#geralt: jaskier and i got married

[alons-ycreeper]

I had fun with the last idea so have this as well:

Post-mountain, Jaskier goes back to Oxenfurt where he notices something strange. All the mail at his apartment is under the name "Julian of Rivia". When he tells the postal there must be a misunderstanding because no one under that name lives there it's always just been him and he hasn't been kicked out or moved. They ask if he's Jaskier to which he says yes and they reply that no it is indeed the right address.

Confused the bard goes to the bureau asking to see his identification papers because he wants to clear up a misunderstanding of identity. Well the bookkeeper brings out the forms and sure enough Jaskier's name changed because he married...he married Geralt. He wonders how this could've happened then thinks back to one night between contracts the two men got roaring drunk, Geralt was being his usual 'woe is me' self saying that witchers could never have certain things like retirement or marriage, Jaskier as usual wanted to prove him wrong so he dragged the two to the nearest town and married him just to prove witchers can be have whatever they pleased. Guess that didn't age well.

But that's not all, no. The town they went to was big enough and populated enough to have an actual courthouse so the marriage license is an official document and Jaskier hasn't got it annulled so he's still married.

Post-reunion and at Kaer Morhen, Jaskier has been talking to Yenn about it. Jaskier's family has found out about the eloping and has demanded to meet the princess. The bard wouldn't put it pass them to send Ferrant their way making false claims of insanity or child endangerment to take legal custody of Ciri only to either get head of the game and marry her off or give the girl over to Nilffgaard. So in order to keep both Ciri and Geralt far away from them he's already got his half of the divorce papers signed they just need Geralt's signature or mark and it'll be done. They'll be safe.

But when Jaskier hands Geralt the paperwork and quill the bastard says no then chucks it into the fire before walking away. Yenn has to physically hold Jaskier back from attacking Geralt.

[catscraftsandcommentary]

I need Lambert/Milena in a Shrek AU.

Just imagine with me:

Duke de Roggeven insults a powerful wizard (we all know he would - he'd be lucky if it was only ONE) who then curses his daughters. All three of them.

(ETA: he pissed off Yennefer. Probably insulted her mixed elven heritage and/or her inability to have kids, so she went "alright. Let's see how you feel when YOUR daughters are inhuman and infertile monsters.")

By night, each of them transforms into a different non-human humanoid: Marta is a succubus (all her lust for power and a crown turned into a different kind of lust - and we'll pretend that succubi *can* live without sex, but they feel sick and hungry the whole time), Marika is an elf (still elegant and pretty, but inhuman enough to shock everyone - Marika didn't piss off Yennefer), and Milena is a witcher (Yennefer saw her strength and kindness and went "this suits you.")

Marta, of course, spends the entire time being FURIOUS at being some "sex obsessed half goat! I am the daughter of a DUKE! The ELDEST DAUGHTER! How dare she!" Marika isn't happy, per se, but she privately goes "it could be a LOT worse. I'll take it." Milena actually enjoys her new abilities - she's so strong! Her senses are much sharper! - and the eyes are rather pretty.

After being COMPLETELY HORRIFIED that his daughters (well, mostly Marta) are cursed to become non-humans by night, Duke de Roggeven locks them in a castle guarded by a dragon and then pretends that he's sent them abroad to stay with distant relatives.

Meanwhile, Marta is getting on EVERYONE'S last nerve with her constant bitching, Marika is trying to keep their lifestyle as pleasant as possible, and Milena...

Milena befriends the dragon. She thinks Villentretenmerth is fascinating, and when she learns that the three ladies who showed up to help the sisters are also dragons, she wants to learn as much as they can teach her.

(Marta refuses to acknowledge any of them. "I will not consort with beasts," she sniffs hautily, and locks herself in a private bedroom every night before sunset.)

So! Back in Redania, Duke de Roggeven has convinced everyone that Yennefer's line about "whoever breaks the curse will gain a treasure greater than gold or gems" means that they can gain literal treasure (and/or magical treasure) by rescuing and marrying his daughters, and not - to take an example COMPLETELY at random - their true love as a bride.

(Yes, true love is the cure. Of course it is.)

So the asshole king of Kaedwen hears about the supposed princess and holds a huge tournament - and Lambert shows up because "that fucker dumped a bunch of refugees in our mountains, the fucking bastard. Who does that?!"

Jaskier, being one of the refugees - and also a bard who can sense the potential for a good story - insists on coming with him. They 100% do the "Donkey won't stop singing until Shrek snaps at him to shut up - and then he hums" scene.

About five times.

(Geralt and Eskel either stayed home to help Vesemir manage the refugees or hang around the Kaedweni court to remind the king of his promise - and make sure he doesn't get any even WORSE ideas.)

(Lambert REFUSED to stay in Kaer Morhen when Vesemir was being bossy - "I get enough of him riding my damn ass during fucking winter, NO GODSDAMNED WAY." And his brothers very sensibly refused to let him stay in court longer than absolutely necessary because, uh, they've MET Lambert and they know exactly how badly it would go. So he gets rescue duty by default. At least the princess will be happy to get to Ard Carraigh and away from him. They send Jaskier with him to try to temper some of his, uh, Lambert-ness.)

Anyway! Lambert and Jaskier arrive at the tumbledown castle guarded by a dragon, and Jaskier is immediately like "oh how wonderful! How majestic! Look at that wingspan!" And Lambert is like "...remember how we're here to fight the bastard? We have to GET PAST HIM to rescue whatever noble bint got stuck out here."

Jaskier pouts.

Villentretenmerth finds all this terribly amusing, especially since he recognizes a witcher when he sees one. So he sticks his nose in their camp and asks (rumbles) "what makes you think that even a witcher can defeat the greatest and oldest of dragonkind?"

So Jaskier introduces them - as dramatically and fancily as possible - and states that they are here to rescue the princess.

Milena creeps out from Villentretenmerth's wing. "We are the daughters of the Duke de Roggeven, and there are three of us. I hope you will still take us home?"

Villentretenmerth sighs. This girl. Always getting underfoot. "I will let you take the ladies with you - but you must convince them to leave freely. If they refuse - now or later - I will take them back."

"He sent THREE girls to some remote fucking castle? Fucker. Yeah, I'll take you all. Jask, let's find 'em and get out of here."

So Milena leads them up to the tallest tower where her sisters spend their day. I can't decide if I want Marta to do the whole "sleeping beauty waiting for a kiss" thing (assuming that JASKIER is her princely rescuer and Lambert is just there as a guard.) If she does, she'll get a rude surprise when Lambert shakes her awake and tells her to pack anything she's taking with her, they're LEAVING.

So the guys get the ladies and lead them out - pretending to ignore the hissing and squabbling that said ladies are doing behind the men's backs - and are unhappily surprised AGAIN because not only are their rescuer(s) NOT a prince and his retinue, they don't even have HORSES.

The dragons, of course, are watching this with amusement...and no little relief at getting rid of Miss Complainer the Eldest.

I'm gonna say it takes less than two days for Marta and Lambert to have a truly nasty fight. She wants a horse. A private carriage, really, but she'll SETTLE for a horse. Purebred, obviously. And fashionable new dresses, and BATHS, and food cooked in an actual KITCHEN, and a private bedroom from sundown to sunrise, and...

Lambert is just like "look lady, I don't get any reward until I deliver you, I don't have the coin for any of that, and I wouldn't waste on stupid fucking luxuries if I did."

This does not go over well. At all. There are very angry words shouted about his lack of preparation, decorum, breeding, proper dress...the list is endless.

Lambert gives exactly zero shits.

Milena is watching the fight with interest - she finds him FASCINATING - and Marika is mostly trying to stay out of it. She agrees with Marta on most of the points - their tower-castle was reasonably comfortable, certainly more so than this long hike back to civilization - but also, freedom.

If only they were returning home instead of to a strange country...

Which is about when Villentretenmerth - as the human Borsch - walks into their camp, accompanied by the three dragon woman who have been tending to the sisters. "Marchionesses. Wolf. Bard. I warned you I would take the ladies back if they wished to leave your company."

"The TOWER is better than staying with this BARBARIAN," Marta sniffs. "And Father arranged for marriages for Marika and I already!"

(She knows she gets the crown prince - and she knows that Kaedwen's king is a murderous asshole. Being queen doesn't count if she's not alive to enjoy it...and she won't have allies there to help her plot regicide. She's ambitious, not stupid.)

Somehow, it works out that Borsch and his friends take Marta and Marika back while Lambert and Jaskier continue to Kaedwen with Milena. There is ABSOLUTELY a scene where Lambert is out hunting when bandits try to attack the supposedly unguarded noblewoman and bard, and Milena thoroughly kicks their ass.

Lambert runs back just in time to be HELLA aroused impressed at Milena. Jaskier is already composing an ode to her.

They arrive at Ard Carraigh. Stuck up knights send for the king, who pretends he's a decent person long enough to carry Milena off on a fancy horse. Half an hour later, just as Lambert is moping about losing his new friend, his brothers arrive and go "quick, where's the lady? We have to get out her out of here!"

A very confusing but short explanation-argument later, Eskel and Geralt are chasing after Lambert as he storms the royal palace BY HIMSELF, because like hell will he leave Milena to that monster!

The confrontation is absolutely the most dramatic thing Ard Carraigh has seen in decades, with the witchers storming in just after Milena is crowned but before she can kiss her new husband...

...whom Lambert immediately punches in the face. "HOW MANY WOMEN HAVE YOU KILLED?!? HOW MANY, ASSHOLE? Did you even bother to COUNT THEM?"

Everyone gasps. Eskel and Geralt keep the guards back with drawn swords.

"NO MORE! I *WILL NOT* let you murder Milena for your sick fucking games!"

The king tries to splutter something, but Lambert takes his head off before he can get it out.

And then the sun sets.

And Milena...changes.

Scars from her training with the dragons, greater muscles than any noblewoman should have, and her eyes...

She shrieks - not at the king's death or the witchers' violence, but at her own secret coming out. She's hidden it for so long, and so carefully...she'll never survive this. The Kaedweni court will turn her out, if they don't execute her with her (very briefly) husband -

And then Lambert takes her hand.

"Milena? Are you...okay? Did they hurt you? What happened?"

"I'm CURSED! My sisters and I are cursed - for years now!"

He looks at her. "Y'look fine to me. It suits you."

"Really?"

"I wouldn't lie to you. Never have, never will. And I think you look - good. Really good. The dress is kinda silly - "

Milena giggles. She thought the same thing, when her maids were lacing and buttoning her into the massive thing.

"But YOU are gorgeous. Always have been."

"You still like me? Even..."

"As mutated and scarred up as I am? I'd have to be a fool not to. You're the bravest, strongest, most amazing woman I've ever met."

And she kisses him. She has to, can't hold it back.

(Cue the curse breaking - and leaving her as a witcher.)

Obviously there's cleanup, but Milena IS the queen, and is suddenly betrothed to the man who killed the murderous previous king - so it works out.

And then Villentretenmerth comes back.

[thelostgirl21]

How to solve the whole situation once they've found Ciri...

Jaskier: I think Ciri should marry Radovid.

Geralt: Are you insane? He's way too old for -

Radovid: If I may, he's talking about a purely political alliance. I can assure you I'm gay, and I've got absolutely no matrimonial interest in your daughter. I do, however, so happen to have a kingdom that I'd very much love to abdicate from in favor of a queen that might actually have an interest in running it.

Ciri: I could use a kingdom! One that would treat elves, dwarves and humans as equals...

Jaskier: See? She'd make a great queen! They get married, Radovid renounces the throne, they divorce, Ciri inherits Redania - and with it the most powerful army in the North to keep her safe... Oooh! And Yennefer could be her mage adviser!

Yennefer: You sound like you've been giving this way too much thought...

Geralt: Wait. Redania legalized divorce?

Jaskier: And gay marriage, too. *Tries to sound casual about it.* Not that this is, you know, at all relevant to the the current situation.

Geralt: And why should we believe the King of Redania would be keen on giving up power so easily?

Radovid: Look, all I really wanted was a pretty song...

Geralt: *Eyes him suspiciously*

Jaskier: No, he's being honest. Had my doubts, too, but turns out all he really wanted, at first, was a pretty song.

Geralt: *Slowly realizes what this is about, an amused glint in his eyes as he looks back at him.* I thought you didn't do pretty?

Jaskier: *Dramatically throws his arms in the air, slightly annoyed.* Well, apparently I do now, don't I?

Radovid: *Smirking smuggly* I'm "pretty".

Ciri: *Totally missing the innuendo* You really are!

Radovid: *Delighted and preening* Thank you.

Yennefer: *Snorts*

Yarpen: *Points to Jaskier and Radovid* Wait. Has the lute-playing walloper been fucking a King?

Geralt: *Groans and sighs* Again, real subtle, Yarpen.

