#belleteyn

[veckati]

happy belleteyn and happiest birthday to my favs ever

[perseruna]

happy may 1st 🪻💓 happy belleteyn 💐💘 happy birthday to yennefer and ciri ✨🌙🌾

[zishiyao]

Belleteyn celebration in Tir na Lia

[gauntermetaverse]

You asked - I deliver.

[frenziedflame6]

Event: Belleteyn 2025 Prompt: green noise 🌿

"The Foxglove Lullaby" [ao3 link]

Dew drops drip gently onto my skin,

Green blades shuffle beneath my feet,

A grasshopper chirps softly, so discreet,

Only him and me, me and him.

Far in the gloom the hollows weep,

And they’ll soon arise and seek,

Across yonder in the greenwoods deep,

So will he, awaken will he.

The moon in full swing whispers its plea,

Tells me to hurry, to hide and flee,

But his cold’s inviting, I cannot see,

That I’m the dagger he plunged into me.

But sometimes I run, I run and hide,

Inside the burrows of foxes so sly. 

He sings to me sweetly, twirls in my eyes,

Picks me like flowers, I am the one.

My vision’s blurry, knees getting weak,

We do not speak, the dance’s our tongue.

With a flick of his wrist he makes me forget,

Of the wounds so deep I cannot amend.

Of grasshoppers, moons, mosses and ferns, 

And silhouettes of the swallows foretold.

Under these pyres blazing and high,

I celebrate the loss of my life.

Among the bodies, naked and hot,

I contemplate the things that I am not.

And sometimes I run, I run and hide,

Inside the burrows of foxes so sly.

[tigerlyla-of-metinna]

Belleteyn AU (Emhyr x Sarah)

A short story (made only for this occasion). This was the original plot of their first date and it happened on Belleteyn. But in the fic, it was changed on Emhyr's birthday. Hope you enjoy this self-indulgent cut content!

Sarah watched the garden workers create a huge pile for the kindling. A bonfire worthy of Belleteyn tonight. But she bade them farewell and happy feasting. She was not joining them.

Carrying a wicker picnic basket, Sarah left the city before curfew closed the gates. Earlier, she studied the map the emperor showed her, and memorized the path and landmarks to take. Light began to wane rapidly as the sun sank behind the mountains, turning the fire-red skies into shades of purple, dark blue and finally ebony.

It was not a long walk, and she was dressed for light travel. Her cream peasant dress was of the right length to avoid snagging and her soft shoes had sturdy soles made for such walks. Even at this distance she could hear and feel the excitement as people began their preparations for merriment, carousing, and the occasional giggle for a more lecherous and intimate celebration.

Sarah shared in their excitement, but she was not sharing it with them.

This was going to be a private celebration for her. Her first date, on Belleteyn of all days, sharing a meal with one instead of with many.

The excited babble and laughter faded as she stepped farther from the capital and into the forest. This place was protected, explicitly forbidden from entry except the emperor. He decreed it personally and anyone who steps out of line was shot in the head.

Emhyr provided her the safe route and she followed it. He didn't have to make the effort since she memorized the map, but he had slow burning tea candles mark the way for her. Sarah couldn't help but giggle like a some daft filly, her heart fluttered like the butterflies she passed.

Deeper and deeper she went. A night owl hooted, frogs croaked, insects buzzed and the distinct scree-scree noise of grasshoppers as they rub their hindlegs together. The forest sounds drown the merriment to nothing.

At last she reached a small clearing and the pond: its surface reflected the moon and stars. She saw a large tree marking the spot of their rendezvous. But where was Emhyr?

"You're here at last."

Startled at the deep baritone from behind, she whirled and saw the emperor emerge from the bushes. looking ever so splendid even in ordinary clothing.

"Have you been following me all this time, sire?"

He smiled. "I have, in case you lost your way. A needless worry it seems."

Sarah covered her mouth, muffling her laughter. She dropped her basket and ran into his awaiting arms. She sank into his warmth, inhaling his masculine scent. Emhyr tightened his embrace, lips pressed against her forehead. He whispered in her hair.

"I'm glad you came. I do not look forward to viewing the festivities alone."

They settled themselves onto the blanket: setting the food, wine, plates and goblets. They talked of mundane things that happened in the morning. And when, at a considerable distance, across and far beyond the pond, the first pyres lit followed by another, and another, Emhyr and Sarah leaned against the oaks' generous trunk. His arm draped around her shoulders and she snuggled against his chest.

