#and like the only stake if they lose is that whoever loses has to join the society of light which is bad yes very not great

[aberooski]

I know they're already trapped in cyberspace as it is, but I never understood why Sarina turned Syrus and Hassleberry into a dinosaur and a car as opposed to like, locking them up in there or actually putting them in danger? Like if you want the stakes to feel actually important to the duel like maybe I should actually have to worry about what will happen to them if Jaden and Aster lose...?

I dunno it doesn't really matter, like obviously it's entirely possible that the thing is just that they're just bait for Jaden so it doesn't really matter what she does with them because all she needs is to get Jaden and Aster there so she can test them in a duel so once they get there Sy and Hassleberry don't really matter anymore at that point. But I just think about this kinda stuff y'know? I'm a fanfic writer haha

[rfxiii]

I’ve been thinking about this for a while now, but can u do one where Trevor and reader r playing tennis and reader wins, and Trevor give reader a ‘reward’?

Luv ur work btw!

Trevor and the Reader Playing Tennis Together:

(Summary: Trevor invites the reader on a date, taking her to one of Los Santos’ many tennis courts. In an effort to raise the stakes, Trevor suggests a bet- whoever wins the match gets a prize)

[the readers pronouns weren’t specified so I went with a fem!reader but if that’s not what you wanted feel free to reach out and I’ll edit or re-write!]

*TW: Smut

(Word Count: 2087)

Outings with Trevor were always a whirlwind. He kept you on your toes even on a simple trip to the grocery store. So when you find yourself out late at night, on the tennis court, with Trevor dressed in those little athletic shorts that leave very little to the imagination, you’re not exactly surprised. He’d always been into things like hockey and golf, but seeing him bouncing on his toes across from you, holding his tennis racket as if it’s a weapon, was honestly a bit comical.

With a mischievous grin on his cracked, scarred lips, Trevor beckons you to join him for a match. And despite your vague reservations, knowing how competitive he can get, you agree- holding your own racket tightly as you prepare.

“What’s with the face, sugar? Ya afraid Uncle T is gonna beat ya?” Trevor taunts, appearing incredibly confident for a man who looks like he’s never played tennis in his life.

“Don’t get cocky, Trev! I may just surprise you.” you fire back, unwilling to let him under your skin before the match has even begun.

“Ooh! I like it when you’re feisty, angel. Ok! Let’s make things interesting, huh? How bout a wager? Winner gets to pick whatever prize they want.”

You consider momentarily. You’re no tennis pro, that’s for sure. But you feel confident enough that you can hold your own. But then again, you know Trevor well enough to be sure that if you lose there’s literally no limit of insanity to what he could request from you. You weigh the pros and cons, finally deciding that the look on his face if you managed to beat him would be well worth the risk.

“Ya know what? Bring it on, T!” you agree- confident grin on your lips as you spin your racket in a smug display.

The game begins quickly, and much to your dismay, Trevor displays an uncanny knack for tennis. His manic demeanor seems to transform into pure energy as he focuses on the game, delivering violent serves and aggressive spins. You find yourself struggling to keep up, but the thought of losing to him quickly turns your surprise into heated determination.

With each volley, you find yourselves laughing, shouting at each other, and exchanging playful, yet heated, taunts. And as the sets go on, you begin finding your rhythm after a clumsy beginning, putting up a determined fight against Trevor's unconventional yet shockingly effective playing. He’s still doing incredibly well, but you’re keeping up. And you’ll be damned if you lose to him. The thought of his victory request is far from your mind now as your only fear is having to face his smug, taunting grin if he wins.

You swing your racket hard, and Trevor lunges, his quick attempt to return the shot falling just short as the ball hits the ground, and your victory is solidified with your triumphant cheers and maybe a bit of heckling that you’re not exactly proud of.

“God! Fuck! Fuck! Come on!” Trevor growls, tossing his racket into the ground as he stomps like a raging toddler- he’d never handled losing well. But, just like his moods usually do, his anger quickly changes as he gives you a smarmy grin and waltzes across the court to pull you into a handsy embrace.

He’s damp with musky sweat, and you can still feel his heart pounding beneath his ribs from where his chest is pressed flush with yours. His full, chapped lips are parted in heavy gasps, his thinning hair is stuck to his head in a slick sheen of sweat, and there’s just something about his body heaving from exertion that’s pulling in all of your attention.

“Well, sugar-.. Fair is fuckin’ fair, I guess. So, go on. Do your worst! Whaddaya want?” Trevor pries, dropping a bit of his weight into your arms and looking at you with those chocolate brown puppy dog eyes full of mischief. He’s always been able to sense your want, and you damn him for that, because before your request even leaves your lips he’s already sporting a lecherous grin on his taunting face.

“Wipe that smile off your lips, Trev. You lost. So now you’re gonna be a good boy and put that dirty mouth to good use. I’m tired of hearing you talk.” you huff out- anxious and a bit unfamiliar with taking the dominant role. But the low growl he lets out and the way his filthy, calloused hands slide down your body and under your little tennis skirt is enough to let you know he’s going to enjoy this just as much, if not more, than you do.

His rough touch drags up your thigh, his split nails scratching up the delicate flesh until his fingers press against the thin fabric of your underwear. They prod and rub roughly without much finesse but with enough eager energy to more than compensate for his lack of tenderness. You choke on a breathy gasp, fingers flying up to grip at his shoulder and tug him closer- your forehead dropping to his chest where you hear his ragged breath and low moans.

“Yeah? You like that, sugar?” Trevor chuckles, the low rasp of his voice sending sparks straight between your thighs.

A soft whimper ghosts past your lips, head tilting up to gaze at him with desperate eyes, “Trevor.. Wait.. Someone could see..”

“It’s late. Nobody is gonna be out here. Unless…ya want me to stop? The prize is time sensitive though, darlin’. So, I’d think quick.” Trevor challenges, his fingers working fast, firm circles against you in a taunting rhythm.

It’s hard to think, let alone argue, when he touches you like this. And he knows he’s won before you’ve even had a chance to speak up, “N-no.. Trevor.. I-.. Don’t stop..” you find yourself whining. And the awful, twisted smile splitting his lips shows his enjoyment clearly on his face.

“That’s what I thought. Now be good, and let old Trevor take care of ya. Huh, angel face?” he goads, fingers slipping beneath the fabric of your underwear to press against your needy clit.

Your legs nearly buckle beneath you, a hand digging tightly into Trevor’s bicep while the other tangles fingers in the thicker hair at the back of his head. The high, whimpery moan that escapes your lips has him grinning. And as he works his gnarled fingers up your slit, collecting the wetness that he’s caused there, he lets out a groan nearly as desperate as yours, “Oooh fuck, baby.. You’re fuckin’ dripping.. If I had known how bad you fuckin’ wanted it, we’d have stayed the fuck home tonight.”

Your hips grind fitfully against his hand, craving the friction those vile fingers of his provide. He easily senses your desperation, leaning down to nip and suck at your throat while his slick tongue traces against the grooves he’s bitten into your neck like a twisted apology to soothe the sting. Your needy reactions have him working harder, paying pointed attention to your damp clit, and focusing on each flex of his fingers that makes you cry out the loudest.

“Trevor.. Trevor! Please.. I’m so close! Please, more?” you plead, looking up at him with teary eyes as you waver right on the cusp of blissful completion. Thankfully he’s always been just as needy as you. And tonight he has no intentions of teasing you by denying what you both need.

“Turn around.” Trevor orders, not giving you the chance to move on your own as he spins you roughly around, forcing you to grip the chain link fence bordering the tennis court to keep your balance. He presses into you from behind, grinding himself against you while the fabric of those little shorts do next to nothing to restrain his hard cock prodding at your ass beneath your skirt, “You feel how fuckin’ bad I want ya, sugar? Fuck! You drive me fuckin’ crazy.”

He’s always so needy for you and it never fails to make you feral. You press back against him, grinding your ass into his growing bulge until he quickly becomes tired of the teasing foreplay, ripping your panties down your thighs and pinning you so far forward your face nearly presses into the chain link, “Fuckin’ teasing me all night with that little skirt, running your mouth, tellin’ me what to do.. Fuuuck! You know I love it. Let Uncle T give ya your reward now, sugar.”

“Please.. Please.. Trevor, please.” you gasp out like a prayer, gazing over your shoulder with fingers trembling where they grip like a lifeline to the chain link.

His movements are frantic and aggressive while he tugs his little shorts just low enough for his cock to spring free. He’s so hard it almost looks painful for him with his tip flushed violent red and steadily leaking pre-cum. He spits thickly into his palm, stroking himself a few, rough times- not that he needs the extra lubrication, as you feel your own arousal close to dripping down your inner thighs. Trevor’s rugged, scarred hand grips your hip while the other remains on his cock, lining himself up with your soaked, nearly aching cunt before he presses a kiss to the back of your neck in a bastardized version of gentle intimacy, “That's it, baby.. Lemme show ya just how good you did tonight..”

He presses forward in one harsh snap of his hips, hitting you deep inside in that one spot he’s memorized you loving. You practically sob for him, clinging to the fence and struggling to rock your hips in time with his frantic, disarranged rhythm. His hand rears back suddenly, delivering a firm slap to the smooth, delicate skin of your ass and pulling a shocked, euphoric cry from your lips. You’re trembling and he has no intentions of slowing his manic, disorienting pace. And when his harsh, careless fingers assault your clit you feel yourself nearing your end.

“Trevor! Oh fuck, Trevor! Don’t stop! Please! I- I’m so close! Fuck! Fuck!” you babble out, unable to restrain your loud tone as you’ve long since shed your fear of being caught in public like this- the pleasure clouding your mind as your previous reservations melt away.

“Oh fuck yes! You’re so fuckin’ perfect! Oh god! That’s it, sugar! Take it!” Trevor growls, hips driving mercilessly into you and fingers working you over so well he has you on the verge of tears. You feel him twitching inside you, his moans growing louder and desperate as you both feel yourselves nearing your end.

Your chin drops to your chest, your head hanging limp in pleasure with your legs trembling so terribly it’s close to impossible to stand, “Trevor! I’m- I’m gonna cum! Don’t stop! Please! Please! Ooh god, Trev! You feel so fucking good!” you plead- the praise only spurring him on with his hips snapping against you so viciously it’s sure to leave you bruised.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuckin’ fuck! I love you, I love you-“ Trevor rambles, a telltale sign he’s close to his own end. And when his grip tightens almost painfully against your hip, and his fingers pace against your clit becomes stiff and rhythmless you both reach your peak with sharp and sudden explosions of euphoria, “AUGH! FUCK! I LOVE YOU! FUCK!” he shouts, his release ruining your insides as you cum around him- your slick, combined fluids trailing down your thighs as his pace begins to slow.

“Trevor… Oh my god.. Fuck.. You’re..fucking amazing..” you gasp with legs trembling and heart pounding in your chest.

He pulls out with a weak, pathetic whimper, wrapping his arms around you and pressing sloppy, wet kisses to your sweaty throat, “Goddamn, sugar.. That was fuckin’-.. Wow. Competition really does bring out the best in ya, don’t it?” he teases while readjusting himself and pulling up his shorts.

You bite back a groan at the dampness between your sore thighs, pulling up your panties and straightening your skirt while fighting back a grimace as his cooling cum soaks the fabric, “Ya know what, T?” you giggle softly, pulling him into a teasing embrace with arms looped around his neck, “Maybe we should wager like this more often. I think I kinda like the rewards you give.”

A smirk twists his scarred lips as he leans down and pulls you into a wet, despicable kiss that promises that this night is far from over, “Sugar, I like the way you think.”

[wrestlingisfake]

New Japan Cup quarterfinals preview

The New Japan Cup started with 28 men and now only eight remain. Two of the quarterfinal matches will be on March 16, and the other two will be on the 17th. The winners advance to the semifinals on March 18. Whoever wins the final on March 20 will earn the right to challenge Tetsuya Naito for the IWGP world title on April 6.

March 16: SANADA vs. Jack Perry - This is a rematch from June 25, 2023, at AEW's Forbidden Door show. At the time, Sanada was fresh off of winning the IWGP world championship and Perry was a beloved babyface in AEW answering an open challenge. Things have changed.

Perry was out of his depth nine months ago, and after he lost he turned heel, sending him down a dark path that led to joining New Japan's House of Torture. Meanwhile, Sanada's title reign was widely considered a disappointment--he lost the belt to Naito in Janaury and then lost a rematch in February. It seems highly unlikely Sanada will win this tournament and set a third title bout with Naito. I think 2024 will be a rebuilding year for him, so it's just a question of who will knock him out of title contention.

In that context, I think there's a strong case for Perry getting his win back over Sanada. If Sanada were still being protected as a top guy, there's no way New Japan would job him out to a junior heavyweight. But he's clearly been moved down a peg or two. He doesn't have to be eliminated by Perry--anybody from Bullet Club or House of Torture would make sense crushing his dreams for heel heat. But Perry has the most to gain from that role.

March 16: David Finlay vs. Hirooki Goto - The winner of this match will advance to face the winner of Sanada vs. Perry in the semifinals. This is apparently the first time these two have met one-on-one, which boggles my mind.

Since taking over Bullet Club, Finlay has meant more as a singles act, so he has to be the heavy favorite against Goto. On the other hand, if Jack Perry makes it to the semifinals, Finlay doesn't make sense as his opponent--Goto would be a better fit whether Perry wins or loses. On the other other hand, if Sanada reaches the semifinals, Finlay would make perfect sense as the guy to eliminate him. Unless the plan is for Sanada to make it to the final, in which case I suppose it doesn't make much difference who wins here.

