All in all, it’s not the worst kidnapping Jaskier has been through. He’s blindfolded, but they’ve not gagged him! Score! His head’s still a little muggy, however, so he hasn’t been able to make his mouth really say anything… not yet.
he’s tied to… a tree? A pole? Maybe a beam or column? He can’t tell if he’s outside or inside yet, on account of the whole blindfold and muggy head thing he explained earlier.
"H- Hello?"
He finally manages to call out.
"Welcome to the waking world, My Lord~"
A voice mocks. Jaskier has a bad feeling about the voice, even aside from the fact the voice is most definitely his kidnapper, it also just has very bad vibes overall.. It reminds Jaskier of an ooze. Or... Or sewage. Something.... Slimey. Icky. Blegcky...
The fog in his brain starts to clear a little bit more.. Lord.. He called him lord. Jaskier is no lord. Julian was a lord. Jaskier is not Julian, not any more. That rings many alarm bells in Jaskier's head. They're expecting a man that Jaskier considers dead to the world.
"Looks like he's panicking, Boss."
Oh shit. There were multiple.
"Aww, that's cute."
Another one mocks.
"Don't worry, lordling, as soon as your parents pay the ransom, you'll be free."
Yet another one says. Uh oh.
This is quite frankly too many voices for Jaskier to focus on right now. He has a LOT of other things to focus on right now! Like the fact they think his parents are going to be paying a ransom? As if!
Oh Melitele, he's going to die here!
...Unless...
"W- What address are you sending it to?"
"The Pankratz estate, obviously."
"They won't be there to get your message, good sirs! They're actually in their holiday home in the blue mountains! I- In Kaedwen!"
Jaskier prays this works.
"Goddess," Jaskier says quietly, almost privately, except that his lips hover temptingly close to Eskel's. "You do look just like him, if it wasn't for—"
"The disfigured maw?" Eskel adds helpfully, out of habit if nothing else.
Jaskier puts a gentle hand on his cheek—the scarred one, gods save his soul—and Eskel leans into the touch involuntarily, like a dog starved for affection.
"I was going to say the hair," Jaskier finishes with a hint of kind amusement, and winks.
Where's the 50k+ slow burn of Eskel ending up in a magical healing sleep instead of dead, and after the events of S2, Jaskier spends a whole winter composing beautiful angsty soulful songs (the kind with filling) to his new sleeping friend?
After all, with a keep full of grumpy, grieving witchers who would rather yell at him than appreciate the finer things, who better to sing to than a comatose witcher?
But somehow, without any of them noticing, the Leshy infection starts to recede. Sure, maybe Triss Merigold's healing potions and spells had something to do with it too. But also, maybe Eskel wakes up with the echoes of a singing bard in his head.
And he can't wait to meet this human who spent months by his side, pouring his broken heart out because he wasn't sure anyone was listening. Eskel was listening.
And Eskel is kind to him. He asks that Jaskier keep singing to him while he recovers (of course, Jaskier had months prior bribed Yennefer into getting him a new lute, bribed--though she was happy to do it because she now considers him a friend after all they went through). Jaskier is shocked, only momentarily, because this is the first witcher happy to hear him sing and it's both momentous and agonizingly painful all at the same time.
Ciri, when not training under Yennefer's keen eye, has to deal with a distressed, sulking Geralt, who doesn't know how to say he misses Jaskier. Geralt, who can't admit that though Jaskier is no longer physically far from him, they've never felt further apart.
Have I mentioned lately that I love you? Because I love you.
not just some lay
CW: small cock rights, frottage, oral sex (involving a dick), face riding, mentions of past shaming for small cock, soft tummies
Summary: Jaskier's nerves get the better of him when he falls into bed with Eskel
Taglist: at the bottom - let me know if you want on/off it!
It was, of course, when he already had Eskel in his bed and between his thighs that the nerves set in.
The witcher was warm under his hands. Soft, pliant in a way that belied his power and skill. Eskel was a man who had known all his life he was large and threatening and went out of his way to make good people feel safe, and it did something to Jaskier's gut and cock when he was so easily pushed back on the bed.
And speaking of his cock, that was the main issue.
"Something wrong?" Eske's voice was rough, his lower lip red from Jaskier's teeth, but his hands smoothed over Jaskier's thighs like he had all the patience in the world.
But Jaskier was frozen then, staring down at him. One hand gripping one of Eskel's rather large and delightful tits, the other on his soft stomach, and his thoughts couldn't quite get past the next step in this.
Pants. Their pants. Jaskier had stripped in front of plenty of people so he knew a variety of reactions they could have. He'd had people laugh, he'd had people raise their eyebrows at it, and he'd even had a few who found it hot. But Eskel - fuck, Eskel wasn't just some lay in a brothel or after a few pints.
