Eddie twitched slightly but didn’t look up, didn’t offer any response at all. Steve could almost feel their close friendship unraveling. And that wasn’t going to work.

“You’re my friend,” Steve continued, hands shaking, practically begging. “Like a brother. I didn’t want anything to change between us. You’re the only person in the world who changed their lifestyle to accommodate me. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t there with me after my mom – after my dad –” Steve took a deep breath. “I – I need you.”

Eddie began shaking his head, the length of his bangs covering whatever expression that graced his handsome face. Steve couldn’t tell if the man was angry or, or whatever. He clenched both fists around his stick and waited for the other fucking shoe to fall.

Big brown eyes found Steve’s, more serious than he’d seen before. The next words from Steve’s mouth would make or break everything.

“You’ve got Chrissy, and I respect that. I would never knowingly upset someone else’s relationship. You have to know that about me.”

“You’re so stupid,” Eddie said, emphasizing the final word. “You actually think –”

Eddie straightened, moved around the table until he stood before Steve. He found Steve’s shoulders with both hands, a firm almost painful grip.

“Steve. I’m gay.”

The sound Steve made as his mouth dropped open was something straight out of a Looney Tunes cartoon.

“But –” Steve’s head was a jumbled mess of every single conversation he’d overheard between Eddie and Chrissy. Imagined whenever they were together in Steve’s presence, how easy they talked, the possessive way Chrissy hung off of Eddie. He couldn’t make what Eddie had said fit into that picture.

“But she’s your girlfriend!”

Eddie shook his head slowly, mouth pinching at the corners as if he pitying Steve.

“She’s as much my girlfriend as Robin is yours.”

It was a revelation of such epic proportions that Steve had to sit down. Winston turned his head in exasperation, kicking with his back feet as Steve sunk into the couch beside him. Leave it to his loyal furry companion to take Eddie’s side once again.

Eddie had turned, resting his ridiculous firm ass against the table and folding firm, muscled arms over his firm chest. He was chewing on the inside of one cheek, waiting. Waiting for Steve to put it all together. For Steve to –

Steve’s head snapped up so fast his neck crackled. “You’ve been hiding that from me!”

There was a fair bit of accusation and unrestrained anger in his voice, but Steve felt the hypocrisy with everything he had.

Eddie lifted his chin and tightened fingers around his own biceps. “Ain’t hiding shit, moron. How many times have I told you I loved you? How many times have I covered your ass, stood up for you, patched you up, been there when something went down because I didn’t want you to be alone?”

The answer was, every time. Every damn time.

His friend threw his hands into the air and sighed dramatically, then crossed the short distance to wedge himself between the couch arm and Steve.

The cushions heaved, and the one Winston slept on shifted, causing the dog to slide against Steve’s other side. He rolled slightly, arched his thick neck to glare at Steve. But instead of moving, he braced against the other arm and pushed with all four feet, solidly sandwiching Steve in the middle.

Eddie’s arm was around his neck, tugging him into a sideways hug. It was the same kind of hug he always gave Steve, the same familiar smell of sweat and shampoo and cologne. Only this time Steve understood the meaning behind it. And it hit him like a fucking semi.

Steve allowed himself to be manhandled into the crush of Eddie’s affection, and that tangled knot in his stomach turned into thousands of butterflies that fluttered into his chest. Was it possible that he actually was stupid? That the sun’s rays had destroyed so many brain cells that he hadn’t even considered Eddie might feel the exact same way?

“You scared the shit outta me,” he hissed, lips pressed into the top of Steve’s hair. “We’re done hunting monsters, you hear me? Fucking done. This whole thing has been trying to rip us apart.”

Those words, spoken with so much angst, caused Steve’s heart to pound against the restraints of his ribcage. For a moment, for one wonderful, incredible moment, Steve could see the two of them returning to their normal nights. Video games on the sofa. Food fights in the kitchen. Wrestling on the floor of Steve’s room until exhaustion had them rolling into Steve’s bed –

But –

“But what if –” Steve swallowed hard, found Eddie’s wrist and pulled it against his neck. “But what if this has something to do with my mom?”

If possible, Eddie tightened his hold and Steve’s cheek pressed hard into Eddie’s bristled neck. The effort in keeping the hug was making Eddie’s muscles tremble with overuse.

“Fuck,” Eddie spat, muffled into the mess of Steve’s hair. “Fuck. You know just how to reel me in, you know that, Harrington?”

Steve didn’t know it, but he was beginning to understand. Thinking about Eddie loving him all along was unimaginable, overwhelming.

“Eddie –”

But Steve didn’t get to say what he meant to, because Robin’s dad appeared in the doorway, looking equal parts embarrassed and terrified.

“Sorry, boys,” he apologized, averting his eyes as Steve and Eddie detangled themselves. “Hopper is on the phone. He wants to talk to Steve. Said something about the police with a warrant to search your house.”

Read on AO3

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things

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florianniss · 19 days ago

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😘😘😘

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florianniss · 20 days ago

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what jaskier imagines it looks like when he says he’s the damsel in distress [ID under cut]

[ID: fully rendered digital drawing of Jaskier and Geralt from witcher netflix. Geralt has his right arm wrapped around Jaskier’s shoulders and pulls him in for a dramatic kiss. Geralt is wearing all black, and he is holding a bloody silver sword in his left hand. He is covered in blood. Jaskier is wearing his red coat, holding Geralt by the back of his neck. They’re standing in the middle of the forest, surrounded by fog, and glowing red eyes peek out from behind the fog. ID end.]

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florianniss · 21 days ago

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My lil winter exchange for @hotluncheddie ! Hope you like it!💖💖🥳

@steddieexchange

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florianniss · 22 days ago

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That's Mine

Witcher Steve, Bard Bucky, heed the tags

For the @wintershieldbingo event

Square: Ownership

It’s been decades since he’s taken his other form. Normally the potions are enough to give enhanced sight and smell, the added effect of slowing down time and speeding up reactions. Imbibing an elixir on top of shapeshifting, no matter how short-lived the potion is, would be overkill. This time, though, the Witcher cannot afford to make a mistake.