Yarpen: *Whisling while looking at Jaskier, somewhat impressed.* Didn't think you'd have it in you, friend!

Radovid: Well, technically -

Jaskier: Aaand on that note! I'll also need Ciri to divorce him, so I can marry him after.

Ciri: *Excitedly* You two are getting married?

Jaskier: Only if you are! Which, I'm aware, makes very little sense...

Radovid: I actually did offer to marry him first - and have Redania become the first kingdom to have two kings - but that triggered a bit of a panic attack.

Jaskier: Look, I stopped using that viscount title and left nobility behind for a reason. If Ciri can make room in the castle for a retired king and his traveling bard, I'd be fine spending a few weeks or even months living at court from time to time. Especially at first, so Radovid can help her get settled and update her on the most important issues that need to be addressed and resolved in the kingdom.

Ciri: Of course you'd always have a home here, and I wouldn't just kick Radovid out! Actually, would it be okay for me to let him keep his prince title? Just in case anything happens to me, and -

Yennefer: *Firmly* Nothing's going to happen to you.

Ciri: Yeah but -

Geralt: No buts. We won't allow it.

Ciri: What if I accidentally portal myself to another dimension? Wouldn't want to force me to leave the Kingdom unattended until I get back, would you?

Jaskier: Hate to say it, but she does have a point.

Radovid: Look, if that would give the Princess some peace of mind to have someone willing to be holding the fort in case of emergencies... But, if that were to happen, I'd be needing Jaskier's help.

Jaskier: *Shrugs* I mean, I guess that would work. It's not that I don't want to get involved in making people's lives better in the kingdom, or share in any of those responsibilities. It's just that, no matter how much I love any of you guys - and I really do love you - I tend to get quite antsy and unpleasant confined to a single location for too long.

Radovid: And personally, I've always wanted to travel, meet different people, and experience some of the tales that have inspired Jaskier's songs for myself.

Geralt: You know he makes a lot of those things up, right?

Radovid: *Shrugs* I think Jaskier's always told those stories the way he sees them - for what they are or mean to him according to his own emotional truth, rather than facts. For example, I've always thought that "Toss a Coin to Your Witcher" was about how the world tends to forget that, behind every larger-than-life heroic figure, there's often just someone that needs to be looked after, too, offered a drink from time to time, listened to, and treated as a friend. If accuracy or factually reporting events had been his goal, then he'd have become a historian, not a bard.

Yennefer: That's... surprisingly insightful.

Jaskier: *Swooning* I know... *Sighs happily* He really is quite brilliant, isn't he?

Radovid: *Blushes brightly* I take it my humble interpretation's not too far off?

Jaskier: *Leans in to whisper into his ear.* I'll let you know just how close you got later...

Geralt: *Confused* Okay, what's actually happening here?

Ciri: *Chuckles* It's called poetry.

Jaskier: *Dreamily, mostly to himself* You'd have to be a spoon to get it...

Radovid: *Now also confused* Wait. What? Now I don't get it.

Jaskier: *Winces slightly* Sorry. That one's on me, you're missing context. You're a spoon, Geralt's a hammer - just...

Radovid: ...different tools for different purposes?

Jaskier: *Makes a half strangled noise, as his legs threaten to give up on him.*

Yarpen: *Motioning to Jaskier while looking at Yennefer, bit puzzled* Does your bard usually do that?

Yennefer: *Looking deep in thoughts, seemingly analysing the situation* Not that I've ever been aware of.

Geralt: Yeah, no. That's new.

Ciri: *Incredulously* You've been travelling with him for, like, over 20 years, and you're telling me you've never seen him have a crush before?

Yennefer: Oh! Oh. Yeah, that's um - okay. I think you're right - I mean, I can see the nuance.

Jaskier (*slowly coming back to himself*) & Geralt: What nuance?

Yennefer: *Innocently* Nothing! Just enjoy your spoon, bard. I'll explain it to the hammer later.

Geralt: *Huffs thoughtfully*

Jaskier: *Still looking unsure* Alright...

Yarpen: You know what, I think it's safer if I don't know.

Radovid: I'm actually not entirely sure I follow...

Yennefer: *Uses magic to telepathically communicate with Radovid, making him blush even brighter.*

Radovid: No, I mean, that seems...

Yennever: *Continues to telepathically communicate with him, looking fondly amused, and just the slightest bit smug.*

Radovid: *Bashfully* I'll ah, I'll take your word for it, and thank you...

Jaskier: What did she just say?

Radovid: Nothing bad, and I'll tell you one day, when the time's right, I promise.

Jaskier: *Doesn't look quite convinced.*

Yennefer: *Rolls eyes* I promise it's fine, Pankratz. Now stop pouting!

Jaskier: *Sighs dramatically* Fine!

Radovid: But,to go back to the whole political royal union thing, I did look to see if I could just hand the kingdom over to Ciri - simply name a successor and step down. Sadly, changing the laws of succession would appear to be a complete nightmare!

Geralt: Meaning we have to trust that you'll honor your end of the agreement, and -

Yarpen: What? You really think that King's going to attempt to stay married to your kid with the amount of eye fucking that's been happening between him and your bard?

Geralt: *Groans* Yarpen, for fuck's sake!

Yennefer: That's a bit of a crude way to put it, but he's got a point.

Geralt: You know Dijsktra and Philippa won't be happy about this, right?

Jaskier: Yeah, well, good thing you and Yennefer are scarier than Dijsktra and Philippa.

Ciri: *Crosses arms on her chest, pointedly looking at Jaskier* Why are you overlooking the fact that I'd totally rip their spines out if they tried to come after you and hurt my family?

Jaskier: Gods, I love you kid! *Pulls Ciri into a tight hug*

Radovid: Didn't you say Yennefer was the scary one?

Jaskier: Like mother, like daughter.

Yarpen: *Proudly* I actually taught the cub how to rip out spines.

Geralt: *Gives two vigorous pats on Radovid's shoulder, almost making him fall over* Welcome to the family, Radovid! *Whispering omninously* But, should you ever try to hurt Jaskier or Ciri, trust me, you'll be wishing she ripped out your spine.

Yennefer: Yes, because I know how to eternally trap souls into an infernal dimension.

Radovid: *Hesitating* That's... oddly reassuring. *Visibly relaxing while looking at Jaskier* You were right, love - Dijsktra and Philippa aren't so scary after all, are they?

Jaskier: *Smuggly* Told you!

Yennefer: Are we sure we shouldn't have been warning Jaskier not to hurt him?

Geralt: Hmm... I was just thinking that, too.

[a-kind-of-merry-war]

Here is my thumb at the polling station!! I was gonna take a picture directly outside but someone else was taking a selfie and I felt weird waiting for her to be done. Anyway what do I get in exchange??

HELLO THUMB. I like that you've got a different coloured sign, bravo.

I'm using this opportunity to share some of what might actually be the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written. This is the start of chapter two, but... yeah. It's pretty obvious what's going on here. The only context I'll give is that this is post-everything, post-game, "settled down and married and owning an inn in Toussaint".

(I'd also like to thank @spielzeugkaiser for encouraging this one)

Also adding a cut because it's long and I couldn't decide where to cut it off 😅

---

“Geralt, my darling love, my handsome witcher, my saviour of men?”

“What do you want?”

“I— what makes you think I want something?”

“You only use that tone when you want something and it’s—” Geralt shuffled around in bed and peered out of the window. It was still dark out. “Before dawn,” he finished. Paused. “What are you doing up, anyway?”

Jaskier stared down at him, dressed only in a nightshirt which Geralt was fairly certain was his.

“I heard a noise,” he said.

Geralt resisted the urge to pull him back into bed. “You heard a noise.” He repeated, tonelessly.

“Yes. It woke me up,” Jaskier continued. “And now there’s something in the stables.”

With a grumble, Geralt finally sat up. “What is it?”

Jaskier gave him an exaggerated sigh. “Well I don’t know, do I?”

“Why don’t you go check, then?”

“What if it’s a bandit? Or some sort of horrid beasty? You truly can’t expect me to deal with it, can you?”

For a moment, Geralt considered suggesting just that. But Jaskier had a point. He was  famously unhelpful in these sorts of situations. With a sigh, he swung himself out of bed and hastily dressed in the first clothes that he could get his hands on. After a second of consideration, he grabbed his sword as well.

“Come on, then.”

There was a disturbance in the stables, it turned out. Geralt could hear the horses snuffling and pacing - clearly something had spooked them. As they approached the sturdy stone building, Geralt could see that the door was swinging open.

“Stay here,” he muttered towards Jaskier over his shoulder.

“Right-o.”

The stables smelled like horse and sweat. But beneath that, a tang that Geralt didn’t recognise. And beneath that, one he did: blood.

It was too early and he was too tired to fuck about. He gripped his sword, set his shoulders, and called into the dark.

“I know you’re in here,” he said. “Show yourself.” 

At first, nothing happened. And then there was a rustle from the far corner, and a voice.

“Please, m’Lord—” 

A head appeared over the hay. A man. He was all cheekbones and angles, with a thatch of wild untamed hair. Geralt’s first thought was how young he looked. Probably no older than twenty-three or four. He looked terrified, too, and his eyes swept over Geralt in a dance Geralt had grown familiar with. The expression of fear melded from one of being caught, to one of being caught by a witcher.

As the man moved, the smell of blood grew stronger. There was a little cut on his face, just below his eye - which was marred with a huge purple bruise - but that alone wasn’t enough for such a strong scent. Geralt wondered where else he was bleeding from.

He wasn’t a bandit. He didn’t seem particularly dangerous.

“Please,” the man repeated, struggling to his feet. “Please, I’ll just— I’ll go, I swear, I just needed—”

He took a step forwards and immediately toppled, grabbing onto the wall to steady himself. He was clearly more hurt than he was letting on, and he looked exhausted. Geralt wondered how long he’d been running for. What he was running from. When he met the man’s eyes, they were wide and swimming with unspilled tears, and again, all Geralt could think was how young he looked.

Younger than Ciri, even.

Shit. Geralt was going soft. 

“Jask,” he called over his shoulder. “Come here. I need a hand…”

Jaskier’s face appeared in the doorway.

“I’m not sure what you think I can—” his eyes landed on the man. “Oh. Oh, Gods, Geralt, what’s going on?”

Geralt shrugged. “I don’t know. Help me get him inside…”

Jasker, thank Melitele, was better at this than Geralt. He quickly rushed over to the man, wrapped an arm under his shoulders to support him, and started talking to him in a low, calming tone.

“Are you alright? Look, just— you’re going to be okay, yeah? Just lean on me like that—”

Together, they manoeuvred the young man out of the stable and across the yard, his legs threatening to give out with every step.

“Thank you—” he mumbled, his voice hoarse. “Thank you, I don’t— I just— Thank you—”

“That’s quite alright,” Jaskier said, giving him a little squeeze. “What’s your name?”

The man sniffed, and winced.

“Penn.”

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Whoreson Prison Blues

Pairing: Jaskier x Reader (Ft. Geralt)

Warnings: Violence, language.

Inspiration: Season 2

Summary: Imprisoned and alone you find yourself bonding with your cell mate only to realise that this wasn’t a mere stranger.

It wasn’t exactly how you planned the day to go but there weren’t any regrets. Being beaten and thrown into a cell was a common occurrence recently, in fact you still had bruising from the last entanglement with the knighted patrols.

The third day had nearly passed and a guard tossed a small bowl of water into the cell which spilled onto the floor. He jeered through the barred doors and then turned away when he heard a commotion. To you, it sounded like two guards struggling to detain another unfortunate individual.

“Well, well. Looks like you have a friend.” The duty guard chuckled and then disappeared from sight to open the cell door on the opposite side of the brick wall. There was a harsh shove and somebody hitting their knees on the floor.

“Maybe this will make you think twice about helping the elf-bastards.” A second guard laughed.

The cell doors slammed and you heard the keys jangle as the lock was fastened. Still cackling, all three sounded like they were jesters and decided to walk out and celebrate their win privately. This worked in your favour allowing you to plan an escape until you heard a small mumble through the crack in the wall.

“Reminder to self, file a complaint for these hideous cells. Oh, great - an audience of rats.” The voice sighed.

You didn’t know why but the stranger made you smile. “The rats are pretty decent company.”

“That’s funny. I had a friend who would have said something like that. They were a real badass. We used to travel with this broody, moody, muscled fellow who liked to act complicated.”

Hold on. Now that you listened to the voice more carefully, it began to match a face that you hadn’t seen in months.

“Jaskier?”

“…Yes?” The bard replied. “Who’s asking?”

“Y/n - you wonderful singing fool!”

“And how do I know that you’re who you say you are and not some trick by the guards to lure out information?”

You rolled your eyes but commended that he was being more aware of people in strange lands. The bard used to be far too trusting.

“Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount of Lettenhove. Original composer of Toss A Coin To Your Witcher. You have a tendency to woo married women - even tried your luck with me too. You tried to kiss me after getting drunk in Cintra and then again when we were dealing with that werewolf-“

“Okay, you’ve made your point. I can’t believe you’re here. What are the chances?” Jaskier wondered aloud. “What have they got you in here for?”

You paused for a silent second and stared at the metal cuffs around your wrists. It was probably best not to get into detail about what you had done to wind up on the hate radar of this town.

“Better question, what are you in for?“ You deflected.

Thankfully, Jaskier didn’t hesitate to answer and if he was curious, he chose not to follow up on it. He let out a long sigh and you could imagine the look on his face.

“I helped a wanted criminal escape.”

You laughed at the idea of the humble bard being involved in something so prickly. Jaskier didn’t appreciate the reaction and there was a scoff. “It’s true! I’m very close with the Sandpiper.”

The Sandpiper was a name not loudly spoken, so you figured that he wasn’t telling tall tales.

“Alright, I believe you. You’ve been wandering very interesting circles. The Bard and the Piper - you must tell me of the stories one day.” You smiled and rest your head against the stone wall.

Your stomach began to rumble just as the main doors swung open and two guards walked in. You heard a metal tray clattering and recognised that it was the final meal of the day. When the guard approached your cell, you watched as he entered and carelessly tossed the tray down. You had refused to eat anything that was given in fear that it had been poisoned by one of the many people you had pissed off.

You could hear Jaskier trying to salvage what hadn’t touched the floor and was about to tell the guard to jump off a cliff when a round ball of stale bread flew and hit you in the face quite harshly. It rolled off your lap and settled on some hay. You turned to the guard and glared daggers.

“Eat that or get a taste of my blade.” He threatened.

With a huff, you chose to ignore the guards presence all together. It wasn’t long before he left and you took up the measly portion that was more dirt than bread and tore off a piece.

“This isn’t so bad.” Jaskier commented. “Could use some seasoning.”

You stared at what you were eating and wondered if it was hard enough to concuss the guard on duty…

“So how’s the broody fellow?” Jaskier wondered.

At first, you frowned but then remembered who he was referring to. The Witcher who took a lot of patience.

“I don’t know. We parted ways not long after you left. He was being increasingly difficult so I told him as much.”

“How did he take that?” Jaskier wondered, knowing exactly how the man could behave.

You exhaled. “He told me to ‘fuck off’ and left me in a swamp.”

The memory of that day was leaving a bitter taste in your mouth…or maybe it was the bread. Either way, you didn’t want to clutter your mind with something useless.

Jaskier seemed to have silently agreed.

“Well, screw Geralt. We don’t need him.” He said and began tapping on some spoons.

There was a loud clang against the cell bars as the guard slammed his palm across it to get the attention of them both.

“Will you both shut up? You sound like fucking spurned lovers.”

Jaskier laughed at the thought and you were glad that he was fated to be your cell partner. As the guard piped down, the rats scurried over to the bards cell where the spoons clanged a little louder and with a bit more rhythm until Jaskier had a catchy tune.

“It's been a long time travellin'

On roads that lead to nowhere

With hopes and dreams that always rot…” he began to sing softly, pausing every so often to form the artful words.

You waited for the next bit but he seemed to have a bit of a block. Without thinking, you leaned back and looked at your surroundings.

“Sometimes it takes a prison cell to remember how shitty the world is.”

“Oh, that’s perfect!” Jaskier told you and began tapping again.

“Sometimes it takes a prison cell,

The tricks and tales, the traitors' tell,

To help you see that freedom is all you've got.

So lock me up and sock me up,

And throw away the key.

Go fuck yourself, you whoreson.

'Cause you're through fuckin' with me.”

Jaskier was a bard of many talents and you had missed him all because of a falling out with a mutual friend. It must have been the exhaustion of being locked up that you started singing along to the song just to keep occupied.

“Go fuck yourself, you whoreson! Cause you’re through fuckin’ with me.”

A few more rehearsals and you and Jaskier had the duty guards on edge each time you switched shifts. They might be brutes but you couldn’t help but credit their creativity with the death threats.

Another day passed, you were still locked up, Jaskier was now doing solo renditions for the rats, and the bread hadn’t improved in taste or quality. You began to think of a way out of the cell and devised the start of a plan that included stealing the keys with Jaskier’s help. It wouldn’t be easy but if you got your hands on a sword, the guards would be unmatched in skill.

Then, there was an unexpected commotion in the hallway during Jaskier’s song.

“Fucking hell. You know what? We’re trying to rehearse in here.”

You heard the bard complain and then apologise to the rats for the interruption. “Good sir. You would not know talent if I shoved it up your … Geralt.”

You scoffed to yourself and wondered if Jaskier had finally gone mad. “I thought we agreed never to mention that broody grouch ever again?” You called out.

There was silence to the question and some soft talking that you couldn’t quite understand but Jaskier’s voice rose for a second. Then there was a shuffle of feet and you were drawn to your own cell door where a familiar man with white hair and broad shoulders showed his face.

Geralt unlocked you door and walked in. He bent down and worked his Witcher magic to free you of the cuffs.

“I’d say I’m shocked to find you here - but I’m not.” He said, helping his friend up.

You rubbed your wrists and dusted your pants. You looked at the man and shrugged. “You know how it is - chaos doesn’t just come in the form of magic.”

Geralt smiled and you couldn’t help but notice that something was a little different about him - like he was content, almost happy.

“I have no right to ask this of you but I could use your help.” He requested.

You could very easily have told him to shove off and be rid of the man for the rest of your life but Geralt was a friend through so many difficult quests. Plus it wouldn’t hurt charge him the fee of one apology.

“Just to be clear, I’m pissed at you for about a million things but I can’t resist a call for help.” You told him honestly and raised a finger. “One condition, Jaskier comes along.”

As if on cue, the bard walked in. “Say no more, I have no plans to leave. Oh…” his eyes travelled to the locks and chains laying on the floor. “Why the fuck were you chained up?”

Clearing your throat, you pointed to the exit. “Story for the road?”

Masterlist here

[astxroiid]

being married to jaskier // headcanon -- from this request

navigation

❥ first things first: the proposal.

it was more beautiful and well thought out than you thought possible. -- he’d rather excitedly led you out to the forest and into a field. -- light from the candles he’d placed on stumps danced across the grass, though the light from the full moon would’ve sufficed. -- Jaskier had flowers placed in a circle around a large blanket on the ground and a basket full of foods set atop the blanket and beside and ornate bottle of wine. -- you both ate and drank first, though you had no idea what was coming. -- he spoke of old times and adventures you’d went on together, you admired his charm. -- when he took a knee, you were shocked enough that you dropped your bread on the blanket.

❥ his speech was heartfelt and absolutely beautiful. -- naturally after you said yes you kissed him which turned to something heated as you made love on the forest floor.

❥ he’s a sucker for clichés, so he definitely carries you through the door much to your dismay.

“Jask! Put me down! M’not a child!” -- “But, my love, it’s tradition.”

❥ he’s an absolute gentleman.

massaging you after hard days and bringing you a drink while he does. -- some mornings he brings you breakfast in bed and some days you do the same for him.

❥ it’s a cohesive and fair relationship and the best one you’ve ever been in.

❥ he’s an absolute sweetheart when you’re sick

“are you sure you’re okay, darling? I can get you more soup or a warm towel or—” -- “—Jask. Honey, I’m okay. I promise, I won’t die.”

❥ begging you for a child.

"But imagine a mini us? They'd be adora-" -- "that sounds like a nightmare, jask. Not right now." -- secretly your pregnant.

❥ your house is amazing.

you have infinite time to decorate and design. -- candles everywhere, cozy furniture strategically placed. -- the fireplace almost always burning because jaskier had to choose a cold place to live. -- it's fine though, you enjoy the cold (most of the time).

❥ having geralt over all the time.

you've trained him to take his muddy shoes off before coming inside, but figuring out what to do with his blood soaked clothes is another thing. -- he always compliments your home. -- geralt is the sweetest to you. -- "jaskier, your wife looks especially lovely this evening, wouldn't you say?" -- "i would say she looks especially wonderful every day." -- there's a designated room in the back for geralt to crash in, and a designated box for all the clothes he brings in covered in gods-know what liquid. -- it's Jaskier's job to wash them. -- "why must i?" -- "because. He's your best friend, and you get to clean up behind him." You smile.

❥ having a small farm with plenty of sources for food.

you gave each of the hens nature-themed names. -- the two cows got named daisy and dandy. -- your favorite group to harvest will always be the strawberries, stealing some to eat in the moment being a habit by now.

❥ jaskier got a dog to heard the sheep.

he named him Bailey and taught him how to sit, lay, and shake within the first 2 weeks. -- he cuddles up to the two of you at night, keeping you both warm. -- his best friend is a brown sheep named Jack. "Jaskier, your dog just farted." You say, half asleep in the dark of the bedroom. -- "no, love, that was me." He says apologetically.

❥ going on vacations and making geralt take care of the house and animals for you.

"And where is the dog's bed?" geralt asks, begrudgingly. -- "oh he sleeps in the bed with us usually." Jaskier quips. -- "great." -- and even though geralt seems displeased with Bailey, everytime you leave and come back home you find the two cuddled up together in bed. Fast asleep.

❥ vacations to the beach every summer.

there's a little hut jaskier build a couple years back that you share, usually opting to sleep under the stars anyway. -- swimming together every single day your out there. -- catching and cooking seafood. -- always bringing home extras for Bailey and geralt. -- you collect a sea shell each year you go, making a memorial wall for all the trips.

❥ the love songs jaskier writes during married life are some of the best in his career.

every new song gets massive cheers and applause from any crowd in a tavern that hears it. -- of course every song is about you. How you'll they not be? -- Jaskier hasn't wrote a sad song since the day he said his vows.

❥ he's a total bed hog.

jaskier and Bailey both, though mainly Jaskier takes up almost the entirety of the bed, tangling himself in the blankets. -- and yet, he feels bad every morning he wakes up and sees you on the edge of the bed, curled in a ball. -- you never mind, staying asleep for all of it.

❥ and somehow, the most obnoxious man you ever met became the best man you'll ever know.

omfg I'm so sorry that took me so long to write for you, love! that writers block came from nowhere jfc.

[crownofstardustandbone]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💖

Hello love, thank you so much for sending this!!

First up is a story I wrote not too long ago "Mercy Mercy Please (The Monster in Me)" which is a Theo x Liam Teen Wolf fic that is an enemies to hate fuckers to lovers story with 20k words of dirty, nasty, kinky dub-con hate fucking lol I love this one so much because I haven't written this dynamic before and these two are just PERFECT for it.

Next up is "Prussian Blue" which is a Clark x Bruce superbat story in which Bruce gets irradiated to lethal levels and Clark frantically tries to find a way to stop him from dying, while also being forced to confront the depths of his feelings for Bruce. I love this one because it's angsty (big surprise LOL), but also because of the relationships I built between Clark and Alfred, and Clark and Bruce--I think they're well characterized and engaging. Plus I did a SHIT TON of research into the acute effects of radiation sickness and the treatments for it, which is where the title comes from--Prussian Blue is a pretty standard treatment for radiation poisoning!

My next one I'll talk about is hands down my favorite thing I've written in the last few years because it's so unbearably tender. "Ribs Cracked Open, A Home Made Within" is a Geralt x Jaskier story that came about because I had this idea that with his extra mutagens, Geralt would probably be hypersensitive to the point of pain, and wondered what that would look like within canon. I also really wanted Geralt to be handled with care and affection and tenderness because we never really see that in canon, and when someone is so hurt by the world and so self loathing, I desperately crave stories where they get to be treated tenderly.

Next is "Handful of Aces, Pocketful of Nines" which is a Holden x Bill Mindhunter story that came about after a rewatch while I was high and had my brain go galaxy mode and see them as a ship 😂This story follows canon and is filled to the brim with yearning, internalized homophobia, and so much angst it'll break your heart! I love this one because it's got so many tropes that I adore, and I think is a very compelling story of two people who don't know how to love each other, but also don't know how not to love each other.

Finally, is "Unbroken" which I consider to be my Steve x Tony magnum opus lol This story is my baby--I spent two years writing it, during which time I was in grad school, working full time, doing an internship and trying to get homework done. It's angsty and full of pining, hurt/comfort, whump, and all the other tasty tropes that I adore. It's a complicated story about a complicated relationship--Steve is found in the ice during Tony's childhood and comes to live with the Starks where he serves as a friend and protector for Tony. Tony loves him, and when life intervenes, they're married to protect Tony from being given to Obie--but that doesn't mean things get any easier. I do honestly think that this is the best thing for stony that I ever have and ever will write, and I hope more folks give it a shot despite that underage tag lol

[the-black-swan-paracosm]

Witcher story idea

(Please use or write. Then send the link, thanks!)