"We don't have to," Eskel said softly, finally drawing Jaskier out of his thoughts. And Jaskier shook his head, kneading Eskel's stomach for a few moments just to give his fingers something to do.
"I want to," he said, and just to make sure there was no doubt on it he repeated it more firmly.
Eskel didn't blink twice at how small Jaskier's cock was. Not when he tossed his pants to the side, not when they rubbed off against each other, and not even when Jaskier sat on his face and sobbed out his name. That reaction, Jaskier thought, as he lay in a sweaty, cuddled up heap with Eskel snoring softly away - that was one he could certainly get used to.
Eskel had a bad day at work. Jaskier takes care of him.
wc: 1.1k | tags: Hurt/Comfort, all the comfort, domestic fluff
Eskel feels miserable as he walks up the stairs to his apartment, tired and exhausted from the day‘s work and his stupid brain telling him to be ready to panic any minute now. He hasn’t eaten yet despite the late hour, but he ignores the growling of his stomach because the thought of just falling into bed after this piece of shit of a day is really that close to making him tear up.
He doesn’t know what’s wrong but he knows for a fact that his bed will make everything just that much better.
But he has a long way to go still because he can’t find his damn key, too many of them dangling from the ring and he has no patience. Really. He considers sitting down right here in front of his door, the mat his only companion as he sits and considers his life choices. It’s a close thing, but he finally manages to find the right key before succumbing to exhaustion and despair.
Before he can fumble with the lock and lose another fight, though, the door opens magically, revealing the beautiful, sympathetic face of his wonderful, magical boyfriend. Smiling at him, saving him from waging war on his front door, Eskel feels like he has never been so happy to see him.
“Hi,“ Jaskier says and it’s the most wonderful sound, bringing Eskel that much closer to tears.
“Jask.”
“I read your messages,” he explains, fidgeting with his hands, those long and delicate fingers that Eskel craves to feel around his own or playing with his hair. “You didn’t seem… Well, I just. I made you dinner?”
Don’t cry. Don’t cry now. Don’t make him think he did something wrong when in reality he is the most perfect person and you did nothing to deserve him and yet he is here. For you. With dinner.
Eskel says nothing, just falls forward and into Jaskier’s arms. If he so much as opened his mouth, nothing but a pathetic sob would leave his lips and he doesn’t want that, not yet. Not when what he truly wants to say is I love you.
“Oh, my sweet darling, come on inside,” Jaskier hushes him, but doesn’t move an inch from the doorway.
Eskel nods and presses a kiss to his cheek before pulling back, though he already misses him. His warmth. The way he can close his eyes against Jaskier’s neck and pretend the whole world smells of comfort and home and lavender. Later. Hopefully. Please.
Finally, Jaskier manages to shoo him inside and Eskel lets himself be enveloped by the delicious smell of homemade bread and cinnamon rolls. Gods, the exhaustion falls from his shoulders and is replaced by desperate adoration and yearning, all directed to the person standing right in front of him. It’s almost as overwhelming as dealing with grumpy, loud costumers all day, though the edges of it are softer because he can tell Jaskier how much he loves him instead of being forced to keep a fake smile on his lips all day.
So, he does. “I love you.”
It’s not the first time he said it, not by a long shot, but every time something happens with Jaskier’s eyes, his shoulders, his hands. And, most importantly, with his lips. Every time they pull up into that smile that wears his name, and every time his breath hitches a bit before he tells him, “I love you, too.”
And, really, that’s all Eskel needs to know as he shares dinner with Jaskier, feeling gross in those clothes he’s been wearing all day, feeling overwhelmed and tired like he did before, but wrapped in the warmth of Jaskier’s presence now.
The rest of dinner happens in a blur, his wonderful boyfriend keeping mostly quiet all along, knowing when you talk and when to let silence work its magic on Eskel’s brain.
“I’ll draw you a bath, yeah?” Jaskier says when dinner is done and the table cleaned. “My love, I’ll make it better and then we can go sleep, okay?”
Eskel nods, feeling once more ready to cry. He doesn’t, not yet, and instead reacts to those gentle kisses Jaskier is pressing to his face. It’s hard not to lose it in the face of such affection, but Eskel is as weak as he is strong. Just a little longer, he promises himself.
I’m the bathroom, Jaskier makes sure the water has the perfect temperature before he sets to undressing Eskel, rubbing careful and warm hands over his neck, his shoulders, his chest. Trying to get rid of the tension there. He kneels and brushes featherlight kisses over his chest, his scars, his soft tummy, before sitting back on his heels and smiling at Eskel with gentle adoration in his eyes that is almost too much.
“My beautiful, beautiful Eskel. My wonderful man. I love you. Let me take that day from your shoulders while you relax, yeah?”
Again, he can’t open his mouth, afraid to lose his voice in the face of such love and care. He can only nod and lean forward, cradling Jaskier’s face before pressing kiss after kiss to his smiling lips.