The wolf form also provides the benefit of stealth. Only his Witcher Brothers would be able to detect his presence in this state. The long hairs on his paws mask his steps in the snow, grey coat the ideal camouflage when hunting prey. The man he’s searching for could walk right in front of him and not know he was there.

The Witcher doesn’t want that, though; he wants the Mage to look in his eyes when he dies.

His spy’s intelligence has proven valuable. The man he seeks did indeed make haste through the valley, away from the tradesmen's village, full of meddlesome eyes and ears. The Witcher finds himself thankful for this; there will be no one about to hear the Mage’s screams.

A cry sounds from up ahead, from a building that was clearly destroyed in the battle for Sodden. Its thatched roof is gone, the timbers singed with black death as the abnormally hot flames scoured the entire area. Its the perfect place for a kidnapping, for an interrogation, for torture.

The Witcher fights against a growl, blood stirring as he thinks about who has made such an agonizing sound.

It’s definitely the right place.

Read on AO3

#stucky #witcher

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florianniss · 23 days ago

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Part One Two Three Four Five

“So Steve, I know you said that you don’t think you need anyone...” Eddie sighs, “do you think that implies that I think that what he thinks is wrong?”

“I think it implies you’ve lost your fucking mind.”

Eddie doesn’t even have the energy to glare at Dustin, it’s much easier to just pretend he hasn’t spoken, “okay, Steve-”

“Yeap, you’re really strong on establishing you know the guys name, which is like, a solid point in your favor.”

“I hate you,” Eddie says to the ceiling, neck at an odd angle where he’s flopped his head back over the arm of the couch, “so, Steve, I know you said you don’t need anyone, and you are totally right-”

“You’re a strong independent Omega who don’t need no Alpha!”

“So help me Henderson I will throw you out,” Eddie waits, but Dustin is finally silent on the matter, “Steve. I totally respect the fact that you are absolutely fine handling everything alone, and if you’re...happy with us, being friends, then I’m happy with that too. I did wonder, though, if you’d like to go on a date. With me. Maybe?” Eddie sighs, flopping his arms over his face, “I’m so bad at this. This is going to go so wrong and he’s going to hate me and never want to see me again and-”

“Eddie...has the Omega broken your brain? What the fuck is wrong with you man-”

“I don’t know! I don’t...I’ve literally never felt this way before, not about anyone. And Jamie, man, I know he’s not my pup, okay, Steve and I aren't dating, he’s literally my friends pup, that’s it but...I swear I would die for that kid, no question.”

“Okay...so just...ask him out? Steve I mean, not Jamie-”

Eddie huffs, “I don’t...I’m pretty sure I can’t. The more I think about it the more it feels...like Steve’s had a pretty bad run of Alphas, it sounds like, and I just don’t think he’d be interested. And he’s just literally had a pup, like Jamie is only just a month old, who am I to add to that, you know? Steve’s got enough to think about.”

“So...don’t ask him out?”

Eddie flops over onto his side, curling up so he can smush his face into the cushions, “but I really want to. I think it’s selfish though. I’m being selfish. I should just...be a good friend. Keep being a good friend.”

“And pine to death?”

“I mean. Seems like a reasonable way out.”

“Dude I do not know what to say to you,” the timer on the oven starts to buzz, “but at least you’re going to feed me, right?”

Eddie sighs, dragging himself out of the near suffocating safety of the gap in the couch cushions. He opens his message thread with Steve, scrolling back through the shared memes and screenshots and pictures. He reads little tidbits of conversation while he pulls out bowls and plates. The three dots appear, Eddie’s heart leaps a little because Steve is, right there. Right next door, with his phone in his hand, typing to Eddie.

‘I’d love some. I’ve made a banana cream pie if you want to take it back for your games night.’

Eddie sends back a shocked emoji, ‘I can’t take an entire pie.’

‘You won’t, my slice will be gone.’

Eddie smiles and slips his phone into his pocket. He slices two thick pieces of bread from the loaf he made this afternoon, wraps them, and then fills a bowl with casserole. Eddie’s pretty sure this bowl is Steve’s anyway; so many of their plates and bowls have been migrating back and forth it’s hard to tell any more, between Eddie’s dinners and Steve’s desserts.

He likes to bake something extra special for games nights though, he always says you can’t make just one cookie, or one slice of pie. He likes to make sweet things when he knows there will be people to give it to, otherwise, “I’ll just eat the whole thing Eddie!”

Eddie doesn’t see a problem with eating the whole thing, but he slips on his adventure crocs and heads out into the hall. Dustin doesn’t even tease too badly any more, even though Eddie’s sure it’s because he’s threatened to withhold Steve’s desserts.

Eddie knocks with the hand holding the bread, letting himself in when Steve calls, “it’s open!”

“Hey Steve, hey Jamie,” he sets Steve’s dinner on the little table, next to the juice and cutlery Steve’s already set out for himself.

“What do you have planned for them tonight?” Steve brings out a pie on a plate, a slice already gone, just like he said. It has real neat swirls of cream on top; it looks professional to Eddie, like you’d buy in a store.

“Destruction. Misery. Suffering. The usual.”

Steve hums, “uh hu. What color salad did you decide on in the end?”

Eddie sighs, “you say it Slaad. And I don’t know, what do you think?”

“I actually quite liked the idea for the dog shark thing, it was cute,” Steve hands over the pie, going on tip toes to kiss Eddie on the cheek as he hands it over.

“One home brew Bulette, coming right up,” Eddie replies absently. He’s pretty sure he’s gone at least a little pink, and Steve’s scent is fresh and bright in his nose for a moment, “I’d better…” Eddie gestures lamely with the pie, “you know.”

“Have fun!” Steve calls as Eddie lets himself out, “don’t go too hard on them!”

Eddie’s doing his best not too stare, he really is.

He has one foot on the stroller, rolling it gently back and forward. He has his guitar resting on the other knee, he strums, singing quietly to Jamie, “I'd rather be a forest than a street, yes, I would...if I could, I surely would.” Jamie burbles at him, waving his arms a little and making happy pup noises.