I'm a little torn here, because Sanada vs. Finlay would be a bigger semifinal matchup, but Perry vs. Goto would be a lot more interesting in terms of making me wonder if Perry can go all the way. And I can't dismiss the possibility of a Sanada vs. Goto match I don't care about. So I guess I'll pick Goto to win.

March 17: EVIL vs. Shingo Takagi - Evil is the NEVER champion, but the title isn't at stake during the tournament. If Shingo wins, though, he'd likely get a rematch for the (spray-painted) gold. Takagi is 2-1 so far against Evil in singles matches, but Evil won their last encounter in 2023; it's been nearly three years since Shingo has beaten the king of darkness.

Logically speaking, Evil really should lose before the final. That way the guy who beats him can challenge for the NEVER title. If Evil loses to the tournament winner, that guy won't have time to chase Evil because he'll be challenging for the IWGP world title. If Evil wins the tournament, then he'll be chasing the world title, and the NEVER belt will just be on ice for a while. Also, I don't think they'd book Evil vs. Ren Narita in an all-House of Torture battle. So--logically speaking--Evil needs to lose either to Takagi or to Yota Tsuji in the next round.

However, realistically speaking, New Japan is in love with pushing House of Torture a little more than you'd expect, to get heel heat. For example, it'd be absolutely absurd to have three House of Torture guys in the final four, but New Japan has convinced me they're not afraid to do something that obnoxious. So I can't rule out worst-case scenarios like that. But just going with my gut, I think we'll either get Takagi vs. Narita or Evil vs. Tsuji in the semis. So I'll pick Shingo to win here.

March 17: Ren Narita vs. Yota Tsuji - Whoever wins this match will meet the winner of Evil vs. Takagi in the semifinals. During their Young Lion days, Narita went 5-0 against Tsuji in singles matches. Of course, what really counts is how well they've done after returning from excursion, but they've only had one clash since then--a 20-minute draw back in last year's G1 Climax. So when it comes to one-on-one matchups, Yota has never beaten Ren, and he's never even faced this version of Ren, who joined House of Torture in December.

Tsuji, Narita, and Shota Umino were proclaimed "the Reiwa Musketeers" last year, likening them to big names in previous generations who quickly took off and carried the company. Shota (not to mention Yuya Uemura, who almost feels like the fourth musketeeer) has already been eliminated from the tournament. So only one of the Reiwa musketeers has a chance of winning this thing.

I'd be cool with Tsuji going all the way, except that I don't think this year's Cup winner is going to win the world title. In the right circumstances a wrestler can get over from trying and failing to win the world title, but Tsuji already did all that last year--doing it again so soon would just make him look like a choke artist. Narita is probably the one guy left in this tournament with the most to gain from winning the Cup and losing to Naito. So as much as I prefer Tsuji, I'm picking Ren to win.

[speculist-rinthi]

have 15, 16, 17, and 18 for whoever you’d like! :D @kerra-and-company

I am so sorry that this took so long lmao it is. Hectic here and I haven’t really had the time to sit down and write out my answers to this (and the other ask sitting in my inbox for the past few days rip) until now so! time to do that! under the cut because this is a lot of text

15. What would they be doing if they weren't the commander/whatever they are?

Going with the ones who get most involved with the Pact – Egg, Muni, and my commander Calydowan – for this! Egg is fairly easy to answer this for, since he was fairly established before joining the Pact – he travelled around the Shiverpeaks where he was needed as a mercenary and general helper, and if he’d never joined the Vigil then that’s what he’d still be doing now. probably with the Elder Dragons around he’d have involved himself at some point, if not as early as he did (and that’s still like. 2-3 years in)

Muni is a little tricker. He works with Rinthi, then I think once that relationship ends he ends up sorta orbiting Dragon’s Watch – if he didn’t know them then he’d be doing whatever else seems likely to make him more famous and liked than his brother. Related to technology, I think – he might try and get into one of the asuran colleges, or just go to Lion’s Arch and get stuck in there.

Calydowan, as a sylvari commander whose early life basically aligns with the personal story stuff, is… difficult to find an answer for, given she literally doesn’t have a life outside of the Pact and the Elder Dragons. arguably she wouldn’t even exist, at least not in the same way. my best guess would be something like an actor or a singer; Caly is at heart an attention-seeker who wants to be famous in a positive way, ideally one who still improves people’s lives even if it’s not quite so high-stakes as leading an army.

16. What's their greatest fear (be it one of the three from the personal story or something else entirely)?

Calydowan: oh absolutely Mordremoth and falling under his control. the entire situation was pretty devastating for Caly and for sylvari as a species – since Maguuma, I think Caly has a lot of nightmares about being puppetted into killing her friends and/or innocent people.

Egg: losing all of his loved ones again the way he did before – his entire family was killed at once in a dragon-related incident, and after several years he’s managed to pick himself back up, but his biggest fear is it happening all over again. this is the main reason he’s slow to get close to people in that way. though he has a lot to do with Dragon’s Watch, he considers them good friends and colleagues much moreso than he would say they’re his family. he hasn’t really become close enough to anyone to call them his family since the loss of his first one.

Rinthi: I think just. failing to achieve her goals or to really just enjoy life. she wants to have a good time! And later on down the line wants to do good things too. as she grows as a person I think she would gain a fear of like. it not being worth it. hurting more people than she helps and causing suffering, either others’ or her own, and it not meaning anything in the end.

Muni: kind of similar to Rinthi, dying without achieving anything of note. though Muni would want to be known for whatever he achieved – he wants to be remembered, and specifically be remembered more than his brother is. Basically a failure to earn a good legacy

Orion: not finding out where his sisters are, or tracking down his sisters only to find that they’re already dead and he left his warband for a family who isn’t even here anymore. He’s staked pretty much everything he had on being able to reunite with his sisters. slightly oddly, he’s not as afraid that they’ll reject him – even if they don’t like him, they would still exist as people and he could have the hope of turning their relationship around, or at least he would be able to get a sense of closure from it. he hopes, anyway.

17. People with Commander ocs, is there any part of the main story where your oc's story diverges? Everyone else, is there a part of your oc's story that follows the canon one?

My ocs are sort of dancing in and out of the canon story. Calydowan picks up most of the dragon-related things, but LWS1 is carried mostly by Egg, Rinthi, Muni, and some as-yet not actually made in-game characters, at which point Caly is doing Pact-related things with Trahearne. Egg sticks around for whatever LWS2 holds (currently a mystery to me) and is actually probably the one to form a bond with Dragon’s Watch, Caly only truly befriending Egg + co. during HoT where she’s basically reliant on their support due to the Pact and her own support being. Essentially devastated.

Current plans for PoF are that Rinthi pops back up again and is there when Egg and [other redacted unmade OC] get involved with the Balthazar stuff – I think at this point Caly goes to the front line to try and keep Balth and Kralk apart while Egg stays back in Amnoon longer to support the local rescue efforts, but I’ve only played the prologue so far so that I could unlock the invisible chair and also. again. Have not played the preceding living world season. So that’s still in the spitballing zone!

18. Which antagonist did they have the biggest vendetta against (doesn't have to be canon)?

Calydowan: Mordremoth 100%. Fuck you grandad. Obviously I already said most of what’s to be said here but Caly is both scared of and HATES Mordremoth, she hates how powerless it all made her feel and hates how even killing him wasn’t entirely satisfying because that couldn’t undo the effects he’d had on the sylvari and also well. You know.

Egg: Jormag. again have NOT played icebrood saga so I can’t go into specifics, but even disregarding that, the Sons of Svanir, the general problems Jormag causes across the Shiverpeaks, and Egg’s family dying because of [undecided dragon-related incident here] has made it feel very personal for him.

Muni: not precisely a vendetta but Muni’s brother gets kidnapped by Scarlet Briar and while Muni’s not exactly personally torn up about it, he does go after her side in order to rescue him. For complicated reasons.

[enluv]

only love is at stake, are you willing to play?

— rich kid!jay x fem!reader

wc; 598!

warnings/genre: rich kids!enha hyung line, major angst, enha boys DO NOT drink enough respect women juice in this fic (except jake he's an angel <3), fluff but it's bittersweet, reader is jake's twin sister!

coco's ♡ note: i have no idea what angst god possessed me when writing this fic but here it is...keep in mind this started as a fluffy fic but as I continued writing it suddenly wasn't fluffy anymore💀

Park Jongseong doesn't date.

No matter how many girls try and woo him, no matter what they offer, he doesn't date. Yet, he does believe in having close relationships, and those he has a handful of.

Girls across his school fight to be in his life, but as of late, there's one girl he just can't seem to stop thinking of, his very own best friends sister. 

To Jay you’re like forbidden fruit and he just can’t get enough of you. His longing only get’s worse when Jake absolutely forbids any of them from going near you without his permission. He loves his best friend, he really does, but Jake should know better then to dangle you in front of them like a piece of meat just to snatch you away right as they're about to take a bite.

Jake’s warning falls flat and thus the bet begins (they’ll make it up to him later they swear). They bet that whoever can get you to fall in love with them first, gets to spend the summer on Heeseung’s new yacht. It sounds perfect and since Jay obviously has no prior commitments, he’s quick to join in.

It takes weeks before you actually start to take notice of the boys. Heeseung buys you coffee and sweets every morning, leaving them on your desk for you to find when you walk into class. Sunghoon carries your books and buys you lunch whenever he isn’t in a rush to get to hockey practice, and Jay, he’s the most obvious of them all. Jay does so many things to get your attention it begins to get harder to ignore him. While the other two keep it simple and hidden he decided the opposite route might just work for him.

Jay takes you out for “friendly” dates and offers you his sweater when it’s cold, he gives you flowers after a test or particularly bad day, he cooks and helps you clean the apartment you share with your twin brother.

After a while Heeseung drops out of the bet to give his focus to an heiress his family likes for him but keeps his summer yacht as the prize.

Not long after that, Sunghoon becomes bored with pining after you and he silently drops out as well. You’d think by now Jay has won but the boys aren’t going to let him win so easily, no they love making his life harder so they insist that he makes you fall in love with him or he can’t have his prize. Funnily enough, Jay can’t even remember the prize anymore.

He doesn’t realize but somewhere along the way of this game he’s playing, he’s fallen for you, fast and hard. The hours you spend together make Jay feel safe, he’s never related to someone so much in in his life, not even Jake and he's his "best friend". You’re different, you’re his escape and Jay can’t lose that.

Guilt gnaws at the back of his head every time you smile brightly at him, the feeling makes him sick to his stomach, so much so that he finally comes clean about it all, from the bet to his “true” feelings. He pours it all out to you and he watches as his words dim the light that once shone in your eyes.

Park Jongseong learns two things that night; the first is to never hurt others in ways you can’t take back because you’ll only hurt yourself in the process and the second, is that Jake Sim packs one hell of a punch when he’s angry.

coco's ♡ note: basically tumbles is praying on my downfall atm but pls know this is enluv's fic of the year!

taglist! @yeoforce @bloom-bloom-pow @nikis-mum @yourlocalhotgf @kyublr @spoooooooooooon @enhacolor @yoongimooni @blaqpinksthectic @gyuuss @eternallyhyucks @dinosdance @simpforsung @misschubswrites @junityy @jjunry @ityuns (bold can't be tagged)

[heliads]

Twinning

Peter Maximoff has just met the most amazing girl on the planet- a mutant with the ability to mimic other people’s faces and powers. However, when a fight ends with Y/N losing her abilities, Peter will have to go after her and convince her to stay.

masterlist

The X-Men have only been here for about ten minutes before Peter Maximoff realizes that things aren’t exactly going to plan. They were dragged out to the middle of nowhere because Professor Xavier was convinced that there was some bedraggled group of mutants that needed saving. He was right, of course, but apparently he didn’t see into enough minds to discover the ambush waiting for them.

Now Peter and his friends are fighting against a large group of soldiers, far larger than they’d anticipated. He dodges a bullet again and again before eventually giving up, speeding over to Jean in the blink of an eye. She startles for a moment when he appears out of nowhere. Peter gives her about half a second to recover from the surprise before yelling something to her over the din of the fight. “Are we supposed to be losing?”

Jean shakes her head. “I don’t think so. I don’t remember a crushing defeat being listed in the key points of the mission.” Suddenly, an eager grin slips across her face, and she shouts something over to Xavier. “Professor, the situation is dire enough. We have to bring her out.” Xavier sighs. “Are you sure about this?” Jean nods, smiling wickedly. “If we wait any longer, she’ll take a visit herself. Tell the Twin that it’s time to play.”

Peter frowns at Jean. “Who’s the Twin?” Jean casts him a beaming look. “One of the best people you’ll ever meet. Here she comes now.” Peter glances around the battlefield, trying to find whoever Jean is talking about, and then he sees her. There’s a figure making her way across the clearing, darting through soldiers as if they’re nothing more than stalks of grass. Anyone else would have been terrified to find themselves in the middle of a large cluster of enemy fighters, but instead she looks positively delighted.

Just as the Twin reaches Jean and Peter, the soldiers start to rain heavy fire upon the building where the other mutants are being held, the ones the X-Men were sent to rescue. The new girl turns to Jean, a sudden intensity burning behind her eyes. “Give me your hand.” Jean doesn’t hesitate for a second, thrusting out her palm. The Twin flings her own hand onto Jean’s, concentrating hard as if attempting a feat of intense difficulty. For a moment, nothing happens.

Then the girl’s eyes open wide, and Peter stares. They’re glowing with a strange energy, an energy that looks almost like Jean’s. As Peter watches, the energy spreads across her entire body, crackling over her veins.  The Twin hovers in the air as she seemingly absorbs the energy, then comes crashing back down to the ground again. Peter reaches out an arm as if to catch her, but the girl has already straightened up once more.

