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rosanna-writer · 1 month ago

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Hello again gorgeous, Secret Santa calling! 💖📞✨️

Hope your day is going well. Are you doing good? I love our talks.

But darling, I MUST know - what are some of your favourite fanfic tropes, especially when it comes to our dear Feysand? Any favourite fic recommendations? I'm chomping at the bit to know.

Until tomorrow, lovely.

- Secret Santa 🎅😘✏️

HELLO MY DEAR I'M GOOD HOW ARE YOU

Favorite tropes: canon divergence, role-reversal, shifters and monsters, all the goofy "what if you can't see color until you meet your soulmate"/"first words your soulmate speaks to you are tattooed on your body"/etc soulmate AUs, "missing scene" fics

OK SO FEYSAND FIC RECS TIME TO GUSH THE REAL GIFT IS TALKING ABOUT THESE FICS

Poltergeist Darling by @thesistersarcheron is the spooky gothic romance AU that speaks directly to my inner 12 year old self who just discovered Phantom of the Opera and had her entire world changed

You know when you're like "damn, that's a great idea for a fic, I hope someone writes it so I can read it"? That was me with The Thief and the Rake, I swear @popjunkie42 is living in my brain or something (and I know @annaskareninas ALSO has one that's in the tbr list I'm slowly making my way through!)

Tempt My Trouble by @whatishowedyouinthedark because come for the smut (lol pun unintended), stay for the caretaking and art museum heists. Also the scattering of little canon details in a modern mafia AU is just so clever and fun

Queen of Thieves by @the-lonelybarricade because I love AUs where Feyre is born fae but also this might be the hottest Rhys she's ever written??? I still think about that scene where Feyre falls asleep on Rhys's lap after dinner

And speaking of born fae AUs, To Steal A Bride of Spring by @yourstarsmyscars is another favorite of mine, with Feyre knowing a bit more about what's going on than ACOMAF, this is just one of those warm and fuzzy, "what if they didn't have to be so mean to each other?" fics that are so soothing to read

@foundress0fnothing is a legend for making the Pied Piper hot in whistles far and wee like the flute is such a deeply unsexy instrument it should not work but she's a witch and the fic is so good and Rhys is seductive af!!!!

Your Eyes Whisper Have We Met literally has EVERYTHING you could possibly ask for in a feysand fic. @climbthemountain2020 is serving swoony regency balls and dream conversations and fun OCs and Under the Mountain suspense, she is doing it ALL, it's insane just go read it

I re-read Spirit in Disguise by @witch-and-her-witcher the other day, and it's another one of those "huh I wish someone would write this AU, OH LOOK SOMEONE DID" fics because damn do I love anything where Feyre meets Rhys before he's High Lord, and all the worldbuilding and the way the plot just dovetails to seamlessly with the main Nessian fic it branches off from are so, so good

Hot for Teacher by @beesays goes SO HARD on the school setting, it's just delightful. The emails, the gossip, Feyre handing Superintendent Rhys his ass in front of everyone, it's like Abbott Elementary but better and also Feysand

There are a ton I'm probably forgetting, but I'm so bad about actually bookmarking things so I'll stop here so my night doesn't devolve into tracking down fics I only remember the plot of but not the title or the author!

everyone go leave all these authors nice comments on their fics!!!

#feysand #acotargiftexchange #gift exchange ask 2024

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popjunkie42 · 11 months ago

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Gifts for WitchlingsandWyverns!

From your ACOTAR Secret Santa! @witchlingsandwyverns

I have had so much fun working on a story for you and getting to send you gifts and sneak peeks over the past few weeks! I have always loved your art and creativity and I really hope I can give you something you'll enjoy this holiday season.

I got inspired early on to lean into the fantasy and do a sort-of Lord of the Rings AU. This story takes place during the war 500 years before ACOTAR against the human slave lands and the human-faerie alliance. I imagine Feyre as a Spring fae, and she and Rhysand meet for the first time in the Dawn Palace's House of Healing. I was inspired by one of my all-time favorite fantasy couples, Eowyn and Faramir.

Blossoming in Winter - Chapter 1: Under the Wings of the Shadow (on AO3, the first part of Chapter 1 below) and tagging @acotargiftexchange

A million thanks to @witch-and-her-witcher and @temperedink for being my amazing beta readers!