Warlord Geralt AU

Prince Jaskier

Redania is known for its horses. The Prince is a very skilled rider that loves all the horses he trains. None more so than his prized stallion, Pegasus, named such because he rides as if he has wings.

—

Jaskier was trying to run away, trying to escape from his arranged marriage to the warlord of the north.

The king, in his fury, ordered the archers to aim for the horse. The arrow caught in Pegasus’ neck, but not enough to kill.

The captain of the guard cruelly kills Pegasus in front of Jaskier who swears revenge. Against him and the king.

They shackle him and transport him in a locked carriage. When they arrive at Morhen, the Witchers are there, battle-ready in full armament, across the field. They all meet in the middle.

The Witchers watch in confusion as the lock on the carriage is broken off, and a chained man exits.

“We were told this was an agreeable arrangement. Why, then, is he in chains?”

“H—“ but whatever the captain of the guard would have said was cut off when Jaskier wrapped his chain around his fist and punched the man with all his strength.

Releasing the chain from his knuckles, Jaskier then tackled the fallen guard and pressed his chains against the man’s throat, choking him.

“You shouldn’t have killed my horse!” Jaskier seethed, before grabbing the sides of the guard’s head and snapping his neck.

The other Redania guards were too stunned to move. By the time they got to the Prince, he had already killed the captain.

Jaskier sat up, still straddling the corpse, and tilted his head back and to the side, finally look at the Witchers. His panted breath leaving wisps in the cold air.

“If you wish to raze Redania after this,” Jaskier said, looking at Geralt, “You’re more than welcome to. I only ask to join you.”

Geralt finally found his voice, “We demanded that only a willing participant be sent for the marri—“

Jaskier’s humorless laugh cut off the warlord, “That’s, that’s so funny. A warlord asking for consent! Ha! I didn’t take you for a fool. In case it’s escaped your notice, there’s a rampant monster problem that’s ravaging villages and destroying kingdoms faster than you ever could. Any kingdom will agree to your terms regardless of something as trivial as consent. You Witchers may not involve yourselves in human affairs anymore, but that doesn’t give you the right to be ignorant of current events.” Jaskier looked away from Geralt and started searching the guard’s pockets. Smiling when he found a skin. The Witchers could smell the wine in the air as Jaskier uncapped it and took strong pulls,

“Redania, like so many others, is starving,” Jaskier continued after drinking, “The king would have given his very crown if you would slay their monsters again. Or a coup would’ve done it for you.” Jaskier shrugs and starts searching the pockets once more. This time finding the keys to his chains.

“Kaer Mohren is neutral—“

“There you go again with your jokes!” Jaskier mockingly cheers before taking a serious tone, “Neutrality has consequences too. You may not pay the price, but humans, elves, dwarves, halflings are all paying it. Tell me, do you get reports on the death tolls? I do. Yesterday, a village of 5,724 people was massacred in an elder vampire attack. Yesterday, the village of dwarves Redania trades with was destroyed by a creature of wood. Yesterday, a small party of elves arrived at our gates, weeping for refuge, they had almost everyone to drowners. Yesterday, yesterday, yesterday.” Jaskier spat out, “if that was all yesterday, I fear the news of today! I tell you Witchers, you don’t need to conquer the lands anymore. Give it ‘til the end of the year and you’ll be the only kingdom left. So,” Jaskier slowly claps, “congrats. Long may you reign, White Wolf of the North.” The Prince, upon rising, bows and heads to the horse harnessed to the carriage. Stroking its neck and murmuring sweet nothings while unhitching it.

The Witchers watched on in stunned silence once more as the savage prince went from brutality to lovingly caring for the horse. Vezemir spoke up first,

“We know.”

“Hmm?” Jaskier hums, not looking away from his new mare.

“We know about how monsters are over running the continent. We know. That’s why we set up this contract. We didn’t want to repeat history and serve humans again until we were the considered monsters like we hunted. We decided that if we had contracts or wards from every kingdom, then we would hunt monsters as we did before without the fear of humans turning on us again.”

Jaskier finally looked away from his horse, “Clever. However, you failed to account for human desperation and their fear. When rumors of this failed arranged marriage reaches others, the story will be twisted around against the Witchers. Oh, I can see it now, ‘the savage warlord kills the captain of the guard and takes the Prince, never to be seen again.’ After all, who would believe that a prince killed his own guard? Now then,” Jaskier mounted the horse without a saddle, “best of luck with your future war on all sides. I have a king to kill.”

Jaskier tugged the mane and turned his horse around, but Geralt called out,

“Wait! What would it take for you to stay?”

“Didn’t you hear me? I am going to kill my father.”

“Why? What did he do? Is it about the contract?”

“No. He killed my horse. Well, him and that pig over there.”

“Your horse?” One of the Witchers exclaimed.

“You really know nothing of the world. Redania is known for its horses.” Jaskier replies.

“And the prince is renown for his skill with them.” Geralt finished Jaskier’s statement.

It was the prince’s turn to look surprised. A smile stretches across his face, “Seems you know more than jokes! Indeed,” Jaskier grew more somber, “and my father order his men to kill my prized stallion.”

“We have horses at the keep.” Geralt interrupted Jaskier’s dark thoughts, “Many that haven’t been tamed or broken. Would you stay and train them? We need the contract to work and you have nothing to return to in your kingdom. Stay, train our horses, and I promise when the time comes, you’ll get your revenge.”

Jaskier stares intently at Geralt before sighing, “Oi! You in the bushes!” Jaskier addressed the cowardly Redanian guard, “Tell my father that the marriage went through and that my new husband has promised me revenge. Tell the other kingdoms of only the success of this contract, if you don’t. Well, you saw what happened to your captain. Congrats on your promotion, by the way. Go now.”

Jaskier watched the guard flee before directing his mare to the Witchers. Staring down at Geralt from on top his mount, Jaskier once more stared at the warlord.

“Redania marriage customs dictate that you have to wed and…consummate within a sennight after arrival. Unless, of course, Witchers have different traditions.”

Gerald’s cheeks flushed both at the beauty of the prince and the reminder of his…marriage.

“No, we’ll keep to yours. But, I will not lay with you if you are unwilling.”

“Ah yes, your consent stipulation. You’ll have your answer in a week’s end. Now then, let’s go. I’m starving.”

“It was more than a four day journey here, did you not have anything to eat?”

“There was only horse jerky.”

The surrounding Witchers winced.

“So, you can imagine my response to that then. Show me to my new home, Wolf.”

And the group set off, Geralt guiding the mare and her rider to the keep with his faithful guards walking behind them.

“Imagine that, Geralt marrying someone who loves horses even more than him.” A red-haired Witcher guffawed, loudly enough for Jaskier to hear.

“You have a horse yourself?”

“Hmm. Yes, her name is Płotka, Roach, in common.”

“Like the fish?” Jaskier asks in surprise.

“No, like the fi—“ Geralt looks at the prince surprised in turn, “Yes, like the fish. Everyone always assumes like the insect.”

“Oh fuck me,” someone else calls out, “they’re perfect for each other.” They grouch.

Both newly weds ignore the others, “I studied at Oxenfort for a bit, they had a collection on horses I wanted to read through. But I could only access the animal biology section if I took science courses that related. One of the things we studied was about the highly adaptable fish species Rutilus, also known as—“

“Roaches,” Geralt finished for him, an amused smile stretched across his face, which Jaskier matched.

“Julian Alfred Pankratz, but I prefer to be called Jaskier.” The prince introduces himself.

“Geralt of Rivia.” The warlord returns.

-

“Raise your sword and fight,” commanded the Witcher.

“No, thank you. Honestly, Geralt, just because I can’t fight you or monsters, doesn’t mean I’m incapable. Don’t mistake my dislike for swordplay as inability to kill. I could bring down kingdoms with words. I could destroy people by asking questions.

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

Geraskefer with 13 and/or 29 for the prompts! 💚

This is another one where I kind of lost sight of the prompt, but here's some modern with magic old married throuple!Geraskefer. CW for mentions of infertility.

13. Leaving notes for them around the home

29. Swapping gifts for a holiday

On Midwinter morning, Yennefer wakes to a sticky note stuck to her forehead. Already knowing whose scrawling, near-illegible handwriting she’s going to find, she peels it away from her forehead and squints at it.

My dearest, darlingest light of my soul and fire of my loins,

Please proceed to the kitchen.

Sincerely,

Your favorite husband, who loves you beyond measure

As if Yennefer wouldn’t have proceeded to the kitchen upon waking anyway. That’s where the coffee is. Foolish man. Rolling her eyes, Yennefer sits up and stretches. The bed next to her is unsurprisingly empty; Jaskier and Geralt had both been asleep for hours by the time Yennefer got home after a late night at work.

Yennefer tucks the sticky note in her bedside table, where she keeps all the notes that Jaskier leaves her. Not that he can ever know that. When Jaskier, Yennefer, and Geralt first became roommates, the notes started out as a passive-aggressive thing, reminders that those with long, luscious locks should be the ones to snake the shower drain and demanding to know who finished off the last of the apple juice. 

Once the three of them started dating, Jaskier got in the habit of leaving her and Geralt little love notes all over the house, because he’s congenitally compelled to be as ridiculous as humanly possible. With a fond shake of her head, Yennefer pulls on her robe and heads downstairs.

In the kitchen, Yennefer finds a steaming cup of coffee waiting for her on the counter. She’s unsurprised to find a sticky-note next to it. She is surprised that the note is written in Geralt’s blocky, no-nonsense handwriting.

Come to the basement. G

Yennefer frowns down at the note. This seems like the setup to an elaborate Midwinter gift, he three of them had agreed not to exchange presents this year. After three rounds of failed IVF treatments and flying all over the Continent to meet with adoption agencies, funds are tight and none of them are particularly in the mood to celebrate the holiday.

She takes the time to drink her coffee, because it’s good for them to be left waiting once in awhile, before she heads down the stairs to the basement. She expects to find Jaskier grinning up at her while Geralt stands next to him, looking affectionately tolerant. Instead, there’s a tote bag sitting at the bottom of the steps. Yennefer picks it up, confused. It’s not like any kind of purse she carries, though the black and white pattern is pretty. It’s twice as large as her current purse. With a pang, she thinks that it looks a lot like the bag that Eskel and Triss haul around with all of baby Deidre’s things. Pushing the thought aside, Yennefer checks the bottom of the bag and finds another sticky note.

My most beautiful of flower petals,

Please proceed to Roach’s couch.

All my love,

Probably your 2nd favorite husband by now

Yennefer heads back upstairs to the living room, grumbling to herself. She finds their elderly pit mix, Roach, sprawled out on her favorite spot by the window, snoring lightly. The dog’s ears twitch when Yennefer scratches them, but she doesn’t wake. By Roach’s head sits a cheerful stuffed unicorn. It looks a lot like Corny, the stuffed unicorn that Yennefer has had since childhood, though significantly less threadbare. She picks it up, running her hands over the silky soft fabric. It’s sweet, but why would Jaskier and Geralt think she needs a replacement for Corny?

Roach rolls over for belly rubs, revealing another sticky note. Yennefer gives Roach’s belly a quick scratch before picking up the note.

Come out back. G

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Yennefer grumbles. It’s unlike Geralt to go along with Jaskier’s nonsense to quite this extent, but Jaskier has had the witcher wrapped around his pinky finger since the first day he showed up with a guitar and a cardboard box of his possessions. Grabbing the quilt that Jaskier’s grandmother made for them as a wedding present from the back of the couch, she wraps it around herself and trudges into the backyard.

Jaskier and Geralt aren’t waiting outside, because it’s too damn cold for any sensible person to be outside. Yennefer looks around the backyard, grimacing a little at the sight of the playset they erected when they came so close to being able to adopt a three year old boy a few months ago. They’re still not sure why exactly the adoption fell through, but adoption is difficult, especially when you’re a queer, polyamorous family consisting of a sorceress whose name has been connected to several high-profile political scandals, a witcher who used to be known as the Butcher of Blaviken, and a musician with at least one sex tape circulating.

But when Yennefer looks back at the playset, she’s taken off guard by the sight of something sitting at the foot of the slide. As she approaches, she sees that it’s a pair of shoes. Not the dinosaur light-up sneakers they bought for the little boy who was almost their son, but a pair of purple baby shoes she’s never seen before, with little birds on the side. They’re impossibly small and Yennefer feels something bubble up inside her that might be hope.

She moves the shoes aside to read the sticky note under them.

My love,

Please proceed to the office. I promise, this is the last note.

Yours,

The man you’re probably contemplating divorcing by now

Underneath, there’s an addition in Geralt’s handwriting.