She extends an arm to the sky and a torrent of magical power crashes out of her palm, racing across the battlefield to slam into the enemy guns and take them down. Beside her, Jean continues to use her powers, which look identical to the sudden abilities from the Twin. This girl hasn’t taken Jean’s powers, she just suddenly has the skill to have the exact same abilities. 

Peter chuckles softly. “I think I get why they call you the Twin.” The girl turns to Peter, flashing him a grin almost as bright as the magical energy still pouring from her hands. “Nice to meet you too. I’m Y/N.” The enemy soldiers are scrambling back, desperate for a brief respite to fix their crumbling weaponry, and so Peter, Y/N, and Jean are granted a lull in the fighting.

Peter nods. “I’m Peter.” Y/N’s eyes flash. “So I’ve heard. You’re the fast one, aren’t you?” Peter allows himself a cocky grin. “I like the sound of that.” Jean groans next to him. “You two are bad enough by yourselves, don’t make me listen to you two banter. I’m going to give up and just ask the soldiers to shoot me.” Y/N pretends to pout. “And here I thought we were friends. So mean.”

Jean rolls her eyes, but considers Y/N for a second longer. “Is that a new face?” Y/N nods. “Got bored of the hair and changed the face shape. I’m taller now, too. By the way.” Peter frowns. “A new face?” Y/N fires a warning shot at the soldiers brave enough to attempt a second wave, then turns to face him once more. “The Twin thing doesn’t just extend to my powers. I can also change my appearance at will.”

Peter is fascinated. “Just like that?” “Just like that.” Y/N says, screwing up her face in concentration once more. Before Peter’s eyes, her hair seems to leach of its color, turning silver like a river running bright with rainwater. Peter’s eyes widen. “That’s so cool.” Y/N grins, allowing her hair to turn back to another color. “I know, right?” Peter considers this. “It is cool, but it was better when it was silver.” Peter stays just long enough to see an exasperated look start to form in Jean’s eyes and a slight blush on Y/N’s face before he turns, rejoining the fight faster than anyone else can see.

The battle is over soon after that. Now that Y/N’s taken the stage and there are basically two Jeans along with Peter and the rest of the X-Men, a motley group of soldiers with guns can’t stand a chance. Xavier directs them to stay a little longer, making sure the soldiers won’t try anything else before helping the refugee mutants onto the plane and settling into seats themselves. Peter slides into a seat next to Y/N. If he’s going to be stuck on the plane for the next hour or so, he intends to get to know her.

Y/N looks up with a smile. “If it isn’t my second favorite speedster. How are you?” Peter pretends to look affronted. “Am I not your favorite? Who else is there?” Y/N raises an eyebrow, challenging. “I’ll show you if you give me your hand.” Peter holds out his hand, palm facing upwards. Y/N takes it, snapping her eyes shut as she channels his power. There’s a slight pricking sensation, almost like a needle, and then the same rivers of energy seem to flow over Y/N’s body. This time, however, they don’t glow like Jean’s powers. Instead, they’re a bluish silver, like Peter’s abilities.

When Y/N opens her eyes, Peter notices that they’ve changed color again. This time, they’re a warm hazel, the same shade that Peter sees in the mirror every morning. In fact, in the split second it’s taken Peter to realize that she’s imitating his eyes, the rest of her face has changed. It’s like staring at a reflection of himself- every detail, down to the stitching on his jacket, is replicated perfectly on Y/N.

Peter lets out an incredulous laugh. “You know, I’ve heard they say that imitation is the best form of flattery, so I’m going to take this to mean that you think I’m very, very cool.” Y/N rolls her eyes, letting Peter’s face wash away from her again like the swipe of a cloth. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.” Peter grins. “Why not? You said that this is your favorite speedster, right? That’s technically just me, so all I’m hearing is that you think I’m the best.”

Y/N laughs. “You’re unbelievable, Peter Maximoff.” Peter leans back against the wall of the plane. “Maybe so. What are you going to do about that, Twin?” Y/N thinks about this. “I’m going to go hang out with someone I can stand.” She winks at him, then disappears in a flash. It’s strange seeing his own powers used on someone else, although to be honest, Peter’s not sure that he minds it on her.

Peter must have been staring for a little too long, because Jean takes a seat in the place where Y/N just stood. She raises an eyebrow at him, and Peter has a sudden sensation that he’s a fish about to get eaten by a shark who can sense weakness. “I didn’t think you’d take to Y/N that quickly.” Peter feigns indifference. “It’s a little odd seeing your own face on someone else.” Jean shrugs. “At least she asked you first. She’s never done that with any of the rest of us. We just walk in a room and find out that she’s there because you’re suddenly looking at yourself. It’s nice of her to make a change for you.”

Jean’s looking at him like there’s a second meaning to all that, but Peter is unwilling to look too deeply into it. He just spreads his hands, hoping to come up with some witty retort that will stop Jean from peering at him like she can read his mind. Which she can, he supposes, but that’s not the point. “It’s not your fault, Jean. I’m very endearing to everyone I meet.” Jean scoffs at this, but Peter can sense her backing off on the topic. To be honest, Peter is perfectly fine with that. If he spends any more time thinking about the mutant down the hall named Y/N, he’s fairly sure that Jean might be able to discern some fairly compromising information from his head.

Peter’s known Y/N for about a month when the next attack hits. This time it’s different- the soldiers are back with a vengeance, but they’ve managed to enlist a mutant to turn against Xavier and the rest of the mutants at the school. Peter lines up with the rest of the X-Men to take a stand and defeat the soldiers once and for all. He’s pleasantly surprised to notice Y/N coming to a stop next to him. She’s wearing a different face, one with darker eyes and shorter hair. “What, they’re letting you join the melee early this time?” She grins at him. “Too many risks otherwise. They don’t like the idea of soldiers finding out about me lest they try something like the Sentinel program, but the stakes are high enough that I’m sprung early.”

Peter smiles, casually straightening the collar of her jacket. “Try not to kill anyone unnecessarily. They might send you back.” She rolls her eyes. “It’s always a problem with me.” Peter’s about to laugh and come up with some joking retort, but the rattle of gunfire begins to echo across the field they’re standing in and he turns back to the battle with a sigh. Conversations are over, it’s time to defend the school. Hopefully they can get this wrapped up quickly so he can talk to Y/N again.

Unfortunately, Peter doesn’t see Y/N for the majority of the battle. Xavier sends her over to deal with the rogue mutant, thinking that it would be best if one of his strongest fighters battled what is clearly the crown jewel in the soldiers’ attack plan. He’s not wrong, of course, but Peter wouldn’t mind being able to fight side by side with the Twin. He would most certainly show off, and the only people who can be impressed by that now is Scott. How disappointing.

True to his hopes, the battle ends somewhat quickly. It’s longer than the last one, as they can’t count on Y/N for a Hail Mary to knock out all the soldiers’ guns in one fell swoop while she’s dealing with the enemy mutant, but it’s good enough. Judging by the lack of destruction in the school and the tightly bound, unconscious mutant leaving the premises, Peter assumes that Y/N was able to deal with him easily.

However, when Peter tries to find Y/N and congratulate her on the defeat of the enemy mutant, he can’t find her anywhere. She’s not wandering the battlefield like the rest of them, she’s not in the medical wing, she’s not in any of the rooms. In fact, even hours later, Peter can’t find her at all. Eventually, Peter can’t stand the suspense and he finds Jean, not even bothering to walk at a normal speed in his haste to find Y/N.

Peter skids to a stop in front of Jean. “Have you seen Y/N? I can’t find her anywhere, which is really strange. Do you know where she is?” Belatedly, Peter realizes that she’s not alone but talking to Xavier. Peter moves to step away and let them finish their conversation, but the Professor turns to Peter with a concerned look. “Don’t leave just yet, Peter. You’re right to worry- we can’t find her either. She isn’t on the school grounds.”

Peter stares. “She left the grounds? Is she alright?” Xavier lifts a shoulder. “She is relatively unharmed, yes. No grave danger to her life.” Peter does not feel remotely reassured by this. “But something happened, right? She wouldn’t just leave for no reason.” The Professor shakes his head. “Just before she subdued the rogue mutant, he hit her with a blast of energy. I didn’t know his powers, or I wouldn’t have sent her to deal with him, but- Well, it removed her powers. We think it’s just temporary, but she panicked and fled.”

Peter feels like the roof has come crashing down over his head. “What do you mean, it removed her powers? Is she alright?” Xavier sighs. “I only got a brief glimpse into her head before she left. She was worried, thinking that she was hurt and that’s why she couldn’t use her powers, but she fled the school because she thought we wouldn’t want her there anymore if she wasn’t a mutant.” Peter feels sick. “But that’s not true. Of course we want her!”

The Professor’s voice is chiding. “Yes, we still we want her. The only problem is that Y/N was in a state of intense panic and didn’t believe it herself. We would go after her, but the energy blast removed her powers and made her revert to her original face. No one actually knows what she looks like because she’s been changing her appearance almost every day. We can’t find her because we don’t know who she is anymore.”

Peter stares. “That’s it? You’re not going after her because you can’t remember what she looks like?” Xavier starts to say something, but Peter just shakes his head, something like disgust building up in his throat. “I’m going to go find her.” Jean reaches out an arm, blocking his path. “You don’t know where she is.” Peter looks at her. “Then tell me where you think she is, and I’ll go. I’m not leaving her.” The Professor sighs. “The last time we were able to track her was a brief appearance in the surrounding town. She couldn’t have gotten far, it hasn’t been that long.” Peter nods. “I’ll bring her back. I promise.” Xavier sighs again, although this time something almost like hope is written across his brow. “I know you will.”

Peter dashes away, moving faster than anyone in the school could possibly see. He reaches the surrounding town in a matter of seconds, coming to an abrupt stop in the middle of a street. Now that he’s actually left the school, Peter realizes how daunting this task could be. However, Peter has rarely considered the risks of things in his life, and he certainly isn’t about to start now. Not when Y/N’s out here, alone and feeling hopeless.

Peter ends up running again, checking up and down every street. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for- some sign of Y/N in every person he sees, he guesses. After fruitlessly combing every street, Peter stops again, letting himself pause in the middle of a crowded thoroughfare. Most people around him look at him in surprise, as if noticing he was there for the first time, but one doesn’t. One girl, one absolutely beautiful girl who looks hurriedly away as if pretending she didn’t see him at all. Bingo.

Peter jogs up to her, voice catching in his throat. “Y/N?” The girl turns away again. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.” Peter’s voice is softer now. “Yes, you do. You’re Y/N L/N, and you go to my school.” The girl glances over at him, one eyebrow raised, although she hurriedly looks the other way as if chiding herself for giving him even this brief speck of attention. “That’s a strange way to describe someone.”

Peter, with all the nerves of someone about to take a leap of faith, reaches down and wraps his hand around Y/N’s. She lets her shoulders soften, although when she speaks again her voice is anything but relaxed. “You shouldn’t have come looking for me. I’m useless now.” Peter shakes his head. “You could never be useless. Not now, not ever. You’re more than just your powers, you realize that?” Y/N looks at him, true pain radiating from her eyes. “You can’t say that. Xavier only needs me because I can imitate other people’s powers, and now that I can’t do that anymore he has no need for me.”

Peter grabs her other hand, forcing her to a stop. “And what about me? I need you.” Y/N lets her gaze remain on his. “How did you find me? You don’t know what I look like.” Peter shrugs. “I looked for the cutest girl in town, and I guessed correctly.” Y/N laughs, a slight blush forming on her cheeks. “You’re impossible.” Peter winks at her. “Impossibly charming. Now, are you going to come back with me to the school or do I have to follow you around some more?”

Y/N sighs. “But I don’t-” Peter holds up a hand. “If you’re going to say something about how you don’t have your powers and you shouldn’t return, you’re wrong. Everyone’s worried about you.” Y/N’s gaze seems to cut right through him. “Everyone?” Peter nods. “Everyone. Especially me. Besides, the Professor said that your powers will probably return, and this is just temporary. That being said, I’d want you there, powers or no. I’m here for you, Y/N, not the Twin. You’re way more than that.”

Y/N smiles at him at last. “I suppose so. Okay, I guess I’ll come back.” Peter beams at her. “Excellent. Can I speed up the return journey?” She nods. “Just don’t drop me.” Peter flashes her a grin. “I’d never dream of it.” Moving faster than anyone can see, Peter picks up Y/N in his arms, taking off in the direction of the school. If he presses a kiss to her forehead before he starts to run, well, he’s the only one who would know.

peter maximoff tag list: @awaywiththe​, @amourtentiaa​, @elaineygrace​

[moonlit-han]

part v: true north

genre: college au, neighbor au; fluff, humor, slow burn pairing: 3racha x femme reader in poly relationship part word count: 9.2k part warnings: 18+ content, suggestive, explicit language, mild angst, alcohol consumption request: no a/n: this in no way reflects the actions of stray kids’ bang chan, seo changbin, or han jisung. it is a work of fiction.  !! important !!: if you are under 18 years of age, you may not read this series. the author requests that readers be mindful that there is 18+ content in this piece and read only if age appropriate. thank you. and, remember to always get continued and enthusiastic consent as you practice safe sexual habits.

~ read other parts first! ~

✧ masterlist & tag list info in bio ✧

↠↞

“So,” Jisung said evenly, “when exactly were you going to tell me that you’re seeing Y/N?”

Facing him on the sofa, one leg tucked under the other, Chan let out a surprised huff of air. “I- Why do you care? I thought you were in an open relationship?”

“But that doesn’t mean we don’t tell each other when we’re dating someone new!” Jisung retorted, trying to keep his voice even.

Chan’s eyes widened. “I just assumed she would’ve told you…”

“She didn’t,” Jisung said flatly.