On the court, Steve laughs, and Eddie fails, and he looks. Steve’s wearing a tank top and those obscenely short shorts. Him and Chrissy are bouncing the ball at each other, catching it, doing a squat, a little jump, and bouncing it back. They’ve done all sorts of stuff like this, sweaty jock games. Steve’s short shorts riding up even further at the slightest provocation.

Jamie makes a noise, drawing Eddie’s attention back, “I'd rather feel the earth beneath my feet, yes, I would...if I could, I surely would,” Eddie sings, soft and slow.

Steve and Chrissy come over eventually, Steve lifting the bottom of his shirt to wipe at his sweaty face, fully showing Eddie his tummy in all it’s glory. It’s thick, but firm, decorated by a handful of stretch marks and a perfect dusting of happy trail, “thanks for keeping an eye.”

“Huh?” Eddie asks, feeling kind of dumb but still managing to strum along on auto pilot.

Next to him, Chrissy snickers around her water bottle.

“Thank you, for watching Jamie,” Steve says to him more slowly, smirking, his sweaty hair flopping across his forehead.

“Right, right, sure, of course. Anytime. Pleasure. Really.”

Next to him, Chrissy huffs. Eddie pointedly ignores it.

The knocking is awful. It’s relentless. It’s obnoxious. It’s definitely Robin.

“I know you’re in there!”

Yeap. Yeap that’s definitely Robin. Eddie groans into the couch cushion before dragging himself up. She’s speaking before he has the door fully open, “this is getting old.”

“And what might that be-”

Robin puts on the most obnoxious voice Eddie thinks he’s ever heard, she clasps her hands together, holding them to her chest and she bats her lashes coquettishly at the ceiling, “oh Eddie’s cooking is just the best ever. Did you know he plays guitar! He says he’ll teach Jamie when he’s old enough! And he’s so smart, he’s got so many books in his apartment-”

“Okay.”

“Did you know he’s artistic! He paints his little dungeon game miniatures and they’re so good-”

“All right.”

“You should just see him with Jamie-”

“Robin.”

“And he’s such a good Alpha! He’s so good to his friends, he puts in so much work-”

“And we are done,” Eddie goes to shut the door. He can’t handle this. He knows Robin probably means well, in her own meddling way, but he just...can’t. This has to be Steve’s choice, right? Steve’s been pretty clear why he went it alone, and Robin is just...teasing him. It makes Eddie feel all warm and bubbly inside, knowing that Steve says these things about him, that Steve...likes him. But...Steve has a pup, and just because he says these things behind closed doors, it doesn’t mean Eddie has any right to know them.

No matter how it makes him feel.

“Wait wait wait...can’t you just, ask him out? End all of our suffering?”

Eddie sighs, “Steve has enough going on without me making it more complicated, okay? Steve can...he’s perfectly capable of telling me this himself.”

“No he isn’t. Because Steve would never ask you to take on another Alpha’s pup.”

“He’s not another Alpha’s pup, he’s Steve’s pup,” Eddie tells her reflexively.

“Uh hu,” she has her hands on her hips now, looking at him expectantly.

Eddie swallows thickly, and he can’t quite look at Robin, “what if...what if I loose him?”

“You won’t. You know you won’t.”

“But-”

“Me and Chrissy are taking Jamie for the night, did you know that? Giving Steve a night off, and we’re getting some practice in for when we’re ready to have our own, you know?”

“I...did not know that.”

“Yeah.”

Eddie stands for a second, not sure what to say, down the hall, Steve’s door opens.

“-and it’s in the changing bag.”

“I got it.”

“Don’t forget to heat the formula to-”

“Steve,” Chrissy sounds exasperated, “we’ve got it,” she has Jamie in his car seat.

“Plus,” Robin whispers to him conspiratorially, “he’s going to have a heat at some point, so we gotta be ready for that. You know, wouldn’t be fair to which ever Alpha ends up helping him out-”

“I know what you’re doing,” Eddie growls, watching Steve fuss over the pup.

“Is it working?”

“Go away.”

Robin shrugs, and Eddie watches as she goes to Chrissy, taking the bag so Chrissy is just left with the car seat, “it’s going to be fine, and you can call us any time.”

Eddie ends up watching Steve, as Steve watches his pup and his friends disappear at the end of the hall. His shoulder sag a little, and Eddie can't help but go to him.

“Hey.”

Steve sighs, “would it be weird if we followed them?”

“Maybe. I’ll drive though.”

Steve smiles up at him, and it looks kind of watery, “what if we break into their place and take him back?”

Eddie shrugs, “pretty sure we could just ask but, whatever makes you feel better, I guess.”

Steve sighs, “I sound crazy,” and a tear finally escapes, sliding down his cheek.

Eddie can’t help but scoop him up into a big hug, “I think you sound like the best dad in the world. I’ll get you one of those mugs. You know, for fathers day.”

Steve sighs, and sniffles, “thanks Eddie.”

“You want take out? I’ve primed you a miniature, if you still want to try your hand.”

“Can we watch a shit film too?”

“Oh fuck me I’d love to watch a shit film,” Eddie says vehemently into Steve’s hair.

Steve laughs against his chest.

Steve doesn’t have it in him to try painting his owlbear tonight; he picks forlornly at his duck rolls, “I’m sorry I’m not very good company.”

“It’s okay, I get it...I miss him too.”

“Oh, so you admit I’m being shit company?” Steve smiles for the first time this evening.

“Oh, yeah, the absolute worst.”

Steve phone pings and he practically dives for it, but then he melts, face going soft as he looks at the message, “Jamie’s asleep,” he shows Eddie the picture.

“Safe and sound,” Eddie reassures Steve for probably the fifteenth time this evening.

“I didn’t...I mean I knew I’d love my pup but...I didn’t know it would feel like this, you know? It feels crazy. And I mean...Jamie’s happy, and healthy, and that just makes absolutely everything feel...right? Does that make sense? Like...fulfilled.”