Love you. G

Yennefer almost forgets to be annoyed as she hurries inside with the shoes and the stuffed unicorn and up the stairs to the office. In another fit of optimism during the early days of IVF treatment, she transformed the home office that she rarely used into a nursery. Once it was clear that them having a child was as unlikely as Jaskier taking a vow of silence, she turned it back into an office, but she hasn’t stepped foot in the room since.

She pauses at the top of the stairs in front of the office door. There’s one last note, written by Jaskier and accompanied by scribbled hearts.

I lied. THIS is the last note. Midwinter surprise inside!

With a hand that’s only shaking a little, Yennefer pushes the door open to find all the office furniture gone, replaced by the nursery furniture that she put in storage months ago. Geralt is sitting in the armchair while Jaskier is perched in the windowsill. When they see her, Jaskier leaps to his feet, smile wide.

“Surprise!” He sweeps his arms out dramatically.

“What’s going on?” Yennefer knows what she hopes is going on, but she’s not quite letting herself believe it.

Geralt stands up to cross the room to her, putting his hands on her shoulders. “We got the call last night while you were at work. We’ve been approved.”

“What?” Yennefer looks between them in disbelief.

“We wanted to tell you in person,” Jaskier says, coming over to join them. “But you got home so late that we decided why not make it a Midwinter surprise?”

“Plus, Jaskier wanted to be dramatic about it,” Geralt deadpans.

Jaskier swats him on the arm. “That bag will be a lifesaver, according to Triss and Eskel. We have matching ones too! Well, Geralt’s is all black and mine has rainbows, but close enough. And obviously she’s going to need a Corny of her own, just like her Mama. And I saw the shoes last week and thought they were just the most darling things—”

“This is happening?” Yennefer feels a bit dazed. This seems like something that would happen in the saccharine Midwinter movies that Jaskier loves so much.

“This is happening.” Geralt kisses her on the forehead. “She’s a ten-month old in Cintra and she’s ours.”

With a disbelieving laugh, Yennefer kisses him. And then Jaskier is there, wrapping his arms around both of them and pressing kisses against Geralt’s shoulder. He’s making a strange noise, like he’s laughing and crying at the same time, and she thinks Geralt might be crying too.

“What’s her name?” Yennefer asks when she pulls away, voice hoarse. Okay, maybe they’re not the only ones crying.

Geralt presses another kiss to the top of her head, pulling both her and Jaskier closer. “Her name is Ciri.”

***

Tag list: @kueble @mollymawkwrites @feral-jaskier @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @dawnofbards @thisislisa @tsukiwolf42 @mosaicscale @rockysstupidity @fontegagrilledcheese @kuripon @help-i-need-a-cool-username @julek @flowercrown-bard @eveljerome

[haamuart]

You can take this as a random drawings of a 16th century aesthetic lady OR as I originally intended, as a Witcher OC. More under the cut. :D

SO as it reads on the doodle, this is Julia. She is Jaskier's sister, older or younger, this does not matter. Sometimes she is a twin. She is supposed to be very plain looking with a round face and kind of a square jaw, mousy brown hair and plain blue eyes. Her body build is a little heavy and not very shapely, not that it matters under her court clothes.

She originally appeared when I reimagined the Royal! or King!Jaskier prompt. Here's a few notes I remember of it:

Jaskier - sorry Julian - gets a permission to travel around to play his music - sorry, to get more familiar with the people he will rule over one day. Somehow both Julia and their mother manage to persuade the King to agree to this. The agreement includes Jaskier not revealing his true identity, which is NOT an issue.

Julia was always the one more inclined to politics. Jaskier was everything but that.

In the kingdom, everyone (including women and children) are heavily encourages to learn how to fight and warcraft. The country is known for their huge armies and for the fact that every single peasant could best another kingdom's royal knights in a fight. They do not get many visitors, and the King and his advisors prefer it that way.

(Geralt also avoids the place. If they are so good at fighting, they probably can handle their own monsters. This is true for the most part.)

The exception to the everyone-being-masters-of-self-defence are royal women. This might originate in the habit of royal men marrying outsider women, and if all other royal ladies were all for fighting, their wifes might seem less in comparison. Or some bullshit like that.

Julia does NOT like this rule. She, unlike her brother, would very VERY much like to learn how to defend herself and maybe also go on offence. Sometimes. You know, when time calls for it.

So anyway, young Jaskier knew how to physically fight and defend himself, but he just preferred not to. When he got out, he just did not keep his promise of keeping up the practice and forgot mostly everything. In some ways, initially, it is always a way to separate his Emotionless Crown Prince persona and what he truly wants himself to be.

Julia, sometime when Jaskier is away, gets more into politics even against his parents wishes. However, since there are no other children and Jaskier is away, they do not have a good reason to forbid her.

(Julia also manages to persuade one of her personal bodyguards (who also happens to be head of the royal guard) to teach her. They also might be slowly falling in love with each other but neither is willing to initiate anything.)

Anyway. After The Mountain

Jaskier hears his father has died. His father was still young, so Jaskier suspects it might not be normal. Or maybe he developed an illness? He wants to know for sure to satisfy his curiosity and worry, and he does not currently feel like he has anything else important to do. Might as well take a look.

(The father dying part is direct inspiration from another King!Jaskier story)

He does not expect to stay.

So heartbroken Jaskier packs his meagre belongings and goes on a long trip back to the kingdom that just might be his now.

When Jaskier- sorry, Julian- gets back to the capital, it is a mess. His subjects are worried, confused and scared, and a lot of rumours are flying. No one seems to know anything for a fact, and the royal palace has not output any official announcements.

Jaskier gets to the palace, is greeted by his sister and is promptly informet what happened.

What happened is thus:

The king indeed is dead. He had been assassinated. The court is not yet in shambles, but they are not agreeing on who did it. Everyone is blaming each other. Their mother is grieving, and refuses to do anything useful. She is supposed to be the regent.

Julia has been doing a lot of the work of running the kingdom, but officially she is powerless, and some advisors try to use this against her. She has to keep claiming the orders came from her mother, who she is supposedly comforting. In truth, she has barely set a foot in her mother's rooms.

Julia cries many tears of frustration that night, and Jask- Julian wishes he could too. He is already starting to feel his emotions numb, just like the last time he was here.

Julia is sure she knows who the true assassin was. The man would not shame himself in commissioning a kill when he can do it himself. She has tried to put the blame on him, but somehow it never sticks, For an instant she thinks Jaskier will be the same, but he is not. He takes everything she tells him in carefully and makes sure to remember. She has missed his brother.

So they talk for hours, and the next day, Jaskier makes an appearance at the court and promptly informs them that he will be crowned the next day.

The plot continues with Jaskier/Julian being crowned and then publically executing the guilty man. Julian slowly starts to struggle with anxiety and some symptoms of depression due to the atmosphere in the palace plus the fact that he is in a situation he desperately never wanted to be in even if he always knew it would come inevitably. He practically drugs himself every night just to calm down, and the effects last long enough that he manages get through the morning audience and some meetings. During this time he trusts Julia to make sure he never agrees to anything he would not with a clear head. He is not fine.

In the evenings, Julian, Julia, Julia's beau and maybe some others have a private meetings without most of the late King's advisors. They talk about what came up in the morning audience, what rumours everyone has heard etc. Some days, however, Julia just holds Julian as he cries.

Julian gives Julia an official permission to carry a sword because he knows she can handle it already. She can also finally start practicing outside, which is a relief. Julian himself also reluctantly starts practicing again. He hates it. In his clearer moments, Julian (or maybe this time Jaskier) drops hints both to Julia and her crush that they should maybe do something more than noticing how fetching the other is. It did not take him long to take notice of their respective crushes.

I was never sure what happened after this! Somehow Geralt, Yennefer and Ciri come across Jaskier, they hash things out, get into some epic plot and then ride into the sunset after Julia has been crowned the queen.

Sometimes there was also a plotline in which the royal guard use a little magic called "the shadow technique", which in practice includes having your hands tattooed, and pinching certain places together allows you to move faster, get blended in the shadows, and idk maybe something else too. Julia was never allowed to get the tattoos no matter how dearly she hoped, and as Jaskier is now the king, he knows he will have to. However, he is scared because he does not know how it will affect his playing. He tries to postpone it as much as he can but then something changes his mind so he agrees to the process when Julia is out for a patrol. She is mad at him and sad that she could not be here to comfort him for the pain.

[lucigoo]

Weekly Roundup: 18th November - 24th November

Hey hey all (sorry were late againm but at least its only 1 day not 4 months .... lol)

So, I have written 5,495 words this week, which isnt a whole lot, but ut has made me hit my 50,000 word goal this month so WHOOP!!! Im at 51,505 words for November at the moment. I also finished another 2 wips, so of my 63 wips, I have finished 11 and im feeling pretty proud tbh.

But, as always, here are the fic recs for others first!

Value - didoandis - Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Geralt/Jaskier, soulmate au)

Summary: The four lives of Julian Alfred Pankratz: noble, sex slave, soulmate, bard.

roots - not1_2write - Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Geralt/Jaskier, Warlord au. This is legit one of myfav fics ever!)

Summary: Jaskier saves the Warlord's daughter. Despite his family ties, he's allowed to stay in Kaer Morhen while he recovers from his injuries. Eventually, it becomes home.

No Grave Can Hold My Body Down @chaoticangel666 (Bilbo/Thorin, get your tissues ready!)

Summary: Bilbo returns to The Shire after the Battle of the Five Armies. He might be going insane though, because why does the ghost of Thorin Oakenshield keep showing up when he least expects it?

Follows the events from the end of The Hobbit until the end of The Lord of the Rings.

Under the Eucalyptus [+Podfic] - xinasvoice - Harry Potter (Sirius/Remus, muggle au with wonderful disablity rep)

Summary: On his first day working at the queerest zoo in the Australian outback, Remus meets Sirius, whose smile is bright enough to knock him over. Sirius doesn’t speak aloud, but that doesn’t stop either of them from falling in love.

A soft romance about the value of slowing down enough to listen to each other and watch the sun rise.

I Was Pledged to You, To You I Pledge Myself - anarchycox - Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Geralt/Jaskier, alternate first meeting, its just cute asf tbh)

Summary: When he is four, Jaskier escapes out his window to avoid a boring family dinner where his cousin was getting betrothed to someone. He just wanted to hear the frogs. Frogs sound neat.

That daring escape, and the rescue that it required changed his whole fate, because he was the one who ended up betrothed to a witcher - the plan to marry when he was 20. He didn't really care he got to hear the frogs croak, what did he care about this Geralt of Rivia?

As he grows up though, he ends up caring a great deal.

Scenes from Jaskier's life of meeting every witcher but his betrothed, until one day in a shitty tavern, he finally meets Geralt.

ruffled - PenAndInkPrincess - Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Geralt/Jaskier, Fae Jaskier au)

Summary: Supper secured and stuffed away in his trousers, he looks up to find the silver-haired stranger in the corner, the one person who hadn’t heckled him. The man is objectively gorgeous, with fascinating hair and a body that makes Jaskier’s mouth water a little.

Oh yes, he decides quickly, he will be climbing this stranger like a tree.

He’s a little wrong-footed when he works out that the stranger is a witcher with big scary swords Jaskier’s heard horror stories about, but after a quick moment of thought, he also thinks about how very many things the fae elders have been wrong about all his life and decides to ignore them once again. The witcher–Geralt of supposedly Rivia, even though Jaskier can tell from his accent that that’s a lie–tries to get rid of him, but Jaskier is nothing if he’s not determined, and he’s simply too damn interested to get scared off easily.

The witcher has clearly not realized that Jaskier is something to be hunted, and Jaskier, well, he’s never excelled at silly things like self-preservation.

As always, I hope you have a wondeful week, see you next time <3

And, as always, here are my fics. As I said, there are only two this week, but im pretty rpoud o the fact thats another two that have just been languising in my wip folder now finished and uploaded!

The Night I Couldn't Stay Beside You - Lucigoo89 - Harry Potter (Remus & Hope, please mind the tags, especially the MCD and grief ones!)

Summary: Its the full moon again. Remus hates each and every one of them, buy especially this one as he looks down a this mother and can do nothing but hope she will still be there when the monster leaves him gain for another month.

All he can do is hope that she stays, thats all he wants, all he will beg and plead and pray for, his mum to still be here with him when he awakens with the moonset.

And last but not least

Finding my fate in the sensory room - Lucigoo89 - Harry Potter (Sirius/Remus, it is a fic for a very dear friend of mine but I hope you all enjoy it to)

Summary: Remus is tired, exhausted more like and so he takes his hyper 4 year old into the empty sensory room to have alittle bit of peace and quiet.

Unbeknownst to Remus, that one action, on that one specific day, would change four lives for the better.