Silence descended for a full three minutes, the tension growing by the second, as both young men refused to speak. Jisung struggled to keep his features fairly neutral, even as he seethed, because, as much as he admired Chan and loved their friendship, his friend was a real bastard when he wanted to be.

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you, Jisung.” Chan’s tone was flippant as he continued to stare at the ceiling. “Take it up with Y/N.”

“What?” Jisung demanded incredulously. He couldn’t believe Chan could be so… So cold.

“I said—“

“I know what you said,” Jisung interrupted, “but I can’t believe you’d betray our friendship like this!”

“Betray our friendship?” Chan ran a hand through his hair. “What the hell, Jisung? It’s not like we’ve told each other about relationships in the past?”

Jisung scoffed. “What relationships, Chan? You haven’t had time to so much as have a quick fuck, let alone an actual relationship.”

“Thanks, Jisung. That’s real nice.”

“It’s not like I’m wrong!” Jisung shot to his feet and pushed the coffee table further into the room with his boot, unable to sit still anymore.

“That doesn’t mean you can insult me.” Chan countered, also rising, arms crossed.

“Likewise, Chan,” Jisung spat, gesticulating wildly. “And just by not telling me, you’ve insulted our friendship.”

“Great!” Chan exclaimed, keeping his distance at the other end of the couch. “I’ve gone and insulted our friendship. Why is this my fault all of a sudden? What about Y/N? Aren’t you going to acknowledge that some of this is on her?”

Jisung spluttered. “Yeah, fine. It is. But you’re my best friend and you should’ve told me, especially since you seem to think you and she are this great power couple or something!”

“I do not!”

“Then why’d you give her that necklace, huh?”

“Jisung,” Chan said placatingly, holding his hands out like he’d calm a wild animal, “I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but I do care about Y/N.”

Jisung fought not to roll his eyes.

“I really like her,” Chan continued. “She’s just— I don’t know how to describe it. It’s like I’ve been spinning out of focus, away from my center. And then she just appears in my life one day, and suddenly I know where I am again.” He paused to take a breath, as if steeling himself. “Being with her feels amazing.”

Jisung finally did lose control of his expression, sneering as he rolled his eyes.

“Come on, that’s not what I meant,” Chan said flatly. “I’m talking about her personality, her laugh, her mind, everything, Jisung. You know what it’s like, I know you do.” Jisung’s lips pressed together in a tight line, but he remained silent as Chan sat down on the sofa again. “She’s so easy to be around, to spend time with. I honestly feel I’ve been waiting for something all my life and now I’ve found it—I’ve found her.”

Jisung sighed and acquiesced to perching on the arm of his sofa, if not fully sitting again. “Fine. I know what you mean about being drawn to her.” Chan looked like he was about to crow. “But still, you could’ve said something, man.”

“I wanted to, but didn’t know how!” Chan blurted. “And I thought… Since I gave her the necklace and she wore it… But she didn’t tell you?”

“Nope, she hasn’t said a thing, besides saying that she was going on dates. Which were casual. So she didn’t need to tell me anything else.” Jisung tried not to smirk. “You might want to check how serious she thinks it is with you,” he said in mock warning.

Chan seemed to deflate like a balloon losing air, but rose to his feet again nevertheless. Jisung just watched, his heart pounding. “Whatever, Jisung,” Chan mumbled as he stopped halfway across the room, then let himself out. “Bye.”

Jisung didn’t move from where he’d collapsed on the couch for a long time, thinking about everything that had just happened. Sure, he probably shouldn’t have said something so inflammatory to Chan, but that didn’t excuse the facts of the situation. But then again…

Over the past hour, it was as if every feeling of inadequacy, every insecurity had clawed their way out of the deep, mental grave Jisung had worked so hard to dig for them. Knowing that Chan—his best friend, the man he looked up to as a musician and as a person—was seeing you in some capacity made him doubt his own worth. How could he compare to the paradigm that was Bang Chan? Well, maybe not a paradigm, but he was certainly admirable. Jisung still couldn't believe he was dating someone so wonderful as you, so Chan dating you felt too much like him winning some competition of which Jisung hadn’t even known he was a part. Just the thought made him feel like vines were slithering under his skin, constricting him from within. He wondered if Changbin knew, since he lived with Chan, and what he thought if he did.

Jisung couldn’t help thinking that you wearing Chan’s necklace when neither he nor Changbin had given you anything like that felt like Chan was staking his claim. He knew it sounded ridiculous, like Chan was some wolf unable to control his instincts, but you were wearing jewelry that Jisung had seen around his friend’s neck for the past three years, without fail, which he knew meant the world to Chan. So, did that mean that you meant the world to Chan? That you were Chan’s more than his and Changbin’s, even though they were both actually dating you and Chan was, as far as he knew, simply seeing you casually? You hadn’t told him about seeing Chan, so it couldn’t be that serious, right? But that necklace… Seeing it on your neck made your tie with Chan seem more, well, real than his own.

Chan’s insistence that you were the one for him didn’t soothe Jisung’s anxiety, either. And, the fact that Jisung suspected he felt something similar made it all more complicated. He sighed and held his head in his hands, rubbing his temples as his elbows dug into his knees slightly more painfully than he would have liked, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to sleep or do something mindless, to not worry about his relationships or anything else. With a whining groan, Jisung stood and made his way to his bedroom. Maybe some alone time and a nap would help.

↠↞

You kissed Jisung goodbye as he and Chan headed next door, and Changbin tried not to look too forlorn at not being able to kiss Jisung, too. He didn’t much like how there were starting to be more and more secrets between the four of you. When you came back into the kitchen from retrieving your cardigan from exactly where you thought it was—not in the laundry as Chan had assumed—Changbin was washing the mixing bowls you’d used, trying not to splash water all over your kitchen and himself (again). You joined him next to the sink, drying whatever he handed you and putting it away.

Once the last fork had been washed and returned to live among its pointy brethren, the two of you made your way into through the living room where the tins of cookies still sat on the coffee table.

“How mad do you think Jisung would be if I ate all the chocolate chip cookies?” Changbin asked, grinning as he reached for a tin.

“Very,” you replied, knowing your boyfriend wouldn’t really eat the cookies Jisung had already claimed for himself. “But you should still give me one of those.”

Changbin opened the tin and gave you two before heading toward the bedroom.

Kicking off your shoes, you flopped onto the bed next to Changbin, slinging an arm around his shoulders to run your fingers through his hair. He rested his hand on your thigh, gently massaging your muscles—it was nothing erotic, just comforting. The dull light of the winter afternoon filtered through your curtains, catching the two silver rings Changbin had started wearing.

“So,” Changbin began, “how was your week? I’m sorry I’ve been so busy and haven’t been able to talk to you as much.” He leaned over and kissed your cheek, making you smile softly.

“No, no, no! Babe, don’t worry about it! Eh, my week was okay,” you shrugged, now twisting a lock of hair at the base of Changbin’s neck between two fingers. “I got cleared for graduation, so that’s something. But I still have way too much to do before spring break.” You sighed, letting your head sink further into your nest of pillows as you turned to Changbin. “Weren’t you in the studio a bunch this week?”

A sly look crept over Changbin’s countenance as he said, “As a matter of fact…”

You waited a beat for him to continue and when he didn’t you prompted: “Yes?”

“I was in the studio this week—most nights, actually.” Changbin made to rise. “Here, I’ll be right back.”

Before Changbin could return to the bedroom, you snatched one of the cookies he’d left on the bedside table; after all, why should you eat one of your own and have one cookie fewer for later when you could just steal one of your boyfriend’s? It was so delicious that you thought that whoever had written the recipe for these cookies was a genius and deserved a medal. As Changbin walked back into the room, you tried not to look too guilty as you licked the crumbs from your lips. He looked from you to the bedside table and back again.

“Y/N, I— Are you eating one of my cookies?” Changbin said in mock outrage, coming over to your side of the bed and standing over you.

You just stared up at the ceiling, feigning innocence. Changbin leaned down and caught your lips with his, kissing you so thoroughly that you were left breathless. When he straightened, you noticed that your pocket felt one cookie lighter. Sure enough, he’d stolen one of your cookies while he’d been kissing you.

“You little shit!” you cried, quickly sitting up and playfully jabbing Changbin in the stomach, causing him to let out a huff of air.

“Well, you stole one of mine, so it’s only fair,” he said loftily, popping the cookie into his mouth. All you could do was shake your head.

“Close your eyes, love,” Changbin said, and you made a noise of confusion. “Just wait a minute and you’ll know.”

You heard some strangely slithery noises, then felt something come to rest on your bed that was not your boyfriend. Once he’d climbed back up onto the bed and laid down beside you, he gently pulled your hands down from your eyes. “It’s a gift, love.”

The first thing you saw was your old boombox at the end of your bed, an extension chord trailing from it and across the room. In front of you on the bed was a small, rectangular package that looked very familiar….

“Did you…? Is that what I think it is?” you asked, hoping your guess was correct.

“How about you open it, love,” Changbin said, smiling.

You held the gift in your hand, then tore the brown paper from it to reveal a cassette tape.

For Y/N, the most beautiful and wonderful woman I’ve ever had the pleasure to know. Enjoy, love ♡

“A mixtape,” you breathed, turning it over in your hands. “So this is what you were working on this week, babe?”

“Mhmmm,” Changbin hummed, nuzzling your neck. “I hope you love it.”

“I know I will, babe. Let’s listen to it now!” you said excitedly, and leaned forward to slip the cassette into the slot on the boombox, then pressed Play. Changbin held out his arms and you leaned against him, sinking into his chest. As always, Changbin arms were strong and warm around you as the mixtape began to play.

The first song was slow and mellow, setting the mood for the rest of the mixtape and how Changbin felt about you. You’d always known that he had a romantic nature and he’d demonstrated that many times, but the way he described his feelings for you in the lyrics he’d written… You couldn’t help the tears that began to tumble down your cheeks. As you listened to the mixtape in silence, breaking it only with laughs or sighs of deep emotion, you were stunned by the depth of emotion.

“Oh Changbin,” you murmured, turning in his arms to caress his cheek, “you have no idea how much this means to me.” Your hands twined behind Changbin’s neck as you brought your lips to his, lingering at the corner of his mouth before you kissed along his jaw up to his ear. “I feel just the same,” you whispered, and Changbin’s quick intake of breath felt like the fluttering of a bird’s wings against your chest.

“Love, oh love,” Changbin breathed as he drew you down onto the pillows, his body covering yours like a shield. “I’d hoped you did.”

Just then, raised voices came from Jisung’s apartment. You and Changbin looked at each other, wide-eyed. It was unusual for both Jisung and Chan to argue, let alone yell, so something must truly be wrong.

“Should we check on them?” you asked, coming out of your music-induced haze. “That doesn’t sound good…”

“I think they’ll be okay,” Changbin replied, sighing and staring up at the ceiling. He had a feeling he knew what the argument was about, but he wasn’t going to say anything. Not yet, at least. He hoped nothing would happen to 3racha because of the conflict, but he didn’t recall Jisung mentioning anything to him.

“Are you sure?” you prodded, hoping it had nothing to do with you.

“Yeah, I’m sure we’ll hear about it at some point.” Changbin tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Shall we get back to kissing, then?”

You laughed and nodded, craning your neck to catch Changbin’s lips with yours.

The next morning—Sunday morning—Changbin awoke slowly and simply laid there, admiring you the way the sunlight seemed to shimmer over your hair like quicksilver. He was struck by how lucky he was to be with you, to know you, to-

“Mmmmm, ‘morning, baby,” you mumbled, rolling over to snuggle into Changbin’s chest—his bare skin was warm and soft, the perfect counterpoint to the cool air of the room. He kissed your hair, wrapping an arm around and shifting so you could fit yourself against the curve of his body.

After a few minutes of gently stroking your back, following the same lines he’d frantically raked nails down the night before, Changbin murmured, “Y/N, love . . . pancakes.” You giggled softly at your boyfriend’s seemingly one-track mind—he’d been exclaiming his joy of making pancakes even before you’d gone to bed.

“Y/N….” Changbin repeated, his breath tickling the sensitive skin of your neck and sending little shivers down your spine. You threw a leg over his, bringing your bodies even closer and noting that pancakes were not the only things Changbin desired. Still not answering, you scrunched your nose against his chest and began to leave little kisses along the lines of his muscles.

“Mmmm?”

“Love, Jisung’s going to be here soon and we should make pancakes so we can all have breakfast.”

You moved your hand from just under your breastbone to between you and Changbin. He moaned as your fingers slid over him, and, suddenly, pancakes were all but forgotten. Changbin pressed himself into your hand as he hardened under your touch, and he began to kiss along your neck, nipping at the skin. You traced the very tip of him with a finger, then ran your hand up and down, still with the same lazy slowness. Changbin’s hands moved to grip your ass, squeezing and placing you on top of him as he rolled onto his back.

Now that you were pressed firmly to Changbin, the obvious hardness of him teased you to no end. His hands still on your ass, gently massaging, your boyfriend pulled you further up his body so that you were chest-to-chest and nearly nose-to-nose. Your lips met, soft and gentle, and you kissed languidly; Changbin swiped his tongue along the seam of your mouth, slipping inside to explore each and every hollow, plane, and crevice of your teeth, your tongue, your lips.

Propping yourself up a little, you sighed as the brush of your skin against his sent pleasurable shivers down your spine. “Baby, please,” you breathed against Changbin’s lips as you slid your body up and down over his, imitating the motion you craved, hungrily kissing him.

“I don’t have a condom on, love,” Changbin said, a laugh coloring his voice. “I—“

“I’m on the pill, Changbin, you know that. And I know that you’re incredibly healthy.” You nipped at his jaw, then begged again. “Please.”