“I...yeah. I think I understand,” Eddie tells him quietly, because he feels like that about the both of them, as long as Steve, and by extension, Jamie, are both happy and healthy then...yeah. Yeah, the whole world feels like it’s an okay place to be.

“Eddie I-”

“Steve-”

They speak over each other, and end up laughing, leaning closer together on the couch. The remains of Steve’s half eaten dinner get moved to the safety of the coffee table. They’re close enough then that Eddie can see the dim light from the TV reflecting in Steve’s eyes.

“You go,” Eddie whispers to him.

Steve shakes his head, but takes Eddie’s hand in both of his, rubbing his thumb over Eddie’s knuckles, Steve whispers back, “you first.”

“I...I really like having you in my life Steve. And I don’t want to...to fuck that up, by expecting more from you.”

“I...yeah. Same.”

“Same?” It comes out as a surprised laugh.

Steve’s laughing too now, “what do you want me to say I mean...you pretty much covered it.”

“I have spent ages agonizing over this and and and- all I get is- yeah. Same. I guess. I suppose.”

Steve is properly laughing now, “come here, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” he pulls Eddie close, and manages to stop laughing long enough to kiss his cheek, “okay,” Steve takes a deep breath, “I’ve just had a pup, and both me and that pup care about you so very much, and I did not want to mess it up by expecting you to take that on, okay?”

“You’re not a chore Steve, neither of you are a chore.”

“I mean he was sick on me the other day and that kind of felt-”

Eddie cuts him off with a kiss. It’s soft, a gentle press of lips that Steve...sighs into. Relaxes into. Lets Eddie take both their weight. Steve’s hands find their way into Eddie’s hair as Eddie gently wets Steve’s lip, and Steve lets him in.

It feels like coming home.

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florianniss · 23 days ago

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2024!!!

it’s been such an amazing and welcoming year here, huge kisses to everyone who’s been so kind and supportive, and here’s to an even better 2025! <3

#love

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florianniss · 23 days ago

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That word count, though. Wow.

#2024 recap #happy new year

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florianniss · 25 days ago

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Coin, Peace, and Quiet

RatedE, Slow Butcher Burn

With all the time they’ve spent together over the years, with everything they’ve been through, the bad and the worse, Geralt admits he hasn’t even scratched Jaskier’s surface. This is true now, perhaps more so, as the Bard blinks at him in the candlelight. As if Geralt hasn’t just made a terrifying confession that will change their relationship.

He doesn’t speak, and he doesn’t move. He pierces Geralt with those eyes for a charged moment, severely enough that the Witcher breaks contact and takes two steps back. Something other than desire is happening here. Something much, much more complicated.

It’s then that Jaskier begins to undress.

Geralt watches, transfixed, as the musician’s fingers unlace his vest. As Jaskier peels out of the leather armor and voluminous shirt. As hair-covered skin emerges with each discarded item. Slowly. Methodically.

Torturous.

The Bard twists to drop each piece of clothing to the floor, and Geralt is held frozen by pectoral muscles that tense and shudder and shift in the shadows. By biceps that bulge and release over and over as Jaskier begins to work the ties at the front of his trousers. His own body reacts accordingly at the sight of long lashes falling over pinked cheekbones. And he draws an audible inhale as Jaskier drops the rest of his clothing around the ankles.

Jaskier is unafraid. He steps nimbly out of each pant leg by leaning back against the door. The slight arch in his spine forces his pelvis forward, causes his long, limp cock to stir against the nest of curly dark hair at his loins. Naked, he’s part hard muscle and soft flesh, sturdy and strong and yet only marginally less breakable than a female. But Geralt knows it’s the emotional injuries that do the most damage.

He must be careful.

It’s this fear that immobilizes the Witcher as Jaskier pushes away from the door and begins his approach. That cocky assuredness is there, sure. But there’s something else. Something wounded and head-shy. Like a horse that’s been beaten three masters ago and still doesn’t trust the current one.

Jaskier moves carefully, shifting sideways as he comes within inches of Geralt where he stands. Eyes assessing, the Bard trails the very tips of the fingers on one hand over Geralt’s bare forearm. But Jaskier doesn’t stop as expected. Instead, he passes within a hair’s breadth, headed for the thick furs that lie on Geralt’s bed.

The Witcher gets a good, long, greedy look at the shape of the man’s ass as he kneels, then rolls, then positions himself on his back.

He makes quite a stunning picture.

Geralt is obviously aroused; his stench fills the room and almost drowns out Jaskier’s bitter-sweetness. And the longer he stands here, eyeing the sprawled length of the man, the worse it’s going to get. Even a human such as this Bard would be able to smell how much the Witcher wants.

A frown breaks Jaskier’s confidence, and he opens and closes his mouth twice, as if he’s doubting his bold actions.

Geralt struggles for words. It’s extremely difficult while presented with Jaskier in such a vulnerable moment.

“Well, Witcher?” the Bard says as he raises a hand to take hold of his own cock. “I realize your vocabulary is limited, but can you say something?”

Geralt, speechless, feels a twist behind his navel as Jaskier jacks himself, squeezing hard and dragging a thumb over the center vein, pausing to tease just below the head. A seductress would be less tempting.

The Witcher shucks out of his shirt one-handed and quickly, unwilling to break eye contact for any length of time. Jaskier appears to feel the same. Blue eyes bore into Geralt’s as he divests himself of the rest of his things. Mostly erect and painfully so, he gets to enjoy the Bard’s audible swallow as his gaze is drawn southward.

Jaskier tightens up on his grip and pulls his cock away from that flat stomach. It serves as a kind of siren’s call, a ‘come hither’ that Geralt absolutely cannot resist.

The Witcher goes to him.

The man’s feet come right to the end of the old wooden frame, his head nearly touching the stone wall. Geralt straddles Jaskier’s ankles and knee-walks slowly across the furs until their thighs touch. The Witcher considers how distracting his cock must be, flushed hard and red and swinging side to side. Jaskier seems to be affected, anyway.

“Oh,” he breathes, and it’s honestly the most seductive thing Geralt has ever heard. Jaskier prattling on about something he loves brings out passionate gestures and a beautiful, excited lilt to his voice. Jaskier silent, in awe, stroking himself, is a different beast altogether.