[icarustica]

u said u could make the last prompt angstier. do it i dare u

77 - "you were my best friend" round 2 electric boogaloo

(this one is actually on my archive page i'm very proud of it thank u anon for pushing me to finish it)

tw - implied major character death (none actually occur)

♥♥♥ sorrow ♥♥♥

“Listen, we’re out of wine, alright? The–the fucking besotted ladies who were all swooning over that fuckin’ bard bought us out, alright? The last I’ve got is this cheap Redania and that won’t… okay. Sure, I got it!” yelled the cook from across the bar. 

Geralt, midway through drinking himself into oblivion, blinked owlishly, looking up.

Bard.

He’d found himself in Lettenhove, chasing after a lone drowner traveling up the Sinet river. It ravaged every fishing operation it came across, and Geralt figured once the bastard was dead he’d have fishermen practically throwing coin his way.

“Uh-huh. And of course the flashy boy’s got a whole procession and everything,” scoffed the cook, once he’d snatched the last bottle of cheap wine from underneath the counter. “Everyone all dressed up. Throwin’ flowers. Singin’ that song about that witcher.”

Geralt rose.

The cook looked, and his ruddy face paled. His tirade stumbled to a stop.

“The bard,” Geralt said gruffly. “Jaskier?”

The cook nodded, suddenly solemn. “Y-Yes,” he said. To his credit, he wasn’t afraid. Just… nervous, for some reason. “That’s the one. Our own hometown hero.”

Geralt’s mildly tipsy mind raced.

Why would Jaskier be back in Lettenhove?

Why would there be a celebration in his honor?

His mind landed on the only possible answer.

Marriage. The damn bastard had gone and got married.

The wine - ladies who’d desired Jaskier throwing themselves into alcohol. The procession, the flowers - a celebration fit for a lord.

“Of course,” Geralt grumbled, taking the last swig of his tankard. Misery clawed at his gut - all the unsaid words. All the said ones, the terrible ones spoken in biting mountain air. The one I’d been lucky enough to care for… gave up on me.

Geralt swallowed, lashes fluttering as he turned. He gave up on me.

“Witcher,” called the cook as Geralt walked to the door.

He paused, turned back, and met the cook’s suddenly soulful brown eyes. The cook shifted, still clutching the wine. “If you want to find him… Appleshon hill.”

“When?”

The cook’s brows furrowed. He shrugged. “Any time you like.”

Geralt walked up the hill - steep, with just a sparse cobblestone path to guide him. On the way, he was stopped by an old woman with a cane. One of her eyes was milky blue. “Witcher,” she said.

Geralt bowed his head a little. 

“Where are you going?”

“To see Jaskier,” he replied. “The bard. I suspect there was some big fuss about him around here recently.”

She looked at him kindly, then toddled forward, reaching far upward to card her hand through his hair. She inspected it with the eye that worked, then nodded, seemingly satisfied. “You are his witcher, then.”

“I suppose.”

“You suppose?”

He felt that sinking in his chest again, the unpleasant ache. “I don’t think he’s calling me his anything nowadays.”

“Hm.” Her gaze turned sad. “I suppose.”

And, without another word, she pressed a bouquet of scraggly wildflowers into his hands. Dandelions. Daisies. Little purple things Geralt didn’t know the name of. He swallowed the lump in his throat, eyes firmly trained on their scattered leaves as the old woman turned away.

What a lovely gift, for a lover.

What a dismal apology.

He continued on his way.

Again, he was stopped, this time by a tall man dressed in black, with a large leather satchel. His face was drawn, gaunt. “Ho there,” he called. “Witcher.”

Geralt nodded, slid his eyes away, fully intending to keep going up the hill - he could see the crest now, the shambling stone wall dotted with ivy. Ten minutes, maybe five, and he would be there, closer to Jaskier than he had been in years.

He ran over his speech in his head - all the small things to say, all the large ones to hint at.

“Witcher,” called the man again, voice rough and broken. One dark eyebrow cocked. “What business do you have here?”

“Visiting a friend,” Geralt replied with a sigh, turning to face the other man on the path. 

“No monster-slaying?”

“No.”

“Ah.” The man cocked his head. “Say, if you were ever in the mood to kill a monster, and wanted it remembered… well, I noticed your bard has gone rather into retirement.”

Geralt winced.

“Too soon? Sorry,” the man chuckled, in his gentle timbre. “Well. I’m a writer, not a bard. My name’s Hoid - in case you’ve heard of my work. Perhaps the witcher would like to try stories instead of songs?”

For some reason, anger welled up in his belly. Geralt quieted it with a long breath, in and out. He assessed the man again, from the silver on his shoes to the black stubble on his chin. By all rights, he should have liked this man more than Jaskier - the easy way he talked, the simplicity of his clothing, the wickedness of the knife at his hip…

But it wasn’t Jaskier. It wasn’t his fucking bard. 

“No,” Geralt growled. “Never.”

The writer tilted his head forward in a single nod of acknowledgement. “I understand. Goodnight, witcher, and good luck.”

Geralt watched the man’s back for a long time as he made his way back down the cobblestone hill. 

The door was made of wood. And even Geralt, at his considerable height, could not see over the stone wall. He swallowed the lump in his throat, preparing himself for whatever may lay beyond it –

Jaskier, incensed. Yelling. Screaming at Geralt, ripping his paltry flowers to shreds.

Jaskier, happy. Having forgotten Geralt and his dirt and monsters years ago.

Jaskier…

Geralt swallowed, hand clenched around the wildflowers. He ran through his speech again, through the careful words that had given him the strength to climb those last few steps. Summoning courage, he pushed open the thick wooden gate.

Headstones.

Geralt blinked, and suddenly things seemed to move in slow motion - the crashing of an ocean miles away. The birds circling one bare tree. The headstones all dotted in a row, a tomb or two along the side of the gray wall.

He swallowed, feeling like the continent’s worst fool.

Time moved like a dream. He walked along the headstones, every running word in his mind frozen. He let the heads of the wildflowers scrape the top of the stones, reading name after name, hoping, praying, for something he was too terrified to name.

Nordand Allsor - A Loving Father

Ophela Dart - When The Wind Moves The Tree, Think Thee of Me

Stormund Brekker - Lover, Took Too Soon

Jaskier

Geralt’s mind almost didn’t register it. The last in the row, nestled beneath a tree. He stood there for a long moment, expression blank as he read it, over and over again.

JASKIER.

Bold letters.

Geralt knelt, knees thudding in the dirt. How could he have thought it was a wedding? The flowers, the sad looks, the sudden kindness to a witcher - it couldn’t have been anything else. Jaskier would not be in Lettenhove otherwise. Except to be buried.

Geralt shoved his hand in the dirt, some animal part of him wanting to dig up the fresh earth, needing to touch him, to hold him, to cradle him in his arms and–

He let out a shaky breath, feeling the cool earth in his fingers. Most of him couldn’t believe it, that his bard had gone and died without him.

Geralt slammed the flowers right below the headstone.

His chest shook.

It felt like–

It felt like Jaskier himself was trying to climb his way out of Geralt’s stomach and into his throat.

The thought of it almost made him laugh, the memory of Jaskier’s voice when it became panicked. How ridiculous the man was. The next time Geralt saw him, he’d tell him–

It thudded into him again. A relentless realization, a chain reaction of simple things, the simple fact that he was now a memory, just some man. Geralt imagined fifty years down the road, when he was old and slow and he would have to tell his brothers about the time he had a friend. The time when someone loved him.

“Fuck,” he said, and it shocked the silence away. Now he could hear his own shallow breathing, hear himself tremble, his heart thudding away in his ears. “Fuck.”

His speech.

He’d had a speech.

“I’m sorry,” he started, because that was the beginning, wasn’t it? That had always been the beginning, when he’d imagined this, Jaskier in front of him, gold and alive and sweet and gentle and tough and angry–

“Fucking hell,” he spat at himself. He rubbed his eyes with the hand not grasping at the dirt. He sat up, shakily breathing, trying to find some semblance of composure. He held onto his meditation with a white-knuckled grip, feeling his own spine shake like a tiny dog. He trembled, but he did not break.

He owed him that.

He owed Jaskier dignity.

“I owe you a lot,” he said. “I owe you my life, certainly.” He swallowed. “Friendship. Coin, probably. I think when you… when you left, off that mountain, I took some of your coin with me.” He grabbed his coin purse, and with shaking hands pressed all the gold coins he had into the dirt. “There,” he said. “I…”

He had to pause. To allow his racing heart to return to his body, to let his clouded mind settle on the dirt and the stone in front of him. The sky rumbled, unhappy with his meager apologies.

“I think, though, we both know our friendship is a lot more than an exchange at this point,” he continued, and the words cut up his throat. “I’m truly sorry, Jaskier, for everything I…” he trailed off as he stared at the headstone. 

JASKIER.

He reached forward to press his thumb into the indents. “You were my best friend,” he confessed, and the wind howled and tears pricked at his face. “In the whole world. The whole damn world. And I know it’s too late,” he added, hoarse. “Far too late. I should have been there to protect you, but I was a fool, Jask, I was a fucking bastard to you and I…”

He hung his head. “I wish I could be better to you,” he said, raw. “Give you things you deserve.”

Geralt swallowed.

“You deserve… me. If you want me.”

“Geralt?”

His eyes flew open, staring at the dirt.

Not a good time to start imagining things, Geralt.

“Melitele, I–”

Geralt turned his head, eyes widening, and–

There he was. Dressed in simple, plain clothes, a string of red around his neck, scruffy and long-haired but smelling of wildflowers and chamomile and apples–

Jaskier put a hand over his mouth.

There was a moment of silence, as Geralt, on his knees, felt his heart slow, then quicken, as shock thudded through him again. 

“I can explain,” said Jaskier quickly, holding up a hand. “Those were very nice words, okay, I just–I didn’t want to interrupt, it looked like you were having a moment–”

Geralt stood on admittedly shaky legs, looking at him, just…

He was alive.

The embarrassment of the moment was overshadowed by the beating heart he could hear over the wind.

One moment he had stood, the next he’d wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s very warm, very alive body, pressing his face into the space between Jaskier’s shoulder and his neck. He breathed him in, only briefly wondering if he was allowed this, allowed this contact, before Jaskier’s hands gripped him back.

“Now, listen,” said Jaskier carefully after a moment. “There was a very nasty escapade involving my mother wanting me back to rule over Lettenhove. I had to fake my death. It was really quite an adventure but I can see how you sobbing over my grave–”

Geralt grumbled, deep in his chest. “Not sobbing.”

“Practically sobbing. Really close, in fact.”

Geralt leaned back, and held Jaskier’s chin in his hand, feeling that pulse again. Alive, alive, alive. “Weeping,” he said very seriously.

Jaskier laughed, blue eyes twinkling. Then they faded. “Wait. You’re serious. Geralt, I’m fully prepared to forget what I just saw if you want me to. I swear, even the part about you owing me your life–”

Geralt brushed his hair out of his face. “Don’t joke. I was mourning,” he said, and his voice was still rough. “I never want to mourn you again.”

“Oh,” breathed Jaskier, soft as a whisper. “Well, that’s very–”

Geralt kissed him, soft as anything.

-♥icarusty

[catscraftsandcommentary]

I need a Jaskier/Yennefer almost-divorced AU.

Specifically, they got married while they were young because It Was Expected. They inherited Jaskier's title and Yennefer's position at court, but neither of them really enjoy it. They each get more bitter with their life, and angry that they're stuck together, until things finally boil over and they decide to break up.

So they're splitting their things up to sell - they've agreed that they'll split the proceeds of everything they don't want 50/50. And they're both mocking the terrible fashion choices their partner made.

Jaskier surprises Yennefer when he goes "gods yeah, that puke green doublet was NOT my color, even if it was fashionable. Which, how did that even happen? It looks terrible on EVERYONE." So when he teases her about the bondage dress, she agrees that it might have been A Look, but not one for her.

They slowly clean out everything they both hate. Sell the house. Decide they'll both take a vacation before they make everything final.

They completely accidentally meet up at some out-of-the-way, barely known resort - as far from the luxurious mountain lodge or tropical beach cabana expected of nobles and newly divorced rich people as they could both get.

Yennefer introduces her new boyfriend and asks Jaskier if she's mad that she's dating. Jaskier gives Geralt a long look and goes "only if you're not planning to share him." Yennefer laughs.

"Actually," Jaskier continues, "I met someone too. Should I bring Eskel to dinner?"

Which is how Jaskier and Yennefer find out that not only are their vacation ideas a lot more compatible than they thought, they managed to both date BEST FRIENDS.

Somehow, a vacation spent teasing and flirting and double dates turns into Yennefer asking "You mentioned sharing. Were you serious?"

...they don't get divorced after all. But they do form a queer, poly household that holds two middle fingers to anything expected of "normal, proper society."

[kueble]

Calm in the Storm

Someone spotted Sam the Baker in the background of the ferry scene and I had to write this. It's just Jaskier and Sam talking about their new relationships, so it's mostly gen with background Jaskier/Radovid.

