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welcomemysentence:

mittens make it hard to do things & winter solstice

winter promptsfrom@witcher-and-his-bard❄️

(other standalone winter ficlets here)

“Augh! I give up.” Jaskier drops the flint and goes to yank off his mittens, but Geralt seizes his wrist.

“No.”

“Geralt!” Jaskier pouts. His cheeks are bright pink. They often are, but it’s the solstice, the shortest day of the year and one of the coldest. Jaskier really has no business being out here, helping with the torches and errands, but he insisted. “I can’t do anything with these on! It’s not fair you all get cool leather gloves and I’m stuck with—” he breaks off as Geralt raises an eyebrow.

“I made you these,” he says mildly. “They’re warmer than the gloves. You said you liked them.”

Jaskier groans.

“Ido like them, in that they are soft and cute and I look nice in them, and you are the sweetest, most wonderful lover in all of the Continent to make them for me.” He shakes his hand, which is still in Geralt’s grasp. “But that doesn’t mean I can be of any use while I’m wearing them. I want to help!”

Geralt takes both of Jaskier’s mittened hands in his and brings them to his mouth, breathing hot air on them and rubbing.

“You can help by not losing a finger trying to do errands for the solstice,” he says. He gives Jaskier’s hands one last squeeze and then sets the torch alight himself.

“But—”

“I need those fingers,” Geralt tells him, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I am very fond of them.”

Jaskier blushes, even through his frozen cheeks. Over by the firewood, Lambert groans audibly, thwacking his axe harder than strictly necessary.

“Yes, well. I suppose I can’t argue with that.”

“Hmm.” Geralt returns to the torches, and Jaskier sighs, shuffling along through the snow after him. “Just a few more, and we’ll bring the next batch of firewood inside.”

“Okay. Ooh!” Jaskier claps his mittened hands together, a sweep of bright sapphire against the dusty gold sunset light, there in the snow. Geralt had considered a dark pink when he was making them, but ultimately decided the blue would bring out Jaskier’s eyes best. They do. “We’ll also take a break for mulled wine.”

Geralt arches a brow.

“You’re that cold?”

“No, it’s just very good mulled wine!”

Geralt chuckles. The last torch lit, he heads for the firewood. Lambert’s wrapped up and headed inside by now, stacked neat bundles for them to bring in in turns.

“You made it,” he points out. “But it is. Let’s just get these in and we can call it for the night.” He hoists four bundles, and turns to see Jaskier with three, cradled in his arms, and he stops in his tracks.

The sun’s sunk to the horizon. The mountains are awash in pink and gold, and the night will be full of stars and comfort. Jaskier’s here, in the mittens Geralt made for him, the lines of his body easy, even with his arms full. He’s at ease, here. At home, at last, not just at Kaer Morhen, but with Geralt, openly and earnestly. Geralt knows, because he is at home too.

“You gonna just stare all night or what?” Jaskier shifts, yawning broadly. “We’re doing a roast tonight, right? I’m starving, I could eat an entire—”

“Marry me.”

Keep reading

hey-there-hunter:

people cant know we yearn

@hereisasuggestionshutup asks for the best things

hey, visit my instagram: @ aestusaart

and my twitter: @ truecryptid

to cry with me about witcher

and maybe my ko-fi: ko-fi.com/armache

lankygeralt:

Geralt thinking he sees Jaskier writing another song but it’s actually him writing very explicit fanfiction about them together.

pinkaxolotl85: ‘He thinks, ‘Oh,’ and falls to his knees before the pile of remains. It isn’t a compl

pinkaxolotl85:

‘He thinks, ‘Oh,’ and falls to his knees before the pile of remains. It isn’t a complete skeleton, but it’s apparently enough.’

_

Drawn For: Him

Fic Author: @octinary

_

|My DeviantArt||My Twitter||My Ko-fi |  

|Same Image on Deviantart ||Same Image on Twitter|


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tishawish: Bard, Bath and a Song   Heeere’s my version of geraskier bath time! *tosses this onto thetishawish: Bard, Bath and a Song   Heeere’s my version of geraskier bath time! *tosses this onto thetishawish: Bard, Bath and a Song   Heeere’s my version of geraskier bath time! *tosses this onto the

tishawish:

Bard, Bath and a Song  

Heeere’s my version of geraskier bath time! *tosses this onto the pile*


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lamberts:THE WITCHER SEASON 2Geralt, Jaskier and Roach(?)lamberts:THE WITCHER SEASON 2Geralt, Jaskier and Roach(?)

lamberts:

THE WITCHER SEASON 2
Geralt, Jaskier and Roach(?)


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Jaskier: Uh this new tunic is so damn itchy!

Geralt: Just take it off then.

Jaskier:o_o

Geralt: Fuck. No, uh not like that I–

Jaskier: You said what you said…

BITCH. I just snorted cider out my nose reading this

Why did I think of Geralt whistling Roach over for some reason?!??

