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Pride was quite possibly Jaskier’s favourite time of year. The rainbows were everywhere you looked, a beacon of hope for one whole month, and the parades were full of music and joy. It was also where Jaskier had met his husband many moons ago. Geralt had been lurking in the corner of a bar after the parade, long silver hair falling down over the curve of his breasts, a red and black flannel shirt left loose over his tank top and tight fitting jeans. Jaskier had approached him, an extra beer in hand purely to make sure he was alright. Pride was a celebration, and Jaskier firmly believed no one should be alone during the festivities, but when golden eyes had locked onto his, Jaskier had immediately fallen in love. He was but a weak bisexual and Geralt had truly been the most beautiful person Jaskier had ever seen.
And even with Jaskier’s pitiful attempts at flirting, Geralt had agreed to a date after spending a few hours in the shitty bar, sharing drinks and tales of troubled childhoods. It turned out that that pride had been Geralt’s first, a tiny little bi flag badge pinned onto his flannel shirt, a stark contrast to Jaskier’s neon outfit, complete with face paint and glitter.
One date had become two, until one day, after spending a rather lovely morning riding Geralt’s favourite strap, Jaskier had proposed, drunk on sex and love.
Yes, Geralt had been so many things to Jaskier over the years, girlfriend, partner, boyfriend, fiance, and now finally his husband. It had been a rollercoaster of emotions, for both of them, but watching Geralt bloom into the confident young man he was now had been a privilege and a joy. Jaskier couldn’t imagine his life without Geralt, and now their five year old daughter had joined their odd little family, an unexpected turn of events, but one that Jaskier could never regret.
“Papa!” Ciri cried as she bounced onto the bed, nuzzling into Geralt’s arms, before turning her emerald green eyes on Jaskier, her brow furrowed. “Colour?”
“Blue, thank you for asking, sweetheart,” Jaskier cooed, brushing her hair away from her face and pressing a kiss to her forehead.
“Always, daddy,” Ciri giggled, her little hand gripping his. “Is it time to go yet?”
Jaskier chuckled at Geralt’s drawn out groan, his husband burying deeper into the duvet, the noise making Ciri pout adorably. “Not yet, little cub. Go and play with your toys, we’ll call you when it’s time for breakfast.”
The young girl huffed, blowing a strand of ashen blonde hair from her eyes. “Fine,” she pouted, kissing Jaskier’s cheek before scarpering from the room in a blur, leaving the two adults alone one more.
“Baby’s first pride,” Jaskier sighed wistfully, gazing up at the ceiling as he took Geralt’s hand in his. “They grow up so fast.”
“Coffee,” Geralt grumbled in response. “No more words before coffee.”
Straddling Geralt’s hips, Jaskier let out a soft laugh before peppering his husband’s face with kisses, leaving his lips until last. When their lips finally met, Geralt let out a soft sigh, cupping Jaskier’s face in his as he returned the kiss.
“Insatiable,” Geralt murmured against Jaskier’s lips, making him giggle into the kiss.
“For you, my love, always.”