Gen. Warnings : Canon Typical Violence and Season 3 spoilers. 1,200 words.

Jaskier & Sam the Baker, background Jaskier/Radovid

---

Geralt and Ciri should be here any moment now, but Jaskier spots another familiar face while he scans the crowd.  He waves in greeting and the man smiles wide before making his way over to him.

"Jaskier!" He cries out, dragging him into a tight embrace.  "How are you doing?  Why are you all the way out here?  Are you helping with the ball, too?"

"One question at a time, my dear Sam," Jaskier says, laughing as he pecks him quickly on the cheek.  In days past, it would have been on the mouth, but Jaskier’s heart seems to have latched onto his little prince.  Radovid and Sam lead as different lives as possible, but they're so similar; both kind and caring and so sweet to him.

"Glad you aren't pushing for more," Sam says with a shy smile.  "I've finally taken a husband."

"Congratulations, my dear friend!" Jaskier exclaims before hugging him tighter.  "Tell me all about him."

"Teddy is the miller's son, and apparently I was spending more time there than even a baker needs to.  He took the initiative and started courting me.  Sadly, it took me far too long to notice what he was doing.  But we got there eventually, and we'll be married half a year by the time I get home from this ball."

"That sounds perfectly you," Jaskier tells him with a snort.  "I find myself a bit enraptured with someone myself.  He seems to be a good man, but we have yet to figure things out.  He is…incredible.  Just truly brilliant and funny and yet there is a softness under the armor he's put up to protect himself from life at court."

"Ah, a fellow nobleman, then?  That sounds like a good match for you.  I have never seen you look so smitten, so I hope it works out for you," Sam says.  Then he looks back at his travel companions, shaking his head at the man waving at him.  "Looks like my apprentice has a problem again. You'd think baking for a large party would be an adventure and not so worrisome."

"I look forward to seeing you again," Jaskier pats him on the back and watches him wander away.  He tries to keep in touch with past lovers, and has always made a point to swing by Sam's bakery whenever he could.  Normally they fell into bed together, Jaskier playing his body like a fine instrument all night long followed by Sam spoiling him with sweets come morning.

Usually moving someone from lover to old flame tugs at his heartstrings considerably  more than it does today.  He knows a certain cheeky prince has a lot to do with that, and he vows to find an excuse to visit after the ball.  He sits back down and waits for Geralt and Ciri to arrive, feeling a tad lighter than before. 

—

Jaskier holds back his tears as he leaves Radovid, not ready to process everything that just happened.  A fucking prince would give up everything he has to follow him around the continent?  It’s a heady kind of power, and not one Jaskier is sure he deserves.  However hurt he was this morning, his heart still yearns for Radovid.  The pain on his face when Jaskier gave him an escape route and said they couldn't be together yet was enough to convince Jaskier that his actions were driven by fear and his feelings are true.

But right now the building is in ruins and there’s a fucking bloodbath surrounding him, so Jaskier has to lock down his thoughts and focus on the present.  He’s going room by room, frantically looking for Geralt or Yennefer, and doesn’t notice the familiar face at first.  He stands in the doorway and looks at Sam peering around an overturned table.

“Sam?” he asks, and the man stands up slowly.  There’s no blood on him, but his eyes are wide with fear and Jaskier’s heart goes out to him.  Jaskier is more indifferent to violence than the average person, and Sam most likely never left his home before.

“Jaskier!” he spits out, voice trembling as he crosses the room and pulls Jaskier into a tight hug.  “What the fuck happened here?  One minute I’m in the guest room they provided and the next I’m running for my life and stuck in the middle of a battle.  Is it safe now?”

“Not exactly, though it is better,” Jaskier assures him while thinking how he can help.  He trusted Radovid to handle his contacts and travel alone, but Sam is different.  “Wait here, and I’ll come back with help, can you do that?”

“Sure thing,” Sam says with a laugh.  “I’ll go back to cowering behind the table.”

“I may not be back, but I promise I’ll send someone to get you out of here,” he says, hugging Sam one last time before leaving the room and walking back out into the chaos.  He’ll get Sam back to his miller’s son one way or another.

He tries to avoid looking at the bodies strewn about, but it’s hard not to.  So much loss and all for no reason.  He sighs and pushes on until he distractedly runs right into someone.  “So sorry!” he mumbles before he recognizes the person in front of him.  “Keira!”

“If it isn’t Yennefer’s bard,” she says with a grin.

“More of the mages’ bard at this point,” Jaskier tells her softly.  And it’s true.  He may have started out with just Yennefer, but he makes sure to introduce himself to any mages he comes across on his travels.  Sometimes it’s a way to get news of his friends, and sometimes it’s simply a way to find a friendly face in the middle of this gods damned war.  He has always had a soft spot for Keira and her fiery personality.

“I am so glad you are here.  You look relatively unharmed?” Jaskier asks hopefully.

“Just so fucking tired my bones ache, and I’m ignoring everything else until we get to safety.  There may not be many survivors, but it’s our job to protect them and lead them out of our home,” Keira tells him quickly.

“I hope you have the strength to help one more.  I left a friend at the first doorway on the left, and he was here to help with the catering.  He won’t know how to get himself home without a little help,” he explains and thankfully she nods quickly.

“Go find Yennefer, and I’ll see to your friend.  I’ll even work for free this time!” she jokes, and Jaskier clings to the way they can both still find joy in a time like this.

“I’ll write a song about you,” Jaskier promises, “Something sultry and mystical.  I’ll have it ready before we meet again.”

“Take care of yourself, bard,” she tells him before heading towards Sam’s room.  Jaskier watches her for a moment before continuing his search for Geralt and Yennefer.  He’s taken care of as many people as he can, and he needs to make sure his family is safe now.

[limerental]

limerental's themed self-rec lists

read my old fics, you cowards! these are majority witcher fics, because i have an illness.

silly goofy modern au

how long we were fool'd - jaskier/yennefer(&geralt)

married neighbors yennskier, suburban dad!geralt, modern witchers, little kid ciri, aroace geralt, relationship misunderstandings, borzoi roach, supernatural mystery, some canon-typical violence, found family nonsense, and my own clairvoyance in writing yennskier husband-wife but it was spring 2020

(don't) poke the sleeping dragon - jaskier/yennefer/geralt

a retelling of bottled appetites but it's a nerdy fantasy music festival, copious drug use, yennefer's sick wizard van, unicorn edibles, golden dragon dildos, outdoor sex, geralt getting pegged and double penetrated, a dialogue only threesome, accidental yearning old friend geraskier tenderness, and someone once told me they wouldn't read this fic because yen had her tits out in the summary and i will always remember that criticism for the rest of my life

as if you were a mythical thing - yennefer/geralt

old married couple, dom/sub dynamics, sex unicorn mention, geralt is very vanilla but loves his kinky wife, and he's too autistic about horses not to ruin ponyplay with horse facts

this one might hurt

long on the road & how light carries on - geralt/jaskier (eventual geralt/regis in the sequel, plus many platonic relationships)

the 80s trucker/hitchhiker au that got away from me, vietnam vet trucker geralt, aging hippie musician jaskier, AIDS crisis, terminal illnesses, dealing with mortality, falling in love, road tripping, copious american geography, period-typical queer community issues, and then... life after loss, aging, grief and mourning, queer and traumatized family dynamics both found and otherwise, finding love again, and watching the sun set on a life well lived

in dark and twisted braids - fringilla &/ yennefer

aretuza school days slumber parties, girlhood crushes, pining, unrequited love, i shook a sorceress and intergenerational trauma fell out, the inherent adolescent horror of making lasting decisions about your future when you are barely 18 but even worse because there's war and violence and permanent alterations to your body and forced sterilization and your little schoolgirl crush on someone you thought was a friend ends in betrayal and bloodshed and you end up on opposite sides of the war and she never even looked your way or thought about you and--

then send down the storm - aiden/lambert, lambert/geralt(/yennefer)

witcher roadtripping, just guys being dudes, horse stuff, winter at kaer morhen polyamory but different, ~trauma~, the mortifying ordeal of accepting you deserve more from life and also of being known, but it's too late (or is it?), grief and mourning and loss and love that was worth its loss, and also, the character death(s) are largely temporary.

aw that just ain't right :/

the witch in her tower - eskel/yennefer(/geralt)

dark fic, fairytale elements, hurt no comfort (mind the tags), morally dubious heartbroken yennefer, pining and years of yearning for geralt eskel, unrequited love, non-consensual mind control during sex, flashbacks to messed up witcher child abuse and violence and cruelty, the inherent horror of mutated and manipulated little boys becoming men who think they can't or shouldn't love paralleled with the inherent horror of enchanted and manipulated little girls becoming women who-- you get it.

the flesh calmly going cold - geralt/jaskier

this one's gross for real, a hunt gone wrong, hurt NO comfort, major character death and it's gross and tragic, gore, necrophilia, organs lovingly described (and jizzed on), basically it's just like that scene in twn where filavandrel exploded but if francesca humped his goo after. sorry.

blood of the covenant (water of the womb) - geralt/&renfri, geralt/stregobor

supernatural pregnancy body horror as revenge, ......pregobor, black sun princess trauma and curses, apocalyptic monster fetus imagery, it's about women and violence against women and evil men suffering for inflicting that violence mostly, and also the evils of standing by and watching evil happen. also, yes stregobor is magical yucky bella swan pregnant and then bad stuff happens to everybody.

[bambirex]

It's A Game We Play: Chapter 5

Pairings: Geraskier, Yennskier, Radskier

Characters: Jaskier, Geralt of Rivia, Yennefer of Vengerberg, Radovid, original female characters, Essi Daven, Priscilla, Ciri of Cintra, Valdo Marx

Additional tags: inspired by Mamma Mia! (movies), crack, alpha/omega/beta dynamics, omega jaskier, alpha geralt, alpha yennefer, beta radovid, awkwardness, jaskier is a good parent, protective jaskier, weddings, found family, post mpreg, fluff and humor, alternate universe-modern setting, jaskier is having the worst time of his life, valdo is here to make everything worse, confusion, banter, insecure jaskier, internalized slut shaming

Rating: teen and up audiences

Full word count: 13,761 words

Chapter word count: 3,051 words

Chapters: 5/?

Summary: Jaskier's daughter is about to marry the love of her life, and she decides she wants both her parents at her wedding. Only problem is that Jaskier has slept with a little too many people in his youth, so the identity of the other parent is a mystery. That does not stop the bride-to-be from inviting three potential daddy candidates and unleashing absolute chaos in the process.

*

Otherwise known as Jaskier's terrible horrible no good past decisions leading to terrible horrible no good outcomes. Also known as the Mamma Mia! AU nobody asked for, but I wrote it anyway.

Chapter summary: In which Jaskier has to deal with PVSD (post-Valdo Stress Disorder), feral goats, and three people from his past that he thought would never ever see again.

Author's notes: Jaskier deserves a break, but he isn't getting one. Sorry, my poor son. I'm continuing my stride of inflicting more emotional turmoil on these poor, unfortunate souls.

Read on Ao3

*

By the time Jaskier got home, he managed to calm down a little bit. Well, he wasn't ready to commit gruesome murder anymore, but his brain was still ticking like a bomb just imagining Valdo Marx's smug grin. Why was this happening to him? What has he done to deserve this? It must have been a cruel, sick play of fate that Sara's mother happened to be best friends with the manager of Valdo's annoying theater band. Jaskier would have to sit down with her and beg her to pick someone else- surely there were other bands that wouldn't ask for millions just to play at a small wedding!

Worst case scenario, he would ask Priscilla and Essi to back him up and play some Sandpipers songs. Amaryllis specifically asked him not to play, because she wanted Jaskier there as a father, not as an employee, but desperate times called for dramatic measures. Either way, Jaskier needed to figure out a way to get rid of his rival before he ruined his beloved baby's big day.

The inn was bustling with guests at this time of the year. Each of them greeted Jaskier happily when he walked through the door. It made Jaskier smile. He had many guests who returned each year, and he saw new faces as well all the time. It was a small business, but people loved the Dandelion Inn, and its owner. Jaskier just wished the costs of holding up a place like that would be cheaper. He's been struggling with paying the bills on time lately, and since the inn was a mostly seasonal business, he had trouble scraping enough money together in the quieter months. But Jaskier promised Auntie he wouldn't let the inn fall apart, no matter what happened.

"Have you seen Amaryllis today?" Jaskier asked Angela, his receptionist. She was a sweet old lady who was hired by Auntie, and Jaskier refused to kick her out, even though she worked slowly and kept mixing up the room numbers. In fact, Jaskier refused to fire anyone from the old staff. There weren't many job opportunities on the island, and even though Jaskier struggled with the costs of keeping all the staff, he didn't want to put them out on the street.

