#thinking about Ciri yet again

[fangirleaconmigo]

I just finished Time of Contempt for the third time and I am deep deep deep in my Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon feelings again. Now that know what’s coming and I understand her arc, I’m catching a lot more.

TW: mentions of sexual assault

Ciri’s descent, which we see a hint of at the end this book, her “corruption arc” is the story of what war, and what the associated abandonment and abuse of children, does to a society. It is a visceral story about how (as the saying goes) A child who is not embraced by the village, will burn it down to feel its warmth.

Probably the worst interview of Sapko that my eyes have had the displeasure to read was a guy who asked him basically (paraphrased) how could Ciri’s mind be so “weak” that she falls into murder and crime after everything she learned from Geralt.

And like BUDDY DID YOU NOT READ THE STORY? Wow ok.

Sapko is like…because that is real, look around you.

“Well, I suppose here my fantasy becomes very real and lifelike. What happened to Ciri happened to hundreds of teenagers, in that number some I knew.”

There is a narrative.

And when kids are all by themselves and repeatedly traumatized and threatened, they will turn where they need to for safety. Their minds and the way they process empathy and emotions will change as a result of related abuse.

And to me, that arc is very believable. And it is part of her rite of passage of ultimately choosing good and coming fully into her power, choosing the love and example of her found family (primarily Geralt and Yen but also Kaer Morhen and Dandelion). In this terrible interview (seriously someone let me interview the man I could do better) he says:

And – last not least – that’s me, the author, who has invented Ciri and her fate, who has invented the whole storyline, and the storyline required of Ciri to become a teenage killer. It was a stage in her rite de passage, the rite of passage.

It is an arc. And for me a very believable (if extremely painful one) First there is the “before”.

The story is very clear who Ciri is before she is alone without the protection of Yen and Geralt.

Her character is already established by Time of Contempt but the narrative still goes through the trouble of showing her deny the offer of destructive power.

As a little girl, (in Blood of Elves) Ciri risks herself to save Triss’s life when she and Geralt’s caravan is attacked. She doesn’t wait for someone else to help, she shields Triss with her body. (That made me feel some kinda way in retrospect let me tell ya)

In the same scene we see how tender hearted she is towards the elves plight and how she resolves not to be neutral.

Blood of Elves and Time of Contempt both show how she is just a little kid who wants parents (running away to see Geralt, writing him letters from Meliteles temple begging him to come see her, identifying fiercely as a witcher girl of Kaer Morhen, idolizing Yen)

But at the end of Time of Contempt, Ciri still makes two dramatic, narrative establishing decisions, that show what kind of person she is.

First is the refusal of power. The refusal of revenge.

In the desert, she taps into prohibited power (fire power) to save Little Horse. It begins to consume her, offering her dominion over the world. It is personified by Falka and it shows Ciri vengeance. It shows her her enemies. It shows her the people who killed her grandma and sacked Cintra. It shows her the black knight.

Ciri and vengeance is already a theme. We know she feels urges towards vengeance for the people who slaughtered her family. The only bad fight she’s had with Geralt was about that. (She says she wanted vengeance and he overreacts and has to follow her and comfort her and apologize. The narrative doesn’t let us hear what he says, it’s through Triss’s eyes, but it is heart wrenching)

And now she is being offered vengeance by showing her what it really looks like. People suffering and dying. And it’s asking hey little girl you want this? Because I can give it to you.

This power also shows her her loved ones.

At this point in the story, Ciri is alone, lost in a desert, and feels abandoned. And any kid that feels abandoned blames her parents. It makes her a very believable kid character. Im alone? Where are my parents?? They’ve abandoned me?? At least that’s what she says.

But when the power offers her the opportunity to take the hurt she is feeling and hurt them back she is horrified.

She shouts out loud that she relinquishes it. She relinquishes all the power and collapses.

She makes an incredibly important decision to refuse destructive vengeful power.

The second thing that happens to establish her character at this point in the saga is she is being pursued by people who want to kill her and/or turn her into Nilfgaard. She is running and trying to escape. She is armed and gets a clear shot at a pursuer but again, sees a human face, and can’t do it. She shows mercy because her empathy will not allow her to see a persons face and kill them.

She is very lucky to survive that encounter.

She is a good, decent, human being.

But the story doesn’t leave us there. It gives us an ominous hint of the oncoming storm.

To get out of a life threatening situation, she joins a gang called The Rats. The Rats are a group of heavily traumatized war orphans who have been abandoned, raped, and abused and have banded together to not be alone. They’ve become murderers and no longer feel empathy for those they harm, but rather they take pleasure at killing others. She sees the look in their faces and identifies it as evil.

They adopt her. They protect her. Suddenly she is ‘safe’. Suddenly she is with others like her (war orphans with heavy trauma). Suddenly she is no longer alone. She is being offered a new identity (her old identity will get her killed at this point) She is them.

They also sexually assault her. (Cycle of abuse. I had to fast forward those parts. I’m listening to the audio and I can’t do that again)

But by the end Ciri has a new family. It’s the only option to her for survival. She finally manages to kill someone and takes the name Falka.

And as the return reader, you already know just how horrific it’s gonna get before it gets better. The feelings of doom. Ooof.

There is so much coming and if you’ve already read it, the dread is real.

It takes worse torture and assault than you can possibly imagine for Ciri to become the “teenaged killer” the narrative demands.

Because above all Ciri is like Yen. She is a survivor. She is angry. She has impulses for vengeance when she is harmed. All of these things are normal and human and can be given healthy outlets in normal situations. But this is not a normal situation.

So yeah I love her so much and the feelings of doom I have going into the next book are hanging over me. Of course it makes the bloody vengeance at the end that much more satisfying. But yeah.

And just to be clear I don’t judge her at all for anything she does during this “corruption” arc. I just don’t. She is surviving and no one can make me hate her ever. I’m an irrational person when it comes to her. And the her growth, her arc is one of the most satisfying I’ve ever read.

Most of us may not be war orphans being pursued by half the world. But the parallels to being an unprotected teenaged girl in a world that wants to exploit you, chew you up, and spit you out, is something those of us who came from abusive homes can understand. It is ultimately very validating and inspiring.

So I’ll be skipping the worst parts on audio. Some of them I just can’t do again. But I’m still obsessed with this story and I love my girl.

Ok thanks for reading my Ciri feels.

[gwynbleidd-enthusiast]

Geralt and his mommy issues

Geralt was abandoned by his mom when he was just a child, leaving him with deep emotional scars. In the books, there are subtle yet significant references to how this abandonment shaped him, particularly his subconscious search for maternal warmth.

SoD:

"She treats you entirely like an object [...] and what you feel is a projection of her emotions, the interest she shows in you. By all the demons of the Netherworld, Geralt, you aren't a child [...] You trail after Yenna like a child, enjoying the momentary affection she shows you." - Istredd

BoE:

"Always on his side, aren't you, Nenneke? Always worrying about him. Like the mother he never had." - Yennefer

Tlotl:

"He maintained the appearance of secretiveness and pride. But at night he was completely in my power. He told me everything. He paid homage to my femininity, which considering his age was extremely generous, I must admit. And then he fell asleep. In my arms, with his mouth on my bosom. Searching for a surrogate for the maternal love he never experienced. Completely in my power." - Fringilla

This passage vividly illustrates Geralt's deep-seated need for maternal care, seeking comfort in a way that echoes the bond between a child and a mother 🥹

SoD:

"'Do you hate that woman, Geralt?' 'My mother? No, Calanthe. A choice should be respected, for it is the holy and irrefutable right of every woman.'"

Geralt’s response shows his complex feelings toward his mother, acknowledging her choice abt wanting to have a child or not, while also - what seems to me - revealing a deep, unresolved pain.

ToC:

"Listen to what?" shouted the Witcher, before his voice suddenly faltered. "I can't leave—I can't just leave her to her fate. She's completely alone... She cannot be left alone, Dandelion. You'll never understand that. No one will ever understand that, but I know. If she remains alone, the same thing will happen to her as once happened to me... You'll never understand that..." - Geralt about Ciri

Geralt’s fierce protectiveness over Ciri stems from his own experiences of abandonment. He is determined to shield her from the pain he endured.

Geralt and red heads:

Several times it's subtly hinted that Geralt has an inexplicable inclination toward redheads, that perhaps ties back to his unresolved issues with his mother.

SoS:

"Geralt felt an anxiety, forgotten and dormant, suddenly awaking somewhere deep inside him. He had a strange and inexplicable inclination towards redheads in his nature, and several times that particular colouring had made him do stupid things. Thus he ought to be on his guard, and the Witcher made a firm resolution in that regard. His task was actually made easier. It was almost a year since he'd stopped being tempted by that kind of stupid mistake."

Note what he felt when he encountered his mother before in SoD who has red hair:

"He looked again, making the most of the light. Her hair was tied back with a snakeskin band. Her hair... A suffocating pain in his throat and sternum. Hands tightly clenched into fists. Her hair was red, flame-red, and when lit by the glow of the bonfire seemed as red as vermilion."

The vivid description of his mother's flame-red hair and the intense emotional reaction it evokes in Geralt suggest that his attraction to redheads might be more than just a superficial preference. It could be a subconscious connection to the unresolved feelings of abandonment and longing for maternal warmth, linking his "inexplicable inclination" to deeper psychological roots.

What do you guys think?

[grlsbstshot]

NEON LIGHTS

Pairing (Original Characters):

Jameson Lucas (Aaron Pierre) x Imani St. Cirie (Megan thee Stallion) Genie Adesanya (Jayme Lawson) x Ellington “EJ” Dupree (Kelvin Harrison Jr.)

Chapters:

Neon Lights Masterlist

Chapter Synopsis: The crew nears the end of their Aspen vacation and two lives change forever.

Warnings: smut (!!!!! -- minors dni), mentions of cheating, p in v, oral (female receiving), rough sex, dirty talking, daddy kink (shout out to jameson), toxic relationship, mentions of therapy, mentions of depression & deception in relationships -- if we missed anything, let us know!

Word Count: 7.5k

Divider Template: @cafekitsune

Notes: 

The following characters are original creations. Their voice claims are Usher / Lucky Daye (Jameson) & Summer Walker / SZA (Imani). We have no affiliation to any of those artists.

Gently, almost hesitantly, Imani said, “Baby, I don’t think we should tell anyone about us yet. Not even EJ or Genie.” Her words hung in the air.

He had only stopped by to check on her before Genie and EJ’s engagement dinner…or so he said. But somehow they had ended up entwined again. “Okay.” Jameson mumbled, immediately agreeing as he hugged her tightly, placing reverent kisses against her neck. 

Imani’s fingers played with the hairs at the nape of his neck as she tilted her head back, reveling in the sensation of his plump lips against her skin. It was unbelievable she had let this go. How could she? “We need to focus on each other first and figure things out.” Imani murmured softly, caught up in the warmth of him. 

“It's whatever you wanna do, baby.” His breath fanned across her skin as he found more places to kiss, walking them backward towards her bed. Imani pushed him gently onto it and straddled his waist. 

A playful quirk appeared on her lips as she teasingly asked, “You sure you can keep a secret like that from your bestie?” She knew how excited he got over her; after all, she felt the same way. But for now, she relished in the idea of keeping their relationship private. It meant she had Jameson all to herself. 

Jameson paused, glancing up at the ceiling as if thinking about it. Imani laughed as he reluctantly agreed. “Okay, usually…I wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret but he’s not your biggest fan right now so it shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Not my biggest fan?” She raised both eyebrows in surprise, never hearing this before. 

Imani suspected EJ might not have liked her because of everything that happened with Genie, which she understood. He was protective over her just like she was. But after reconciling with Genie, she thought everything would be fine between her and EJ. Apparently, that wasn’t the case. 

“He rides hard for Genie.” Jameson told her softly as if he was breaking it to her easy. “And he was there when we…when it was over. I was a mess, Mani. Give him some time, he’ll come around.”

Imani sighed softly. Truthfully, she wouldn’t have liked EJ either if he had been the one who hurt Genie and Jameson. But deep down, EJ’s opinion of her didn’t matter. It was Genie and Jameson who she had left behind. They were the only ones she cared about. 

 “I understand.” Her finger mindlessly traced patterns on his chest, feeling the muscles ripple beneath her touch. “Well, as long as y’all forgive me, that’s really all that matters.”

“I do.” he said softly, nodding. “I forgive you. I want you to forgive me too. We can work on us as long as I know we’re both really in it this time.”

“I do. And I’m really in it, baby. I want us to work.” Her eyes locked with his as she pointed to herself and then him. “Us,” she said firmly. “means everything to me. I don’t want to lose that ever again.”

“That’s everything I need to hear,” he admitted softly, ending their conversation by kissing her. It quickly unraveled into a passionate kiss. 

As her tongue explored his mouth, Imani felt completely at home. No one could make her feel like this way but Jameson. Every kiss she had shared with someone else after their breakup felt foreign and lacking in comparison. But being with Jameson now, she knew without a doubt this was where she belonged. This was home. 

Her fingers tangled in his curls as the world around them faded away. But all too soon, reality came crashing back in the form of a knock on the door. Ella’s voice cut through the haze, “dinner in thirty minutes!” 

Imani let out a frustrated sigh, pulling away from Jameson’s lips.  “Okay!” She called back at Ella, turning to look back at Jameson. Her smile dropped at the thought of having to keep their reunion a secret and not being able to openly show affection for each other at the engagement dinner. Of course, she was happy for Genie, but she would have loved to share the moment beside Jameson. 

She waited until she couldn’t hear footsteps anymore then she spoke again. “Stay with me for a little while? I’m not ready for you to leave yet.” Just like that, she was back lost in the realms of their love. But she didn’t want to leave this time.

He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the small velvet box in his hands. The diamond ring inside sparkled faintly, catching the light every time he opened and closed the lid. Nervousness had him in a chokehold. Genie had told him not to worry. That she would say yes. She wanted to say yes. But something had him anxious. Maybe it was the fact that their families were there or reality staring him in the face. Either way…he was dragging his feet in heading downstairs. 

His leg bounced nervously, and he let out a shaky breath, shaking his head slowly.

This was it. The moment he’d envisioned for months, planned meticulously for weeks, and desperately did his best to make sure was ‘perfect’ during the entire chaotic Aspen trip – yet his confidence wavered now that it was here. What if he messed up? What if Genie didn’t feel ready? What if he couldn’t find the right words?

A soft knock at the door startled him out of his thoughts.  

“Come in,” he called, his voice quieter than usual.

The door opened to reveal his mother, her expression warm but curious. “Hey, baby,” she said, excitement obvious in her tone before she stepped inside the room EJ shared with Genie. “You’re gonna be late. We got dinner all ready. Genie’s out on the deck with her father.”

EJ quickly shut the ring box and slowly tucked it into his pocket but she had already noticed. Her eyes lit up, and a knowing smile spread across her face. “Oh,” she said softly, sitting beside him on the bed. “The nerves getting you good, huh?”