A beast Geralt isn’t quite sure how to handle.

“Closer,” Jaskier says, almost pleadingly. He gestures with the free hand for Geralt to continue. The Witcher leans forward onto his palms, closing the distance and meeting his friend’s gaze inch for inch. Beneath him, Jaskier begins to tremble, hand continuing to move over his cock.

It’s a mind-fuck, lining his body up with Jaskier’s. Face to face, heart covering heart, naked cocks hovering so close to touching, Geralt can feel his resolve fading away. He wants very badly to touch the man.

It’s Jaskier who reaches to touch first, fingers ghosting over the point of Geralt’s shoulder. He settles in and cups the back of the Witcher’s arm. Squeezes. Closes his eyes. Whispers.

“I hate you for being so beautiful.”

This prompts Geralt to speak. “Hm. Seems a foolish reason to hate someone.”

The man’s hand drifts back to his shoulder, spreads flat over one shoulder blade, finds the point between them and pulls.

The Witcher goes down on his elbows willingly.

“Oh.”

It’s the forced exhale of air crushed under the weight of someone bigger, wider, less used to intimacy with a man. Jaskier’s chest is warm as he inhales, tensing his stomach muscles, arching upward to be able to press lips against the scruff of Geralt’s jaw. An act so tender sends a jolt of sensation straight to the Witcher’s cock.

“Jask,” he says, affectionate and weak. The Bard is making him think thoughts better saved for private fantasies. Taking Jaskier as he wants, the way he wants, could very well injure the man. Crush his spine. Bruise his ribs. Split his asshole enough to bleed.

And yet.

“Witcher,” Jaskier says into the hollow of Geralt’s cheek. “You’re not afraid to touch me, are you?”

Geralt snorts a not-so-convincing laugh, and he bites his tongue lest the fear of failure falls off of it. Instead, he rocks back, pulls away from Jaskier’s mouth. Sinks into the man’s neck and scents the crook of his graceful neck.

It’s divine, the smell of him, sweaty and lusty and under cover of flowery oils. The Witcher can’t help but drag his nose up and down one side, then the other. It could be the world’s most powerful aphrodisiac, as far as Geralt is concerned.

He mouths at collarbones, licks and kisses the thin skin over both shoulders. Jaskier groans and grabs hold of the back of Geralt’s neck and guides him down the center of that lean-muscled chest.

Here he smells even stronger, as if it stems from his fucking heart. Geralt inhales and inhales and hums, doting on the lovely bulge of each pectoral muscle. Until his lips glide over a peaked nipple.

The hair circling each narrow pebble grows in whorls from outside to in. It feels soft even against the rough of the Witcher’s unshaven cheek. He discovers very quickly, as he noses a nipple, one at a time, that each is an erogenous zone that sends Jaskier arching.

Geralt latches on and suckles.

“Fuck,” the Bard hisses, hand flying to Geralt’s scalp. Long fingers tangle in the straggly mess there, tugging, urging closer, harder, more. The Witcher heeds the call and gives it to him, in duplicate.

By this time, the agonizing pang in Geralt’s gut has risen to alarming levels. His hips move of their own accord. His cock slaps eagerly against his own waistline.

Jaskier is breathing hard, shallow and rapid. All ten fingers scrabble for purchase on Geralt’s wide back. Nails scratch at the scars, igniting a different kind of pain. Mingled with the pleasure Jaskier seems to be gaining from it, the Witcher finds it only makes him hungrier.

He wants to devour this man.

Jaskier sucks in a sharp breath as Geralt slides downward and moves to the rippled plane of his abdomen. The muscles jump with attention from Geralt’s mouth. And when the Witcher’s chin bumps into the tip of Jaskier’s erection, something uncoils like a snake inside.

Geralt surges upward, dives for Jaskier’s mouth, and covers the writhing, moaning man with all of his body. Tongues slide over each other, chests heave and blood pumps to fuel their sex. The Witcher grinds down until he pins Jaskier’s cock with his own. It’s hot, and it liquifies like fire in his veins.

He imagines Jaskier’s ejaculation, the spill of seed onto Geralt’s throbbing cock. He thrusts, first experimentally, then with purpose. With need. It’s better than the effects of any potion, any ale or wine.

Jaskier responds beautifully. He gropes the length of the Witcher’s spine. He finds the thickness of Geralt’s waist, the swell of his ass. And he moans as he squeezes into Geralt’s open mouth.

“Yes,” he says, breathless, panting. “Grind against me until we come.”

Geralt obliges.

He holds back, of course, moving slowly and purposefully, paying close attention to the sounds and expressions Jaskier makes. He gives up kissing the man to watch pleasure play out on his face. Messy and uncoordinated as it is, the Bard seems rapturously pleased. This, in turn, fuels Geralt’s path.

They thrust against each other for some time. Their hands explore exposed skin, mouths connect and break apart and connect again. They rest when the friction begins to burn. They fuck the space between their bellies until it’s wet with a stronger kind of arousal.

Geralt wants to taste it, wants to smear it into his skin and forever wear it as a reminder. But Jaskier is slowly growing frustrated at the start and stop of it all. And the Witcher does not wish to disappoint.

He shifts all his weight to one side, and although Jaskier protests with a silent pout, he stops as soon as Geralt spits in his hand and gathers their cocks together.

The Witcher keeps Jaskier’s gaze, punishes his mouth, strokes the length of the man’s cock against the width of his own. And when Jaskier tenses with a guttural sound trapped in his throat, Geralt leans back to watch him come.

It’s magnificent, the feel of another cock-skin wrinkling against his. The pulses that make his stomach roil, the heady smell of cum oozing out of a pinkened slit of a hole. The urge to take it in his mouth returns, and just the thought is enough to power him to the edge. He’s never eaten a man before. Never wanted to —

Until Jaskier.

Geralt is going to come with that blessed name on his lips. Jaskier watches the space between them, cheeks colored and eyes glassy with bliss. He whispers something unintelligible, then offers a little encouragement.