“Y/N, love,” Changbin said not unkindly, “I’m not taking any risks, okay?” He reached out to your bedside table, hand scrabbling a little, then came up with the little foil square.

“You’re right—I just got carried away,” you said, conceding.

“It’s okay, love, really.”

Sighing, you sat back on Changbin’s thighs as he slid the condom on, then stroked him so sweetly and lovingly that he rose and swelled immediately—you may have licked your lips a little. Changbin’s moans at your ministrations were soft, like the sigh of the wind through a field of wheat.

You leaned forward to kiss Changbin and you groaned with pleasure as you joined together, your boyfriend letting you slowly adjust. Changbin’s hands came up to hold your breasts, thumbs flicking over them as you continued to kiss, and you rolled your hips, luxuriating in the sensation of him inside you.

It was utterly exquisite.

As you kissed and kissed, sharing breaths and moans of pleasure, you moved together like the ebb and flow of the sea. The little words of encouragement and affection you shared seemed to bare your innermost feelings through their simplicity. Everything was slow and easy, just enjoying the feel of each other—your body felt tight and utterly molten at the same time, your core turned white-hot with desire.

Shifting so Changbin could find that perfect spot, you kissed along his neck, tasting the fine sheen of sweat that had begun to form on his skin. The new angle drove, even pulled, Changbin into you, and his brows knit as little groans low in his throat escaped his lips. Your pleasure began to slide down your spine like the inexorable glide of a glacier, gathering more and more power with every inch.

And finally, the pulsing deep inside seeming to reverberate through your bones, and all you could do was cling to Changbin as you gasped and cried out. The sense of overwhelming bliss was so intense that you thought you would surely cry. Changbin did not slow in his pace, even as you came down from that wondrous high, until his hips stuttered and with a few quick thrusts that forced moaning whines from you, he, too, found his release.

He held you to him, the warmth of your bodies nearly melding you together as your body seemed to refuse to relinquish its hold around him. Once both of you had regained your breath, you once again became two separate people and helped clean each other off.

Cuddling among your nest of pillows, you contented yourself with tracing the planes of Changbin’s stomach as he lazily ran a finger up and down your bicep. Your foreheads nearly touched on the pillow, and when your eyes met from time to time, your smiles were luminous. As always, with Changbin, you felt absolutely serene.

With a jolt, you woke from a light doze next to Changbin and realized that if you didn’t get out of bed right at that moment, there was no way you’d ever get up. Maybe you’d tell Jisung to join the two of you in bed and make a lazy day of it… Just as you were reaching for your phone, though, Changbin slid out of bed and stood with his hands on his hips; you looked up guiltily at him.

“Pancakes,” was all Changbin said.

It was now a tradition for Jisung and Changbin to come over to your apartment on Sunday mornings for pancakes, tea, and more cuddling and soft kisses than you knew what to do with. As Changbin helped watch the pancakes, you could tell something was on his mind, but knew that he’d say something if it was that important. You pressed a kiss to his bare shoulder before finding a spoon with which to scrape the pancake batter down the sides of the bowl.

A moment later, Jisung ambled into the kitchen, hair still slightly disheveled from sleep, his arms entirely swallowed by the hoodie he was wearing. “Hey, babe,” he said, coming over to you and wrapping his arms around your waist and rest his head on your shoulder. “These smell delicious!” He kissed your cheek, and you hummed in reply, not needing words to express your happiness in seeing him or having his arms around you.

You took the spatula from Changbin and began turning the pancakes, trying your best not to fling them off the griddle. Jisung gave you a tight squeeze, let go of you, and moved two steps to the right to throw his arms around Changbin. “Hey, babe,” he said to him, too. Changbin turned in Jisung’s arms and smoothed his boyfriend’s hair before lightly kissing him.

He leaned against the counter, hands clasped together at the small of Jisung’s back so that Jisung could simply lean into him. You turned your head to see Jisung draped against Changbin’s bare chest so he could look up at the other young man, a syrupy grin on his face.

Your heart swelled with affection for both of them, and you had to brace yourself against the counter for a moment. It was genuinely easy to be with both of them in this new, wonderful relationship. There was so much trust built between you already—Jisung and Changbin’s three years of friendship lending an even firmer foundation to it all—and you knew, with as much certainty as you’d ever felt before, that the three of you were meant to be together.

Soon, the pancakes were done, the tea had brewed, and Changbin and Jisung were still kissing—although, they did pause for a moment to allow you to kiss both of their noses and say, “Time for breakfast, hot stuff.” You lead the way into the living room where you usually ate together, as Changbin went to finally put on a shirt.

↠↞

Changbin leaned back on the couch, his knees pulled up to his chest, while Jisung leaned against his shoulder, lightly rubbing his pleasantly full stomach. On Changbin’s other side, your mug of tea was warmth enough for you at the moment.

“Um, I think we need to have a talk,” Changbin said quietly after awhile.

“Is everything- What am I saying, of course something’s up,” Jisung said, concerned—your brows furrowed.

Changbin ran a hand through his hair, then spoke. “First, I want to say that I’m in no way blaming anyone or making them bad or wrong. I just kind of want to know what’s going on.” He took a deep breath. “So, last weekend when I woke up, I ran into Chan in the hallway outside our rooms with a tray of breakfast. I knew he had to have somebody over, since he’d asked me to be somewhere else.” He looked at Jisung, who gave him a wink. “But of course I wasn’t going to ask who, right? But um, Y/N? I think I heard your voice coming out of Chan’s room, and then a lot of giggling. And, well, a really loud moan and Chan saying to be quiet because I was home.” Changbin’s gaze was so earnest and open, while Jisung’s was a bit… pained, perhaps.

You let out a sigh, having known this day would come at some point. “Shit, yeah… that was me,” you admitted, embarrassed despite the fact that both Changbin and Jisung had made you moan and beg and scream far louder than you’d done that morning. “I’m so sorry you had to hear that, Changbin. I had no idea you were home or anything.”

“It’s okay,” he said, resting a hand on your knee in reassurance.

Jisung made to speak, but you held up a hand. “Could I explain first? Yes, I’ve gone on a few dates with Chan. Yes, we’ve had sex. Once. I hadn’t told you yet because it wasn’t serious and we agreed—“

“But it’s Chan! He’s our best friend, babe,” Jisung blurted.

“And I just met him a couple months ago,” you replied evenly. “Just because he’s your friend doesn’t mean I was going to treat him any differently from any of the other people I’ve seen.”

“So, you’ve been seeing other people even besides Chan?” Changbin wanted to know.

“Not since the middle of December—I’ve got both hands full with you two,” you said, smiling and winking. “Things with Chan kind of snowballed, if that makes sense? After winter break, we came back and he wasn’t so weirdly flirty anymore. And you’ve got to admit, he’s attractive!”

“Y/N, just because someone’s attractive, doesn’t mea—“

“That’s not what I meant, Jisung. Not being flirted at every other day over break allowed me to see that he’s a perfectly lovely guy. It’s been fun.” You shrugged. It wasn’t as if you felt at all toward Chan like you did toward Jisung and Changbin. They were… The bond between all three of you was iron-clad and effervescent, the threads between you weaving together to form a rich tapestry of feelings, responsibilities, and priorities. “I didn’t start going on dates with him with the idea ‘Let me see how fast I can fall in love with this person’ running through my head. I- I thought I made it clear to him that things were just casual. I never promised anything, and he knew we were taking things really slow. I guess something slipped through the cracks.”

There was a beat of silence, then Jisung coughed nervously, looking down at his hands twisting in his lap. “So, you know how I talked with Chan yesterday?” he began, and you and Changbin nodded. “I asked—okay, fine, confronted—Chan about you two.”

“Oh, so that’s what the arguing was about!” Changbin said with exaggerated, only partially feigned surprise.

Jisung blanched. “Um, yeah, sorry. I saw you,” he turned to Y/N, “wearing his compass necklace and kind of lost my head.”

“Oh my god,” you moaned, grimacing. “Are you serious?”

Jisung cackled. “Yeah, sorry. You know how he— Well, I guess you don’t necessarily know, but sometimes he gets really solemn and serious, to the point that it’s almost funny. That’s how it was… Once I finally got it out of him.” Changbin put his head in his hands, knowing just what Jisung meant. “He’s head-over-heels for you, Y/N.”

“Well, shit," you grumbled, not having expected this. "And yet again, Bang Chan is cheesy as hell."

“Yeah… kind of,” Jisung sighed. “But this is different. I don’t think he knows the significance of what he did. I mean, do you even know the significance of what he did?”

“Jisung,” Changbin warned.

“No, you don’t understand. In the three years I’ve known him, I’ve never seen Chan take that necklace off. Not even to go swimming. And now he’s given the thing to you!” Jisung threw up his hands, knowing that he probably shouldn’t be telling you any of this; but, he didn’t exactly care right now. “He thinks you’re the one for him, his compass. He was going on and on about how he’d felt like something was missing but now it’s like everything’s fallen into place because of you.”

“I don’t even have the thing anymore,” you felt the need to add quickly. “I slipped it back into his jacket before he left! Wearing it for a week was more than enough. I don’t like to wear chokers much, anyway.”

Jisung raised his eyebrows, not expecting you to have done that. “Really?”

“I mean, it was pretty and I thought it would be rude not to wear it.” Your statement curled up at the end like a question. “It’s not like it’s a binding promise or anything.”

“Oh, okay!” Jisung said with more excitement than was wholly appropriate. “But you might want to tell him that you’re not into him as much as he’s clearly into you.”

“I know, I know, Ji,” you said with a sigh. “I will.”

“Good. I’m glad we got that cleared up,” he said, nodding proudly. “I was worried that you’d somehow decided to break our trust by not telling us you were actually dating him.”

“What?” The word sounded like it had been punched from your gut. “I would never— I- Why would you think that?”

“I didn’t want to think that, but he made it seem like things were more serious than you say they are. I know he falls hard for people, and I trust you, Y/N—I didn’t want to think the worst.” Jisung curled his legs under himself as he settled back into the sofa.

“And what about you?” you demanded of Changbin.

“Me?” Changbin asked, his eyes wide. “I didn’t let myself make assumptions until I’d talked to you.”

Your heart hurt a little at their faith in you, that they didn’t want to believe that you’d go against your agreement, especially with their best friend. “You- You really believed me more than Chan?”

“Eh, it wasn’t between the two of you—not exactly,” Changbin responded. “Since he does fall in love or whatever with surprising depth and speed, and you're definitely sensible and cautious, it was more likely that he was the one misinterpreting things.”

You didn’t know what to say, and so simply leaned forward to gently kiss your boyfriends each in turn, leaving them smiling.

“You know, Jisung,” you said after a minute, “you and Changbin still need to tell Chan that you’re also dating.”

The two young men looked at each other, and you could almost see the words passing between them:

Shit, I didn’t tell him. Did you?

No, I thought you did. Shit.

You giggled.

“Um, yeah you’re probably right.” Jisung tried his best not to look too guilty as he looked away from Changbin. “That’s going to be such a fun conversation.”

“Hey, it’ll be okay, babe,” Changbin reassured Jisung, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him closer.

“Yeah, I guess.” Jisung leaned his head against Changbin’s shoulder, and a quiet moment stretched between you.

“So, we’ll tell him we’re dating if you tell him that you’re dating both of us. Deal?” Changbin said more understandingly than you thought you deserved.

“Deal,” you said, smiling a sideways grin.

“Deal,” Jisung agreed.

“Okay, not to totally break the mood or anything, but I have to pee,” you stated, standing up. “I’ll be right back, babies.”

A moment after you left the room, Jisung curled closer to Changbin. He absolutely did not want things to change between the three of you. Of that much he was certain, especially not when you’d just affirmed an even closer relationship than before. He didn’t want Chan’s relationship or whatever it was with you coming between what you already had with himself and Changbin. Jisung whispered, “I just didn’t want him to take her from us. Am I a bad person for wanting that?”

Changbin took a deep breath. “No,” he replied, “I don’t think so. I was thinking the same thing.”

“What should we do, then?”

“I don’t think we should do anything, Ji,” Changbin said simply. “It’s their relationship.”

“Yeah, but—“

“Love, it’s their relationship and they should figure it out. In terms of us, it’s clear she’s not going anywhere.” His tone was firm, as if Changbin couldn’t—wouldn’t—consider an alternative.

Jisung nodded and turned his face into Changbin’s shoulder to plant a kiss there, holding his lips against his friend and lover’s body. Just then, you came back into the room and sat squarely in Changbin’s lap with your legs over Jisung.

The two young men adjusted their positions slightly to accommodate you, the three of you falling into each other with such ease that one would have thought you’d been dating for years. You sighed and relaxed into Changbin’s chest, Jisung pulling you closer across Changbin’s lap as the two of you now nuzzled your boyfriend. The smell of your soap still clung to Changbin’s skin, and, despite having only been awake for three hours, you felt yourself drifting towards sleep in the comfortable embrace of your boyfriends. Jisung’s hand gently rubbed circles into your hip.

“You know,” Jisung said after a while, “I stopped seeing other people back in December when you said were jealous and had deeper feelings than you’d previously thought.”

“Where’s this coming from, Ji?” you mumbled, shifting a bit so that you sat nearly between him and Changbin. “You don’t have to reassure me or defend yourself or something.”

“It’s not that—I just wanted to tell you that because once we got together, I was so comfortable and into you that I didn’t feel like I wanted or needed to see anybody else.” Jisung leaned forward and somehow managed to wedge himself between you and Changbin, successfully resting his face against your breasts—this was not uncommon.

“Yeah?”

“Mhmmmm” was his only answer as he closed his eyes.

“Not that I’d been dating other people at the same time as you,” Changbin added, kissing your hair, “but I care about you just as much as I know Jisung does. And that’s a considerable amount, love.”