EJ sighed, slumping forward with his elbows on his knees. “Yeah. I don’t know why but I’m just…terrified,” he admitted, looking over at her with a wry smile. “I mean, what if I say the wrong thing? Or what if she…what if it’s not what she dreamed of? What if I’m not what she dreams of?”

Nina chuckled gently, her hand rubbing soothing circles on his back. “EJ, you’ve been in love with that girl since the minute you met her. And from what I’ve seen, she feels the same way about you. There’s no way she’s saying no.”

He knew that. Genie had told him herself that she was going to say yes. But the fears remained. “But what if I mess it up?” he pressed. “What if I don’t say everything I’m supposed to? What if I forget the words I’ve been practicing?”

Nina tilted her head, giving him a look that was equal parts confusion and affectionate. “EJ, you don’t need to rehearse anything. Just speak from your heart. Genie loves you for who you are, not for some perfect speech. Trust me, when you get down on one knee and look into her eyes, the right words will come to you.”

EJ nodded, her words sinking in but not completely calming his nerves. He thought of the ring again and slowly pulled the box out of his pocket before handing it to his mother. “Do you think she’ll like it?”

He had loved the unique design – and immediately thought of Genie when he saw it. He picked it alone, without input from her best friends, brother, or father. It was the perfect bridge for their relationship.

Nina smiled as she reached for the box, turning and angling it to examine the ring without removing it. “It’s beautiful. Just like her. She’s going to love it because it came from you.”

That sentence alone sent relief through his system. His shoulders dropped, the tenseness he held in his body slowly easing as he let out a small laugh. It was true. He could buy her a cardboard box and Genie would tell him he did his best and pat him on the head. She loved him so much that she had immeasurable patience. “Thanks, Mama.”

She smiled at him before patting his back “It’s going to be fine, baby. You’ve got a good heart, and Genie knows that better than anyone. Just trust in the love you two have.” With a kiss to his head, Nina stood up and headed for the door.

EJ stared at the ring for another moment after she left then took a deep breath and put it back in his pocket. “Just speak from the heart,” he murmured to himself, getting up and adjusting his tie. He forced himself to think about Genie’s gentle smile, the way she had overcome her fear and put trust in him. Knowing she believed in him that much brought him a sense of peace…and he was ready to face anything to see her.

The snow fell in a soft, steady rhythm, blanketing everything as far as her eye could see in white. Genie stood on the deck, her hands wrapped around a warm mug of cocoa. The leather shearling coat she wore made her feel just as warm outside as she did inside. The heat seeped into her fingers, grounding her as she stared out into the night. Inside, laughter and voices hummed, muffled by the glass door behind her. This trip was everything she’d hoped for — despite a few bumps in the road – and was her chance to be with the people she loved most, to savor this fleeting moment of peace before everything changed.

She knew what was coming. EJ’s proposal wasn’t a secret to her, not really. Finding the ring in his bag had been a fluke that made her heart leap into her throat. It took adjusting to but Genie was ready. She wanted to be EJ’s wife. For EJ’s part, he’d been nervous but determined all week. It was endearing, and it made her heart ache in the best way. Neither of them told their guests that the surprise engagement was just a normal engagement now. It felt like they were holding onto a tiny spark of magic, something just for them.

The door creaked open, and she glanced over her shoulder to see her father stepping out. With his coat zipped up and his hands buried in his pockets, he looked like he belonged in a painting against the snowy backdrop. He gave her a small smile as he joined her at the railing.

“You’re not cold?” he asked, his voice cutting through the quiet.

Genie shook her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Nope. I love it out here. It’s peaceful.”

He nodded, leaning against the railing beside her. “This trip’s been good for you. You look... happy.”

“I am,” she admitted, her voice soft but sure. “Everything feels right.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the kind that only existed between people who knew each other deeply. Genie felt a surge of gratitude. For this moment, for this trip, for her father’s steady presence in her life. But then he spoke again, and the warmth in her chest dimmed just a little. 

“I saw a girl leaving earlier...Camille, right?”

Genie’s grip on her mug tightened, but she kept her tone even. “Yes. Camille.” Genie hadn’t seen her around after their confrontation. Jameson hadn’t mentioned her absence and she knew it meant they were over.

“She looked upset,” Kendrick said, his voice careful. “Did something happen?”

Genie hesitated, her thoughts swirling. Camille wasn’t her problem anymore. She’d made her choices, and Genie didn’t owe her anything. But still, there was a flicker of guilt, faint and unwelcome. “She wasn’t supposed to be here so now she’s gone,” Genie said finally, her words measured. “It’s better for everyone that she left.”

Kendrick frowned, his gaze thoughtful. “I don’t know. She seemed like she was having a rough time. She mentioned that you…wanted her head. Were you angry with her?”

“Yes. I did.” Genie turned to him, her expression softening despite her unapologetic tone. “I understand, Daddy. You always want to help people. But trust me, Camille leaving was for the best. For her and for everyone else. Especially Jamie.”

Her father studied her, his eyes searching. “Maybe. But sometimes people just need a little grace, even when they don’t deserve it.”

The words hit her harder than she expected, stirring something deep and uncomfortable. She looked away, focusing on the snow-covered trees in the distance. “Maybe.” she said quietly, her voice noncommittal.

She didn’t want to think about Camille. Not tonight. Not when everything else felt so perfect.

Kendrick must have sensed her reluctance because he let the subject drop. Instead, he reached over and squeezed her shoulder gently. “I’m glad I’m here,” he said, his voice warm. “Glad I get to see you so happy.”

Genie smiled, the tension in her chest easing. “I’m glad you’re here too. My whole family. Right where I can see you all. It’s everything I could’ve asked for.”

Her father smiled back, his expression softening. “You deserve it, my baby.”

A surge of love rushed through Genie’s chest as she leaned over and kissed her father’s cheek, the gesture filled with affection. “Thank you, Daddy. I’m gonna head inside before this cocoa gets cold. I miss my boyfriend.”

“Well, damn!,” he exclaimed, laughing out loud as she turned to leave. “Am I chopped liver now?”

“Of course not.” Genie said, “I just think he’s cute and perfect and wonderful and want to spend all my time with him. That’s it.” When she headed back into the house, she saw EJ enter the room – his smile lighting up the space. Everything else faded. She was happy. She was loved. And that was everything.

The fire crackled in the hearth, filling the quiet sun room with a warm, uneven rhythm. Jameson stared into the flames, leaning back in the large comfortable chair. The warmth of the fire barely touched him; his thoughts were heavier, looping endlessly through the events of the past twenty-four hours. He could hear everybody else getting ready to sit for dinner but he took a minute to sit alone with his thoughts, his feelings, and everything in between.

He’d done the right thing. That’s what he kept telling himself. Breaking up with Camille had been the only choice—necessary, inevitable. But even as he tried to believe it, the guilt gnawed at him. Camille hadn’t deserved the way things had unraveled. She hadn’t deserved his betrayal. Even if he also felt betrayed – he should have been better at ending things in a less messy manner.

The sound of footsteps pulled him out of his thoughts. He looked up as Kendrick entered the room, his easy presence a stark contrast to the turmoil swirling in Jameson’s chest.

“You hiding out in here?” Kendrick asked, his tone casual as he took the chair opposite Jameson.

“Nah,” Jameson replied, his voice low. “Just thinking.”

Kendrick didn’t press, just settled into his chair with the kind of patience that made Jameson feel both comforted and exposed. The silence stretched, and for a moment, Jameson thought he could get away without saying anything more. But the weight of it all was too much to keep inside.

“My girlfriend and I broke up,” he said finally, the words falling heavily between them.

Kendrick didn’t look surprised, but his brow furrowed slightly. “You alright?”

Jameson shrugged, unsure how to answer. “I don’t know. It’s... complicated.”

“Breakups usually are,” Kendrick said, his voice steady. “What happened?”

Jameson exhaled slowly, his gaze dropping to the fire again. “I couldn’t keep pretending. My feelings for Imani never went away. I just kept kicking them under the rug and it got harder to hide. We’re stuck in this damn house together and I just couldn’t…I couldn’t pretend anymore. And it wasn’t fair to Camille. She deserved better than that.”

Saying it out loud made it feel more real and more final. The shame twisted in his gut, but there was also relief in the admission. It felt good to admit they weren’t together because he wanted someone else.

Kendrick leaned forward slightly, his expression thoughtful. “Takes a lot to admit that. Most people wouldn’t.”

Jameson nodded, though the reassurance did little to ease the ache in his chest. “It wasn’t just me though,” he said after a pause. “Camille was keeping secrets, too. I don’t even know everything, but... it doesn’t matter. We weren’t meant to be.”

The words hung in the air, stark and undeniable...and true. He felt Kendrick’s eyes on him, steady and unjudging.

“You did what you thought was right, son.” Kendrick said after a moment. “That’s all you can do. But it’s okay to feel conflicted about it. You cared about her, even if it wasn’t enough.”

Jameson’s throat tightened, but he nodded. “It really wasn’t. I tried to make it enough. I wanted it to be enough. But…I swear to god, nothing I had with Camille felt as good as arguing with Imani. It didn’t feel as good as just looking at her. I just feel guilty about how it ended. That it ended here.”

Kendrick leaned back in his chair, his gaze distant for a moment. “Sometimes the kindest thing you can do for someone is let them go. It’s not easy, but it’s honest. Believe me. I know it.” Jameson could see in his eyes that Kendrick meant his mother. 

He let the words settle over him, the truth of them sinking in slowly. He glanced at the rose on the table beside him, its soft petals a stark contrast to the heaviness in his chest. “I’m supposed to be the first one to give Genie a rose. Kick this whole thing off.” he said, his voice quiet.

Kendrick raised an eyebrow. “Yeah I know. I’m last. You don’t want to?”

Jameson shook his head, picking up the flower and turning it in his hands. “It doesn’t feel right. After everything that’s happened... I think it should come from her brother and her best friend.”

Kendrick’s curiosity about their situation was evident, but he didn’t push.

Jameson said, the decision made in his mind. “She’s part of this family. She should be part of this moment too.”

Kendrick nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. “If that’s what feels right to you, then go with it.”

Jameson stood, gripping the rose tightly for a moment before setting it down. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “For listening. And for not judging.”

Kendrick smiled faintly, a flicker of warmth in his eyes. “That’s what I’m here for. I will always be here for you, Jameson.”

Jameson nodded, his chest feeling a little lighter as he headed toward the dining room. The guilt and uncertainty still lingered, but for the first time in days, he felt like he was taking a step forward—however small it might be.

Ella fumbled with the camera briefly, her skilled hands nervous once she realized she was capturing the greatest moment of her brother’s personal life. The long, polished wooden table was adorned with flickering candles and garlands of evergreen, creating a cozy yet elegant atmosphere. As she turned the camera, glimpses of snow covered mountains could be seen through the floor to ceiling glass.

Genie sat at the center of the table, her infectious laughter filling the room as she leaned over and whispered to Nina. EJ was seated to her right, a soft smile on his face as he watched her with obvious affection. The rest of their family and friends were lively conversating before Jameson stood up from his chair. He walked around the table, pulling out Imani’s seat and she gracefully stood. He handed her a single red rose, Ella’s camera zooming in as Imani took it from his hand and made her way to Genie.

With a curious look on her face, Genie accepted the rose from her friend. Imani was visibly moved despite the two not exchanging a word. She leaned in and kissed Genie’s cheek softly. There was a tag on the end of the flower and Genie lifted it to read, her own eyes bright as she fought off tears.

It said a single word: Joy

Jameson didn’t say a word either but he approached Genie and placed a kiss against her cheek as well. Once he moved aside, Nina stood up from her seat, now holding a single red rose in her hand. The room grew quiet as all eyes remained on Genie.

“Imogen,” she began, "you have brought so much beauty into my son's life. It is only fitting that I give you this rose in recognition of that." She placed the rose in Genie's hand and kissed her cheek. She didn’t return to her seat but instead, she followed Jameson and Imani to the other side of the room.

Her rose held a tag with a single word as well: Beauty

It was Kendrick’s turn then. He didn’t have a single rose for his only daughter — he had several. When she saw him with a bouquet, Genie laughed out loud and ended with a little sob. Each rose had a tag. Different words were written, so many that Genie couldn’t catch them all.

Transformative. Challenging. Proud. Grateful. Privilege. Nurturing. Protective. Honest. Unbreakable. Sacred.

“Each rose is a memory. A word. Being your father is the greatest pleasure of my life. I grew up with you. I learned from you. Your mother would be so proud. Look at this wonderful girl we made.” Kendrick spoke softly, fighting off his tears much like everyone else did. “It’s fitting that I could only give you to someone I could trust not to dim your light. Someone could make you feel these very same things I felt while raising you. I love you, my baby.”

She was openly crying, holding the bouquet tightly to her chest as she told her father she loved him as well. Kendrick stepped closer, hugging her tightly before he pressed a kiss to her head and gently turned Genie in EJ’s direction.

EJ was standing, holding the final rose - a perfect white one with a small velvet box tied to the stem. The room fell silent, with the only sound being the crackling of the fireplace. Slowly, he knelt in front of her, holding the white rose in one hand and the box in the other. "Genie," he began, his voice steady yet filled with emotion. "Every word you have heard tonight describes what you have brought into our lives. You have given us all the gift of knowing you. And now I ask you to give me the gift of loving you for the rest of my life."

Tears streamed down Genie's face as she whispered his name, her hands trembling as she dropped the roses onto the table. EJ wasn’t even done talking but she began nodding.

Everybody erupted into a smattering of laughing. “Let me ask, baby.” He told her softly. “Imogen Evelyn Adesanya — will you marry me?”

"Yes," she managed to say through tears. "Yes, yes, yes."

The room erupted into cheers and applause as EJ slipped the stunning diamond ring onto her finger. Pink and white diamonds twisted around her finger — perfectly unique. He stood up and pulled her into a tight embrace as Ella's camera captured every teary smile and joyful laugh.

In the background, Ella could be heard crying softly. “Ah shit. They got me.” The video ended with Genie and EJ sharing a tender kiss, surrounded by their cheering loved ones.

The moment Jameson laid eyes on Imani in her stunning purple dress, he couldn’t tear his gaze away. The fabric hugged her curves in all the right places and the low neckline offered a tantalizing glimpse of her breast. Father God, have mercy on me. He could feel his pulse quicken as he watched her dance and laugh with Genie and Ella. She was like a goddess among mortals, radiating beauty and charm with every move she made. Did she understand the power she held over him with just a look? He knew he was completely under her spell. He was fucked.

But as much as he tried to keep it together and not give away their secret reunion, it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to not touch her. Imani came and took a seat next to him, fanning herself and avoiding his obvious gaze. “Stop staring. You’re going to give us away…” her voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“I can’t help it,” he chuckled, unable to hide his admiration. “You look good tonight.”

“Yeah, I know.” she teased. Imani playfully stuck her tongue out at him before turning to look back at their engaged friends. It was hard to believe that just a year ago, they never would have imagined this future for themselves.

“Did you ever think this would happen?” she asked, mirroring his thoughts.

Shaking his head, Jameson replied, “No, did you?”

