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Years ago, had someone told her she and Jaskier would be shacking up in Skellige, first child well on the way, yennefer would have laughed then probably cursed whoever had spoken to her in the first place. Not only was she unable to have children but Jaskier – the talentless hack who had trailed around the Witcher like a sad, lost puppy? Yennefer would never sink so low to even entertain the thought of her and that prissy bard living together.
But the Caingorn mountain put a lot of things into a different perspective for everyone, including Jaskier and herself.
Yennefer had been heading back to camp when she heard it, too exhausted to use a portal, Jaskier’s little talk with Geralt. If you could even call it that, more like Geralt shouting at the bard's face while Jaskier trailed off, the stench of tears following him like a grey cloud.
Yennefer almost didn’t, almost stopped herself but the thought of taking something so precious from Geralt outweighed her decision to stay away from him completely.
And so yennefer found herself with a bard, a sad one at that. Though, it turned out that contrary to what she thought, Jaskier made a rather good and funny companion – when tipsy, though he wasn’t too bad sober either.
She travelled to different courts and made her way through the continent as she did before, still searching for a cure for her womb, but now she had a companion following behind her. Yennefer would admit it was nice having someone to come home to, someone to treat her with the respect she deserves, to cook, clean and help bathe her.
They fell into bed a few months later, after an argument over Jaskier’s sexual proclivities and bringing people home to their house. The tension had been high and thus the passion was higher and shortly after, they were panting and sweating in Yennefer’s bed.
That was when Jaskier had offered to help yennefer have a child of her own, whatever she wanted to do, he would offer his assistance. Yennefer accepted, of course. There were worse people to have a child with, at least if they did manage then Jaskier’s charming looks would be helpful.
It took months before yennefer realised what she was doing wrong, looking in the entirely wrong place. She shouldn’t be looking to regrow her womb, instead she needed to look for a spell for Jaskier, something that was so strong it overpowered her own problems.
The bard was entirely on board, “I’m always open to new experiences,” he had said. Yennefer had rolled her eyes but was unbelievably thankful in the inside, she didn’t think she could love him any more than at that point in her life.
She was wrong.
Seeing Jaskier now, beneath her, squirming and panting and six months pregnant with their first child. This was what she had been looking for her entire life. Those watery blue eyes looking up at her under dark, thick lashes - full of admiration and love. She was important to someone, important to Jaskier.
And soon, she would be important to their child as well.
And Jaskier had never looked so delectable. His hair had grown to just under his chin, ruggedly charming and speckled with grey as well as his stubble – grey and slightly orange. His cheeks were pleasantly flushed a deep rose and his eyes hadn’t dulled since she first met him. Pregnancy had only done wonders to the rest of his body too.
His belly had rounded out, scattered with dark pink sensitive stretch marks underneath which yennefer couldn’t stop touching, making jaskier shiver with pleasure. His hips had grown wider for the baby’s birth, his thighs thickened, his ass swelled, and his chest had softened to allow for milk, another place that was far too sensitive for the poor bard.
She was lucky enough to have been gifted a house by a lord in Novigrad, claiming it was an old holiday home, his family had died, and he had no more use for it. It was pretty, quaint – a large stone house that looked out at the great sea. And of course, jaskier loved it too.
And Yennefer ate him up, almost every night she left soft kisses over his body, when his feet ached or his body grew tired, yennefer bathed him in comfort and adoration. She washed him in their large tub, running her fingers through his longer hair, she rubbed cream into his skin while they lay in bed.
Yennefer wanted to laugh, thinking of what Geralt could have had, if he hadn’t had such a gruff exterior. But she was glad he had given the bard up, otherwise she would never have found herself here.