You smiled softly, hardly daring to believe that you had two such caring and devoted, not to mention sexy, boyfriends who also cared just as much about each other. It was more than you’d ever expected or dreamed. As you sat there in the blissful place between sleep and wakefulness, you were overcome with the depth of your feelings for Jisung and Changbin. It didn’t scare you, no. And for that, you were glad.

A twinge of remorse flitted through you at the knowledge that your feelings were not nearly as strong for Chan, but you didn’t know him as well. Even when you’d known and been seeing Jisung and Changbin for the same amount of time, your feelings had still been stronger than what you felt for Chan. Plus, there wasn’t the same sense of being pulled inexorably toward both Jisung and Changbin like you were magnets. You couldn’t escape it even if you’d wanted to—and you most certainly didn’t.

All you could do was bring your lips to Changbin’s and kiss him over and over, until Jisung sensed what was happening and sat up to pull you against him instead. Jisung’s lips were soft and warm, like the most silken caramel you could imagine, and you were soon fully awake and kissing passionately as Changbin’s hand smoothed the muscles up and down your back. Jisung’s little moans at being so thoroughly happy and comfortable were the sweetest thing you’d ever heard.

When you raked your fingers through his hair, he became utterly lost to your touch, whining and running his hands over as much of you as he could. Changbin’s hand had moved from Jisung’s shoulders to his thigh, slowly moving higher and higher; he wouldn’t stray any further, but it was enough to make Jisung wriggle. You continued threading your fingers through his hair as Changbin smoothed his thumb along your cheekbone and you kissed along Jisung’s jaw until you encountered the slightly calloused but soft skin of Changbin’s palm. Your lips simply slid from one curving line to another as you leaned into Changbin’s touch.

Limbs, breaths, kisses utterly intermingled and where one person ended and the others began was nearly indistinguishable as the soft caresses between the three of you continued. As wave after wave of tenderness washed over you, the intensity of emotion you felt threatened to make you cry. You knew that what you felt came very, very close to love.

↠↞

Seated at the small table by the window of your usual cafe and sipping on a latte, you waited for Chan to arrive. Snow flurries danced along the street, whipped about by a surprisingly insistent wind. It had been a week and a half since Jisung had confronted him about seeing you, and, while you’d texted and called each other, this was the first time you’d seen Chan. The bell above the door of the cafe tinkled as he came through the door, shaking snow from his hair. Chan’s ears and cheeks were bright red from the cold, making him look ten years younger and extremely cute.

You stood as he approached and squished his cheeks a little between your hands while kissing his nose… to warm him up, of course. Chan laughed, and pulled you into a one-armed hug as he began to shrug off his jacket before taking a seat.

“So, what’s up, darling?” he said, leaning forward on the table to face you.

“Well, I wanted to talk about us,” you said frankly, wishing you could muster more tact and failing.

“Oh, okay.” Chan looked only marginally surprised, and waited for you to continue.

“Jisung told me that he talked to you that one day we all baked cookies together,” you began. “Do you- Do you really feel that way?”

Chan was silent for a moment. “What way?”

“Like I’m… Like I’m your compass?”

“Yeah, I do.” His voice was absolutely serious.

“Oh, Chan,” you breathed, putting your face in your hands. “I wish you hadn’t said that.”

“Y/N…” Chan said, not understanding and reaching across the table for you.

“Chan, I’m really not sure what to say,” you murmured, looking back up at him. “I wasn’t expecting you to feel that strongly for me so soon.”

Chan’s hand paused just inches from your hand and he slowly drew it back to his side before speaking. “Is it that you don’t feel the same?”

“I—“ You paused. “Sorry, this is surprisingly hard. Chan, it’s not that I don’t like you or am not interested. I’m just not at the same level of feeling as you, that’s all. I don’t want you to think that I’m ready to be yours forever or something.”

Chan balked slightly, your words clearly hitting just a little too close to home. He looked down at the table, his throat bobbing once as he swallowed. “I understand. Is this why you didn’t tell Jisung we’d gone on a couple dates? Because it wasn’t as serious for you?”

“Yes,” you said simply, knowing you were treading on dangerous ground.

“Ah. Well, we can go slowly, Y/N. It’s okay.” Chan’s tone was resolute, as if he wanted to simply make everything better by stating that it would be.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to somehow shackle you when you could be with someone who’s on your same level emot—“

“I’d much rather be with you, darling,” Chan interrupted with a soft smile.

“O-okay,” you nodded. You sat there for a moment, just staring at your hands as fiddled with your thumb.

“Shall we have some tiramisu, then?” Chan asked with a wink, trying his best to break the somber mood.

You let out a huff of air that could have been a laugh. “Sure, Chan, that sounds good.”

↠↞

Changbin sighed happily as he leaned back on his couch, a glass of wine in one hand and Jisung’s hand in the other. They’d been watching a television show earlier, but now just sat together, reminiscing. Now that they’d realized and admitted their feelings for each other, and were dating, they both saw the myriad ways in which their mutual attraction had manifested over the years, unbeknownst to them. Mostly unbeknownst to them.

Jisung sat facing Changbin on the couch, one leg thrown over his lap and the other tucked under himself, tracing the lines of his boyfriend’s body. When he reached Changbin’s ear, he took his time following the spiraling shape until he then moved to his jaw.

“Bin, whatcha thinking about?” Jisung said, tilting his head to the side as he traced the faint scar on Changbin’s chin.

“The first time I realized how I felt about you,” Changbin replied, smiling lazily.

“Was that the day by the lake? With the duck?”

“How did you know?”

“Well, you know,” Jisung purred, “I thought you looked cute as hell that day, too.”

“I- Really? I could’ve sworn you had absolutely no interest. None. I still can’t believe this is real.” Changbin’s tone was wondering.

“Yeah, I did. And yeah, this is real,” Jisung reassured him, kissing his earlobe and making Changbin shiver. “I’ve definitely liked you since then. So much, babe, you have no idea.”

Changbin turned his face to Jisung and caught the other young man’s lips with his own, smiling at the slightly sweet taste of him. Jisung swiped his tongue along the seam of Changbin’s mouth and he moaned as they came together, searching every hollow and plane of each other’s mouths. Kiss after kiss, some lingering and some heated. Jisung’s hands were in Changbin’s hair as their passion consumed them, while Changbin took care to hold Jisung like he was the most precious thing he’d ever known.

They broke the kiss, gasping slightly, and Jisung brought Changbin’s hand to his lips, kissing the space behind his thumb before turning his boyfriend’s hand over to kiss the inside of his wrist. Changbin’s mouth quirked up in what might have been a smirk before the other side joined its opposite to create a softly radiant smile that made his eyes sparkle.

Just as Jisung was leaning in to kiss Changbin again—and maybe more, if he had anything to say about it—the door to the apartment clicked open and Chan’s voice floated down the hall.

“Changbin? You home, man?”

“Aw, come on,” Changbin groaned, and tried to think of a nice, freezing cold bath.

Jisung quickly scooted away down the couch from Changbin, running a hand through his hair before taking a sip from his own glass of wine. “We should really tell him,” he murmured just as Chan entered the living room.

“Oh, hey Jisung,” he said, smiling happily at having his two best friends there.

“Hey, Chan.”

“So, what were you two up to—wine?” The latter part of the question was said with only a small amount of surprise. Chan enjoyed a nice glass of Pino Grigio every now and then.

“We were just watching TV and drinking a little,” Jisung answered.

“Hey, Chan,” Changbin started, “could we talk with you about something? It’s important.”

“Yeah, of course. What’s up?”

“Well, I have no idea how else to say this— Um, yeah. We know we’re all friends, so this should be okay and all… And we know you’re accepting and understanding.” Changbin sounded more nervous than he’d been in a long time, even to his own ears. “So, yeah. We’re dating. Jisung and I are dating.” Jisung nodded in affirmation. “And we’re both dating Y/N. We’re all dating each other, actually.”

Chan stared at him for a moment, then shrugged and nodded. “Yeah, okay. I see it. I’d wondered if there was something more going on back at the beginning of the month. So, you two are happy? The three of you are happy?” He tried his best not to sound accusatory, despite having no reason to be; he just wanted the best for these three people he cared about so much.

“We are,” Jisung said, beaming and gently rubbing Changbin’s knee to help soothe him. “And I know Y/N is, too.”

Chan just nodded again and said, “Well, I’m glad that you two have found even more happiness. And I’m glad that you can make Y/N happy, too. Oh, and don’t worry—this doesn’t affect 3racha.” He smiled. “Look, I’ve got some work to do, so I’ll see you both later, yeah?”

“See you!” Changbin and Jisung chorused, then went back to cuddling as soon as Chan left the room.

Chan opened the door to his bedroom and sighed. He was happy for his best friends, he really was. They had something together that he didn’t have with either of them—not in a romantic way, but just as friends. And… He sighed again, leaning against the now closed door. And, he was happy that you had both of them in your life so thoroughly.

It was just that, well, he felt a little pushed to the side. After all, he was friends with Jisung and Changbin, and he was seeing you—albeit casually—but he still didn’t feel like everything had shifted properly into place. Maybe there was something missing with you. Maybe 3racha just needed to get in the studio again…

↠↞

It was the beginning of April, and the pollen had started to get to you. You let your head thump softly onto the desk in front of you, your pen slipping from your fingers to fall onto the what was soon becoming the bane of your existence: your final poetry project. It was maddening, trying to find just the right words and scansion, not to mention metaphors and allusions. Maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t eaten since noon, but your body felt like a withered corn husk. And, your mind would burst, if you weren’t careful; you couldn’t afford to let that happen, not three-quarters of the way through your last semester.

On the desk beside you, your phone buzzed and you checked it to see a text from Chan:

channie: hey darling <3 are we still on for tonight?

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!

You’d almost forgotten about your date with Chan, and now that he’d so kindly reminded you… Well, it would be rude to cancel now but you just didn’t have the energy.

You didn’t have the energy to be with Chan more often than not these days. It wasn’t that you didn’t like him—you were just busy. Really fucking busy. He was fun to kiss and cuddle and be intimate with, but you didn’t have the mental fortitude to actively be interested.

It was difficult to describe… You were certainly physically attracted to Chan, and found him engaging and fun to be around. But, there was something missing. Perhaps you’d been thrust into a time-loop where Chan was concerned—that would explain the way every single one of your dates felt the same these days. You didn’t feel like your, for lack of a better word, relationship was going anywhere, like your emotions and the time you spent together were static.

He was so deeply interested in and attracted to you that you sometimes wondered if you actually felt anything for him and if all of this was simply you reflecting his own desire back at him. But then you’d come to your senses and remember how much seeing his little dimple appear would make you grin and giggle to no end.

And now, you should really respond to Chan.

y/n: hey channie. um, i’m absolutely exhausted from this poetry project… could we maybe not do anything tonight? channie: sure baby! want me to just bring over some food and we can do or not do whatever you like! y/n: i- chan, i’m sorry. i meant: can we not get together tonight. i literally don't have the energy to deal with other people channie: aww sorry you’re feeling like that. sure, darling, whatever you need. maybe we can see each other tomorrow! y/n: wow your optimism knows no bounds…. [UNSENT]

Now you were even more tired and just wanted to curl up under the covers and never come out. That would solve all your problems, right? So, with the blanket snugly pulled over your head, you drifted off to sleep.

An hour later your phone buzzed again, waking you up, but it was Jisung this time. You weren’t quite sure how he knew you needed comforting, but he did and said he’d be over soon. You rolled over at the feeling of another body depressing the mattress, and let Jisung enfold you in his arms.

The next day, Chan did come over to find you sitting on your couch with a mug of tea in one hand and a scone in the other. (Jisung was going through a bit of a baking phase, and had insisted that you try one of his cranberry and orange scones). You hadn’t gotten out of bed until an hour before Chan was due to arrive, and your hair was still piled on top of your head in a messy topknot. Chan, on the other hand, looked far too awake and put-together, even in just jeans and a sweatshirt, for a Saturday morning.

“I brought us lunch,” he said, setting a bag down on the coffee table and flopping down beside you. “I hope you’re in the mood for sandwiches, because that’s all I had time to make.”

“It’s fine, Chan. I’ve got more scones than I know what to do with. Did Ji give you any?”

“No,” Chan said, shaking his head, “I think he must have given them all to you and Changbin. That little traitor.”

You stood briefly to turn in place and curl your feet back under you on the couch, much like a cat would, then took a sip of tea. Your heart pounded slightly faster than you would have liked. “I’m sure you’ll get scones at some point.”

“I’d better…” Chan began pulling four sandwiches from his bag, clearly having thought that Jisung and Changbin would stop by.

“You didn’t have to bring all of those,” you said, frowning. “They’re not coming over.”

“Hmm? Oh, no. I brought two for me and two for you—they’re not that big, so I’m almost certain that you’ll want two.”

“Pffftt, really?” you asked incredulously, then took a closer look at the food. “Yeah, okay. You’re right.”

The two of you sat and stared at the sandwiches for a moment, Chan clearly wanting to break into them, while you couldn’t care less. You stared out your window at the new growth on the trees.

“Don’t you want to eat?” Chan finally asked.

“Eh, not really. Like I said: scone.”

Chan seemed to think for a moment, then said, “Y/N, is everything okay?”

“Um, well… Damn it.” You sighed gustily, and set down your mug before turning to Chan on the couch. “Chan, I have no idea how else to say this…”

“It’s okay, I’ll listen, darling.”

You pursed your lips, biting your bottom lip. “Chan, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry but I can’t do this anymore. I can’t try to feel things I don’t. I can’t try to sustain a relationship that feels like an obligation. I hate feeling like that because you don’t deserve to be with someone who can’t put one hundred percent into their relationship with you.” Chan’s face fell. “Things are just so busy for me right now, what with graduation coming in less than two months, all these projects and papers—everything. Plus, there’s Jisung and Changbin.