“Nah, not at all,” Imani’s voice held a note of contentment as she took in the happy couple before looking back at Jameson. “But I’m glad it did. My girl looks so happy.”

“Yeah, she does,” Jameson agreed with a smile.

“And that ring? Your boy did his thing.”

“He did, but it’ll have competition when I replace this,” he said, reaching across the table to discreetly tapping her promise ring on her finger. He noticed all the little details about her tonight, but the ring stuck out the most. Unlike this morning, she wasn’t trying to hide it from him. Imani made sure he saw it.

Just as she was about to say something, the song “What a Diff’rence A Day Made” by Dinah Washington started playing through the speakers. “Ooooh, this is my song!” Kendrick exclaimed in the distance. He asked Nina for a dance and Jameson got an idea.

“Dance with me,” he said, turning to Imani. “Jameson, everybody —” “No one’s looking at us. They’re all dancing. We’re the only ones sitting here. Dance with me.”

Imani hesitated for a moment before reluctantly agreeing. A smile spread across Jameson’s face as he led her onto the dance floor. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close as they swayed to the music.

“You don’t know how happy I am to have you back in my arms,” he whispered in her ear.

“You can’t be as happy as me. I missed you so much,” Imani replied softly.

“I missed you more,” Jameson countered, meeting her gaze. “Can I sleep with you tonight? I just want to hold you.”

Imani’s expression softened, and she spoke in a hushed tone. “Baby, I told you this morning that last night needed to be the last time I slept without you in my arms…and I meant that.” She paused and then added firmly, “you already know the answer to that question.”

The dinner party buzzed with warmth and laughter, the kind of energy that only family and close friends could create. Kendrick leaned against the doorway, a glass of wine cradled in his hand, watching the room with a quiet smile. The glow of the fireplace bathed everyone in a golden light, and the faint hum of a jazz tune played softly in the background. He was somewhat drunk — he could admit that to himself. But it was a glorious night.

At the center of it all was Genie. His little girl. His only girl. She sat at the head of the table, her smile as radiant as the ring she kept glancing at every few minutes. It sparkled with every movement of her hand, catching the light like it was made for her. Kendrick had never seen her so happy, so effortlessly herself. She laughed at something Ella said, her head tilting back, her joy infectious. His heart swelled, but it also ached. How quickly time had passed.

Across the room, Jameson stood near the edge of the makeshift dance floor, his eyes locked on Imani as they swayed to the music. They were in their own world, something unspoken passing between them. Kendrick had always been able to read his son like a book, and tonight was no different. Jameson was smitten, completely and utterly. He wasn’t as conflicted as his mother thought.

Kendrick took a sip of his wine, his chest tightening with emotion. His kids weren’t kids anymore. They were grown, navigating their own lives, their own loves. And despite all the twists and turns, they were happy. He could still see them as children, laying on the couch watching tv or annoying one another so much that he had to send them to their own rooms. The thought brought a lump to his throat.

“Daddy, are you okay?” Genie's voice broke through his memories. She was standing beside him now, her hand lightly touching his arm. Her eyes, so much like her mother’s, were filled with concern.

“I’m fine, baby,” Kendrick said, his voice thick. He reached out and tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “Just taking it all in.”

Genie’s gaze softened, and she looked back at the room. “It’s a good night, isn’t it?”

“The best night,” Kendrick said. He looked at her again, at the ring on her finger, and felt a wave of pride and bittersweet joy. “You’ve got a good man, Genie. He loves you. But don’t forget who you are. Even when you’re Imogen Dupree — you were born with something special in you. Don’t ever settle for less.”

“I know,” she said, her voice quiet but sure. She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder for a moment. “I’m lucky.”

“We’re all lucky,” Kendrick murmured, his eyes sweeping over the room one last time. His family was far from perfect, but they were his. And tonight, they were whole. He kissed the top of Genie’s head, letting himself savor the moment before she pulled away to rejoin the others. As he watched her go, Kendrick felt the tears welling up. He didn’t fight them.

The engagement celebration was long over. Dinner had been consumed, champagne bottles had been popped, and tears had been shed. It was a beautiful night…but everybody had retreated to their rooms. She was thankful for it because it meant she could be alone with Jameson. They didn’t have to worry about any eyes or ears on them. 

After taking a refreshing shower and pampering her skin with her lotion, Imani spritzed herself with a signature scent. She stood in front of her open suitcase, sifting through clothes in search of the perfect outfit. It was the first night she and Jameson were going to be together in over a year. She wanted it to be special.

As she exhaled deeply, her heart raced with anticipation. It was hard to believe that just twelve hours ago, she had been consumed with frustration and anger towards Jameson. She was damn near ready to chop his head off in the games they played. But now, as they were reunited once again, she found herself completely infatuated with him.

A smile spread across her lips as she pulled out a red satin bra and lace g-string panty set from her suitcase. She knew it would drive him wild. Thanking her past self for packing it, she slipped into the lingerie before neatly organizing all the clothes back into her suitcase.

Finally, she turned to the nightstand, where a small lighter and a scented candle sat. She lit the wick with a flick of her thumb and placed it back down, filling the room with a soft, romantic glow. Imani picked up her phone, unlocked it, and scrolled through her playlist of sensual songs. With a quick tap, the room was filled with slow bass and seductive melodies. 

Before she could even catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror, there was a knock at the door. Her heart skipped a beat as she hurried to answer it, pulling Jameson inside and closing the door behind them. “Took you long enough,” she teased playfully.

“I was waiting til everybody fell asl...” He seemed to lose his train of thought as his eyes trailed over her figure, clad in the seductive lingerie. “My god. It’s so damn good to be home…” he breathed out, biting his lip as his gaze lingered on every curve.

Imani couldn’t help but giggle at his reaction, doing a small turn to show off the outfit. “You like it?” 

“Like it?” he repeated, stepping closer to her and pulling her into his embrace. Imani turned around to face him. “I love it. I love you.” His fingers traced over her curves, coming to rest on her ass. Imani’s arms instinctively wrapped around his neck.

“All for you, baby,” Imani whispered, gazing up at him with adoration. “And only you.” They stood there for a moment, lost in each other’s arms and the intense chemistry between them.

They both knew what they desired most at that moment, but neither dared to make the first move. So they stood there, basking in each other’s embrace, savoring the feeling of being reunited after what felt like an eternity apart. The touch of their skin was electric, sending shivers down their spines and igniting a fire within them. Every second felt precious, as if time stood still just for them in that moment. 

When he finally reached for her, Imani was practically breathless.

His fingers traced along her jawline, trailing down her neck before meeting the soft skin of her shoulder. With each brush of his fingertips against her exposed skin, she shivered slightly, goosebumps rising to the surface. “I used to dream about you.” He said softly. “And now you’re back in front of me and I…I’m grateful.”

She closed her eyes tightly, savoring every sensation - a mix of desire, love, and anticipation coursing through her veins. Jameson’s fingertips brushed against the strap of her bra. He carefully pulled the fabric down, letting it drift down her shoulder.

He repeated the action with the other strap, moving in close so that he could reach around and unfasten the bra. 

As it fell to the ground, she let out a soft gasp of pleasure. She had never felt so vulnerable and yet so desired at the same time. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of desire and uncertainty.

But he didn't give her much time to think. He took one step back and admired her body, his gaze roaming over every inch of her. He’d seen it all before and had been all over her mere hours before but this was different. They weren’t in a haze of anger and lust. They weren’t under pressure and on a time limit.

Without warning, he held her up and carried her towards the bed. As he gently laid her down on the soft sheets, he leaned down and captured her lips in a heated kiss. He grasped the back of her neck and pressed his mouth to hers, tongues gliding each other. His hands roamed all over her body, caressing every curve and sending shivers of pleasure through her. He grasped her thong, slowly tugging the flimsy fabric over her hips and down her thighs. 

“Spread.” He said the words softly but they were a command. He slipped the fabric into the pocket of his pajamas. Imani did exactly what he said, hesitation and no teasing. His hand slid between her legs, index and middle fingers pressing inside her. Imani groaned softly, dropping her head back as she circled her hips and provided friction.

“Just like that.” Imani murmured with pleasure as he continued. He kissed her thighs gently and nestled himself between her legs on the bed. Withdrawing his fingers, he spread her wetness around, teasing and pleasing her. Then he grasped the back of her thighs, jerked her legs onto his shoulders, and pressed his face between her legs.

Her eyes closed tightly as pleasure ripped through her body. She shuddered and writhed as he licked and sucked around her clit until she was desperate. She gave breathy, frustrated moans. Still, he didn’t give her what she needed. “D-Don’t stop, please.”

He chuckled, the vibrations from his laughter causing her to shiver even more. But instead of relenting, he continued using his tongue to explore every inch of her pussy. Imani was lost in a world of pleasure, her mind unable to focus on anything but the intense sensations coursing through her body.

As he continued to tease her, her hands clenched tightly onto the sheets beneath her. She could feel herself reaching the edge, the build-up of pleasure becoming almost unbearable. But when she thought she couldn't take it anymore, he suddenly stopped and pulled away. Imani let out a frustrated groan, aching for release.

He looked up at her with a smirk on his lips. "Not yet," he whispered huskily. “Jameson, please.” “I like how you sound when you beg me.” “Please, baby! I'm not asking again."

Somehow, it worked. Jameson kissed her to her thigh and the first thing he did was suck her clit into his mouth. Imani inhaled sharply, her thighs pressing to his head and her nails digging into his shoulders.

She arched her back, wordlessly wanting more from him.

He was too damn good at this. It had been a year since she’d let him between her legs this way but he still knew what to do. He still flicked his tongue in the way she liked, he still sucked at her folds the way she needed him to, he still used his fingers to fuck her into losing her mind. Her hips surged up as he plunged knuckle deep into her.

“Fuck, baby. I missed this.” Imani moaned out. It was so good that her orgasm snuck up on her. He didn’t stop. His tongue, his fingers, and mouth kept working her over. “I missed you.”

Something about that simple statement was like a cheat code when it came to Jameson. He lifted his head, drawing is hand from her. He licked his fingers clean then wiped the back of his mouth – the action so uncouth that it turned her on a little bit.

Imani lay on the bed, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Her body was still buzzing from the intense orgasm he had just given her. Their lips met hungrily, tongues tangling and exploring each other's mouths. She could taste her orgasm on his tongue. Jameson's hand trailed down to cup her breast, squeezing gently.

Imani almost cursed when he began to pull away…until she realized he did it to undress. He pulled the t-shirt over his head, tossing it aside – much like he had done earlier in the day. He pulled his pajama bottoms down, his length springing up once he rolled the fabric down his legs.

One second, they were staring at each other and the next? He hauled Imani's body towards the middle of the bed until she was positioned exactly how he wanted - with her legs spread wide and her pussy on full display. Flexibility was the name of the game and Imani excelled at it. She pressed her hands to the back of her knees, helping him position her body. 

“Don’t you move. Keep that pretty pussy right where I can see it.”

His dick was fully erect. The way it glistened in the candlelight – her mouth providing the right shine to him – made her toes curl in anticipation. "Please, make love to me," Imani whispered, urging him on.

With one hand, he reached down and grasped his dick, parted her folds as he slipped into her. They both groaned with relief, Jameson’s jaw dropping as he reveled in the slick warmth that greeted him. Moans escaped their lips as Jameson found the rhythm for them. The slap of their bodies colliding reverberated through the room like a drumbeat, syncing with their rapid breathing. 

She couldn’t even recognize the song playing, Imani was too busy watching Jameson. She hadn’t seen his face when they were in the shower but now it was all too clear: He really did miss her. His hands grasped her thighs, fingers pressing into her thighs so roughly that she knew he’d leave marks. “Harder, baby, harder.”

Her demand was greeted with sharp thrusts, plunging deeper and harder than he had been before. His left hand lingered against her thigh before moving. When his thumb began to flick at her clit, Imani whined out loud – head tossing and turning against the bed. She was trapped under his body as he played with her any way he wanted.

As they moved together in perfect harmony, heat rose in their bodies and transferred onto the sheets beneath them. The scent of sex filled the air – no candle or music was hiding what they were doing. Even though they were in a different area of the house, Imani was aware that her moans and the sound of their bodies colliding could still be heard. The occasional moments of quiet couldn't mask the faint noises of the bed squeaking or the wet sounds coming from between her legs.

“I love you, Daddy. I love you so much.” “I love you too.” Jameson mumbled. “You look so pretty taking this dick. Look at you.”

Imani lifted her head to peer down between them, gasping at what she saw. His dick was throbbing inside her. As he pulled out, she saw him coated in her creamy release. Imani panted as he shifted his hips and thrust himself back inside her. He did it a few more times, picking up the pace the more she watched. She couldn’t take anymore. Her eyes rolled damn near in the back of her head as her toes curled so hard they cracked.

“F-fuck, I swear I’m not leaving you ever again.” She said with a vehement shake of her head. “Un-uh. Even if you want to, I won’t let you. Tell me again.” “I won’t ever leave you.” she repeated. “Again.” “Jamie, please!”

He picked up the pace every time she promised not to leave him. His fingers had gone from leisurely swiping across her clit to every single digit fanning across. She was overwhelmed with pleasure, thighs trembling as she did her best to keep her legs raised for him. She could feel her orgasm racing up her spine and vocalized it to him.

“Fuck…Baby! Make your pussy cum. Mhm, yeah…” Imani whispered, voice trembling. “Nobody taking my baby from me.” He grunted, seemingly lost in his own world. “It’s like this shit was made for me, Mani. It’s mine.” “It is. Oh my god. Daddy, I love you. Please, don’t stop!” “Shit. I swear to god – nobody fuck me like you do.” “Yes, baby. Like that! Right there!”

His gaze kept straying. From her face to between her legs. He watched her pussy gush, coating him in her enthusiasm. Every time he slid in, more and more of his control slipped. Imani could see it. So she gave him what he needed.

“Y-You mean everything to me, Jamie. I love you so much.” “I love you, baby.” His breathing hitched as he said the words and Imani couldn’t take anymore. She arched her back and came hard over him. They both cried out when she did, his hands pressed to her thighs to keep her legs by her head. Jameson leveraged his weight over her to keep her pinned down.

He kept her still, fucking into her quickly as her orgasm kept her squirming. When he came, it was with a few short but rough jerks of his hips. He finally released her from the pinned hold and lay between he legs, grasping her hips tightly as he spilled into her. “I’m yours forever.” He mumbled against her ear. They both circled their hips, wringing the last bit of pleasure that they could from one another.

The aftermath left them both panting heavily against each other's skin — words escaping them both. It took several moments before either one could find words. They kissed and stroked each other, his hands brushing strands of hair from her sweat soaked face. 

“We’re gonna be okay,” he whispered against her earlobe nibbling softly causing goosebumps along her flesh – his strong arms holding her close. “We’re going to work it out. This is too real. We can’t let it go again.” 

She smiled weakly feeling utterly content yet slightly vulnerable knowing full well how easy it could be for them to lose it all. They had before. But not this time, she was determined that it would be different. She pulled back slightly looking into his eyes. "I promise we will." she whispered against his lips reassuring him that no matter what happened from here on out — they would always find their way back into each other arms — because that was how it was meant to be.