Your story is mostly complete and will be four chapters long. I hope to publish every few days up until Christmas, but be patient with me if the final edits take a bit longer!

I've had so much fun being your secret gift giver and learning more about you! I hope you have an amazing birthday, and holiday season, and that you enjoy all the ACOTAR riches coming our way!

Love,

PopJunkie42

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

To Thesan, High Lord of Dawn and Commander of the Peregryn Legions:

Esteemed High Lord,

It is with great thanks and humility I write to you on behalf of Lord Tamlin, third son of Spring.

The Peregryn legion you sent to our aid was invaluable in our victory on the coast of the western Spring lands.Through whatever grand insight you possess, they arrived in the knick of time, as our armies were on the verge of being overwhelmed. The turn of the tide led to a grand victory on the side of Prythian. Though casualties were great, the land has been held successfully by our warband and will, we believe, provide strategic ground for both monitoring Hybern’s forces and maintaining a foothold on the shore, to prevent further ships and troops from docking in Prythian and adding to our troubles.

Indeed, if you’ll forgive me for my storytelling, I can tell you the sight of feathered wings will forever bring a surge of joy to the hearts of the Spring warriors, and the tales of the Peregryn’s bravery will long be told in our lands and at our tables. The legion’s arrival at dawn after the long night siege, the rising sun at their backs, was the stuff of grand tales, and seemed to us a blessing from the Cauldron and the Mother. Lord Tamlin (and myself) sincerely hope that his future court and the Dawn Court may remember this great victory and the strength of our combined partnership in the days and years to come.

Lord Tamlin wishes greatly to speak with you and the other High Lords further, once battles have ceased and Prythian is free of the stain of Hybern, about the future of our illustrious court and the question of leadership therein. Though the Prince has always valued the leadership of his father and wisdom of his brothers, their choice to ally with the King of Hybern shows their loyalties and interests lie outside of Prythian. After this war is won, Prince Tamlin wishes only to treat with those loyal to the lands of Prythian.

Though I write to thank you for your great kindness, I also am afraid I must use this letter to beg another courtesy. It has been heard that your illustrious Court has opened its doors to the High Lord’s families and those in greatest need of healing, to be blessed by the grand bounty of your powers and knowledge. It is with this in mind that Lord Tamlin humbly asks you to take in another patient: Lady Feyre Archeron, an archer in his personal guard.

Although Lady Feyre boasts no direct relation to the High Lords, perhaps word of her bravery has already reached your lands. For it was Lady Feyre who dared to enter the Middle and defeat the fearsome Sylvanus, the forest god, the last of the old gods walking among us. We know that all the High Lords and generals have knowledge of this beast, as he has split the land in two and his wrath and magic had prevented the joining of the northern and southern armies in our long-standing war. Although rumored to be immortal and impervious to death, even by the hand of a High Lord, the monster was single-handedly defeated by Lady Feyre. We have no doubt that her name will long be known throughout Prythian, and the grand tale of her conquest will be the subject of songs and poems. Perhaps if taken under your healers, you will get the entire story firsthand from her, as she has not spoken of it since returning to Spring. Such a tale would be the envy of the land, and certainly of your neighbors in Day.

Lady Feyre, though brave and strong, returned to the Spring Court wounded by the deep magic of the god. Her spirits fail her, and her body withers under wounds our healers cannot touch. Lord Tamlin beseeches you and your healers to care for her with your powerful magic, as her hurts go beyond the body and perhaps into the soul.

With much gratitude and hope in battle,

Lucien, Emissary of Spring

on behalf of Prince Tamlin, the rightful heir

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“Please, Lady Feyre…”

The warden of the healing wing scuttled behind the female, her steps brisk, his own faltering as he rushed in his voluminous robes.

But both came to a pause in front of the wooden door, one of many in the hall of healing. A cold fog of darkness, whirling and flecked with stars, was pouring from the crack at the bottom.

Feyre Archeron, her face pale and jaw set, looked upon the tendrils of darkness now lapping at her feet. With a deep breath, she knocked loudly and opened the door.

She did not pause at the wave of cold night that washed over her at the threshold, nor at the brisk “What?” bitten out by the occupant. She only paused when the shadows cleared and she saw the patient clearly.

