ao3 - adelizaa

Geralt doesn’t like to have his picture taken. He’s not particularly photogenic, he ends up looking like a cat whenever flash is involved, and as someone who’s been arrested before, only to learn later on his mugshot went viral on socials, he can no longer justify any reason to pose for pictures.

Jaskier is handsome, doesn’t have a record, and loves being in pictures. During the first year of their marriage, when he asks Geralt to help him select what to put on their Christmas card, Geralt stares with disdain at all the options that include himself.

“Sure you don’t wanna make a card with just you on it?” Geralt tries. “Maybe you and the dog?”

Jaskier’s mouth hangs open, in the same way it does whenever Geralt says something outlandishly dumb.

“Am I married to the dog?!” Jaskier cries. “For goodness sake, what am I going to do with this man…”

So Geralt reluctantly chooses the least offensive looking photo of him and Jaskier, in front of their new house in Brookline, and later falters only for a second at the mailbox before posting the cards Jaskier has designed to send out to all his friends (they also send one to Roach, in Portsmouth, since Geralt insisted he has no friends to send cards to).

In their second year of marriage, Ciri helps Jaskier pick out the pictures and Geralt is grateful there’s only one of him, as part of family photos with the gang in Portsmouth.

Felix, their son, is born sometime within their third and fourth year of marriage. Geralt is one of two guilty parties when it comes to storing a million useless baby pictures of his son in his phone, closely followed by Jaskier, and choosing just a few is a conundrum.

“Let’s just go with the family portrait we did when he was nine months,” Geralt says, patting the baby on the back to encourage Felix to burp. “The one when Ciri was home.”

“You look good in that one,” Jaskier says with a smile, as he zooms into the photo. “And your eyes are open. For once! Hah! Aw, but what about the one of just you two? My sweet beans…”

They end up selecting a family picture, a picture of each of them with Felix – Geralt actually likes the one where he and baby seem to be in a staring contest – and one of their golden retriever.

By their sixth year of marriage, Felix is a happy toddler with curly hair, Ciri is an adult, Jaskier has a few more laugh lines around his blue eyes, and their daughter, Daisy, is about ten months old.

Geralt still doesn’t like to have his picture taken. But he must admit – his littler kids look remarkably adorable in the family portrait they paste on the front of their holiday card. Jaskier and Felix look so much alike, they may as well be twins. Daisy only has two teeth, both of which she proudly displays in Geralt’s arms. On the back of the card, the kids hug each other happily, and Ciri and the dog get their own squares.

“Any of those left?” Geralt asks Jaskier, as his husband reaches out for another card to stuff an envelope.

“Loads,” Jaskier says. “I may have made a few too many extra compared to last year.”

“It’s okay,” Geralt says, picking up a card and smiling at it. “I got some friends I can send a few to.”

( x )