[harrystylesfan2686]

Disappearing Bodies

Pairing: PolyFeysand x Reader

Summary: girls from several war camps have been disappearing, no one know how. So you, your high lord and lady try to investigate the case.

Warnings: dead bodies, murder.

A/N: heyy everyone! I know I haven't posted in forever, thats because I've had my biggest writers block ever. I tried to make this as interesting as possible; please consider leaving a comment and telling me your thoughts on this. Hope you like it!!!

And yes, I will be posting the part 2 in a few days.💕

Thanks for the request @shorttstackk.

Masterlist

○●○●○●○

Your eyes scan over your desk again, trying to find anything that can help you with this case. This new case has you working non stop, racking your brain to think of anything that can help solve this problem.

There have been reports coming in from almost every illyrian camp, complaints of females and young girls going missing without a foot print left behind. Nobody knows what's happening to those girls because none of them have been found yet.

Cassian has had his men search the entire Illyria, along with himself, Nesta and Morrigan to try and find some type of clue or location, but they have all come back with no avail. You and Azriel have been looked in his office, trying to find something in the files but that, too, doesn't help you at all.

Files are sprawled all over your desk. Some stating the names of the victims and some reporting thier last seen location. It's been eight days and twenty six victims, and that's all you know.

You sigh and close your eyes, head hung down as you go over the information you have, again, to just find something, anything that can help you find those innocent girls.

"Here." A thug filles the silence and your eyes open to see Azriel putting down a cup of tea. You straighten up from where you were standing with your arms rested on the edges of your desk.

Whispering a small thank you, you pick up the cup with one hand and stir the spoon with the other. Your eyes again looking at the names scribbled on the paper.

Calantheria

Lyriana

Cirys

"Did you find anything new?" Azriel asks, sipping his from his own cup.

"No. You?" Your eyes look at his.

"None of my spies have picked on anything." His voice is calm, a contrast to the storm swirling in his eyes.

"How can this be possible?" Your eyebrows narrow in anger and frustration. "How can a someone be so clean in abduction that they don't leave a single thread behind?"

He hums, eyes analyzing the files. "Whoever it is, they are too good at covering thier tracks."

Silence fills the room again as the two of you fall quite, drinking the tae and thinking about the same thing again.

You were Azriel's second before finding your mates, the High Lord and Lady of Night Court. It was a surprise to everyone when you found out, considering how rare it is to find one mate, and finding two at that.

Three mates are extremely rare cases, only one out of a thousand pairs can you find a tripple pair. You were invited into the inner circle right away, everyone was kind hearted towards you.

But even though you were practically Azriels equal, you would never admit that. He taught you everything you know about spying and assassin ship. For you he will always be your senior.

The quiet between you was suddenly intrupted when Rhysands voice fills your head and the two of you leave everything and rush out of there as fast as possible.

Come to my office. Cassian found something.

-☆-

The eight of you stand surrounding a table, on which lies a map of the Illyrian Forest.

"A few of my men stumbled upon an underground tunnel. While patrolling, one fell in, not knowing about the cave because it was covered up with branches and leaves." Cassian circles an area with ink. "This is where the cave is. We went in just to make sure it isn't some small hole or anything, and it isn't. The hole stretches out into a gaint cave after entering, big enough for all of us to fit in."

He glances at everyone before continuing, "There were bloody footsteps at the starting of the tunnel. A pair of them, one can be identified as a male and other a female."

The air thickens around the room, all of you worrid and a little relieved to find at least something relating this case.

"I'm not sure what is in it, but I didn't have my men search it, if this isn't the seriel criminal we want, but some entirely different creature , I'm not losing my men for nothing." He finishes and Rhysand hums, silently agreeing.

"Alright then, we will go to see what this is." Rhysand looks up at you all, waiting for you to nod and continues, "Amren will stay at Valaris, guarding while we're gone. Nesta can watch over the War camps, so that if any other kidnapping happens, she can inform us right away."

The both of them nod and even though Nesta looks like she wants to say something, she doesn't dare go against Rhys' orders. Cassian interlaces his fingers with hers, as if to say not to worry.

"I will enter the cave first, Feyre, Y/N, Azriel, Cassian, and Mor will follow after. Cassians soldiers will stay at the cave entrance in case we encounter the very criminal we are looking for." Everyone nods.

"Any questions?" Rhys looks at everyone with raised eyebrow.

When no one comments he stands up straight and extends his arms to you and feyre at each side of him, ready to winnow you out. Azriel mimics him and grabs hold of Cassian. Mor takes Nestas hand to drop her off at the camps first and follow us after.

"Let us go." Rhysands voice echos out as you all fade into darkness.

-☆-

You walk through the woods with the others. Cassian leading your group and the rest of you follow close behind.

The entrance Cass found is surrounded with trees and grass, making it impossible to notice except the way it was found.

You reach there and Cass nods to one of his gaurds stationed near it. He turns to your group as you all stop with him, he points the hole, big only enough for one person to fit through.

Rhysand jumps in first and you all follow one by one. You go after Feyre and step up, looking around. It looks just like a normal Cave. Alighted with fire by cassian's comrades.

"Alright, I did not expect the cave to be this big." Mor's eyes scan over the walls with interest, before she looks at Cassian. "Sure you said it'd be big but I didn't expect this big. I mean you could fit an entire house in here."

Rhysand forms a small flame in his hand and steps forward taking the lead, "Everyone be on your gaurd." He doesn't need to remind you.

You walk between Rhysand and Feyre, her hand held yours in a tight grip, the only sign of her anxiousness. You walk further and further into the dark, the walls only illuminated by Rhys purple fire.

Suddenly you see a flicker of orange ahead, all of you noticing it at the same time as your steps falter for a second before continuing without making a sound. You step closer and finally see the scene ahead of you.

Your breath catches as you realized just what is happening. Candles surround a body of a girl, creating a circle in which the body is kept. She lies there as still as stone, eyes closed and not even breathing. The light from the candles shine against her skin that is now as pale as snow and lips that was probably soft and pink now cracked and blue.

Your hand slips from Feyre's as you step forward enough to see the face clearly. This is one of the girls you were looking for. Her name is Lyriana.

No. Was.

Now she's gone. Dead just as you expected. You still remember how her parents had begged you to find her when she got lost. How they begged you to find her and bring her back alive, offering you anything you wanted in return.

She was one of the firsts that was lost, it had been a week yet her parents never lost hope, knowing that their high lord and spymaster will find her. Well, you guess they did do that part.

"Is that-" Azriel starts but you speak before he could, knowing what he will say.

"Lyriana. Age 16. Single child. 7 days missing. A Valkerie in training. One of the first victims." Your voice sounds bland, void of any emotion and your mates pick up on the ill feelings starting to swirl inside you immediately.

"This isn't good." Mor comments under her breath.

"Oh yeah? What gave it away? The fire or the dead body?" Cassian replies just as slowly, his tone a mixture of sarcasm and anger.

You take another step closer to the body and just as Rhysand is about to warn you not to get too close, a sudden snap sounds and a hand wraps around you foot, the fingers clutching on tight enough to break bones;

And pulls.

You gasp out in pain, not expecting the attack and fall on your back. Your head hitting the hard ground but paying no mind to it, you take out a knife sheathed at your waist and thrust it on the hand with force.

At the same time a blast of purple fire hits the arm holding your foot. The force of your attacks together results in the arm cutting and blasting off into a mush of blood and muscle. An extremely unsettling site.

The blood flies to your body, small droplets smearing onto your leathers as you quickly brush off the remains of the fingers around your ankle and stand up. Soft hands hold you as Feyre forces you to step back with her and Rhysand stands before you, ready for another attack.

Now that out of danger, you see the arm that tried to hold you captive belongs to the very girl you declared dead. She now kneels and stands on her hands and knees, arching her back in an unnatural way. The eyes that were closed and peaceful, now are wide open and frowning at the lot of you with anger. You take in a sharp breath when you realize that her eyes doesn't have irises, they are entirely white white red nerves siding at the edges.

The hand that was blasted off, still driping tons of blood but it is as though she doesn't feel anything because she lets out a low growl before standing and streaking out her next attack.

Everyone is ready this time though, before Rhysand even lifts a finger, shadows cover Lyriana's entire body, slithering around like ropes and contract their hold. Thightly binding her limbs to her body and enabling her to do anything except squirm around on the ground, trying to fight.

Everyone stays silent for a while, only her growling and hissing echoing through the space, widened eyes staring shocked at Lyriana's state. She behaves as though she doesn't know anything but  attacking.

Rhysand turns to you and pulls you into his arms, "Are you alright?" His soft voice breaks the dark fog starting in your mind. You nod silently and rest your head against his shoulder. Feyre kneels at your side and gently touches the ankle that now covers a ring of dark red bruises in shape of a hand.

You step back a little to see the wound for yourself, half cresents form where the tip of the fingers were, stretching out into small sharp straches, oozing out little blood that was already starting to heal.

You sigh and step around them as they straighten up, "I'm fine. Let's keep going."

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Imagine Jaskier confessing that you are his true muse…

Geralt and Ciri were off in the woods training. So you picked up a light bag of supplies and carried it to the rickety cart for the journey ahead.

The lute-playing bard trailed behind and had struck up a conversation about his inspirations. It was not long before he started listed various women (and men) who crossed his paths and drove him to write a line or two.

“I thought you were with the Countess?” You wondered with a small turn and a carefree laugh. “You last declared, boldly might I add, that she was 'the greatest muse to be found'.”

Jaskier nodded with a small sigh. “In hindsight I probably shouldn’t have. But she had been for my earlier works.”

You let out a laugh that sang into the sky, spinning back around and adjusting the bag in your arms.

“My, you change muses almost as often as pants.” Approaching the cart, you leaned forward and set the bag down. Dusting your hands before looking at the bard who had stopped a few paces away. “Is Geralt going to be the next?”

Jaskier scoffed. “He wishes.”

This made you laugh again. Stepping toward him, you pat his shoulder gently and made to leave but Jaskier clasped your wrist, catching you by surprise. His blue eyes were trained on yours as if opening up to your soul.

“Listen.” He said firmly. All jest washed away now. “You have been the muse to my songs from the moment we met and I cannot comprehend the magic you have woven in my lyrics - the beauty.”

“I’m hardly inspiration, Jaskier.” You told him softly.

“And yet I cannot imagine another face when I think, another smile when I write, another voice when I seek a melody.” Jaskier drew your hand to rest over his heart. “You have changed the essence of my tunes - the true ones.”

It was a folly thing to believe in love and happy endings with the perilous road ahead. And yet, you could not find yourself to pull away. Jaskier found a way to drum your heartbeat and dance to it.

If your fate was to be sealed in blood, then you would feel every remaining joy there was.

~ More imagines here ~

[bomberqueen17]

while i've got the file out

So the last bit of time when I was at the farm, I finally gave in to the pressure of @sassaffrassa's art and started reading the Queen's Thief series.

It's... It's great, I'm not as obsessed with it as some (the selective concealment of stuff that POV characters know but the reader can't Until The Reveal is... clever but rubs me the Wrong Way, not enough to throw me out of the book but enough that I do find myself resenting it, but totally understand how it works beautifully for other readers) but it is extremely, extremely ripe for fanfic, I allow that. And I found that it made me think about the fics of Ciri in Nilfgaard again. It certainly made me realize my error in not including any slaves in the Nilfgaard settings-- that's a big dynamic I missed an opportunity to include, but it's not a thing I like to think about and so I had mentally assigned it all to just be slaves working fields etc., which as anyone knows is like. Only a percentage of what societies that contain slavery actually use slaves for. There should have been enslaved people in the households, all through the society, and Ciri objecting to and wanting to change that could have been an entire underlying theme.

But it's not, because I had meant to write that story as a 5k oneshot, and also I'd entered it right out of Goblin Emperor fic-writing, and whatever that particular fictional society contains, it doesn't have any enslaved people. So I just hadn't thought of it.

Anyway, a digression, but-- it made me, on one exhausted evening, reread the next bits I was going to publish of Not A Crest, and then I still didn't feel like writing but I wanted to keep reading so I dipped into my extras/cut scenes/written ahead docs, and I found an entire a/u I'd come up with and wrote 5k of and then realized i couldn't possibly fit in anywhere.

But. It stands alone somewhat, and I could strip it out of this world and create a new backstory and file all the serial numbers off that too, and...

well now I have another book to write, so I've started a doc with the serial number transpositions in it, LOL.

Now that I'm done at the farm, I have December, January, and probably February without any major commitments. If only I can wrangle my ADHD-or-whatever into some kind of shape, I can hope to bang out at least rough drafts of a couple of these things, or at least enough of them to know whether there's anything to pursue. And, I hope, I can achieve some of my other personal goals around the same time as well. If only I could miraculously learn how to operate a to-do list and make/keep a schedule........

Behind the cut, I'm gonna summarize the a/u snippet and my plans for it. We'll see how this goes.

So this plot depends on Ciri's powers of teleportation and time manipulation, so it can't possibly be in the same continuity as the mammoths and the tall ships, but that means I have a ton of leeway in worldbuilding. It needs to be fantasy-ish but it could be sort of cyberpunk if I wanted. Really it could be just about anything, provided that not-Ciri (I've already renamed her Leila) can still uniquely manipulate time and space, and the mechanism of how she does that is unimportant. It should have a cost, of course, which will be part of the worldbuilding.

So the backstory would be that a larger kingdom/nation-state/whatever kind of polity gobbled up Leila's when she was a young teenager, and she spent her youth as a guerilla, fighting or fleeing and honing her survival skills. There was some larger existential threat, related to the as-yet-undone worldbuilding, but the reveal is that the larger polity attacked and absorbed its neighbors in order to fortify itself against a yet larger invading power-- could be another kingdom, could be like, space invaders, I really haven't decided yet.

Leila meanwhile has come into her powers finally, and has begun to be able to manipulate time and space. i'm going to give her a wise and powerful sorceress mentor, Yennefer-like; instead of Geralt she might have a sword tutor slash captain of the guard or something, an older man who loves and protects and teaches her. Undecided; don't know whether he's important for more than backstory.

And this is all backstory, mind. In this backstory, she finally comes to aid the armies of the polity she had been fighting against, to resist this greater existential threat/invader/whatever. And as part of that she's paired up with this universe's version of Morvran-- I've renamed him Corbin since it means Raven but I'm still open to changing my mind on that. Anyway he's got the important bits of Morvran-- he's both a hostage and a presumptive heir, far too young and far too responsible, a strange balance of overly powerful and completely vulnerable. And for the duration of the backstory, he is helping this mystical enemy-turned-ally (Leila) fight a desperate, scrambling battle using powers that none of them entirely fully understands.

And he has an underling, an aide-de-camp, a young woman who keeps track of things and isn't much of a fighter, and that's where Luliana comes in, and I think I'll keep her name since i made it up anyway. She's a relative of his perhaps, a little older than he is, but allowed to be close to him because she's so unimportant, and she's really his only friend. And she of course falls in love with Leila, who to everyone's surprise falls in love back. Corbin is secretly delighted with this.