“Gods, that monster cock. Can’t believe it’s mine.”

The Witcher shifts closer, strokes harder, nears the summit.

“I could write dozens of songs about the spread of those massive thighs.”

Jaskier slips both hands below Geralt’s ass and squeezes, lifts and grunts as he does so. A finger slips over the Witcher’s hole. It’s bold and surprising, something he’s only ever done to himself. The Bard, sensing the impending orgasm, does it again.

“Fuck, Jaskier,” he growls as the pleasure climbs up the back of his throat. He shouts as it blooms hot and heavy in his stomach, then spills onto the flaccid beauty that is Jaskier’s cock.

The Bard makes another climaxing sound, as if he’s sharing Geralt’s orgasm. It continues, only softer, as the Witcher wobbles a little, allowing himself to go down into the furs next to his lover. The mingling of their seed, pungent and raw and covering Geralt’s head, is wiped over his chest. His groin. He cock.

Jaskier rolls to meet him. His breath is hot, his eyes aflame. He gathers Geralt into an all-body embrace. His nose pokes under the Witcher’s ear. It sends a tingling sensation down the sides of his neck.

The aftermath of sex is something Geralt has never had any use for. He comes, and then he goes. The job is finished. Release accomplished. Except twice now, with two different people, he’s felt an anxious tug to his heart. He knows it will end, but he doesn’t want it to.

“You’re magnificent,” Jaskier whispers as he continues to breathe heavily against Geralt’s chest. He’s somehow wedged one thigh between the both of Geralt’s. “A prayer to the Gods,” he says, eyes half-closed, body limp. “I would gladly pay this twenty-year price again. Just to be able to experience that. With you.”

It’s a blow to the balls, and Geralt feels the swoop of regret. He opens his mouth and blurts out:

“The djinn.”

Jaskier tenses against him, stops running fingers gently over the mass of sweaty fur on Geralt’s chest.

The Witcher tries to explain. “I told Yen to heal you, whatever the price.”

This sets Jaskier to thinking. He frowns and purses his lips. “And how much did she charge?”

Geralt has known for a long time that he and Yen were bound together by that third wish. But he also knows that, if it weren’t for his own stupid selfishness, Jaskier would never have been cursed. It's his fault, all of it, over and over again.

Jaskier answers his own question. “You traded yourself to save me.”

It’s not untrue, and when it’s said that way, it doesn’t sound quite so devastating. Jaskier seems to be accepting of that much, at least.

The Bard looks at him for a long, long moment. Then he ducks his head and swoops in to lick at the spunk on Geralt’s skin.

Something snaps in the Witcher’s head. The memory of that horrible, wonderful day is taken over by the fact that Jaskier has always, always been on his side.

Geralt pets the smooth curve of Jaskier’s head, having come to a decision. The Bard moans as he laves with his tongue, then lifts his head and seeks out Geralt’s mouth.

The kiss is a foul bitterness on the Witcher’s sensitive tongue. But the act outweighs the taste, and Geralt is suddenly hungry once more.

When Jaskier breaks away from their reheated kiss, his eyes dance with mischief.

“So what you’re saying, which is extremely romantic, by the way, is that I owe you my life.”

The Witcher thinks about this. He smells a loophole. “Hm.”

Jaskier smiles, draws with one finger down the side of Geralt’s face.

“Well, then. Since you agree so fluently. I guess this means I’ll just have to warm your bed for the next twenty years. To thank you for your sacrifice.”

Read on AO3

#the witcher #Geralt #Jaskier #geraskier

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florianniss · 28 days ago

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Coin, Peace, and Quiet

It is three days before Geralt speaks to Jaskier next.

The first of these, Ciri spends most of her time with Triss. They walk through the castle and across the grounds, deep in discussion. Geralt knows this because he follows them, pays close attention to the confused frown on Ciri’s face. Knowing what he knows about Triss, he’s unsure it’s the right method to use. He wishes it didn’t have to be this way, but he understands it has to be.

It worries him deeply, and although he feels the steady pull of Jaskier’s voice, hears it echo through the halls, it’s a dull throbbing in the distance. Geralt doesn’t approach the man on purpose.

This is not the case the second day; he actively seeks out Jaskier but finds him occupied each time.

First, the brothers have roped him into a game of daggers, to which Geralt has sworn off for the rest of his days. Jaskier seems to enjoy it, though, and the Brothers are less antagonistic and more amicable. Geralt steers clear because he recognizes the same kind of bonding that occurred with Ciri when they first arrived. It just seems to have taken them longer to trust Jaskier.

The next Geralt sees him, Jaskier has taken Triss by the arm and is charming her as only he can. Extolling the heroism and bravery of one Butcher of Blaviken at the top of his lungs. Triss seems genuinely enchanted, eyes bright, smile benign at worst. Geralt watches them, too, and eventually comes to the conclusion that Jaskier can handle himself with the mage.

A little too well, in fact.

Ciri disappears to the pendulum, to the woods, to her room with the cat. Geralt knows better than to disturb her just yet; she’s likely struggling to balance the two sides she’s shown talent and interest in.

She does find him later in the day as he paces the paddock, mingling with the horses as they doze in the rare appearance of the sun’s rays.

A frown has, at this point, become permanently etched in her brow. “Triss thinks I should lean more towards magic,” she says, her gaze a mix of confusion and frustration. “I told her my grandmother wielded a sword instead of magic. I don’t expect I’ll be any different.”

Geralt expects she’ll be very, very different indeed.

That evening, once the inhabitants of the Keep are inside for the night, Ciri and Jaskier run off to the upper level giggling like children. Geralt catches Jaskier looking very pointedly down at him from the balcony. He waves, and Geralt waves back.

The bond between his oldest friend and his Child Surprise warms him immensely.

On the third day, both Triss and Ciri appear at breakfast wearing new gowns. They both sit with Jaskier, one on each side. Their laughter is contagious enough for Vesmir to wander by.

“Something has changed with the addition of Ms. Merigold.”

“Hm,” Geralt agrees. It should elate him. Instead, it is unsettling.