The Prince of Night sat up in bed, framed by outstretched, massive black wings. The span of wings was echoed in swirling black tattoos on his expansive bare chest, split by a wound covered in bandages across his shoulder. His face was fine, if a bit wan, and adorned by a vicious frown. His eyes quickly snapped to Feyre as she stood in the door. But it was the wings, gleaming iridescent in the light, that took her breath. It looked as if he sat upon a throne ensconced by those vicious and beautiful tokens of death.

At least, it did at first. Now that she took a breath she noticed the way his wings were scaffolded by light fabric tethers and a framework of wooden dowels. Covered in bandages and oily with salves whose scent filled the room and her nose. Blood, too, dripped to the floor and across his white silken sheets, and bled through the starched bandages. She saw gashes and holes in the thin membrane of his wings, the skin raw and irritated and covered in healing ointments.

Just like that, her determination wavered at the sight of his injuries. She had spent enough time in Spring’s healing tents to know his wounds were fresh, and to recognize his pallor and sheen of sweat upon his brow as tokens of his pain.

Feyre realized she had been frozen on the threshold of the room, staring at his wings. Dropping her eyes, she met the menacing stare of the son of Night.

The warden bustled past her and into the room, bowing deeply at the waist.

“Apologies, my Lord. She…”

“I thought I ordered you to let me remain undisturbed,” the Prince bit out, his voice hard and impatient.

“Yes, my Lord, but -“

“Are you Rhysand? Prince of the Hewn City and son to the High Lord of the Night Court?” Feyre asked.

The Prince’s eyes were upon her again, glowing in the dim light of the room. “I am.”

“Good. I’ve been looking for you.”

“And to whom do I owe this unwanted disturbance to my peaceful convalescence?”

Feyre swallowed. This was not going as she had planned, if she had a plan at all. She was the one who was angry, she was the one with demands.

“Well?”

“I am Feyre.”

“Well, that explains everything.” Her face turned to a scowl as his eyes roamed over her body, full of haughty judgment. A pang of embarrassment, and then anger tore through her as she considered her rumpled tunic, cut and tied to fit around her bandaged arm, her plain pants, her weather-stained leather boots.

Before the warden could start his bumbling apologies again, Feyre forged ahead.

“I am being kept here against my will. I wish to leave. And the warden,” she looked to him with what she hoped was utmost disdain, “told me you were the highest ranking fae here, while the High Lord of Dawn is away.”

Rhysand laughed. It was a bitter sound.

“Do I look like I am giving orders here?” he asked, spreading his arms against his outstretched wings. “Do I look like a lord of Dawn? I am as much a prisoner as you. Moreso, as I’m being kept in chains.”

The warden stood straighter as Feyre clenched her jaw. With High Lord Thesan gone for what could be the end of the war, and the nurses’ endless vigil in front of her door, she had no means of escape.

From his bed, Prince Rhysand sighed. She watched him wince slightly at the movement of his shoulders.

“And why would you want to be released from this gentle hall of healing? You look as if you’re in need of it’s services,” he said, his eyes again on her body.

She knew what he was seeing. Had seen it herself in the glass this morning, before she tilted it away from her bed in dismay at the grayish pallor of her face, her skin papery and thin, the blue veins beneath giving her a sickly hue. Her eyes had charted the scratches on the left side of her face and neck that refused to heal, stark red slashes on her skin.

Of her arm, bandaged and tied closely to her chest. Only her pale fingers, chalky white and withered, gave any hint as to what lay underneath.

“I wish to return to battle,” Feyre said, willing confidence and command into her tone. Surely a High Lord’s son couldn’t deny the war one more willing soldier. “I did not wish to be sent here and I do not wish to waste time waiting to heal. I only wish to fight.”

“Why do you not wish to be healed? A wounded warrior is of little use on a battlefield. And haven’t you heard that we all talk of victory and peace now?”

Feyre lifted her chin high, poured all of the confidence and pride she could muster into her face. Thought of Lucien, of Tamlin addressing his armies.

“I am an archer in Lord Tamlin’s personal guard. And battle is where I belong.”

The prince regarded her further. His anger had softened and the blackness swirling about the room had dissipated to soft shadows. He tilted his head. “Again, an archer who cannot use her bow isn’t much use to an army.”