The war is long and difficult and horrible things happen to everyone, but in the end they triumph. And Leila is brought back to Expansionist Polity, her own homeland being so thoroughly encompassed and destroyed there's no restoring it, and the leader (perhaps he was injured in the war? perhaps he was already dying? perhaps he's just a guy who wants to retire?) begs her to become his heir, which effectively deposes Corbin, who silently doesn't mind it. But the rest of the government does mind it, and insists she marry Corbin to give them stability. Corbin privately proposes that they have a paper marriage; he is not inclined that way himself, you see, and he would be delighted if Leila and Lu kept their relationship and just let him be nearby, the way they did in the war. Leila counter-offers; she'll stick around long enough to make everyone feel safe and happy, but then she and Lu will run off someplace to live in peace, and leave Corbin to rule and to marry whoever he actually likes. Corbin, too used to not letting on his feelings about anything, agrees to this. And so they all rule together for a year and a day or whatever, Leila gets a bunch of the reforms she'd wanted pushed through, they get along marvellously, and then Leila disappears mysteriously, as agreed.

She and Lu go off and live happily somewhere peaceful. She is unexpectedly bored, Lu is homesick and sad, and her sorceress mentor finally finds her and scolds her for running away. "Haven't I done enough?" Leila asks, and her mentor is like obviously not, but doesn't have anything to convince her with. Until a little later, when the sorceress comes back and tells Leila that Corbin is dead, assassinated. He could not in fact get by without her.

Leila uses her powers to go back, but arrives too late, finding Corbin's head on a spike and his hands nailed below. She notices his hand still has both their wedding ring and the ring she'd given him as an engagement gift on it. He was supposed to have moved on and found himself a better partner.

She musters the last of her power and jumps back a little farther, interrupting the assassination attack, but she is again too late; Corbin is mortally wounded. She sits with him as he dies, and with his last breath he admits that he has always loved her and never wanted her to leave. She needs to jump again, and doesn't have the power for it, but sucks the last of his life-force out to do it, which is unethical-- she also draws from his would-be assassins and the guards who betrayed him, knowing it's a terrible thing to do but will be largely erased by her abandoning this timeline. There'll be a cost and I'll worldbuild that in too, however it makes sense once I've written it.

And this is all still backstory, and the story begins as she arrives, just in time, to interrupt the attack and save Corbin's life, wounded but not mortally. But this time Corbin has some self-possession left, and he is still wearing her rings and apologizes for it and merely admits that he was relying on his enemies' remaining respect for and fear of her. We the audience have not seen Leila's two previous attempts and do not know what she knows.

(Yes, yes, I was complaining that the Queen's Thief series relies too much on this, but I admit I'm trying to figure out whose POV this is from, and I may well not use Leila's, in order to make it not dishonest to exclude this knowledge. We'll have to see what seems honest to me as I'm writing it.)

And the story goes from there, as she tries to restore his rule and tries to figure out which version of him is lying, the one who said he loved her with his last breath before she stole the rest, or the one who calmly, collectedly bled all over her and politely apologized for his inability to do as she had asked him to and find a different spouse.

Obviously I need more plot than that, but it will come to me, I'm pretty sure. But that's where I'm starting. As I've said before, I'm a pantser, and that means I can't outline the plot or I'll paralyze myself.

[iceclew]

Fucking finally ._.

I kind of...didn't really know what to tell about Kikoru...maybe I shouldn't have watched TV while finishing up her ref sheet.. too much of a distraction.. But I like her design! Obviously heavily Ciri inspired. Come to think of it, I should have drawn more interaction with the other members....

--

This redrawn Hoshina ref sheet sat on my PC for like weeks now.. Don't ask me why, but somehow I felt the need to wait for another character to be finished before I could publish his new design. But I couldn't take his first armour design any longer.. aand I drew him shirtless again... backside... again.. I get it, I'm weird for him, so what..

I'm sorry, I can't help it, he's forcing himself up the priority list every fucking time...... But don't worry, guilt level is rising, I will get to my other stuff as well, right after I finished another smth I just happened to start yesterday and am hyperfocusing like mad rn *nervous laugh*

text transcript

Kikoru's Ref sheet:

*heiress of the throne of Ariake

*after her mother's death the relationship with her father grew colder

*She left to become a huntress of her own

*enourmous magical powers like the rest of her royal family

*She joined Narumi's hunters party after they met in a fight against marauders - and she loves to tease them a lot (Narumi and the others, also/especially Kafka too)

Hoshina's Ref sheet:

*light outfit to be more agile and faster while fighting

*leads a hunters party with ~ 100 people/members

Hoshina: I'll give it to ya you got quite the strong magical rooting. But the key to success in sword art is the implementations thus following execution, which is yet to be refined in your personal style."

Narumi: Omfg, Hoshina, stop the blabbering lessons already, I swear it's even worse then your hits."

Kikoru: *ignoring Narumi completely* Thank you for the advice, Sir!!!

---

Hunter: Captain, there are raiders outside the camp!!

Hoshina: -.- Will'ya give me a second, I'mma be right there!

---

Hoshina: ..yeah, could ya stop that... I'd like to keep that book in one.... non-soggy piece.. (to whoever it apparently bathing with him and behaving like a goofball c: ...)

[endiness]

✨ s3 positivity ✨

i think the show did a much better job of appreciating jaskier this season. like, geralt and jaskier's friendship actually felt like a friendship for once. he and ciri were close and had a great dynamic that was funny yet heartwarming and their scene together in the cabin in particular was really lovely. even if they didn't have as many 'big' scenes together as they did in s2, the jaskier and yennefer stuff was still great. yarpen actually appreciated jaskier and thanked him. there was a lot of jaskier helping people in the background during fight scenes. jaskier's ptsd and trauma from being tortured by rience wasn't just brushed off and was a really big motive behind his actions. (also just on a shallower note, but i really liked jaskier's purple flower chemise and i thought his hair was cute af.)

i LOVED radskier and how they were able to see each other through the masks that they put up for the rest of the world and how they just understood one another but then also the inherent tragedy of them and the whole star-crossed lovers of it all. plus joey and hugh's chemistry was AMAZING. i also really enjoyed jaskier and vespula's relationship, too, and how close yet casual they were with each other and how they could go from fighting to hooking up to vespula teasing jaskier about his crush right back to hooking up again.(or they would've if SOMEBODY hadn't've interrupted them.)

in general, i liked the inclusion of queer characters and relationships this season from jaskier and radovid and philippa and eva to just random minor background characters and the ~hints of ciri's sexuality and whatever the fuck's gonna happen with her and mistle next season lol and i liked the way the show handled queerness and how it was just normalized. (especially since, all things considered, homophobia in the books isn't that big of a deal anyway — at least definitely not to the extent fandom generally portrays it as ie #period typical homophobia.)

the fam bonding at the beginning of the season and just getting to be domesticTM with each other and actually happy together was really cute and it was a nice treat especially knowing how the rest of the season and books huh what who said that plays out. also, the ice skating scene in particular was really sweet. (but also, ciri ice skating 👀 iykyk~)

the desert episode was a great adaption of the book and freya absolutely killed it. (same with joey at the end of the episode tbh! well, and the beginning but especially the end of the episode.)

the songs were all really great. extraordinary things was my favorite, enchanted flowers was really lovely, the ride of the witcher was a banger, all is not as it seems was an earworm (affectionate), and freya really showed off how talented she is at singing in a little sacrifice.

overall, i just really liked the season and thought it was great and that the show did a good job of adapting the book. i also think that the writing felt a lot more cohesive than the previous seasons as there was a lot more focus on the characters and their relationships.

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Jaskier retreated from the main hall. Leaving the remaining Wolves to see to their injured and dead and readying himself for another night tucked away in his wreck of a room, determined to stay out of the way after already having been largely ignored since his arrival and then shoved away by Lambert twice. He found himself wondering if he should count the first time, considering that he probably saved Jaskier’s life in the process? Probably not. The second time though was just plain spiteful. But then, he and Geralt had been travelling together for years and the white haired Witcher tolerated his casual affection at best – why else would it always be down to Jaskier to initiate when he'd seen the Witcher freely hug and give causal touches to Ciri and Yen multiple times?

He swallowed down his self pity as he realised he’d taken a wrong turn somewhere – he definitely didn’t recognise that particular crack in the wall.

“Fuck.” He sighed as he slumped against the wall. Part of him wondered if he should maybe be feeling a little more panicked about this turn of events, considering he’d been warned that some parts of the Keep were unsafe (whilst neglecting to tell him which parts. So that was incredibly fucking useful). Then again, it wasn’t exactly like he’d be missed, even if the Wolves weren’t currently preoccupied with the aftermath of a possessed princess unleashing almost literal Hell. He closed his eyes and rest his head against the freezing stone. Sod it, this was just as out of the way as anywhere else. He’d try and get his bearings in an hour or two.

“Jaskier. Jaskier!”

Jaskier jerked awake at the shout of his name, squinting at the sun through the window, surprised by how little time had actually passed.

Geralt barrelled around the corner just as he was trying to shake some of the stiffness out of his shoulders, the Witcher looking panic-stricken as he practically ran to the Bard, “Jaskier.”

“Geralt, what’s wrong? Has something else happened with Ciri? Has Yen’s chaos - oh!” He was cut off as Geralt pulled him to his chest, wrapping his arms around him tightly and effectively trapping the Bard’s own between their torsos as he hid his face in Jaskier’s shoulder, “Fuck. Geralt, talk to me. What’s happened?”

“I couldn’t find you.”

Jaskier gave an eloquent “Huh?” at that, “Geralt, did you hit your head and not say anything again? You did find me. You broke me out of prison, remember?”

He felt Geralt shake his head, “No. Just now. You weren’t in the hall, or where Yen showed me you’d been sleeping or anywhere else I checked. I thought something had happened to you and none of us had noticed. I hadn’t noticed.” He pulled his face away, allowing Jaskier to fully look at him, “You scared me.”

Jaskier lowered his eyes, ‘Congratulations Julian. Yet another fuck up.’

“I’m sorry. I thought it’d be better for everyone if I stayed out the way.”

“No, Jaskier.” Large fingers tilted his chin up until sky blue met molten yellow, “I’m sorry. For pushing you away on the mountain, for keeping you at arms length here, for how the others have treated you.”

“I don’t think you have much control over the last one to be fair.”

“Yes, I do. Ciri made me realise I should have set them right as soon as I arrived back. She gave Lambert an earful for shoving you like he did after his injuries had been checked over.”

Jaskier gave a brief smile at that before the mood turned serious again, “Can I ask why though?”

“Hmm?”

“I thought we were ok after you trusted me to escort Ciri and then you just acted as if I were invisible. what did I do wrong?” He couldn’t stop the tears blurring his vision, “I know I can be too much. I was too much when we were together, I see that now and I want to try and fix things. Stop being so, well, me. But I can’t when I don’t even know what I did between the prison and here to make you angry at me again.”

Geralt looked at him like Jaskier had just been the one to sucker punch him, “You did nothing Jaskier, you never did. I acted as I did because, well, you terrified me. Still do.”

Jaskier gave a wet laugh, “I seem to be making a habit of that today.”

“I mean it.” Geralt continued, “You shoehorned yourself alongside me and you were – are – so full of life and joy and light. I wanted to keep you for myself. Something I’ve never felt so strongly before, not for Yen, not for Renfri. I wanted to know you completely and be known in return and that realisation scared me more than any monster I’ve faced. I didn’t know how to let you in like that, so I pushed you away.”

In a moment of bravery (or perhaps madness), he brushed his lips against Jaskier’s forehead, hearing the Bard’s breath catch, “You’re not the one who needs to change, Jaskier. You never were. I just don’t know how to start, but I’ll try. For you and Ciri and Yen.”

“My darling Witcher, you already have changed.” Jaskier, squirmed until he was able to loop his arms around Geralt’s waist, finally returning the embrace, “You and Yen are able to be in the same room and act like actual adults, you finally took responsibility for Ciri, and as for me-“ Jaskier gave Geralt’s waist a squeeze, “You do realise this is the first time you’ve hugged me first?”

Geralt brushed his lips against Jaskier’s brow again, firmer this time, “First of many. If you’ll allow it.”

“Always.”

[zambehnation]

I have yet to read a geraskier fanfic with reincarnation like a lot of fics deal with geralt being afraid to pursue his bard because short human life span but what if jaskier, for some reason, keeps getting reincarnated?

In their first life together geralt never said anything, he'd considered it, feared the heartache of having jaskier the way he'd wanted, living a good life together for a short while but never growing old and eventually watching jaskier die and just decided he'd never survive it and didn't let himself have it. And he'd loved yen too, sure they didn't always work and she'd fleet in and out of his life when she fancied but that was enough. Eventually jaskier settled down in a quiet coastal town and though gerlat visited, he'd never stayed too long. He's on the path when he hears the bard had passed and he'd mourned for a long long while.

Eventually ciri dies too and the twin losses leave him feeling alone, bereft. He moves deep into the forest after that, spends a couple of decades as a hermit, being forgotten, until yen finds him again and convinces him he was needed. And some years after, while he's in a small town, he sees a man that looks suspiciously like jaskier and it shouldn't be possible because jaskier never had children of his own.

When he tells yen and yen sees him for herself, they chalk it up to the weird whims of fate but decide to leave it alone. The man isn't his bard tho he might look it. It doesnt stop geralt from checking in on him occasionally (he insists it isnt stalking). Geralt keeps away and let's the man live his life but marvels at the little ways he's still so similar to his bard. Yen said something about the soul but neither of them believed before and that was that. The man eventually grows old and dies and geralt thinks it's a fluke. A terribly upsetting fluke but the man wasn't his bard and geralt couldn't bring himself to be part of this one's life- too raw still from loss.

It isn't until the third time that geralt begins to think fate is fucking with him and what the fuck does she want??

Its a reincarnation groundhog day soup if you will because fate is a shipper and geralt fucked up the first time.

[cherryjuicegf]

He sees her last. After the blood and the gloom and the despair that plagued his sight, after the death and the wails and the pleas that teared at his chest, he sees her last.

Chaos, he thinks, has never looked more serene.

In another place, at another time, it would be beautiful.

Now Yennefer meets his eyes from across the hall and a sudden jolt shakes her whole and she runs, gods, she runs to him with such helplessness and relief that he knows he will welcome the most bruising hug, if it means it will keep her afloat. There is a weeping beauty in sadness, but not for her eyes. Never for her eyes.

As she buries her head in his shoulder, he feels her heart digging a hole in his chest. He holds her tight.

"Thank the gods," she whispers, as though to herself, "thank the gods you're alive."

In another place, at another time, he would make a joke, perhaps about the feeling not being mutual, just to steal a smile and a banter from her lips.

But he has no heart for that now. Not even for that.

He only has a chain clenched tight around his heart and gutting his voice in shame every time he opens his mouth to speak. "Yennefer, I–"

At once, she looks at him. "No words." As though she knows what he would say, as though she knows all he hasn't done, and mourns him anyway. She shakes her head, eyes huge and dark and pleading. "You can't stay here, it's dangerous. You have to go. You have to find Geralt."