When Triss escapes, laughing, cheeks red, carrying the smudge-faced cat with her, it’s not only the feline’s hackles that rise. She approaches where he leans against the fireplace, all but deaf and blind to the creature’s howls and spits and threats.

“Oh, how fortunate you are to have such entertainment at your beck and call.”

Geralt bristles even as he promised himself he would not. “He is not here to entertain. He is my guest, just as Ciri is.”

Triss sits and curls onto the warm stones, cuddling the wretched beast against her breast. There are ginger hairs all over her green bodice.

“I see why you like him,” she hums, smiling at some pleasant secret.

Geralt pushes away from the hearth and heads for the outdoors.

At first, Roach is happy to embark on an adventure, snorting excitedly through her nostrils as her head bobs with quickened steps. She slows rather quickly, though, when she determines it is just she and he venturing into the mountains.

Even Geralt’s horse has been won from him.

Hours later, freshly skinned and gutted deer carcasses tied to the saddle, Geralt takes the whole ride back to convince himself he is not jealous.

Dinner is a raucous affair. Everyone is in great spirits. Wine flows freely as the venison cooks over the fire. Triss has let down her hair. Vesemir has combed his.

Geralt is about to retreat to the stable when he hears something that sets his heart fluttering against the walls of his chest.

A flute. A tune. And Ciri carrying both.

At her side, Jaskier is showing her where to place her fingers on a long, carved instrument. She blows and produces nothing but laughter, but then corrects and recorrects to make ethereal low tones.

It’s beautiful.

She’s beautiful.

Geralt watches as she concentrates, as she listens and watches and then tries so intently. Her eyes and voice and shoulders seem lighter. And Geralt sees a truly happy girl.

Triss is suddenly by his side, pulling his elbow towards a table set with full glasses of wine.

“Come, Geralt,” she says, coaxing with encouraging fingers over the back of his hand. “Jaskier’s promised to play for us.” And she lifts and pushes a goblet into his hand.

Geralt shakes her loose and strides quickly across the room. Blood pumps from his Witcher’s heart through his Witcher veins, but he’s all human when he grasps Jaskier around the upper arm.

He can feel the wide-open expression on his own face, can see it reflected in his friend’s reaction. With wide blue eyes and a smile that causes Geralt’s chest to tighten, Jaskier is the most beautiful sight ever.

“Your muse . . .” Geralt tries and fails, gripping more tightly and gently shaking. Out of the corner of one eye, Ciri is staring, beaming.

Jaskier grasps Geralt’s arm, too. His upper lip quirks in that familiar crooked way. “Turns out I’m not a total lost cause.”

Whether it’s because he’s here, or because of Ciri, or the other Witchers, or even Triss, Geralt doesn’t care. This has taken effort on all of their parts. The sense of accomplishment is overwhelming.

Jaskier does play. It frees something from its cage, not only for Geralt, but for all of them. Smiles and laughter come more easily, helped along by the wine and food. And everyone is spurred to move by the Bard’s spirited piping.

When the others finish their meal and take the floor to dance, Geralt makes his leave and gives them space. He doesn’t disappear entirely, because he could never miss this. He’s attracted to Jaskier’s joy like a moth to a flame.

Ciri twirls, her gown swirling around her, and soon, the others are joining in. Triss coaxes Vesemir out of his chair, and the Brothers, drunk, with abandon, gather together with chaotic glee. There isn’t a person present who isn’t on their feet and stamping on the floor. Even Geralt taps his foot and hums along.

Jaskier, the Entertainer, moves about them, swaying as he plays in a most alluring way. Geralt finds his eyes drawn to the triangle of the man’s back, the bounce in his step, the flowers braided, no doubt by Ciri, into his long hair. He makes certain to interact with each dancer individually, stopping to laugh when he misses a beat. Slapping backs and giving playful shoves when warranted. But his eyes, those stunning eyes, always find their way back to Geralt.

It speaks to him as nothing else has. Especially when he begins to play that song, the one that his muse weaponized to take his voice.

Geralt’s heart sinks as he recognizes it, curls in on himself with guilt. But Jaskier’s eyes are playful, and he lifts his chin in acknowledgment. Geralt goes cold as he realizes that the Bard has not forgotten all that happened that night in his room.

Someone shouts that Jaskier should play the flute more often. “Keeps his trap shut, don’t it?”

Geralt, hesitant, seeks and keeps and pleads for Jaskier’s gaze. He’s granted a long, long, knowing look. It lessens the pain.

Ciri and Triss ambush and tag team him, pulling him closer to the fire, into the madness. He relents with a sigh and smiles beside himself. Jaskier does not approach, but he watches. Always watches.

Geralt does a bad job of minding his feet. Sure, he spins and steps clumsily and laughs, breathing heavily, heart pounding. But his focus is on Jaskier. And he finds he cannot multitask, all of a sudden.

When the group takes a break, replenishing the wine and wiping sweaty brows, Geralt moves to approach Jaskier. He doesn’t get far, because Triss wraps her arms around him and wrestles him to a table and tries again to ply him with wine. Geralt steals a tankard from a brother and gulps it down. Disappointment flashes across her face. She recovers quickly.

“It’s hot in here, isn’t it?” she asks as she fans herself with one hand. “Let’s get some fresh air, shall we?”

Her nails bite into his forearm, bare where he’s rolled up his sleeves. He supposes it won’t hurt; he could do with cold night air to clear his senses. He’s feeling strangely slow and dizzy.

Jaskier watches them like a hawk as they leave.

“That’s better,” Triss sighs as they step into the courtyard. “I’ve been trying to catch your ear all night.”

Geralt is aware. He’s also aware that she’s crossed her arms over her chest, aware that goosebumps are already forming on her freckled skin. He grunts and ignores it. He already knows what’s coming.

“No, Triss,” he says, quite plainly. “Whatever it is, the answer is no.”

She makes a dismissive move with one hand. “How can you say that when you have no idea what I’m going to ask?”

Geralt hums, tipping his head back to take in the stars, baring his throat. “I asked you here to help Ciri. That is all. I will not be distracted by other agendas.”