“I have other skills to use, my lord,” she said, the last words dripping with ire. “Not everything heals. And I do not fear our enemies nor death on a battlefield. Indeed, to die in battle is an honor, is it not?” She wished desperately for him to heed her words. Every hour she felt the final battle rushing further away from her, like the ships traveling swiftly across the sea. Surely, a High Lord’s son would not deny the war another willing soldier.

Prince Rhysand swallowed. “An honor?” he laughed, low and dark, the sound pulsing across her skin. “I suppose it is. Certainly those bleeding on Prythian’s fields no longer have to face the horrors of what we have done or what will come next. Is that what you wish for, Lady Feyre?”

Feyre bristled at his tone. Whatever future waited for Prythian had little to do with her now. “I am a warrior pledged to battle, and the battle still goes on, and yet I am here.”

She wasn’t sure what it was, now, that look on his face. Silence filled the room.

“Well, Lady Feyre,” she chafed again at the term. No matter that she had explained to her nurses that she was not a lady, the epithet had followed her through the halls. “Whether it was the Cauldron, the Mother, or the old gods, our lives have been spared. And, as I have explained to you, I have no authority here in the halls of the Dawn Court. Even if I would grant you my blessing to send you to your death, the sentiment is meaningless here. So I am afraid we both will remain imprisoned, and live to see another glorious day.”

Feyre took in a deep breath through her nose. A second.

“Then you will not help me?” Rhysand wore a frown.

“Not in this.”

“Fine. Apologies for disturbing you, my lord.” she said, and turned on a clipped heel out the door.

Read the rest on AO3

#acotar #feysand #rhysand #feyre #acotar fanfiction #acotar gift exchange 2023 #lord of the rings AU

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samstree · 2 years ago

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in other words (please be true)

A secret santa gift for dear @lamberts, hope your year is full of good sleep and love! 💖 (2.2k ☆ AO3)

“Jaskier,” Geralt says with his eyes closed.

“Hmm?” A slight shuffle, the sound of Jaskier burrowing into the cover.

“Go to sleep.”

A puff of breath ghosts over Geralt’s cheeks. The pillow under his ear is soft, a nice spot to stay forever like this.

“I am,” Jaskier answers, carefully.

“Your eyes are still open.” Geralt doesn’t even need to look to know, with Jaskier’s gaze on the back of his eyes.

“They’re not,” Jaskier lies again with a smile in his voice.

Sighing, Geralt leans forward to press a kiss to Jaskier’s forehead, down his eyebrow, and then lightly, on the tip of his nose. He rests a hand over Jaskier’s back, patting a gentle rhythm. It’s a trick he’s learned to get Ciri to fall asleep quickly.

Jaskier sinks into the bed further, but Geralt can practically hear the sound of him blinking. The feeling of being closely observed by Jaskier is not a bad one. It’s just a small weight of attention, a warm tingling on his senses, a safe kind of being seen.

Still, the subtle hint of exhaustion threads into the thrumming of Jaskier’s heartbeat, just on the edge of too light and too quick.

“It’s late, and you are tired,” Geralt shushes again under his breath. “Close your eyes.”

“They are closed.”

Shamelessly, Jaskier keeps looking, so Geralt lets him for a few moments longer.

The fire crackles as Geralt keeps his eyes shut—opening them would mean admitting defeat. He’d be giving up on the attempt to sleep, and he’s reluctant to do so just because Jaskier wants to be a cheeky liar.

Without looking, he can picture Jaskier perfectly—lying on his side, face only inches away. The night is dark, and so are Jaskier’s eyes, peeking from under the covers with his face hidden. Age has never taken away that mischievous glint in those eyes, nor the overflowing adoration resting in the crow’s feet at Jaskier’s temple. Without looking, Geralt knows he’s being seen with love.

His lungs expand, filled with the familiar scent of Jaskier, and then, he opens his eyes.

There Jaskier is, safe in their bed, the lower half of his face hidden under the cover. The smile is unmistakable when his eyes are curved like this, showing those beautiful crow’s feet. Upon seeing Geralt is wide awake, his eyes light up even more, nearly gleaming with excitement in the dim firelight.

“Oops,” Jaskier murmurs. “You’ve caught me.”