He gets into the bathtub and lets Jaskier take care of him. All he has to do is lean back and close his eyes while Jaskier massages his scalp, his neck and down to his shoulders, humming soft tunes all the while. Eskel even has the suspicion that Jaskier is composing something because he’ll start over sometimes, tentative as though he’s trying out what works best. It makes him smile and his eyes sting.
This is home. He wants this for the rest of his life. Forever and always. Not Jaskier taking care of him but Jaskier being there. For him. With him.
He is almost relaxed enough that he asks him right then and there, but bites his tongue at the very last second. This is not the time or place to propose. It’s not. No matter how right it feels.
Jaskier washes his hair and drags his hands over his upper body.
“You’re my teddy bear and I love you,” he chuckles. And, funnily enough, that’s when Eskel finally lets the stinging eyes and the clogged throat win. He cries then, let’s the tension fall from his shoulders as he is held in Jaskier’s strong arms. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” he whispers in Eskel’s ear, pulling the sobs from him and rewarding him with kisses to his shoulder, his neck, his cheek, his temple - anywhere he can reach, really.
Eskel is safe. He is warm. He is home, with Jaskier, and he can take all the bad days of the world if only they ended like this.
Tomorrow, he will ask Jaskier to marry him.
Tonight, he will let Jaskier kiss his tears away and hold him close, unashamed and safe.
Chapters: 4/6
Fandom: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion, Eskel & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Characters: Jaskier | Dandelion, Eskel (The Witcher), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Chapter Tags: Feelings Realization, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, like seriously eskel tone it down, Banter, Teasing, jaskier has a better time now, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Wiedźmin | The Witcher-Typical Bathing, Flirting
on ao3
Jaskier lay frozen still for a long moment, everything around him suddenly feeling different. He’s all too aware of the mattress underneath him, of the blanket in his hands and the dip of the mattress just beside him where Eskel is. Then he rolls himself on his side toward Eskel and they’re cuddled up like they always are, with Jaskier’s head laying on the witcher’s shoulder.
There’s a delay before Eskel reacts, the man clearly surprised, but then he gently lays his arm down over Jaskier’s side, palm resting on his ribs, and urges him closer so that their whole bodies are lined up.
They’re touching now, and things should feel back to normal— they feel closer to it, at least— but the both of them are still… stiff. Unmoving. Usually Eskel would be rubbing his back or Jaskier would be humming but neither of them do anything. His heartbeat is rapid, pounding against his ribs, and Eskel must be able to feel it against his palm. I need to do something about this, Jaskier thinks frantically, now that I’ve realized how I feel. He can’t let the kiss ruin their easy dynamic, especially not since he… Jaskier opens his mouth to say Eskel’s name, or talk to him, or confess, maybe, but instead.
Instead Jaskier jolts up onto his elbow, suspended over Eskel. Even in the dark Jaskier can see the witcher’s eyebrows jolt upward. His arm slips off of Jaskier, where it falls to the mattress beside Jaskier’s arm. Eskel opens his mouth to say something, but then he too stops before he can speak. His face relaxes, gaze calm and patient. He must have seen something in Jaskier’s expression. Jaskier’s heart skips a beat as he stares down at his witcher, his lips parted. He looks between Eskel’s lips and his eyes, his gaze flicking back and forth rapidly, and then he finally finds his courage.
He surges forward and seals his lips over Eskel’s. He grips tight to Eskel’s from where his elbow is braced against the bed and squeezes the witcher’s side with his free hand, pressing close so that their chests are flush and Eskel’s warmth seeps through his clothes. Eskel hums into his mouth, sharp and surprised, and then melts back into his pillow and kisses Jaskier back, just as soft and sweet as he had this morning.
Jaskier pulls back, a loud smack sounding out as their lips part, and he only needs to catch a glimpse of Eskel’s vulnerable expression before he’s filled with so much happiness that it’s all he can do to tuck himself back against Eskel’s chest. His cheeks are absolutely on fire, his heart is still pounding hard against his ribcage, and time feels frozen while he waits for Eskel’s response. All Jaskier can see is Eskel’s threadbare white shirt, shrouded and seemingly grey in the darkness, and all he can hear is his own traitorous body giving away his panic.
After a beat Eskel gives a big sigh, Jaskier shifting on top of him with the movement, and returns his arm to its rightful place around Jaskier’s waist. He hauls him in, squeezing them together hard enough that Jaskier is squished tight against his chest. Jaskier giggles— wheezily— and Eskel laughs with him. His witcher relaxes then, but keeps his hold.
Jaskier hides his face in Eskel’s shirt. Eskel kisses the crown of his head, his warm breath filtering through the strands of his hair, and Jaskier’s heart finally calms down.