"She had to go to the library, emergency call," Angela explained, not even looking up from her magazine. Jaskier raised an eyebrow.

"Emergency? In a library?"

"The pipes started leaking and she was called in for emergency inventory. But before that, she dropped off a girl here and said something about the goat shed, but I couldn't hear her, you know my ear isn't that good anymore, dear."

"Okay," Jaskier concluded with a sigh. "Wait, what girl? Sara?"

"No, not Sara! I would recognize her! No, it's that one, sitting at that table!"

Jaskier turned to where Angela pointed. A teenage girl with ashen blonde hair was sitting at a table in the lobby, doodling in the guest book. Jaskier didn't recognize her as one of the guests, but with his head being all over the place lately, it was entirely possible he just forgot he's seen her before.

The girl looked up from the guest book and caught Jaskier staring. She grinned and waved at him. Jaskier waved back with a smile. Yeah, must have been one of the guests. He needed to keep better track of these things.

Amaryllis did help him out at the inn when she could, but she had a job at the library and couldn't always be there. Which was a shame, because her memory was much better than Jaskier's. Unfortunately, Jaskier was getting old, he needed to accept it.

"Did Amaryllis say if she fed the goats?" He asked Angela. She didn't react.

"Angela!"

"What was that, dear? You know my hearing isn't great!"

"The goats," Jaskier said louder, articulating each word, "did Amaryllis feed them?"

"I don't know, I don't think so."

Jaskier sighed, slumping against the reception desk. "Great. I'll have to deal with those stinky beasts again."

Another thing Auntie entrusted him with before she died was taking care of her herd of goats. As much as Jaskier loved his aunt, he did curse her sometimes for leaving those animals in his care. He inherited the whole place: not just the inn, but the small flat connected to it where he now lived, and that godforsaken goat shed in the yard.

Jaskier was pretty sure those goats had a personal agenda against him. They were so sweet with the guests, patiently letting small children pet them. They even posed for photos. And they absolutely adored Amaryllis, who, for some reason Jaskier couldn't comprehend, loved those monsters back. Jaskier still remembered the headache when his five years old daughter toddled inside the house with a baby goat in her arms and asked Jaskier if the goat could sleep in her bed. When Jaskier said no, Amaryllis managed to smuggle it in anyway, causing Jaskier a near heart attack when he pulled back the covers one day, and found a goat in the bed instead of his child.

Despite their otherwise sweet behavior, the goats acted completely feral around Jaskier. They bit him and knocked him over constantly, and Jaskier was sure his eardrums would give in one day with how loud they kept screaming. Maybe they sensed he wasn't exactly fond of them. All the same, they were a necessary evil that came with his inheritance.

He changed his clothes quickly, because he was sure his pretty floral shirt would be ripped apart by the goats. He changed it to a simple white shirt and a pair of comfortable shorts before he grabbed a bucket, cursing under his breath all the way to the shed.

"First Valdo Marx, then these fucking goats," Jaskier huffed, "what's next? The aliens will come to abduct me? Fuck's sake. Emergency inventory, my god. As if they don't have several copies of War and Peace. No, let's save the books, it's all fine, who cares that I will be murdered by these monsters?"

He came to a halt before the shed, taking several deep breaths. Alright, he needed to calm down a little bit. He experienced too much stress lately with the wedding planning. Deep breaths, positive thoughts, he told himself. Everything was gonna be okay.

He opened the door and slipped inside the shed, holding the bucket out in front of him like a shield. Just like that, one of the goats, an old, black one that Jaskier was convinced was Satan himself in disguise, knocked into it, sending vegetables flying.

"Asshole," Jaskier huffed, entangling the goat's horns that got twisted in the handle of the bucket. "I brought you lunch, and that's how you thank me!?"

He heard something stir in the corner. One of the baby goats kept sniffing at a large haystack, craning its neck to look behind it. It started stomping on the floor with its hooves, the sound not helping Jaskier's impending headache.

"The hell are you doing there...?"

Jaskier's face went pale when he noticed something that looked like a human leg, pulling back behind the haystack. The blood ran cold in his veins. Someone was in his shed.

"Amaryllis?" He tried. No response came. Jaskier's heart pounded like a hammer inside his chest. He slowly approached the haystack, the hairs on his arms standing on end. When he said he was gonna be abducted, he meant it as a joke!

"Who's there?" Jaskier called again, trying to will his voice not to tremble. "I have a metal bucket in my hands, it hits hard! And I have pepper spray in my pocket! And a rape whistle! I would reveal myself if I were you before it was too late, because I'm... I'm feral!"

A hand emerged from behind the haystack, palm up, as if signaling they came with peace. Jaskier still held onto the bucket, just in case.

The rest of the stranger's body was revealed. Jaskier's eyes widened, and his mouth fell agape. He wobbled on his feet, white noise filling his head. His vision started to swim as amber eyes looked into his own. Familiar white hair, with a few pieces of hay stuck into it. A painfully sharp jawline, now covered with a beard. A tall, broad built, that didn't seem to change all that much since Jaskier last saw him. And he still wore black, from head to toe.

Before Jaskier had a chance to say or do anything, another figure emerged from behind the hay. Jaskier's jaw somehow dropped even lower as he spotted that reddish-blond hair, and those always inquiring blue eyes. Sharp features with thicker stubble than last time. That lean body, clad in expensive clothes. That careful little smile.

Jaskier dropped the bucket, the sound like a gunshot when the third figure came in sight. Black hair, not reaching the middle of her back anymore, just falling past her shoulders. Intense violet eyes. Plump lips, a little chapped. Warm skin and a black dress that hugged her still perfect body.

They all changed here and there, but they mostly looked the same. There was no mistaking them for anyone else. Now, Jaskier only had one question.

"What in the fucking fuck of a fucking hell you all are doing here!?"

"Jaskier," Radovid spoke first, his voice dripping with fake confidence, even though his eyes looked alarmed at Jaskier's outburst. "It's so good to see you, again."

"What are you doing in my goat shed," Jaskier wasn't proud of the way his voice came out as a whimper. But, excuse his French, he was shocked as all hell. Three figures from his past, three people he's romanced literal decades ago, the three people in the sea of his one-night stands that left the biggest mark on him, now stood in front of him. He blinked several times, but the vision didn't pass. They remained standing there, confused, as if they weren't the ones who showed up here for no reason.

"That's a long story," Yennefer sighed. She wrapped her arms around herself as she blinked up at Jaskier. "Shit, it's been a while. I don't know what I'm supposed to say."

"Me neither," Geralt chimed in. He gave Jaskier a small, uncertain smile. Jaskier did his best to ignore the feeling it gave him. "You look..."

"No, no, you're not getting out of this without an explanation," Jaskier scoffed. He put his hands on his hips, glaring at them with all the anger he could muster. "Why are you even on the island? What do you want?"

"What do you mean," Radovid chuckled, a little bitterly, "what do we want? Is this a joke?"

"If it is, it's not funny," Yennefer scoffed. She gently pushed a baby goat away that tried to chew on her dress. "We didn't travel hours on a fucking ferry for you to pretend like you don't know why we're here."

"What!?" Jaskier could feel himself getting hysterical. "What kind of sick prank is this? Which one of you came up with this? How do you even know each other!?"

"Jaskier, we came as quickly as we could," Geralt said. "We dropped everything at home just to come here. It's been... a very weird and exhausting couple of hours. Would you tell us what's going on?"

"Me? You tell me what's going on! I haven't seen your faces in twenty years, and now you suddenly pop up in my freaking goat shed!? And I'm the one who owes YOU an explanation!?"

"You were the one who wrote to us!" Radovid said, pointing a finger at Jaskier and making him raise an eyebrow.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You sent us all an ominous letter, about some life and death situation and how we needed to come see you in person," Yennefer explained. "And that we should pack enough clothes for a few weeks. You promised you would be at the dock, but it was actually your..."

"Wait, wait, wait, wait," Jaskier interrupted her, holding his hands up. He looked over all of them, his confusion growing with each passing second. "Hold your goddamn horses. I did not write you a letter. I didn't write a letter to anyone, let alone the three of you."

"Okay, then what is this?" Geralt asked, reaching into his pocket. He handed Jaskier a crumpled piece of paper. Jaskier skimmed it. The lines blurred together in front of his eyes as he realized what happened.

"That's not my handwriting," he whispered to mostly himself, "that's Amaryllis's."

Oh, holy sweet cow. It all started to make sense. Amaryllis asking about her other parent. Her expressing the need to find out who it is, so they could be there at her wedding. His diary mysteriously switching places in his drawer. He did not misplace that diary. Amaryllis must've taken it out and read it. And she was a smart girl, and a very determined one, as well... if she read it all, if she read about Jaskier's affairs, she put the pieces together - the pieces that Jaskier never dared to.

He nearly collapsed. He only managed to stay on his feet because Geralt caught him around the waist, holding him up.

"You okay?" He asked, his eyes full of concern. The other two moved closer, hovering at his side anxiously. He was surrounded by them in his anguish. It triggered an old dream, a wish he had made a long time ago. Memories flooded his brain, memories of the most intense pain he has ever felt in his life. Pathetically sobbing for someone to come and hold him - Geralt, Radovid, Yennefer, someone, please. I can't do this alone. I wish you were here and held my hand. Auntie, why did you have to leave me so soon? Hell, Mum, I hate you for what you did to me, but I would settle for even you. I just don't wanna give birth alone, don't wanna raise this baby alone, I'm scared, I can't do this...

"My daughter wrote to you," Jaskier whispered. He tore himself away from them, stumbling on his feet. "She pretended to be me to lure you here."

"Fuck," Yennefer whispered, "we've met her."

Jaskier snorted. "You did, huh? I guess she was the one waiting on the docks, then."

"Indeed," Radovid sighed. "She said something about how we should get to know each other better before her wedding, and that one of us should be there for some reason. Then, she practically shoved us back in our cars and told us to drive here. She made us hide out here and she promised she would explain everything, but she got a phone call and left."

"This isn't real," Jaskier laughed hysterically, shaking his head. "This is a nightmare. No, actually, I think I'm dead. And now I'm in hell. Oh, I might be burning soon!"

"Why did Amaryllis write to us?" Geralt asked. "And why does she want us to be there at her wedding?"

"Oh, that's gonna be great. Just absolutely gorgeous. I'm going to strangle her."

"Jaskier," Yennefer hissed, "would you calm down and tell us what's going on!?"

"So, none of you have a hunch," Jaskier snorted. He sighed deeply at their confused stares. "Well, I assume you all realized I've gotten to know each of you pretty well in the past."

"Yeah, we got that," Radovid huffed. Jaskier ignored the emotion the sheer jealousy in his voice evoked in him.

"Well. I have a suggestion why Amaryllis picked you three out of my past affairs, specifically."

Geralt sent him a confused look. "Why?"

"I assume it's because she read my diary, where I wrote about you. And the entries were dated. And well, she might have done a little bit of Math. Which wasn't difficult, considering I'm unmated, so no known daddy or mommy disrupting this lovely picture."

Recognition soon started seeping into their eyes. Their faces turned pale simultaneously.

"When was Amaryllis born?" Radovid asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Jaskier rubbed at his temples, feeling his headache increase.

"May 2003. You're good at Math, aren't you?"

"Now I wish I wasn't," Radovid groaned. Yennefer's eyes widened.

"You're implying that one of us...?"

Geralt swore under his breath. Jaskier imagined the goat shed collapsing over them. He wished it would happen.

"That one of you is Amaryllis's other parent, yes. And she clearly figured that out, too. Congratulations to someone here, I guess."

The silence was deafening except for the goats bleating in the background. Jaskier's three ex lovers stood still as statues, none of them daring to say anything. Jaskier felt a tear run down his face, but he felt too exhausted to wipe it off.

He struggled so hard to forget about them, to erase their smiles, their voices from his mind. To stop remembering their warmth, the feeling of their arms around him. The thought of seeking them out was constantly on the back of his mind after he found out he was pregnant. He knew their address, but he also knew that he didn't mean anything to either of them, not the way they meant to him. They had other things to take care of, and Jaskier wasn't one of them. Would they have even come back, if they found out Jaskier was pregnant? Would they have cared at all? Geralt, with his insistence that he couldn't give Jaskier what he wanted anyway, Radovid with that giant company, and Yennefer who had better hopes than tying herself down on a tiny island - they wouldn't have come back for him, no way.

Why they were here now, Jaskier didn't understand. Why now, after so many years? How come they didn't forget about him? Why were they standing here, staring at him in confusion, after twenty years, just because of a stupid letter?

Maybe it was because they actually... no, he couldn't allow himself to go there. They didn't love him. Not like that. This was all just a giant misunderstanding.

Jaskier felt like he was going to get sick. This was just too much.

He faintly heard them calling his name as he stormed out of the shed, but he didn't turn around.