“As if you regret it.”

“Who says I don’t?”

Letting out a deep breath, Geralt searches for Jaskier’s hand under the covers, his limbs all slow and lazy, heavy from a day’s journey. Jaskier meets him halfway, links their fingers together and brings Geralt’s hand to his lips.

“Hey,” Geralt greets him as if they didn’t say goodnight mere minutes ago. A content hum rumbles quietly as his hand is being kissed.

“Hey,” Jaskier greets him in return.

They lie there, blinking slowly in the warm nest of their bed. There are faint bruises under Jaskier’s eyes from days of traveling. He truly is exhausted, and Geralt’s heart twists in sympathy.

“The only thing you’ll regret tomorrow is the lack of sleep.” He squeezes Jaskier’s hand in worry. “Come on, stop staring.”

Jaskier only shakes his head. “No.”

“Jask.”

“I didn’t ride for days just to not look at your face, witcher.” Jaskier’s lips purse into a displeased line. “I’ve waited for months. Months, Geralt. Do you know how long they last when you are away?”

Geralt is too aware, because those months stretched out in Jaskier’s absence as if they’d never end. The empty bedroll beside him grew cold every morning when he reached out, but he kept reaching anyway.

“So you’ve decided to never take your eyes off of me again?” Geralt asks. “Even at night, just to make up for those months?”

“You tease me for missing you.” Jaskier pouts, wounded as if he’s suffered great unfairness.

“I tease you for being unreasonable.”

Geralt wraps an arm behind Jaskier’s back again and begins running soothing circles, inching forward until Jaskier fits into the curve of his body.

“Perhaps I am,” Jaskier whispers, his breath warm against Geralt’s neck. “When we were apart, I’d close my eyes and picture all the details of your face. I was quite proud for remembering well, but my imagination could never compare. You see, you’ve changed in my absence.”

“I did?”

“Mm-hmm.” Jaskier touches his forehead to Geralt’s in confirmation. “You always change when I’m not there. I merely wanted to record the differences for my imagination. So next time, I’ll be more accurate.”

Geralt aches at the thought of separating from Jaskier again. “You understand we need to part, do you? Between your job and mine, it’s the way it is.”

Jaskier swallows. “Yes, for a few years at least. We have our plan, so I understand. Doesn’t make it easier.”

With that, Jaskier looks down at where their hands link. For the first time, a real sense of tiredness weighs on his frame, shrinking his presence, and it makes Geralt feel wrong-footed in a million ways. It just won’t do. Geralt hates it when Jaskier takes up less space.

“No. It’s never easy,” Geralt agrees, rather urgently. “It’s the same for me. I…I’d pretend you were with me too.”

“You would?”

Geralt nods. “Our bedroll felt too big. I kept trying to find you at night, only to remember you weren’t there. Even Roach sensed I was sad.”

“Oh,” Jaskier breathes. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, I am. Shouldn’t have made fun of you.” Geralt pulls Jaskier closer to lay on his shoulder, securing the comfortable weight of his bard at his side.

“You can’t stop making fun of me even if you wanted to. I don’t know why I’m sweet on you,” Jaskier mumbles into Geralt’s shirt. “Perhaps I shall forget about your face altogether and let you suffer in unrequited longing.”

With a huff, Geralt pulls away, wrapping a hand around Jaskier’s chin. “My, my, have mercy. I won’t survive.”

“So you’ll let me stare now?” Jaskier perks up, his face open and earnest. “I don’t ask for more, only a few stolen moments at night.”

Jaskier still talks about Geralt’s love as if it is something he cheated out of the universe, as if he can only steal moments of affection in the darkness of the night. Even after all these years, he treats Geralt like it’s a privilege to love him, to be loved by him.

Suddenly, he never wants Jaskier to stop looking.

“Stare all you want,” he answers. “Look all you want. Remember all of me, but know you can ask for more. Always.”

Jaskier’s eyes crinkle with a coy smile, the lower half of his face swallowed by the soft cover once again. “Always is a long time. I’d never sleep if you kept letting me get my way. You’d be dealing with a cranky, sleep-deprived bard every morning.”

“Hmm. A compromise, perhaps,” Geralt says. “A deal. Look all you want, but if you sleep early enough, I’ll get you those strawberry tarts you like in the morning.”