“I do like you Chan, and I do like spending time with you. And you’re wonderful in bed, don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I don’t want to spend time with you. I’ve just— If I’m going to be with you, too, then I want to devote the proper time to building that relationship, instead of catching bits and pieces when there’s time. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, it does,” Chan admitted resignedly. “I respect your feelings and choices, if you want to stop seeing each other. I’m sorry you feel like us being together has become an obligation. That must not feel good, yeah?” You shook your head, grateful for how understanding he was being. “If you only want to see each other randomly or just have it be like friends-with-benefits—whatever’s fine with me. I’d just love to keep seeing you somehow.”

You thought for a moment, sipping on your tea again. Not having any expectations for your relationship with Chan would certainly make things easier…

“Yeah, okay,” you agreed. “Maybe we can just see each other when we have time and if we decide to make-out or go to bed or whatever, then okay? More like just enjoying each other’s company rather than trying to date?” You looked to Chan, who hadn’t taken his eyes off you the entire conversation. “How does that sound?”

“Anything you want, Y/N. Anything.” Chan gave you a sad little smile, then stood. “I’ll just leave the sandwiches and everything here. I’m sure I’ll see you again soon, anyway. I- I just need to go be by myself, if that’s okay. Bye, Y/N.” With that, Chan hurried from your apartment, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head as he did so.

You sighed to yourself once the door clicked shut, and got up to make yourself another cup of tea. By the time the water had boiled and you were back on the couch, your thoughts had ordered themselves.

Sure, Chan thought of you as his compass, the thing—well, person—guiding him and keeping him on track; he thought of you as an anchor. But you had something similar. You had a far stronger compass forged from two beings who, no matter how far you strayed, would always point you toward each other, toward home. Jisung and Changbin were your true north.

[hesther-mcg]

fire lady, prequel

pairing: zuko x reader

warnings: explicit language, ~angsty~

a/n: this is for the lovely @fromthewatertribe’s 1k event!! congrats on this major accomplishment love 🥺 i will definitely be writing more for the event, and i really look forward to it!!

fire lady, prequel  fire lady, part one  fire lady, part two

prompts: 

4- i’ve always been in love with you, since the beginning

8- i thought you loved me

25- you have no idea how much you mean to me

44- i’m sorry i’m not good enough for you 

“Miss (y/n), you must understand,” the head of the Royal Council sighed exasperatedly. 

You said nothing. Your hands shook underneath the table of the meeting room you had been summoned to, and you gripped the fabric of your robes tightly. You must understand? 

He’d just told you that you weren’t good enough for Zuko now that he was Fire Lord. 

“What exactly am I supposed to understand?” You asked lowly, looking the man dead in the eyes. You weren’t scared of him, and you weren’t scared to fight the entire Council; they weren’t shit compared to the war you’d just fought in. 

“The Fire Nation is in a very fragile state right now, and will continue to be for quite some time. Fire Lord Zuko has a lot of work ahead of him, and one of the most imperative things is his public image. You’ve been in the Palace for a short while, Miss (y/n), but we’ve seen enough to know that you would not benefit that image,” he huffed. He acted as if this was no big deal, as if every insecurity you’d had since you and Zuko had begun dating wasn’t being thrown in your face. 

“And what has Zuko said about these opinions?” You gritted, body heating up. 

“He has not yet been made aware, and won’t be until you either remove yourself from the Palace grounds, or we have you removed,” he snipped. The stare off you both found yourselves in was intense. He was so sure in himself, like he knew for a fact that as soon as you left everything was going to become so much clearer and simpler for Zuko. It made you doubt yourself, was he right? Were you just not meant to be in such a position alongside the love of your life. 

You stood from you seat, the legs screeching against the floor, and all eyes followed you. You said nothing, though, as you turned and walked towards the door. 

“I suppose you’re dismissed,” the man that you wanted to punch in the face snarked. 

“I would have left regardless,” you called over your shoulder, never faltering. 

“Whatever feelings you and the Fire Lord shared when the stakes were high are besides the point,” he yelled after you, fists banging on the tabled before him as he pushed himself up. “We have a nation to rebuild!” 

Your heart was heavy in your chest his words echoed long after you’d made it to the gardens. You were from the Fire Nation, and you wanted nothing more than for your home to finally have the peace and unity that you’d always longed for. Maybe he was right. You were loud, and rambunctious, and goofy, and improper. 

Not a Fire Lady. 

“And what are you doing out here all by yourself?” A voice interrupted your thoughts. You looked up, and when your eyes landed on Zuko they filled with tears. You averted your gaze and cleared your throat. 

“Just thinking,” you replied softly. 

“(y/n), what’s wrong? Are you okay?” 

“Something’s been made painfully aware to me, Zuko,” you sighed, still not looking at him. “Priorities have shifted, and I’ve been told that I’ve dropped on your list,” you chuckled darkly. 

“What are you talking about?” He asked in complete bewilderment. This was not even close to what he expected when he went searching for you. 

“You’re the Fire Lord now, Zuko! You have obligations, and responsibilities, and this image you have to fit. And whoever you surround yourself with has to benefit your image, and I can’t do that.” The tears finally fell, slowly trailing down your cheeks. “If you stay with me, I’ll have to be somebody, and nobody thinks I can be that somebody; and I believe them!” You shook your head and turned away from him. “I’m sorry I’m not good enough for you.”

Zuko’s heart had dropped to the pit of his stomach when the tears showed up, but after your words registered in his mind it’d fallen to his feet. “(y/n), who told you that?” He whispered as he took a half step closer to you, and in return you jerked away from him. 

“It doesn’t matter who told me! It’s not one person, it’s everyone, Zuko, and you seem to be the only person who doesn’t see it!” You yelled, whipping around to face him. The wind blew slightly, and the ruffling of the leaves filled the silence that followed your outburst. 

“Who you are,” he started, voice low and gravelly. “Is exactly who I want you to be, I don’t want you to do or say or act like anybody but yourself. That’s why it does matter who put these things in your head, (y/n), because here you are, what, breaking up with me? Leaving me? I thought you loved me,” he raised his hands slightly, hurt seeping into his words.

“I’ve always been in love with you, since the beginning.” You cried before pausing to take a deep breath. “I love you so much, Zuko, that I’d be willing to lose you if it meant you got to fulfill your destiny.” 

“If you love me, and I love you, then I can fulfill my destiny!” He exaggerated, walking closer to you. “It shouldn’t matter what anybody else says about you, or me, or us, because we know where we stand. We know who we are, and how much we love one another. I don’t want you to leave me, (y/n),” his voice quivered, and you launched yourself at him. 

He caught you in his arms, and tucked your head under his chin. “I don’t want you to leave me, I actually want you to marry me one day,” he continued. “I want to rebuild this nation with you, I want you to interact with my people and make them happy the way that I know you can. I want you to make this entire place happy, the way that I know you can.” You pulled away and looked him in the eyes. “I want to have kids with you, and drink tea with you every day, and play Pai Sho,” he chuckled and you couldn’t help but join in. He wiped your cheeks and you smiled at him. 

“You have no idea how much you mean to me,” he whispered before placing a kiss on your forehead, then on you cheek, then on your lips. 

The advisor who had spoken with you had been fired, and replaced with someone new. A few people followed, but they were replaced as well; slowly Zuko was forming a council he could actually trust. 

Slowly, things were falling into place. He had noticed a new confidence in you as you strolled through the corridors of the Palace, and you smiled at every guard and servant in a way that shocked them each time, and you went into the villages weekly. These were the very things that Zuko was told you had been reprimanded for, and it had infuriated him. You were being effortlessly you, and that was just how he wanted things. 

[azraqnar]

Thoughts on Young blood Old souls. (SPOILER WARNING (Duh))

Ok I would say its a decently satisfying ending to season 1

To start off

- there’s gonna be more theories on who wrote the Unauthorized history books of the boiling isles. The authors name is scratched out so looks like we’re gonna have a gravity falls style mystery about the author. (I think it’s Azura/Camilia before she escaped to the human realm)

- I loved the cape Eda made for Luz and that little note she left behind was so adorable. She really did care about Luz like any proud parent would.

- So we know Wild witches get a “witch trial” style execution called “petrification” where they turn into a statue. Burning at the stake would be more fitting but after Hunchback of Norte dame Disney can’t let that style of execution take place so I guess they had to go with something less traumatizing.

- While I do enjoy the sisterly moments between Eda & Lilith, when they stuck their tongue out, it felt odd. I know sisters always make fun of each other & I’m like that with my sisters but the seriousness in the episode just didn’t match with the silly tone.

- As usual, we all saw this coming, Belos lied. Of course he did. I guess he knew he couldn’t control Eda even if he healed her so killing her was the best choice but I don’t think lying to her guilt tripped sister was the best call. Like my dude you just lost a loyal follower. If you want to keep your army strong then don’t lie to them. Honesty is key as we always say.

- Speaking of keys, Belos needs the portal to the human realm. But what would he want with that world? He said he isn’t looking to invade it. So it’s not that he wants something there, he might be looking for someone. Like idk someone important who escaped to the human realm. Cough cough Azura!

- Now I’m curious to how Eda got the key. It’s safe to say it was a gift from someone (cough cough Azura!)

- I like how we’re seeing an angrier side to Luz. Her boiling hatred of Lilith shown throughout of episodes brings out more layers to Luz. We always see the happy and pure side of her so it’s breath of fresh air to see a sad side like last episode & in this case an angry side.

- I admit I laughed when Luz and king stepped on grass when the sign said “do not step on the grass”. Like it was warranted to get sent to the conformatorian (idk how to spell it). Jaywalking must be a federal offense then.

- Nice to see the Warden again even tho he didn’t have much of a role.

- The moments between Luz and Eda were sweet. I love how they consider each other family & Eda wanted to send Luz back to the human world to protect her. It was sweet, she knew it was the end & she didn’t want Luz to suffer. Eda also giving Luz the key could be a parallel to whoever gave Eda the key (COUGH COUGH Azura/Camilia)

- The fight between Luz and Lilith was fine. Lilith clearly wasn’t interested in it but it was nice to see Luz take out her anger. I held my breath when they crossed into the human realm. Idk why but I thought they would be trapped there or something would happen to witches who crossed.

- Ok, now for what people were curious about. Lilith. I get they tried to make us sympathize with her and she sounded guilty when explaining what happened. So apparently Lilith and Eda both wanted to join the emperors coven but there was one spot left so they had to duel. Lilith became a sore loser and didn’t want to lose to her younger sister so she decided to get a curse that would take away her magic for the day. Or so she thought. (Like cmon Lilith didn’t the scroll tell you exactly what it would do, like where did you miss “turn witches into monsters forever”?) the day comes and Eda forfeits cuz she doesn’t want to fight her sister and then turns into a monster. They tried to justify it but it just doesn’t sit well with me. You still cursed your sister. That’s wrong even if it was gonna take her magic away for a day. Poor Eda tho.

- One thing I did see was I think we got a glimpse at Amity’s mom. In the background you see a green haired witch with the SAME HAIRSTYLE as Amity’s mom. Literally looks like Amity, I think we also saw a brown haired boy next to her (which could be Mr. Blight) watching the duel. The witch had a “mean girl” look to her so I can say I do think that was Amity’s mom in the background. I’m excited to see her next season.

- So Luz goes back with Lilith and King to save Eda. Belos discovers Lilith betrayal and send her to get executed with Eda. I really liked the fight with Luz & Belos. Luz was throwing all she got at him and he was just amused by the whole thing until she got a hit on him and chipped his mask. He only wants the portal and we still don’t know why (tho I will post a theory later). Luz eventually gives up and hands him the door in exchange of letting her save Eda. I’m intrigued he didn’t double cross her or try to kill her when she blew up the door. He seemed annoyed by it but stayed calmed. That was interesting. He seems to be playing along and staying composed. I really want to know more about him.

- So while the petrification is going on. Willow and Gus take control of the news and demands they let Eda go. The crowd cheers on & demands it with her. You’d figure for sheep it would take more convincing than that to turn against your emperors wishes. But whatever.

- So Eda. Luz, Lilith and King escape and fly away.

- Belos tells the crowd that he spared Eda cuz the Titan told him to (& totally not cause he lost) & of course the crowd believes him, so they’re back to being sheep.

- One thing that I’m so glad they did was Lilith got her Karma. She shared her curse with Eda. She’s sharing in the pain she caused and she’s facing the consequences for her actions. Get that? CONSEQUENCES! She gets a taste of her own medicine and now she is cursed. It doesn’t make up for the years of pain she caused Eda but at least she’s sharing in the pain & getting punished for what she did. She owned up to it! She did more than just say sorry so I’m happy for that. I personally don’t think she deserves a redemption but if they continue to show Lilith trying to make up for what she caused Eda then it would make it more believable but time will tell

-To think an episode ago she was so remorseless and took advantage of her sisters weakness. Tried to kill Luz & was just being so horrible. Now it’s a 180. I hope they don’t make it seem like she’s redeemed. I hope they do at least acknowledge her trying to kill Luz (who is a child). I hope they can do that next season cuz now the stakes are high.

- It looks like Eda & Lilith lost some of their magic & Luz will teach them her style. I can see this exploring many things so I’m excited. The one silver eye thing was nice too, physical scars are always cool.

- Is Luz going back to Hexside? She’s a wanted criminal too so shouldn’t they be on the run? I guess Belos has more to worry about than a human. She can’t even go back to the human world cuz it’s gone. Ooo this is opening the door ( pun indeeded) to many possibilities.