Jaskier would be so confused…

Jaskier turns in his bedroll again.

“—fucking winter and its wintery fucking— cold as balls, ice frozen—”

“Jask?”

“—good for nothing— oh.” His tossing stops. The ground is so fucking cold. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

One golden eye peers at him. He would say Geralt looked annoyed, but he can’t see most of his face, tucked as it is under his cloak, so he chooses to interpret it as friendly concern. “Your muttering did.”

Jaskier smiles sheepishly at him, even though Geralt probably can’t see him either, with his scarf tied around his neck and covering most of his face. “Sorry. Just…”

“Can’t sleep?”

Jaskier shakes his head. It’s their fifth year on the Path together, the first one Geralt’s invited him along to spend the winter at Kaer Morhen with him — and Jaskier’s excited, really, but sleeping on the forest floor with a thin bedroll and definitely not enough blankets kind of dampens his spirits a little.

They’ve laid their bedrolls side by side, the fire keeping their feet warm, but still Jaskier can’t fend off the chill that’s seeped into his bones. He would blame it on his frilly, beautifully impractical clothing, with its soft but thin fabrics, with its stunning trim but no insulation, but if he did, he’d basically be agreeing with Geralt, and he can’t have that. Not even in the privacy of his own mind.

(He still hasn’t ruled out the possibility that Witchers are mind-readers). (Geralt is awfully quiet whenever Jaskier brings it up, and, well, one can never be too careful).

So he’s been tossing and turning and singing lullabies to himself in a feeble attempt of finally succumbing to a warm, deep sleep. Not that it’s worked, anyway.

The single golden eye looks considering, now.

“Wha—?” Jaskier manages before Geralt stands up, the bare skin under his sleep shirt immediately reacting to the cold air of the forest and erupting in gooseflesh.

Then, a blanket is being tossed to his face.

(It smells like horse).

“There,” says Geralt, not unkindly, his voice a bit rough. “That’ll help.”

“Well,” Jaskier replies, trying to adjust the blanket without taking his hands out of his bedroll, which proves impossible. “Thanks.”

Before he can sit up straight and, like a sane person, rearrange the blanket on top of himself, Geralt’s doing it for him. His hair is a mess from where he’s been laying on it and he’s squinting, but his hands are warm as they reach for the ends of the blanket and he tucks them into Jaskier’s bedroll, making sure his body is covered.

“You’re tucking me in,” Jaskier whispers, something that suspiciously feels like love standing on his heart a little.

Geralt smiles. He smiles his soft smile, the one where his lips stretch over his face and they’re pink and pretty and there’s a shine in his eyes.

“I guess I am,” he replies, checking no corners have been missed. “We’ll reach the mountain soon. No more cold nights after that.”

Jaskier smiles. He doesn’t know what it might look like on his face, lips chapped and slightly cracked. He hopes it shows his gratitude for him.

Geralt sits back on his haunches. The smile is still there. Fonder, somehow.

“What, no kiss goodnight?” Jaskier murmurs, because he’s an idiot, because he can’t help himself.

“Mm,” Geralt says, and for a second, Jaskier thinks he’s getting up to leave, but then Geralt leans forward and there’s a gentle, sweet kiss being pressed to his forehead. His smile is bigger when he turns away. “There. Goodnight.”

Jaskier can feel the warmth on his skin, the skin Geralt pressed a kiss to. He can feel it seeping into his bones.

When he turns around, blanket firmly secured, Geralt is watching him from his own bedroll.

“Goodnight,” he mouths at him, and Geralt closes his eyes.

His cloak is covering half his face again, but Jaskier can see the smile he’s hiding anyway.

lamberts:Geraskier Incorrect Quotes [2/∞] (in/sp.)lamberts:Geraskier Incorrect Quotes [2/∞] (in/sp.)lamberts:Geraskier Incorrect Quotes [2/∞] (in/sp.)lamberts:Geraskier Incorrect Quotes [2/∞] (in/sp.)lamberts:Geraskier Incorrect Quotes [2/∞] (in/sp.)lamberts:Geraskier Incorrect Quotes [2/∞] (in/sp.)lamberts:Geraskier Incorrect Quotes [2/∞] (in/sp.)lamberts:Geraskier Incorrect Quotes [2/∞] (in/sp.)

lamberts:

GeraskierIncorrect Quotes [2/∞] (in/sp.)


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Jaskier let out a small sob, and stood, “I’m sorry. I can’t. I-” He swiped a hand over his eyes. “Why am I bothering? You’re just going to ask again.” Before Geralt could shift on the bed, Jaskier was out of the door and disappearing into the next room.

My@geraskierbigbang piece for my amazing event partner @underwaterattribute’s fic, ‘Can’t Promise You Fair Sky Above’

It’s such an enjoyable and heartbreakingly good read and I can’t suggest it more highly!

Waiting for Winter

(¬‿¬ )

❤️ Now in RedBubble! ❤️

Someone on twitter asked for Geralt with that hat so..

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