Emhyr's hand squeezed her shoulder. "Do you participate in these Belleteyn feasts?"

Sarah glanced at him. She could smell the wine in his breath, surprised that he could imbibe so much and still remain coherent.

"Do you?" She tossed the question back at him. He chuckled. Typical Sarah: a question to answer a question.

"The one of many few occasions where I don't have to force myself to mingle with the nobles. Too many memories associated with this day that I wish to forget, but couldn't. That's why I watch the fires at a distance" he glanced at her and squeezed again, a grateful smile on his face. "This is the first I observe Belleteyn with someone other than my thoughts."

Sarah felt the affection in his voice flow into her, warming her more than the few glasses of wine she imbibed. She was drinking him with her eyes and she noticed he was doing the same thing. His deep ambers were smoldering, more than usual.

"I wasn't the most sociable person when I was a student, and so spent Belleteyn in my chambers with books for company. And when I was a hermit, I had my first proper look at the festivities, somewhere in Velen. Sadly I was busy planning for taking as much provision as I could for storage, steering clear of the drunken revelers as a few tried to pull me into some dark undergrowth. Luckily I didn't have to resort to brute force; they were to sloshed, I easily slipped from their grasp."

He growled. "I'll have my spies raid that village and ornament every tree with those that laid their hands on you."

"Emhyr! That was a long time ago-"

He laughed heartily at the look of horror on her face. She slapped his chest playfully.

"Oh you! And here I thought you have no sense of humor."

His expression softened. He turned his body to her, hand gently caressing her cheek. "Sarah, your presence has stirred many... troubling things that I long buried" he took her soft hand and placed it against the open shirt of his chest.

Sarah felt her own heart stirring as she felt his, beating against her palm.

"For too long I gave my time, my life, in service to the empire. Seeking the warmth in the arms of another woman without the tediousness of attachments. Forcing myself to be satisfied with facsimiles of love and affection for they serve no purpose in ruling, save as tools of manipulation. Then you came, and I find myself severely famished. Unsatisfied with the meager offerings. Becoming selfish, demanding for what the empire denies of me. You came, with your wisdom, kindness... and love. You offered me... my heart. And I want that. I want you."

Sarah couldn't say anything in return. He didn't give her a chance as his lips trapped those words when he kissed her with equal parts passion and tenderness. Instead she reciprocated: caressing his face, his hair. Their moments together are so few and far between that she was doing exactly what she does every Belleteyn: taking as much as she can to survive for days until the pangs of hunger, of longing, returns.

In the distance, the festivities are in full swing. More pyres dotted the horizon and laughter manage to rise above the night sounds, but Emhyr and Sarah were deaf to the world. The only sounds that matter were the sighs, the whispers and whimpers, the moans. And they couldn't separate who does what. Nothing matters this night except they are with each other, making this Belleteyn, a night to remember.

[timetraveladdict]

Ciri custom Funko Pop Belleteyn dress from The Witcher season 3

[dapandapod]

If I kiss you tomorrow

Hello lovelies! Here comes some very unedited kissing, written while at work by hand! Because that is what I do when I'm bored. Please enjoy <3

On Ao3 here

The thing about Belleteyn is that it is a night of love.

 They had stumbled upon a village the night before the festivities were starting, in a small village close to nowhere, deep in Velen. 

There are bonfires, ribbons hanging from the trees, children running around laughing, young couples holding hands jumping over pits of coals.

And then there is Jaskier.

He sits on a chair, plucking on the strings of his lute, singing a love song for the couples gathered around him. His eyes are on the ground, firelight making him look almost golden in the darkness.

Nobody is watching him. Nobody is reaching for him. They are all wrapped up in each other, which is all fine, Geralt wouldn't want it any other way.

But Jaskier is... well... He is not supposed to be alone. He is supposed to be loved and cherished, appreciated and.... and Geralt is in trouble.

He himself is standing by another fire, a cup of something strong pressed into his hand, eyes trained on his bard.

  There is something in him that is drawn to Jaskier. Like a moth to a flame, and he will be consumed with his beauty if he comes to close.

But still, he draws nearer.

Another song, the couples pleads, and Jaskier gives them a smile that to them seems perfectly happy. To Geralt, it looks strained.