"Yennefer, Yen– I know." His fingers dig into her arms and he can't bear to loosen his hold, he can't bear to let her go. Not yet. He smiles, soft. Leans to search for her eyes, for just a moment of peace in their turbulent current. "I just wanted to see my darling witch."

Yennefer stares at him for a moment, shoulders tense. Then, she huffs a laugh. Her expression softens, almost crumbles.

He feels her hands shaking where she holds him and the corners of her lips tremble as though with all the unspoken screams of the sea trapped into a single shell, wailing and weeping and waiting to be heard. He only wishes he had time to put her heart to his ear.

Her voice is quivering as she speaks. "I don't know where Ciri is," she says and it sounds like the complaint of a mother and a child crushed into one, like the world's cruelest crime, the earth's deepest regret, choked in swallowed tears. "I don't know where she is, I don't–"

She doesn't let her face break, as if she knows that when the bottle cracks, there will be no end or beginning, as if she knows he will only have to stay there, and hold her through it. And he cannot stay here between death's teeth.

She can't afford this too.

But he knows terror when he sees it in her eyes, for it is not frequent, and floods them with a different kind of darkness. It breaks his heart.

She looks at him for a moment deeply, in thought. Then she lets out a sharp breath. Quiet, exhausted. "Gods, Jaskier. I'm losing everything all over again. And then," she nods at him from tip to toe and laughs again, as though she finds it absurd, "here you are. Here you always are."

Maybe it sounds painful, because she winces.

Maybe she cannot bear looking at him, maybe in hope it will hurt less if she loses him. But Jaskier doesn't abandon her eyes, only stays there, because their violet melts just like then, just like that other time she was all bereft and scared and he got to see it, and knew. Yet again, a familiar kind of despair.

But, gods. What else could one make out of shared pain, except for love?

A tear flows down her cheek, and he wipes it away with his thumb before it shatters. He holds her face. "Hey. You are not in this fight alone." He swallows, voice thick, hand firm as though to caress the love on her skin and right into her. "Not anymore."

Oh, she has been alone for so long. So long that her first instinct is to disbelieve him, doubt him, squint. But it is only for a moment.

Because his thumb is still stroking her cheek clean of stray tears and her brows can only twitch in desperate acceptance as she slowly covers his hand with hers and leans into his touch, closes her eyes. Presses on, as though to memorize the shape of his palm when it's missing, as though asking of him to remember her shape.

Jaskier can't hear her, but feels her own voice in his head as he prays they don't become no more than a memory.

"We'll meet again." She looks at him again and now her voice is steadier.

It makes him smile. He will miss this. Offering a hand for her to lean into every now and then. Watching as she rises again, indelible.

A chuckle, as the curtain threatens to rise. "Eh, I wouldn't worry too much about that. Besides," he speaks softer now, like a lullaby, like a confession, "I could never be done with the likes of you, Yennefer of Vengerberg."

A promise.

And Yennefer smiles, through the tears, and shakes her head. How strange, how comforting. To fight so hard for a purpose, and to know the purpose is willing, at last, to fight back for you.

With a deep sigh, she raises her head. And there she is again. Solid, seething, like a burning hill. "Don't leave Geralt alone."

"You know I won't." Then, pleading. "Be strong."

He knows she will be. It's mostly to remind himself.

Slowly, their hands drop away, and he hopes the warmth of her touch lingers on his hand for a while.

"Be brave," she replies, but she knows too. "I won't be there to save you this time." Jaskier huffs, mostly to hold back tears. "Well, then," she continues, and her voice is suddenly strained in a half-laugh, half-sob, an attempt perhaps, to seal the promise back. "Goodbye. Good luck–"

Only, she can't.

Her voice dies in her throat, and she presses her lips together, in refusal, in grief. Her eyes are wet again.

Jaskier lets out a silent gasp and shakes his head, pulling her close one last time, tighter than before. This is too much. He can't ask for too much. So he only lets her steal some breaths from his chest before he lets her go, and places a kiss on her head.

He feels her holding her breath, or his, as she pulls back and silently looks at him one last time.

And then, like a cord snapping in two, she turns around and walks outside the room. She doesn't look back.

And Jaskier watches numb. Her form disappears behind the walls and he stands wrecked, a sob threatening to rip his throat apart.

Broken, trembling, he smiles at her remaining memory, and decides to seal her promise himself. "Good riddance."

His voice echoes back to him in the empty hall.

[geraskierfanficprompts]

HEAVY HARD hurt GERASKIER prompt -Geralt believes Rience when he says that Jaskier betrayed him and gave Kaer Morhen and Ciri's location.

Prompt: after Rience and Jaskier's torture take Ciri to Kaer Morhen. Jaskier is still injured, but Rience puts a spell on him, which prevents others from seeing his real state, with injuries. Geralt hears from Yennefer about the bard's meeting with Rience, but she doesn't go into detail about everything. But then, Rience finds the fortress and searches for Ciri, attacking everyone. He finds Jaskier and Geralt, and says something (he's cunning and manipulative) that he assumes that the bard who told him about the location… and that he just offered some coins for it, and that Jaskier wanted to get revenge on Geralt for the mountain . (Rience gets the information from someone or reads it from Jaskier's mind, the writer can decide, including the information about the location of the fortress, I haven't decided on that yet). Yennefer manages to attack Rience who runs away, but says she will return now that she knows where Cirilla is. With that, Geralt confronts Jaskier about what Rience said… Jaskier begins to defend himself, but his mental and physical state begin to hinder him in his explanation. Geralt ends up pressing the bard against a pillar (remember here that he is already injured from both torture and Violet Meir and has had no time to heal or any chance to get treatment), and Geralt starts yelling at Jaskier about betrayal, about him not thinking about a child (Ciri), about him having betrayed him for a petty and vile reason, etc. Use your imagination here. I think of something that reaches the point where Jaskier starts to believe in all of this due to his state of mental weakness. Geralt decides they need to leave the fortress, leaving Jaskier behind. Being left behind again makes Jaskier even worse… and he goes into an even worse state of denial and self-hatred. Jaskier feels that he himself actually told about Ciri's location and the fortress and that he betrayed Geralt… alone in Kaer Morhen, Rience appears again and confronts the bard again about where they are… But among the conversation, Rience begins mocking Jaskier and removes the spell to show the marks he left on his body… he begins to torture the bard again, even psychologically. Yennefer, already in doubt, as she didn't believe that the bard had told Rience anything before saving him, opens a portal from where she is with Geralt to the fortress… where she finds Rience hurting Jaskier… She rescues the bard who is already dying and without Rience's spell that hid his injuries. Yen takes the bard to where she was with Geralt… that's when the witcher sees Jaskier's real state… and when Yennefer tells him what she heard from Rience while he was torturing Jaskier… that it was easy to manipulate Geralt about the bard, because after all, he never trusted Jaskier and never considered him a friend or someone he should protect. Jaskier is in an even more critical state due to his injuries and Geralt begs Yennefer to heal him. Yennefer: I'm trying, trying! But look at him! My magic needs his body to respond to heal! But he has old wounds, his body has not healed from them, he is very weak! It's not reacting. Jaskier then goes into cardiac arrest, right before Geralt's eyes. Detail: Jaskier in front lying on the ground, motionless… Yennefer trying to revive him… he's not breathing… but Geralt can still see the marks of his own fingers on Jaskier's neck, the moment he pushed him in the pilaster and said he didn't consider him anything. That he was wrong to trust a bard, accustomed to frivolities… especially a bard like him, who would trade anyone for a new lute. That he should have gotten rid of him sooner, before he came to destroy the only important thing in his life… Ciri. Yes, I want drama! Sadness, I want excitement! aahahahahaha

Oh em geeeee, that's so tragic!!! And fucked up! I love it~ Would love to read it at some point, if anyone is in the mood to write aaaangst!!! We got another lovely idea from @oonoturna, always spoiling us!

[grlsbstshot]

NEON LIGHTS

Pairing (Original Characters):

Jameson Lucas (Aaron Pierre) x Imani St. Cirie (Megan thee Stallion) Genie Adesanya (Jayme Lawson) x Ellington “EJ” Dupree (Kelvin Harrison Jr.)

Chapters:

Neon Lights Masterlist

Chapter Synopsis: The Aspen Aftermath

Warnings: 18+ (!!!!! -- minors dni), mentions of cheating, toxic relationship, parental abandonment mention, mentions of therapy -- if we missed anything, let us know!

Word Count: 7.5k

Divider Template: @cafekitsune

Notes: 

The following characters are original creations. Their voice claims are Usher / Lucky Daye (Jameson) & Summer Walker / SZA (Imani). We have no affiliation to any of those artists.

Strangely, the flight to Los Angeles somehow felt less lonely than the one she took to Aspen. This time she didn’t have Isaiah. She was by herself but her heart was full. Her vibrant smile, radiating with happiness, caught the attention of the stewardess and pilot as they asked about her glow. All she could say was: “I just got some good news.”

A small chuckle escaped her lips as she settled into her seat. Gazing out the window, Imani’s mind was filled with thoughts of her recent trip to Aspen. It had been a messy yet clarifying experience, especially with Jameson unexpectedly returning to her life.

It upended not only Jameson and Imani’s lives but also Isaiah and Camille’s. Isaiah wasted no time taking his grievances to Instagram. He posted vague messages on his Instagram story that sparked speculation from the tabloids. His words didn’t affect her much. 

She shared a little jab of her own at the basketball player on Instagram, then she went about her day. She was unaware of Genie and Jameson’s posts and EJ’s DM to Isaiah until later, but even then, she didn’t care. Her friends were only having her back in the situation.

Camille, on the other hand, was radio silent. The group hadn’t heard a single word from her since she left Aspen. It was probably for the best. Imani learned about Camille’s betrayal to Jameson days ago and she already reserved more than triple the rage for Camille than she felt for Sloane. It was an on-sight policy if she ever ran into either one of them. 

A soft ping broke through the silence of the airplane, jolting Imani out of her thoughts. With a quick glance down at her lap, she saw a text message from Jameson waiting for her.

[forever mine ❤️]: miss u already. let me know when you land.

A wide, genuine grin spread across her face as she reminisced about their earlier conversation.

“Come back to New York with me, baby. I want more time with you,” Jameson pleaded, his intense gaze fixed on her. His large hands rested gently and possessively on her hips as she stood between her legs, her own hands resting on his broad shoulders.

She couldn’t help but tease him in return. “Damn, you feenin’ for me bad, ain’t you?” Her playful tone masked her true desire. She wanted nothing more than to fly off to New York with him, to spend every moment in his arms to recoup all of the time they lost.

He pulled her even closer to his body and she wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her head against the top of his head. “Mhm. Just like you feenin’ for me,” he murmured against her skin. “So stop playing and come with me.”

Imani shook her head slightly, torn between wanting to be with him and the realities of their busy lives. She remembered telling him they should never spend a night apart again, but she had responsibilities. “I can’t, Jay. I have some important meetings with the label.”

“You could do a video conference.” Jameson placed small kisses against her neck, making his offer appetizing. Yet, she shook her head and pulled away slightly. 

“I can’t, baby. Besides, I think we need to spend a week apart so we can miss each other.” She sighed, knowing they needed this brief separation to evaluate everything that had happened.

“Well, I miss you already,” Jameson admitted, his voice laced with sincerity.

“I miss you too,” she replied softly.

The wheels of the plane touched down on the runway long ago. Her bags were swiftly loaded into the sleek black SUV, and she was settled comfortably in the plush leather backseat as the blurred lights of Los Angeles passed by. She was just about to send a text to Jameson, letting him know she had arrived safely when a phone call from her aunt Toni interrupted her.

Imani hesitated, knowing the conversation was inevitable. Toni’s friendship with Anaïs and the messy tabloids surrounding the trip, she was bound to know at least a little about what transpired. Imani’s finger hovered over the “ignore” button, but ultimately, she pressed “answer.”

“Hello,” she said cautiously.

“I heard you had quite the time in Aspen.” Toni said, forgoing any greeting. Imani should have known that Toni would be business first. She worked in PR – she knew what a good look was and the shit with Isaiah online was anything but that.

“I-um, it was fun,” Imani replied hesitantly. Only Toni had the power to leave her at a loss for words like this. She didn’t know how to absolve herself of guilt over what had happened between her and Jameson. “Jameson and I are working through our differences and getting back together.”

At that moment, Imani forgot that they were supposed to keep their relationship a secret. But who was she kidding? Toni seemed to have a sixth sense about these things — she probably already knew everything.

“I thought you were done with him last year. Didn’t you say he wasn’t the right man for you?”

“I did…but I can’t live without him, Auntie." Imani admitted with a heavy sigh. “He’s the love of my life, my soulmate.”

“Imani, what are you doing?” Toni’s voice held a hint of concern and exasperation.

“What do you mean?”

“First you break things off with Jameson then you jump into three different relationships in the span of six months, and now you’re back with him? What’s going to be different this time?”

Imani fell into silence as she struggled to find an answer to Toni’s question. What was going to be different? She had thought that love would be enough to get them through anything, but clearly, that wasn’t the case.

Toni sighed, breaking the silence. “Listen, I like Jameson. You know I do. His mother is my best friend. But even I knew to keep him away from you when you two were growing up.” 

“What the fuc–”

The silence on the other end of the phone was blistering. Toni didn’t take bullshit or disrespect. From anyone. “I mean…I’m sorry, Auntie. But excuse me?” It wasn’t a secret that Toni and Anais were good friends. Everybody knew that. But Imani didn’t realize that it wasn’t just coincidence she and Jameson didn’t meet until a few years ago.

“Thank you for getting yourself together.” Toni responded crisply. “Jamie – for all his positive traits – is almost exactly like his father. And you, my baby, are exactly like me. Hard exterior, all soft heart inside.”

Imani was silent — something that happened so rarely, it was astonishing. She didn't know his father but Imani knew herself. She was all heart for Jameson and always would be. 

“You two need to make sure this is really what you want, or else you’ll just end up right back where you were before.”

As much as Imani hated to admit it, her aunt was right. They needed to approach their relationship with a new mindset if they wanted it to work this time around. “You’re…you’re right,” she said slowly, finally finding the words to speak. “I’ll talk to him about it,” she promised.

“Good. We need to have lunch soon. I have some opportunities for you that you might be interested in.” Toni said confidently.

“Okay, we’ll talk,” Imani agreed, grateful for her auntie’s support and guidance. After saying their goodbyes, Imani ended the call and opened her text thread with Jameson, typing quickly about her flight home. But before she could send the message, he beat her by sending one.  

[forever mine ❤️]: i made it back to ny baby. wishin you were here with me.

The city's noise was background -- filtered through the glass doors of the quiet french bistro she'd decided to have lunch at. The faint hum of music played overhead but she couldn't place the song. Camille adjusted the silk scarf around her neck, a small attempt to present herself as composed, even though her heart still felt tender from the events in Aspen. 