“With honey tea?”

“With honey tea,” Geralt confirms. “You can stay here comfortably, with your tea and breakfast. It’ll also be snowing in the morning, I can smell it in the air.”

“Oh,” Jaskier breathes hopefully, “you know I cannot refuse a lazy morning in bed. With snow, no less. This is the highest form of bribery, I’ll have you know. It’s put me in a rather difficult position.”

“Look your fill, bard.” Geralt raises his eyebrows, his hand sneaking up Jaskier’s back again, patting gently. “I won’t mind, but think of the price you’ll be paying.”

Jaskier squints, studying Geralt with a wicked look.

“There is one thing different about you, now that I’m paying attention,” he says. “You’ve grown cunning while I wasn’t here. It’s not a good look, darling. I liked it better when I could get away with anything.”

“I learned it from the best.” A human’s heartbeat thrums under a witcher’s callused fingertips, and Geralt keeps his touch patient. “What else is different about me?”

Jaskier reaches out for the stray hair at Geralt’s temple. “Lots of things. Your hair, for one. It was too short when we parted. Kept getting into your eyes. Now, I think I can braid it again.”

“In the morning, then,” Geralt offers another bribery. “And?”

“You have a new scar. Right here, by your collarbone. Is it a scratch? A vicious beast, perhaps?”

“The most vicious.” Geralt winces. “A stray cat by the road.”

Jaskier gasps, soothing the claw marks, hissing in sympathy. “What? Have you still not given up on petting them? Geralt, you know they attack witchers on sight!”

The orange little thing liked Roach fine, purring and rolling by her feet in the sunbeam, so Geralt made the mistake of letting down his guard too soon. It’s been a century of feline injuries; he really should have learned.

“I’ll live, Jask. Don’t you fret.” He catches Jaskier’s hand and kisses his palm. “Anything else?”

“Hmm, let’s see. I don’t see other signs of your foolishness.” Jaskier recoils a little when Geralt’s stubble scratches the sensitive skin of his wrist. “Except you are not taking care of yourself again, despite all my nagging letters. You know I love your face as it is, dearest, but this beard needs some upkeep.” His voice drops to seriousness, a hint of worry hanging by his pursed lips. “You’ve also gotten thin, just a little bit.”

Jaskier looks saddened by the thought, his fingers now tracing the sharp lines of Geralt’s cheekbone.

“You know how winters are,” Geralt says, his chest warm from the sense of being protected. It’s a rare feeling, but here Jaskier is, fussing over a witcher who is only meant to protect others.

“I know it gets like this. But again, it doesn’t make it easier.”

Jaskier sighs, brows knitted and deep in thoughts. They are no doubt thoughts of pampering Geralt over the entire winter now that they are together. He’d be mentally arranging all those sweet treats Geralt likes, or even contemplating cooking by himself again. Hopefully not—the kitchen can’t take another burning.

It’s too ridiculous a sight, Jaskier exhausted with dark circles under his eyes, worrying over Geralt’s missed meal or two.

“Hey,” Geralt calls out, interrupting. “I know something hasn’t changed.”

“Hmm?”

He always knows another trick to put Jaskier to sleep.

With their bodies tangled up and breaths mingling, Geralt kisses Jaskier sweetly and lazily. He sets a languid pace, a gentle exploration, a quiet homecoming. They exchange soft hums between pleasant teasing, but it never goes beyond what it is. Geralt simply kisses Jaskier, coaxing him to lie back and bask in the attention.

“Is it the same?” Geralt breathes, pressing another small kiss on Jaskier’s grin.

“Better, even.” Jaskier blinks slowly, his eyelids growing heavy despite the grin on his face. “Something else hasn’t changed.”

“Oh?”

“The way you look at me.”

Geralt runs his fingers through Jaskier’s hair, studying the light fluttering of his lashes in the dim light. He’s looking right into all that is kind in the world, all that is his.

“And how do I look at you?” Geralt asks.

“Like I’m a secret you get to keep,” Jaskier answers.

For a moment, the world disappears and all that’s left is them, being here, a secret Geralt never thought he could keep.