You see, not two weeks ago, late at night and deep in their cups, Geralt got too close to the flame. They had stumbled into each other, laughing and giggling and trying to steady themselves against a wall, when Geralt... kissed him.

Just once. Quickly, a peck on the lips.

There and gone again, and by the time he had realized he had slipped, had fucked up, Jaskier was giving him a complicated look.

What is a drunkard to do? He pretended nothing happened, playing it off, how he doesn't even remember anymore, he just remembered that moment of lips pressed against lips.

And now he remembers it again.

Almost as if Jaskier stepped right out of his memories, suddenly the bard stands right in front of him. Looking up at him with a soft questioning smile, stealing the cup from his hand.

"You drinking that?" Jaskier asks, taking a big gulp of the drink anyway without waiting for a reply, then scrunches his nose. "Mothers, that is strong!"

The cup is being pressed back into his hand, but Geralt barely notices.

He's too close again, too close to that edge. This night is meant for love. His bard is meant to be loved.

He can't stop staring, can't stop trying to read every little move Jaskier makes. He wants to listen to his heartbeat, but the yelling and singing is too loud.

Then there is a hand on his elbow, squeezing lightly, and Geralt returns to the moment again.

"You alright there, my friend?" Jaskier asks, frowning now. Geralt doesn't remember what he did with the cup, maybe he just dropped it, he doesn't care, but he finds his hands on Jaskier's sides.

"Jaskier." He says softly, taking one step closer.

There it is again. That complicated look that Jaskier gave him last time.

"Are you drunk?" Jaskier asks, now holding onto Geralt's elbows with both hands, like he is holding himself steady.

"No." Geralt says, and with a gentle hand guides them backwards into the shadow, backing Jaskier up against a tree.

All the while his grip is loose, allowing this to stop at any moment.

But the way Jaskier is holding on to him, the way his eyes are locked on Geralt's, the way his fingers are digging into his arms, and then how he allows himself to be pushed up against that tree, stretching his neck to bring their faces closer.

Geralt takes his time leaning in, slowly, watching Jaskier watch him, making sure that this is welcome.

The first kiss is chaste. An echo of what he did two weeks ago.

They look at each other again, lips parted and only inches apart.

The second kiss is more. Geralt captures Jaskier's lips, tastes them, before leaning back, but Jaskier doesn't let him go far. One hand slides up against the side of his face, tilting Geralt's head so that their lips fit together seamlessly.

The other can't seem to decide where it wants to go, it slides up his arm, his shoulder, down his chest, around his back, and Geralt presses into him.

He wants to smile, he wants to laugh, but he doesn't want to break this, doesn't want to stop kissing his bard.

There is a hint of that strong drink on his lips, so he licks at it, and Jaskier licks him right back, the tip of their tongues tasting each other.

That does have him smiling, and Jaskier kisses him once more before he too stop to smile.

"What?" He asks, rubbing their noses together, upper lips touching and dragging against each other.

Geralt kisses him again, just because he can, before he replies.

"Just you." He confesses, because it is a confession. "Always you."

The sound Jaskier makes before he is kissing Geralt again, it sounds like a combination of a groan and a whimper.

"You can't just say that!" Jaskier complains when he draws back and Geralt smiles again, eyes closed but heart flayed wide open.

"I can't say your name?"

"You didn't."

"Jaskier."

"Stop."

"Jaskier."

"I can't-"

"Jaskier."

"Fuck, Geralt."

Jaskier's voice wavers, his fingers curling as they hold on tighter, pressing closer. One more kiss, and then they are more or less just holding each other, leaning back against the tree.

The sounds of the festivities return slowly, the crackling of fire, the laughs and the songs.

"This better not be because of Belleteyn." Jaskier mumbles into his neck, and Geralt hums back.

"If I kiss you tomorrow, will you believe me it's not?"

Jaskier draws in a breath, gripping Geralt tighter. Maybe Geralt wasn't the only one drawn to the flame of whatever this is.

"Kiss me every day, and I might start to belive it." Jaskier decides.

Geralt hums again and presses a nip and a kiss into the soft skin of Jaskier's neck.

"I can do that." He decides, shifting so that he can reach Jaskier's lips again. 

It is addictive, how they feel under his, what it does to him every time Jaskier kisses him back. Addictive how Jaskier sighs, presses closer, holding on as if this is a dream and he is about to wake up.

Geralt feels the same.

Because tonight is a night of love. And here is Jaskier, in his arms. Loved.