Breaking up with Jameson had been difficult. She cried the entire flight home, isolated herself in her penthouse, and watched with horror as Isaiah put on a stunningly obvious show. Despite her anger and hurt, she had refrained from lashing out at Jameson -- probably because she knew he wouldn't hesitate to tell the whole story. After watching Isaiah's crash out, she wasn't interested in being the next one. She hadn't even unfollowed anybody. Camille simply logged out of Instagram and focused on herself. 

It was over. Why prolong the pain? 

Her personal development was important and after the mess of a woman she had become to wrap Jameson around her finger, Camille was more interested in sorting herself out than getting revenge. 

Reaching out to Kendrick and thanking him for driving her to the airport had been just good manners. After her behavior during his daughter’s engagement vacation, she felt it was important to show him a good side to who she was. He’d been gracious with his acceptance – had even been kind enough to accept her offer to buy him lunch. It was a surprise but Camille was determined to show him she wasn’t some deranged crazy woman who had lied to the man he considered to be his son. She was a normal girl who had lost her way a little bit.

When Kendrick arrived, his tall frame and calm demeanor instantly brought a sense of ease to the space. He greeted her with a warm smile, his eyes seemingly assessing – wanting to see if she was something his daughter should hate.

"Camille," he said, pulling out the chair across from her, "Thank you for inviting me. You didn’t have to though. I was doing what anyone else would have done.”

She shook her head, a soft laugh escaping her lips. "This isn’t about Aspen, not really. I just wanted to thank you. I’ve been…reflecting on things. You getting me out of there was the start of me wanting to change things in my life. You were being kind when I was falling apart...it meant a lot." 

Kendrick studied her for a moment before nodding. "I figured you might’ve needed a kind face. And, truthfully, I couldn’t let you leave like that without knowing you were okay." 

The waiter interrupted briefly, taking their orders, and as the conversation resumed, the initial formality began to melt away. They talked about the trip, about New York, and Camille’s plans to refocus on herself – of which he completely approved.

"I saw the posts," Camille admitted, swirling her glass of water absentmindedly. "Imani and Isaiah... It’s a mess.”

“Yes. It is.” Kendrick agreed with a nod of his head. His gaze came to her and softened. “But Jameson told me…everything. How you two ended. It's understandable. He feels guilty.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to say that he should but she knew it was bitterness. She hadn't been honest with him but she didn't deserve for those two to carry on under the same roof as her. She scanned that whole weekend wondering if it happened more than once. Did they fuck and then laugh about her not knowing? Was she their foreplay? “It's…it doesn't matter. I realized I don’t want to be part of that strange, toxic thing they've got going on. I’ve been bitter, jealous, and honestly...It's exhausting. I need to move forward." 

Kendrick tilted his head slightly, his expression thoughtful. "That’s a mature way to look at it. Not everyone can step back and admit when it’s time to let go." 

Camille smiled faintly. "I didn’t want to end up stuck in a loop of what-ifs. Jameson and I were doomed from the night we met." She hesitated, her gaze flickering to Kendrick. "But I think I’m ready to start fresh." 

The spark between them became undeniable as the conversation deepened. Kendrick shared stories of his past, his voice steady and soothing, while Camille found herself laughing and leaning in closer. It wasn’t until the waiter brought the check that they realized how much time had passed. 

As they stepped out into the crisp New York air, Camille turned to him, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement and trepidation. "I know this might seem…insane. But I feel like there’s something here? I don’t know what it is yet, but I’d like to find out." 

Kendrick hesitated, his hands slipping into his coat pockets as he searched for the right words. "Camille, you’re...a wonderful girl. But this is everything you aren’t looking for. It’s messy. It’s complicated. Jameson is—" 

"Jameson and I are over," she interrupted gently. "And I’m not looking for anything messy. I just... I feel something, and I don’t want to ignore it." 

She could see him waver, the loyalty to his family overcoming the brief spark of something between them. 

“I’m very flattered, Camille. But I think it’d be best for us to leave things at…mutual appreciation.”

Disappointment set into her frame, slumping her shoulders. One afternoon with Kendrick had been more exciting than six months with Jameson. She couldn't help but think about what would have happened if she had met him first. “I…I understand. Thank you again. I'll never forget your kindness.”

He opened his mouth to say more but Camille turned on her heel and strode away, embarrassment tinting her skin.

Jameson cradled his phone between his shoulder and ear as he leaned against the kitchen counter, flipping through the images on his iPad. The suggestions for Midnight & Dawn’s next video shoots were missing something. His original plan had been to make Caught Up a single. Camille was meant to star but after his relationship with her had imploded, he wanted to move forward with something else. That meant his team had a week and a half to pick a new single, and storyboard a video. It wasn’t fully working. He couldn’t figure out what it was driving him crazy. “I’m not saying it’s shit. I’m just – it’s missing something.” He mumbled into the phone. His PR agent, manager, and creative director were on a conference call, doing their best to help him pull things together. 

The week he had taken off to celebrate Genie and EJ hadn’t caused any plans to hit a snag but he was feeling overwhelmed by the level of decision-making he had to involve himself in. He had only been back in time a few days and everything was radically different. No Camille, new second single, new plans, EJ and Genie were engaged. And most importantly, he had Imani back. He was a different man than the one who had arrived in Aspen with his life ‘together’. 

“We can always regroup, Jay.” He heard his creative director say with patience but he knew she had to be frustrated. They’d spent a month beforehand planning all this shit out. 

“I know, I know. I’m just…I’m sorry. We’ll table everything but single two for now.” His focus was shot. All he thought about was Imani. He cycled between being frustrated she wasn’t with him and trying to keep his head above water. It was a blessing to be overwhelmed this way. The album had hit platinum quickly and people wanted more far sooner than he thought they would. 

“I’m thinking we drop the next single soon. Give people something more to talk about. Build it with a few performances and then when the video is done, we drop it.” his PR agent said. It was a solid outline. 

Jameson nodded before verbally agreeing. “Turnaround is going to be tight but I think we’ve got it.”

The conversation continued, his mind racing with plans to keep the momentum going. The double album was his most ambitious project yet, and every detail mattered. He barely heard the sound of the doorbell over his thoughts, distractedly he made his way to the front door. When he opened it, he froze.

Imani stood on the stoop, the cold night air curling around her in soft wisps. She wore a long coat, her hands tucked into the pockets, and her eyes held a mixture of hesitation and determination.

“You just gone stand there?” she said, her voice gentle but teasing. “It’s cold out here, boy.”

Jameson’s heart slammed against his ribs. “I gotta go.” He mumbled to his team, ignoring their continued chattering. He lowered the phone from his ear and hung up, completely forgetting everything that had annoyed him. “You’re here.”

He gave her a stunned grin before stepping aside, wordlessly inviting her in. She stepped inside his home for the first time ever as Jameson snagged her suitcase and heaved it inside. There was a beat of silence between them. He could smell her perfume and it settled in his bones that she was with him. It seemed to snap him out of his daze.

“I like your house, baby.”

Jameson’s gaze swept her body – from head to toe – as she walked around his living room. He committed her to memory as if she’d disappear. He had done his best not to envision her there. It was essential to give his relationship with Camille a chance. But Cami was gone. He wasn’t ignoring his heart anymore. And his heart felt glad to see her in his space. He dropped her suitcase and cast it aside.

“Thank you.” He spoke softly, a grin on his lips. “How'd you know where I lived?”

“Genie” she answered with ease. “She even offered me your key.”

Jameson laughed softly. “Well, thank God for Genie. I thought we needed to miss each other?”

Imani peered over her shoulder at him, shrugging as she kept walking. Through his living room and into the kitchen. “...I did miss you.”

He grinned, reaching for her, and was delighted she didn’t make him chase her. “I missed you more.”

Jameson lay sprawled on his back, his chest rising and falling steadily. Imani lay on top of him, her fingertips lazily tracing the contours of his skin. He kissed her neck softly, unable to let her go. His lips pressed to her skin constantly, soaking up every sigh or moan she gave him.

Her touch was light, deliberate, and distracting. He let out a quiet hum of contentment, his hand slipping beneath the sheet to glide along the curve of her hip.

“You’re quiet,” he teased, his voice low and rough. “I stressed you out?”

Imani smiled against his chest, her lips brushing his skin. “I’m just enjoying the view,” she murmured, her tone playful.

“What a coincidence. Me too,” he said with a grin, earning a soft pinch to his side.

She laughed, the sound warm and intimate, before falling silent again. A few moments passed before she broke the stillness.

“I told my auntie about us,” she said softly, her voice hinting at trepidation.

Jameson’s chest shook beneath her cheek as he let out a quiet laugh. “Already? I thought I was the one that couldn’t keep a secret.” Toni had come into his mother’s life when he was a kid. His father had left and Toni became their support. At least until Anais began dating Kendrick. But as far back as he could remember, Toni was around. And she didn’t hesitate to fuss at him.

“Shut up.” Imani muttered, lifting her head to look at him. “She called me when I got back to Los Angeles. The shit with Isaiah was…A lot.” Imani admitted, “And I couldn’t lie.”

Jameson raised an eyebrow, his fingers idly tracing the small of her back. “I can only guess what Toni had to say. Something about it not being a good idea? ‘You can’t trust him, Mani baby’ or something close?” It didn’t matter that she was his mom’s best friend, she disapproved heavily of Jameson and Imani getting together. She hadn’t been shy about it at all.

Imani’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “Not exactly. She said we’d better be serious this time. No games, no drama.”

“Well, she and I agree for once,” he murmured, his tone thoughtful but tinged with humor. “I’m not letting you go again. I’m not living without you anymore. I’ve had enough of that to last me a lifetime.”

Her expression softened, and she shifted to lay on the bed, her body pressing to his side as she rose on her elbow, her hair spilling over her shoulder as she looked down at him. “That’s why I was thinking... maybe –” She struggled to say the words and Jameson’s eyes were wide with surprise. She didn’t hesitate and she didn’t stutter. “Maybe…we…we should try couples therapy.”

If he wasn’t laying down, Jameson would have fallen over. His hand stilled against her back, his gaze locking onto hers. “That’s not a bad idea, baby.” he said, his voice steady and sincere. “Therapy has helped me work through a lot. And if it can help with us too...” He reached up, brushing a stray curl from her face. “I’m in. I want it, Mani. All of it. I want you. I want us.”

A slow smile spread across her lips, and she leaned down, her breath warm against his skin. “I want us too,” she whispered, her voice laced with quiet intensity. “More than anything.”

Her lips found his, soft and searching, and he responded in kind, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of her neck. The kiss deepened, and for a moment, the rest of the world ceased to exist. When they finally broke apart, she rested her forehead against his, a contented sigh escaping her lips.

“Think Toni will be proud of us for therapy?” Jameson asked, his voice teasing as his fingers danced along her arm.

Imani laughed softly, “Knowing her, she’d never say it. But even if she isn’t, it’s not about her. It’s about us.”

“Just us.” Jameson agreed, pulling her body over his again. For the first time in a long time, everything felt right.

Kendrick stretched out on his couch, one arm draped over the back, phone in hand. He stared at Anaïs’ name on the screen, his thumb hovering over the call button. He should’ve told her about Camille days ago, but every time he thought about it, something held him back.

Maybe it was how easy things felt between them lately, how after all these years, their friendship still stood solid despite everything they’d been through. Maybe it was the part of him that still wanted her to see him the way she used to. Whatever it was, he couldn’t get the words out of his mouth. If Anais asked if he was tempted — what could he say but the truth? He was. Kendrick exhaled, shaking off the thought, and hit the button. He had to tell her. Nobody gave him better advice than she did. He had to know how to broach the topic with Jameson.

The phone barely rang before she answered. “Ken.” Just his name, warm and familiar. A small smile tugged at his lips despite the weight in his chest.

“Hey,” he said, relaxing into the sound of her voice. “You busy?”

“Un-uh,” she said, and he could hear the rustling of fabric, like she was settling into bed. “I was actually thinking about you.”

That shouldn’t have made his heart kick the way it did.

“Oh yeah?” he murmured. “What about me?”

She sighed softly. “I needed somebody to talk to.” “You can talk to me about anything.” “I know. I..I heard from my mother today.”

Kendrick’s easy grin faded. He sat up, gripping the phone a little tighter. “What?” Anais and her mother didn’t get along. He didn’t know details but the two women had a fairly complicated relationship. He had only met her once…and it had been a disaster of a dinner. Ana had been in tears by the time it was over and her mother was uninvited from their wedding. It had been horrifying. He doubted the two would ever talk again.

“It was an email. She didn’t call.” Her voice was calm, like this was any other conversation, but Kendrick felt the shift and he didn’t like it.

“What’d she want?” Kendrick asked, sharper than he intended.

Anaïs sighed. “JG would like to talk to me.”

His heart dropped into his stomach. JG. Julian Gautreau. Jameson’s father. He was a ghost haunting them during their relationship and now he was haunting their friendship. Kendrick watched with envy as the two made a life together. He hated Julian — envy made things complicated. As Anais’ star rose, Julian withdrew more and more. He became a mystery to any and everyone around Ana. He was Mr. Anais Lucas…and he couldn’t take it. Eventually, he abandoned her and their son. Even though he was gone, the effects him lingered. Anais found it hard to trust. Jameson suffered the most. How dare he come back twenty years later?

“JG is a fucking—,” Kendrick muttered. “Ken, please.”

He could tell that she was getting upset so Kendrick stopped but he could feel the anger almost suffocating him.

“He asked about Jamie. Said he saw him on tv and could hardly believe that was his son,” she said carefully. “Wanted to know how he was doing. He—he told me he regrets everything.”

Kendrick scoffed. “Twenty years too fucking late.”

“I know,” she murmured.

But there was something in her tone—something soft. And it made something ugly twist inside Kendrick. For years, he had been the one beside her, the one who stayed. He helped pick up the pieces, he raised Jameson, he made sure she never felt alone. He knew her pain better than anyone. And now, what? One conversation and suddenly this man had a place in her thoughts?

“He doesn’t deserve your time, Anaïs,” Kendrick said, his voice low.

“I never said he did,” she replied gently. “But Jameson is his son.”

Silence stretched between them. Normally, it would have been comfortable. Tonight, it wasn’t. Kendrick’s fingers tightened around his phone. Jameson was his son? Then what was he supposed to be to him? He had called to tell her about Camille. He had called because Anaïs mattered too much to keep things from her. But now, jealousy had a stranglehold on his thoughts.

“I gotta go,” he muttered.

“Ken—”

He hung up before she could say anything else. The action shocking him. His jaw clenched as he stared at his phone. He didn’t like this feeling. Didn’t like the way it made him feel like he had something to prove. Without thinking, he scrolled through his contacts. Camille’s name stared back at him.

He had rejected her for his son. For Anais. She sparked something in him — something that hadn’t been touched since Anais left him — and he had walked away from it. It seemed to be for nothing.

Kendrick hit call.

She picked up instantly, her voice timid and hesitant. “I…I didn’t think I’d hear from you again. Hi.”

Kendrick leaned back, sighing. His chest still felt tight. “That date you wanted? I’m free.”