Jaskier’s hand falls next to the pillow, where Geralt threads their fingers together. He’s almost entirely resting on top of Jaskier, but he knows the weight is welcomed. It makes Jaskier feel safe enough to be humming that pleasant sound, and most importantly, it makes Jaskier sleepy.

“My secret. Mine. How did that happen?” Geralt muses as Jaskier lets out a yawn. He chuckles. “You know, we can always pick this up tomorrow.”

Under him, Jaskier is all sprawled out and squirming, pressed into the mattress and melted into a puddle of contentment.

“Not tomorrow, no. More kisses for me…right now.”

“Hmm, another deal, then.” Geralt smiles wickedly, resting his head on the pillow, studying Jaskier’s silhouette. “More kisses, but only tomorrow morning. I’ll kiss you more when I have the strawberry tarts.”

A sad whine escapes Jaskier’s throat, but there is no fight behind the drowsiness. “Sabotage on top of bribery, depriving me of kisses. You are truly too cunning.”

“You can complain tomorrow.”

“And feed you strawberry tarts too.” Jaskier yawns again. “Must feed you treats. Keep you happy and healthy.”

“Tomorrow,” Geralt promises, watching Jaskier’s eyes flutter shut, his mouth going slack. The quietness stretches on with only the fire crackling. The shadows dance around Jaskier’s features, warming his round cheeks, the rise and fall of his chest evening out.

It’s like Geralt could stay here all night, just counting all the ways Jaskier is safe and happy and comfortable.

“Your eyes are still open,” Jaskier whispers under his breath, half asleep.

“They are not,” Geralt lies.

“Liar.”

A small smile tugs at Jaskier’s lips as he drifts off. He lets out soft snores soon after, his pinkie still hooked with Geralt’s thumb.

Geralt stays there for just a while longer, reveling in not having to reach out for cold, empty sheets, and in not having to miss Jaskier like there is a bard-shaped emptiness in his heart.

He sleeps, knowing he won’t need to miss Jaskier for a while longer, knowing in the morning, he will have sweet treats to buy and his bard to kiss awake.

#geraskier #geraskier fic #secret santa exchange

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lycanbucky · 1 year ago

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GOOD NEWS, FRIEND

i wanna eat skyrim food so bad. cinnabon sweetroll. crispy roasted pogfish. whatever the fuck alcohol the dunmer make. elsweyr fondue. braided bread. snowberry pie. GIB ME FOR I HUNGER

#IVE NEVER BEEN SO EXCITED TO SHOW SOMEONE THIS COOKBOOK #also ive been going BUCK WILD making all these recipes #and can 100% confirm that theyre all freaking incredible #very complex flavors that each manage to outdo the last #im delighted by every single recipe so far and ive made most of the book at this point #best secret santa gift ive ever gotten and the bonus is ive learned so much more about cooking because of it #anyway 100% can recommend! go forth and eat skyrim food!#(and even better is pretty much every fandom has one and ive started collecting them)#(game of thrones / world of warcraft / final fantasy / witcher / THERES SO MANY AND THEYRE ALL SO MUCH FUN)

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veralevina15 · 11 months ago

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- You gave me a generous gift, a horse from the Redanian royal stables, Your Majesty! But you probably count on reciprocity?

- No, not at all.

- Think about it. Perhaps my help will be useful to you.

The gift from Radovid for Gaunter for Secret Santa from The Witcher Ask

#radovid #radovid v the stern #king radovid #radovid v #radowid #radovid the stern #радовид #gaunter o'dimm #master mirror #man of glass #redania #hearts of stone #the witcher #witcher fanart #ведьмак #wiedźmin #the witcher 3 #witcher 3 wild hunt

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alicetallula · 2 years ago

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Secret Santa 2022 - The Cults Server - For Jay - Part II - 25.12.2022

< Previous Post / Next Post >

Secret Santa 2022 - Geraskier - Northern Lights at Kaer Morhen - For Jay - 25.12.2022

For @janjan-the-ninth

It was such a great challenge to draw some Geraskier for the first time ever ! And also to do northern lights using watercolors for the first time too !