Triss seems to pout, and it only solidifies his position.

“Surely you don’t mean that.”

He turns to look at her, jaw set and absolutely meaning it.

They are interrupted by Ciri running through the archway, sliding to a stop by them, smiling, panting.

“The dancing’s started again. You have to dance with me, Geralt.”

He recognizes that the girl has been sent, either by her own accord or by another’s, to rescue him.

“Fine,” he sighs, feigning contempt. Truthfully, he’s grateful. Very, very grateful.

It’s Ciri who brings Geralt and Jaskier together finally, circling the flutist and catching his elbow in her own. The man momentarily stops playing, starts circling with them. Something darkens his gaze, and he doesn’t quite make eye contact. Geralt thinks he knows why.

The rest of the night he stays by Ciri’s side, which in turn, keeps them close to Jaskier. Geralt pays close attention to what and how much the man drinks. He’s switched over to water at some point, explaining his own pipes need lubricant.

He winks at Geralt. Geralt has him back.

Jaskier is affectionate as they finally sit to rest. He leans on Ciri, he roughs up Geralt’s shoulders and presses his knee into the meat of Geralt’s thigh. His eyes linger on Geralt’s lips, as Geralt’s do the same. The Witcher sees the forward path quite clearly.

And he isn’t afraid this time.

Vesemir calls it just before the moon reaches its peak. He grumps about noise making and reminds them all they all have an early rise for firewood duty. Groans and boos erupt throughout the hall, but Geralt’s stomach clenches in anticipation. He’s glad for it.

Ciri collects her cat from the shadows and puts herself promptly to bed, and the others totter off in varying stages of drunkenness. Jaskier excuses himself, but he walks rather slowly across the hall. As if he’s waiting for someone to catch up.

Geralt makes a beeline for him, and he almost makes it. But Triss appears from the side and tucks her arm around his belt.

“You’re not getting out of it that easy,” she scolds, and she directs him out of the room. Geralt catches Jaskier’s gaze. He tries very hard to communicate directly to the man’s mind that he won’t be long.

As it turns out, Triss has plans. She begins to speak of Sodden, of the loss, of the torture and unspeakable destruction. Geralt closes his mind; he doesn’t want to hear it, especially tonight. But the Mage begins to cry, and it would be heartless to dismiss her pain.

“We’re both lonely,” she suggests. “We could help each other.”

Geralt, a wall already built around that part of his heart, is gentle when he turns her down.

“I’m sorry.”

He’s firm. She shakes her head. He leaves her with a reassuring pat on her hand.

Geralt makes it up the stairs and halfway to Jaskier’s room when he’s met by a rigid, hate-filled face.

“Jaskier.”

Every muscle and sinew in his body is tense. Wild eyes reflect the fire from the torch on the wall, and his demeanor is colder than the stone walls. The tendon in his jaw flexes, and his Adam’s apple lifts and falls as he swallows. He raises his head almost defiantly, and that’s when he pulls his sword.

Confused, Geralt takes a step back. “Jaskier?”

It doesn’t make sense. Everything about the evening has them pointed in a certain direction. Geralt understands that Triss has been aggressive, but she’s paid just as much attention to Jaskier in a similar manner. Surely Jaskier understands the way things are. After all, he was warned.

“Geralt,” is all he says, but it’s filled with vitriol.

The Witcher refuses to have this conversation in the drafty halls where a certain Mage would overhear. He moves quickly to meet Jaskier where he’s at.

The sword makes a horrible thudding echo as it’s pinned inside the Bard’s hand against the wall. Jaskier sets his back foot and rams his shoulders against Geralt’s, grabs with impressive force the width of Geralt’s bicep. He leans forward with everything he has, struggling to free his weapon. His breath is hot and heavy on Geralt’s face.

“Why must you taunt me —” Jaskier growls, and before he can say any more, Geralt slaps his free hand over the man’s mouth.

The Witcher pulls his weight as he backs Jaskier against the wall. “I told you.” He hisses right into the side of Jaskier’s bristled cheek. The man’s skin is hot under his fingers. “She is not what she pretends to be.”

Jaskier looks into Geralt’s eyes, brave and stupid and beautiful as he is. It takes him a half-moment for him to use his brain.

All the fight goes out of him as he understands. To what extent, the Witcher doesn’t know or care. All that matters is that Jaskier stops talking and follows to Geralt’s room.

Thankfully, he does.

Nobody has been inside the Witcher’s room other than Ciri and himself. He saves this information for later. It’s important that Jaskier understand.

Geralt strides across the dark space, using his enhanced senses to find and light the candles. Behind him, he can hear Jaskier’s ragged breathing, can sense his rapid heart rate, can smell the adrenaline that was released as he attacked. He’s calmer now, but only just. They will have to get over this before it – they – can move forward.

Jaskier opens his mouth to spit more fire, but Geralt cuts him off.

“Triss Merigold is a healer and a skilled potions master,” he begins, careful to stay out of the reach of Jaskier’s fury. “What do you think she wants with me?”

The Bard blinks angrily, fists clenched, standing just inside the closed door. His mouth is open and his breath fogs the cold air inside the room. It looks, at first, like he won’t answer.

He gets it on the first try.

“Other than your massive cock? Power.”

Geralt is thrilled. “Exactly. All it would take is a drop of love potion in someone’s drink . . .”

He trails off, hoping Jaskier will follow.

It takes a few terrifying moments, but he does. “That’s why you haven’t accepted anything from her.”

Geralt smiles and chances a step closer. “She is hurting. She lost so many friends and loved ones at Sodden. I brought her here to teach Ciri. She is a friend. She thinks she wants me, but she doesn’t.”

Jaskier snorts wryly. His sword remains in its place inside his vest. “Anyone with eyes can see she desires you.”

The moment presents itself, and Geralt snatches it. He closes the distance between them and takes Jaskier’s face in his hands. Shakes him gently. Waits until he stops trying to avoid the Witcher’s eyes. Feels so much he's about to burst.

“The only one I desire is you.”

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#the witcher #geralt #jaskier #geraskier

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