She was quiet, surprise evident. “I…I thought you said —” “I did. And I was right. But…you were right too. There’s something there. And I don’t think we should look away from it.”

Five minutes later, they had made a date. But it didn’t make him feel better.

The air in New York felt suffocating, a stark contrast to the playful energy she felt when she first arrived. Now, there was only silence — a heavy, all-consuming silence that seemed to grow larger with each passing moment. His house was colder than the city air in January. If she knew that therapy would end with them not talking, she wouldn’t have suggested it.

Imani sat stiffly on the couch, her discomfort palpable as she avoided making eye contact with Jameson. He sat just a few feet away on a barstool, but it might as well have been football fields between them. The tension in the room was thick and suffocating, mirroring the atmosphere of their relationship.

“So this it? It’s just gonna be silent for the rest of the time you’re here?” Jameson’s words cut through the air like a knife. His deep baritone voice, normally soothing to Imani, now sounded like a chair dragged across a wooden floor.

“The fuck else do we have to talk about? You said it all in therapy.” Imani shot back, her tone dripping with bitterness and resentment.

“Why’d you suggest therapy if you wasn’t with it?” Jameson turned to face her full, their eyes locking in a tense stare-down.

“I didn’t know it would turn into the ‘fuck Imani’ fest.”“You know that’s not what it was.”

“Yes it was! You were so comfortable telling a stranger everything I did wrong.” She scoffed. “Then the bitch had the nerve to say she don’t think we should be together. And then you gon’ say let’s hear her out.”

“I told her my dirt too! That’s what therapy is! You talk, you tell the truth. You figure out a way to live the best possible way you can.” Jameson retorted, “You didn’t even want to talk about shit. You just wanted to pretend.”

“Nah, that’s not it.” She shook her head. Her leg now bouncing like it had a mind of its own. “That’s not it. I would rather play pretend to a bitch than have her thinkin’ she can tell me what to do with my life like she did you. She don’t fuckin’ know me. She don’t know us!”

Jameson froze, the jab of him doing what his therapist told him to do sinking in. “Do you hear yourself?” he asked, incredulous as he leaned forward on the bar stool. 

She glared at him with disbelief. “Yeah, what the fuck is wrong with what I’m sayin’? That bitch don’t know us. She only knows what you tell her.”

“That’s why you tell her the truth! What did I lie about, Imani?”

“I never said you lied,” Imani snapped back. “I said she don’t know us. She don’t know all the good shit we have goin’ on. That’s why she was so quick to say we don’t need to be together.”

“That’s not what she said. She suggested that we evaluate if we should be together. That’s her job. We’ve both said we aren’t good for each other, Mani. Just because she said that shit doesn’t mean we’re going to break up!”

“Okay, you ain’t supposed to be agreeing with her though! You was too quick to say let’s hear her out.”

“We should! I’m not saying she’s right about everything but at least let her finish talking before you get defensive. And she had a point about the way we use sex against each other, Mani, you have to admit that”

Imani scoffed, “she probably not even gettin’ good dick. That’s why she said that.”

Jameson rolled his eyes, brushing his hand over his face in frustration. “You’re acting like she had something against you. You mean as fuck right now.”

“And you being too nice about a bitch you don’t even know!”

“Should I do like you? Lash out because somebody made a valid point about our broken ass relationship?”

“Oh fuck you, Jameson,” Imani spat back at him. “At least one of us is sticking up for us.”

Jameson laughed sardonically, shaking his head. “Well, it’s about time you decided we’re worth fighting for.”

Imani’s eyes narrowed as she retorted, “nigga, fuck you!” 

“Mhm. Yeah. Since it upset you so much, we don’t have to go back. Happy?”

Her glare intensified as she murmured, “Fine with me,” Imani crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “You probably fucked her anyways.”

He stared at her for a long moment, silent before he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. A minute passed before he spoke again – his voice tense. “I love you but you pissing me off. I’ma take a walk. I’ll be back with dinner. You want something?” He was clearly forcing himself to be calm.

“Nope. I’m fine.” She answered quickly with a sharp tone. Right now, Imani didn’t want anything from him. Jameson being out of her sight sounded more appealing than anything else. 

With a roll of his eyes, Jameson rose from the bar stool and headed out the front door. It clicked closed softly behind him – not the slam she expected.

Paris had been good for her — time to think, to breathe, to put distance between herself and everything that had kept her stagnant. She’d worked on herself, on her art, on her emotional baggage. She’d tried to forget about Jameson, or at least push the ache of him to the back of her mind, but it hadn’t been easy. Especially when she heard about his reunion with Imani. Part of her knew that exposing Camille had done that but Sloane didn’t particularly care. Her former friend had really thought she could double cross her. Even if it meant putting Jamie and that girl back together — she wasn’t going to let Camille beat her.

Sloane had always been good at pretending — good at being the supportive friend, the person who kept her feelings in check, who never let her emotions get in the way of getting things from others. But now, as she passed through the sliding glass doors and out into the crisp, early evening air of Los Angeles, the facade cracked just a little. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, the familiar sound almost jarring in the quiet of the night. She pulled it out, her heart skipping when she saw the name flashing on the screen. It was a text from Christian.

"Long time no talk. I hope you’re okay, Lo."

Sloane hesitated, her thumb hovering over the screen as she thought about her answer. Paris had been a beautiful distraction, but she was still the same person, still struggling with the same feelings she had when she left. Christian had put his feelings away. He didn’t mention Imani to her, he didn’t hang around her. He knew when to let go. Sloane wish she had that instinct. Her fingers typed quickly, a simple response: "It was good. Needed some time away."

She hit send and stuffed the phone back in her pocket, stepping into a car waiting at the curb as she left the building. As the car pulled away, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread creeping up her spine. She was home, yes, but nothing felt the same. It felt like she was walking into someone else’s life.

The car sped through the city, lights flickering by in a blur. She could already see the places she’d been—places that now held memories of a life that felt too far away. She wasn’t the same person who had left months ago. She had changed, but Los Angeles hadn’t. And maybe that was the problem.

Her apartment building loomed ahead, the comforting sight of it suddenly feeling a little less familiar. The doors opened, and she stepped inside, taking a breath before making her way to the elevator. When the doors closed, it felt like she was closing off a chapter. But what came next? That was the question she still couldn’t answer.

Sloane’s phone buzzed again. Another text from Christian. "Dinner tonight? Let’s catch up."

She smiled, her heart lifting just a little. It was a sweet offer but she had far too much to do."Busy tonight. Tomorrow?" As the elevator doors opened, Sloane stepped out into the hallway. Her apartment, still the same, greeted her with a silence that felt heavy, a silence that only seemed to echo her uncertainty. But she was here. She was back. She could still hear herself screaming, watching Jameson walk away from her. A shudder ran through her body as she shook the memory away.

She was going to fix it. Everything would be fine. And he’d never walk away from her again.

[blooms-in-april]

The front door slams open, the wreath swinging and everyone looks up. A man steps in.

“Jaskier!” Ciri cries. The little girl tears herself free from her father’s arms, making grabby hands at the newcomer’s blue coat. Geralt looks as if he’s taken too large a bite out of a pie and gotten it lodged in his throat.

“Your highness!” Jaskier says, doffing his hat and swinging his lute off his shoulder. He sweeps past both Geralt and Lambert without a glance, crouching to his knees at Ciri’s level. His calloused fingers strum a jaunty tune to the rhyme of Ciri’s excited bouncing.

“Princess Cirilla! An honor to be at your service.” He makes a dramatic bow, letting her paw at his feathered hat, his hair, his beard.

“I’m a lion, Jaskier!” she says, pointing a grubby finger at her drawn on whiskers and nose.

“And so you are,” he says, as if the ridiculous declarations of children were the most obvious and sensible things in the world. “Princess Ciri, the Lion Cub of Cintra! I’ll have to write a song about that.”

“A song!” Ciri’s eyes grow wide. Jaskier smiles.

“At least! Perhaps I can get a whole song cycle out of it, how does that sound?”

“Can I have my sword in it?”

“You can have two swords in it, if you want. Three swords. As many swords as you like!”

Ciri squeals and leaps into his arms, his arms circling her gently, careful not to crush her princess dress. Lambert watches something in Geralt’s face crumple quietly.

“Jaskier.” Geralt says, and Jaskier looks at him from over Ciri’s shoulder.

“Geralt.” he responds cautiously, in a tone Lambert has never heard from him before. In all the years he’s watched the bard trail in his brother's wake, singing praises, never once has he heard a cautious word from him. And yet, here it is. “How are you, lately?”

“I-” and Lambert would laugh, watching Geralt chew and swallow his words rather than spit them out, if it didn’t make something hard lodge in his own throat. “I’m- glad you could make it.”

Jaskier waits, for a beat, two, as if expecting something more. Geralt says nothing.

Jaskier smiles, a thin wan little thing. “Well, I could hardly miss it, could I? Being properly invited after some many years of simply crashing the thing,” he says lightly, looking around at the blinking lights, the molting tree, the tinsel worn after being reused year after year. “You’d think it’d be different, after it all, but it seems everything is just the same as always.” There is a quick sharp glance, like broken glass.

Geralt opens his mouth, pauses, shuts it. Opens, and shuts again.

Jaskier turns back to Ciri and her excited song suggestions as if they are the only two people in the world, letting her lead him off into the corner to inspect the presents under the tree. Geralt sits stupidly on the carpet, as if he’s been shoved through a portal and left nauseous on the other side, with no idea of where he is and how to get back.

Now Lambert does laugh, a short sharp bark of a thing.“What the fuck was that?”

Geralt says nothing, only heaves himself up and stalks into the kitchen without a word.

Excerpt from my angsty modern AU Geraskier Lambden Lamskier fic. Link below 👇

[caffieneaddictt18]

Moment of Peace

sorceress!reader travels with geralt and ciri as their healer and ciris mother figure as geralts wife. one relaxing day, reader shows ciri a little party trick that geralt doesnt know yet. ends with geralt and reader play fighting about why she didnt show him but showed ciri; and them all acting like a family

(not my image)

As we finally settle in a meadow, surrounded by forest, I let out a sigh of relief. The feeling of sun against my face and the soft soil beneath me feels amazing.

"Ciri! Y/N! Go collect water. I'll be right back." Geralt commands, but before he can leave to collect wood and sustenance for the night, you stop him and give him a quick kiss.

"Be safe."

"Always am."

Those simple four words are all you need before you walk off into the forest for a few yards, before you come upon a clear water stream. You see Ciri standing in the water and feeling the sun while collecting water. As you join her in the water, she looks up.

"So... why do you allow him to order you around if you're his wife?" Ciri, blunt as ever, asks, not understanding that this is Geralt's way of showing his love.

"He doesn't 'order' me around. It's his way of keeping us safe. I'm a mage and can keep you safe. You're training and can keep me safe. Plus, he goes off and does the dangerous hunting, so we don't have to. It's his way of showing love." I explain his actions and why I react without losing my patience with the way Geralt talks to me.

"Oh. I didn't think about it like that." Ciri ticks her head to the side and continues to collect water.

"Geralt isn't conventional. But he is exactly how I want him. I wouldn't want it any other way." I start towards the bank of the river and continue walking along the greenery of the forest.

As Ciri looked on as you walked, she watched in mystery. The forest seemed to bend to your will. The trees would part to make a path for you and the stones would roll out of the way, leaving only soft soil for you to walk on.

As you both reached your camp site, Geralt was dragging a large deer, and a cloth behind him that was filled. Probably with wood.

You and Ciri both put your jugs down as Geralt drops the sack of wood off near you and walks to the trees to skin the animal for food & it's hide.

You have the sense to build the fire and let Ciri light it later. She's normally sleepy when you build the fire. Makes it easier.

As you both run around, you find a good size patch of daisies.

"Ciri!" You call over the girl, "Come here!"

The blonde girl runs over to see what you're looking at.

"Would you like to learn how to make a daisy chain? You can even put one on Geralt, if you'd like." You throw out the tempting offer to make the Witcher seem silly.

And Ciri quickly agrees. You sit down, careful to avoid the daisies, and show her how to make a daisy chain/flower crown.

As the sun is no longer at its nice, warm heat and enters the baking heat, you take Ciri down to the stream again to clean up. 'The sun will dry us faster' was your reasoning to drag the girl with you.

As you are cleaning your clothes and yourself off, you see Ciri doing the same. Perfect.

"Hey, Ciri! Would you like to see something?"

"Um... What is it?"

"I promise, no harm will come unto you from me. It's just a little party trick."

"Ok..." She waded closer to you as you met her in the middle of the stream.

You magically gathered the sweat and water from Ciri and yourself, throwing it into the air and condensing the clouds around the sun to have more water, allowing the clouds to form a sort of circle around the sun. As the sun continues to shine, the clouds begin turn colors... briefly pink, then a light green, and there's a light blue! (Refer to the picture at the top)

Ciri looks at the sky in awe. "You can do this?" She points to the clouds.

"Yes. When I was at Aretuza, they taught not just politics and magic. They taught basic sciences. This was one of those. I had asked my teacher why there as a rainbow after every rainfall. She explained it to me. Since then, I had been practicing it until I was able to perfect it. Took a couple tries, but it came one day, and it stayed."

"And you never showed me?" A deep, hulking voice inquired from the shadows. Of course, the yellow cat-like eyes gave him away.

"I'm sorry, Geralt. I thought of it as a mere party trick. And it's not like it is helpful when we are off on adventures." I laugh and 'apologize' for not showing my husband sooner.

"You better be sorry!" He charges out of the woods and into the stream, getting both you and Ciri wet again, before lifting you by the waist and carrying you back to base on his shoulder. Everyone was laughing and peace was covering the three of them.

Just a moment of peace.

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Author's Cup of Tea:

I am so sorry the ending was bad. I didn't know what to put for the ending so I winged it. Thank you all so much for your love and support of my work! I love to see everyone enjoying it.

[vesemirsexual]

insane to me how some people characterise lambert in tw3 as a simple prick or angry asshole when his on-going narrative theme is grief like.

first we have aiden. who lambert is clearly angry and grieving about, who we know was a rare close friend on the path and someone who he had an extremely high opinion of.

then we have his mother (+ by extension his childhood) and there’s very clear grief there arising from a child trying to protect a parent from domestic violence.

and then there’s voltehre. again, lamberts grief is the angry kind, but it’s clearly a significant memory and a significant loss for him.

and then there’s vesemir. and it’s easy to see on the surface how maybe you could think that lambert viewed him as nothing more than an abusive prick but the fact is that he immediately rebukes yennefer the second he doesn’t like her tone about the old man. he clearly says that vesemir could have his sword when he died and that it fits perfectly in his hand, and like i can only imagine how that conversation even came to be. lambert hates kaer morhen but still comes back; likewise, we know that vesemir has no problem telling people they’re not welcome at kaer morhen, and yet they fight and fight and they both still end up back there, and lambert seriously pisses him off and vesemir is the one who fucks off for a whole month. and it’s more apparent if keira isn’t present, but lambert is devastated at his funeral, the person most effected after ciri.

lambert is anger on the surface, and under all that is just grief after grief.