Done using watercolors, ink pens, gel pens, colored pencils, graphite pencils and acrylic paint pens

AO3 post / DeviantArt post / Instagram post / Pillowfort post / Twitter post

(reblogs are unavailable until I scan and edit the drawing and put it through Nightshade)

#the cults server secret santa 2022 #secret santa 2022 #the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivera #jaskier #fanart #tallula03's art

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secret-secret-hush-hush-hush · 2 years ago

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Happy holidays @greyduckgreygoose from your Secret Santa 💕

I don't know anything about anatomy and I'm no artist but I still hope you like this little fanart for your hilarious and wonderful fic 'His Wicked Witcher'

#Geraskier #Fanart #Geralt #Jaskier #Witcher

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whoregaylorenzo · 11 months ago

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F1 Drivers x Lyrics from The Witcher Soundtrack

for @leclerqued merry christmas from your secret chircus santa!! much love and I hope you like your gift <3

#not my bestest work but made with love! merry christmas gi xx #chircus secret santa 2023 #mine*edits #charles leclerc #daniel ricciardo #lewis hamilton

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littlefreya · 1 year ago

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Hi Freya, if you have time, can you please link some shitpost/funny or sweet stories you wrote? I had a very stressful week at work and I'm so tired. I am thinking of taking a day off for my mental health and in the meantime unwind with your stories and a nice cup of tea :)

Hey lovely 🖤🖤 I am sorry you had a stressful week. I hope that the weekend will allow you some time to unwind. Here is some silliness I wrote to help

RPF - Henry Cavill

Snow Figures - Henry x Reader (fluff) Henry likes to build snow dicks to make you laugh.

Vanilla Milkshake - Henry x OFC (fluff, friends to lovers, sexual innuendo, mild seduction, sex talk, an unwanted boner, Henry being a boomer, Henry having a meltdown. ) Henry and a long time friend hangout at their usual spot when things turn chaotic because of an innocent misunderstanding…

Raspberries - Henry x Reader (Pure fluffy romance, slightly erotic vibes) Henry is a big fluffy bear who likes to take his time. He wants to get to know you before having sex for the first time.

A creepy Surprise - Henry x Reader (Fluff though suggestive) Henry forget to take off his Witcher costume while results in some unfortunate panic

Scruffy Kisses - Henry x Reader (Fluffy Fluff) You come home crying after a terrible week and Henry is trying to cheer you up with a little surprise.

The Baker of Blavikan - Henry x OFC (Fluffy romance) Waking up in the morning to find Henry gone from bed and some obscure situation happening in the kitchen

Kal watching Henry when he is trying to get it on Henry x Reader (fluff, suggestive)

Can I pet your titties?

Some random memes I made

Captain Syverson

Buns in the Oven - Captain Syverson x reader (Pure fluff) Sy has hidden clingy tendencies and he is very much afraid to admit it until one night has one drink too many and all his secrets are exposed.

Knockers - Captain Syverson x Reader (Fluffy, Suggestive, slapping man titties) You found a new way to provoke the Captain

A valid argument - Shaving off the Captain’s beard

August Walker

Something Wicked - August Walker x Reader (Fluff) August sleeps tightly, and you decide to exploit the situation.

Boomer Walker

Always Sunny in Philidelphia meets August Walker

August joined the CIA for the wrong reasons

Walter Marshall

Santa Baby - Walter x Reaser (Fluff, a tad suggesting) For over a decade, detective Walter Marshall kept a dirty little secret, thinking no one would ever find out about his past. Sadly for him, you are somewhat of a detective yourself.

Walter with a man flu

Multi character headcanons

Henry’s characters as supernatural beings

Henry’s characters daughter dating reaction

Henry’s characters reacting to their girl being tattooed

Henry’s characters accidentally walk into the room while you are changing your clothes :O

What pets do they have?

How do they react to you stabbing your toe on the corner

Characters and their ice cream flavour

Characters and their cars

Ghost hunting crew

When he sees you drinking an energy drink

The men referring to their “junk”

What attire do they sleep in?

Incorrect subtitles gifs

Naughty Clark 1

Naughty Clark 2

Naughty Clark 3

Food dilemma

August on a mission

August being inappropriate

August being inappropriate again

August being August

Lane mocking August

Clark on breeding mode

Sassy Sherlock

Sassy Sherlock 2

Sassy Clark

#henry cavill #ask freya #anon asks #august walker #geralt of rivia #captain syverson #henrycavill #henry cavill shitposting #henry cavill shitpost

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