Now she has the portal to worry about. Belos is trying to repair It so there’s something really important on the other side. OR SOMEONE (COUGH COUGH AZURA/CAMILIA)

- I’m gonna post a theory on it later

- Overall it was a satisfying conclusion for season 1, I did expect more but it’s a season finale not a series finale. Can’t wait for season 2!

- 8/10

[philliamwrites]

The Dawn Will Come [Chpt.5]

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Pairing: Dimitri x Reader, Claude x Reader, Edelgard x Reader, Yuri x Reader, Edelgard x Byleth, lots of minor pairings

Tags: #gn reader, # platonic love byleth & reader, #reader is a tactical unit, #angst, #slow burn, #subplots, #unreliable narrator, #pining, #remporary amnesia, #reluctant herp, #canon divergence, #lost twin au, #many chapters, #original content

Words: 5.4k

Summary: Waking up in a forest without any knowledge of your past and who you are, you join the house leaders of the Officers Academy to search for a way to return your memories. Unfortunately, the church has different plans for you, and Fate places you in the centre of a cruel game with deadly stakes. It certainly doesn’t help to fall in love with a house leader who is doomed to be your demise.

Notes: Chapter 4 | Chapter 6

Chapter 05: Born to Trouble

Man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward.

[Hiob 5:7]

    A breeze picks up loose leaves and carries them over a steep hill. The sun, directly above your heads, emits no blazing head and still, wearing light armour and carrying weapons leaves a layer of perspiration on your forehead. Every minute marching towards where the Eagle House students and their astute professor are waiting builds worry and the desire to turn around and put as much distance as possible between you and them but the rope tying you to the task called obligation makes it impossible to sate it.

    A slight pull makes you pause and scratch the thin skin under your eye, the feeling so strange as if someone is tugging your mind in the complete opposite direction. Now that is a new sensation, and you’re careful to remember that when answering the onslaught of questions Hanneman will surely prepare once he’s back. Feeling no pain, you write it off as exhaustion for now, already looking forward to relax in the sauna later and wind down.

    “Is something the matter, Herald?” Dimitri asks. Save for a few scratches and a smudged cheek, he looks fine and appears to be in great spirits. You want to lick your thumb and wipe off the dirt but smearing spit on the heir of a kingdom might not be a great idea in front of his future subjects.

    “Everything is fine,” you, the Liar, say with as much conviction as your conscience allows, which is surprisingly easy. Maybe you were a performer before your amnesia, acting on a stage for an audience that celebrated you switching roles with an ease like changing clothes. Dimitri as well trusts your words, though he could as well be playing the role just to lessen your worry.

    The last possibility to stall the unavoidable confrontation vanishes. They are waiting for you near the stronghold just beyond the forest from which you emerge after another painful, tense march. The remaining Black Eagle students are positioned in a triangle around Byleth. At its tip stands Edelgard, strong and tall, her axe ready to strike whoever stands between her and victory. Flanking her are ever-brooding Hubert and—

    “Linhardt?” you gasp, freezing on the spot which makes everyone sticking to your heels walk right into you. Sylvain only saves himself from falling because he quickly holds onto Dedue who tolerates it like a friendly bear allowing a little bird to sit on his back.

    “Is he doing something?” he asks, tiptoeing to get a better look. “What’s going on?”

    You point a finger at the Black Eagle student. “No one told me it was allowed to bring students back from the sidelines.”

    “Because it isn’t,” Dimitri says, patiently pulling a twig out of his hair. “Those who have lost cannot re-enter the mock battle.”

    You stare at everyone separately, hoping it carries enough weight for them to understand your problem—rather why is no one questioning the obvious? They consider you with as much confusion though, at least something you have in common.

    “Then why is Linhardt participating again?”

    They share worried glances.

    “Herald, what are you talking about?” asks Dimitri with a crease between his eyebrows.

    It is enough to make your next protest come out more desperate. “An hour ago, Felix and I dealt with Ferdinand and Linhardt. I told you!”

    “But—” Sylvain’s face goes blank with surprise. “Didn’t you say you guys got Ferdinand and Dorothea?”

    “Dorothea?” You didn’t even know she participated. “No, I swear, we— Why would I claim something different?” They lack the answer to that just as you and any minute pondering it longer is stolen by a vicious MiasmaΔ that splits a tree behind you in two.

    “Hey!” Sylvain shakes a fist at Hubert. “Use magic only in moderation!”

    His answer is another MiasmaΔ that nearly knocks Sylvain off his feet. Before you can form words, Edelgard takes a swing at you. The hit would have undoubtedly leave you with a concussion were it not for Dimitri’s quick intervention. He deflects her blow though his lance gives a worrying crack.

    “Dimitri.” Edelgard’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “It’s time. We can finally settle the question of who’s stronger.”

    “Very well.” Dimitri’s stance doesn’t falter even as sweat gathers at his temples. “I accept your challenge. With you as my opponent, I won’t hold anything back.”

    Edelgard’s mouth twitches. Dimitri demands with a sharp jut of his chin for you to get out of the way. You don’t argue. Not with the rest from the Eagle house approaching. Dedue, reading your mind, or rather the frantic look in your eyes, charges towards Byleth, leaving Linhardt and Hubert to Sylvain and you.

    You focus on Linhardt, mouth burning to question, “What spell did you use to switch places with Dorothea?”

    He is so baffled by that, you move without thinking—a swift strike, the sword turned midway so the blunt end smashes into his nose. He stumbles back with a sharp cry, a hand flying up to stop the blood running in rivers down his uniform. There is no time feeling bad for catching him off guard like that. A picture flashes before your eyes. You throw yourself to the ground and feel the lance swipe over your head not a second too soon. You roll back up on your feet, glaring at Hubert. He simply raises a brow in challenge. Sure, you accept, fully aware there is only one way to win against him.

    “Edelgard!” you gasp in horror. Hubert’s head twitches but he doesn’t fall for your scheme.

    “Really, Herald? I know Her Highness can take care of herself. You need a better trick than that.”

    “Really? Then how about this trick?”

    This time, Hubert whirls around and is greeted by Sylvain’s fist to his jaw. Combined with your MiasmaΔ, he doesn’t stand a chance. That victory is only short lived though. Out of nowhere, Byleth appears and knocks Sylvain out, not batting an eyelash. She towers like a vengeful spirit, arriving to seek retribution. Trying to move around her, you don’t leave her out of sight for once, your mouth dry and your heart beating so fast your ribcage hurts. The tension is thick enough your swords could cut right through it. It is so tense, in fact, you only manage a dry, “Hey.”

    Byleth raises her sword. “Hello.”

    “Great day to … you know.” You mirror her movement. “Clobber each other with wooden swords.”

    “Less talking, more fighting.” Byleth charges.

    You turn and run away.

    She immediately pursues like a wolf chasing after a deer. If you weren’t so focused on moving your legs as if your life depended on it and not tripping over something, you could swear someone from the sidelines is cheering for you. Someone sounding like Claude.

    “Herald, try a surprise attack! She’ll never expect you to stop and swing your sword at her!”

    No, no, no, he can come down here himself if he has a death wish. But another chance emerges before you, one waiting in the lush thicket that you disappear into in hope to lose her. That hope is quickly vanquished when twigs and dry leaves break right behind you shortly after you breach the edge of the forest. In your panic, you grab onto a branch and pull it with you until you’re sure the blow will at least make Byleth stagger to catch her breath. When you let go, she already knows what you’re up to. With a vicious blow, she breaks the branch and throws her sword at you when you try to run past her back to the field. The pain is unlike anything you’ve felt during training. It brings you to your knees, the stronghold in sight and yet so far away from the forest’s borders. The impact knocks all breath out of your lungs, making you unable to call out for help.

    Byleth stands before you, her sword back in her hand and risen to deliver righteous punishment—until it isn’t Byleth, it is a man, but you can’t see his face, his features hidden by dark shadows.

    Don’t, you think but your mouth forms “You don’t have it in you” instead and before you know it, you speak those words out loud. The picture disappears in a flash so bright, a paper bursting into flames, pain explodes in your head before everything zooms back into painfully sharp focus.

    Something changes in Byleth’s eyes, her hesitation a surprise immediately costing her gravely for Dimitri appears by your side, facing her and a desperate sound of relief escapes you because that means Edelgard is out of the game. It is only a battle of stamina at this point, the battle blurring as you stumble to your feet and help Dimitri to overpower Byleth even though your back is a medley of pain. Judging from how her reacting slower, you get a picture of who from the Black Eagles was fighting the most up until this point.

    Everything happens too fast. It takes one turn, one swipe of Dimitri’s lance, incredible luck that Byleth starts to get exhausted, and a second later, her knee gives in and she’s on the ground, a wooden edge to her throat. The silence is only disturbed by the second roar of trumpets signalling the end of the mock battle.

    You gasp.

    Dimitri gasps.

    Byleth blows a strand of hair out of her face, her face a blank slate.

    Screams and shouts erupt from where everyone else is waiting for you, drowning Jeralt declaring the Blue Lion’s win.

    “Herald.” Dimitri’s smile dazzles you more than the sun’s light, radiant and handsome. “We did it. We did it thanks to you.”

    “No, it was you—” A wave of fatigue washes over you from overusing your power. Exhaustion smothers you, so suddenly that your vision blurs around the edges. Your limbs are leaden; you feel as though you are sinking into mud. Before you hit the ground, Dimitri catches your arm and steadies you.

    It is the unpredictable comedic sort of timing were the cosmos decides it is the right timing for the rest of the students to catch up.

    Sylvain lets out a loud, suggestive whistle, appearing way too chipper for someone just brought back to consciousness thanks to white magic. “Who knew His Highness would decide to court someone wide out in the open like that? Did you invite our dear Herald to dinner first?”

    Ingrid pushes him hard. “His Highness isn’t like you,” she says at the same time Dimitri asks, “But I do plan to invite our Herald to dinner.” All eyes are on him. It is suddenly really hot even though his gauntlets around your arm are cold. “We all are invited to celebrate our victory with a feast in the dining hall.”

    “Aww, goddess help him,” Sylvain sighs, looking like he’s about to facepalm his hand through his forehead.

    Any response on your part is delayed by Rhea and Seteth reaching your group after congratulating each student who participated on their work.

    “Congratulations on winning the mock battle, Herald,” Rhea says, looking incredibly pleased. From the very beginning she’s probably expected nothing less and you wonder if her smile were as content had you failed. “You showed great leadership and trust in your students, who all did exceptionally well.” She’s smiling at every one of them like a proud mother. It leaves a warm, fuzzy feeling inside your chest, her contentment a beacon that banishes the last shadows of doubt in your heart. You could get addicted to this feeling.

    “Now, please return to the monastery,” Seteth advises the students. “We have a few matters to discuss with the faculty members.”

    As the students disperse, Dimitri quickly ducks his head in your direction. “We will speak more later.” He trails after his friends, falling into step with Dedue.

    “Look at them, being so excited. How adorable.” Manuela smiles, not showing any signs of anger about losing the fight or exhaustion flicking the students back together. “Good job leading them, Herald.”

    “And yet, I must advise you to participate more actively in the battle itself next time.” Seteth crosses his arms in front of his broad chest, not sharing Rhea’s idea on how a good job looks. “Professor Byleth showed great assistance and fighting spirit. You would do well to learn from her.”

    Byleth gives a little shrug when you glance at her. She doesn’t seem to care much for that.

    “Don’t be so stern, Seteth,” Rhea chastises him fondly. “There is still so much room to grow for all of them, our dear Herald, Professor Byleth and the students. For now, let us return and allow them a moment of respite. Their first real mission awaits them at the end of next month.”

    Seteth pulls a face as if he bit into a lemon but doesn’t object.

    “I have one concern myself,” you quickly throw in before tracking back, wondering how no one else mentions it. “When Linhardt and Dorothea—”

    “I would like a word,” Byleth suddenly says, grasping your wrist lightly in such an easy, familiar way you immediately shut up. They leave you two to it as you follow them a couple hundred feet behind, both silent though the voice in your mind doesn’t shut up about the dozen of questions bouncing back and forth. After what feels like hours, Byleth finally says, “You noticed it, didn’t you?”

    You stare at the road, a yawning void in your head where just a second ago a cacophony of questions caused a headache, unable to put two and two together. When it finally clicks, you wipe your head so fast in her direction it pops in your neck. “It was you? How did you do it?”

    Byleth doesn’t answer immediately. Her gaze drifts over the treetops, calmly swaying from left to right. The battle has concluded half an hour ago, but it already feels like a lifetime has passed and the peace and quiet of nature around you is like a completely different world. The land surrounding the monastery is exceptionally beautiful, luscious and overgrown with flora that covers the ground in a colourful patchwork rug. How the rest of Fódlan must look like…

    “When we first met, you asked how I could trust you. It will sound strange but you and I, we are connected.” She’s still looking up ahead, now at the towering spires of the monastery piercing the sky.

    Your mouth is dry. “Connected how?”

    She stops now. When she turns and looks at you, again the thread that ties you two together strums in an ancient tune. You stop breathing for that second.

    “You control the flow of the future, and I control the flow of the past.”

    You still don’t understand. Byleth reads as much from your lack of response. “What I mean to say is, I rewind time. When you defeated Linhardt, I turned back time’s hands to have Dorothea walk his path instead to keep my healer. I just never expected anyone would notice. And no one did. Except you.”

    It’s like those words don’t reach you. They recoil from a waterfall that rushes through your ears, distorting the words. When your brain finally finishes freaking out about it, only one thing appears of importance. “You cheated!”

    Byleth wears an expression that clearly states, That’s rich coming from you.

    “I— That—” How can she remain so calm? This information tilts your world, turning every hour you spent lying awake at night in your chambers wondering if you’re the only one with a power like that into a painful memory. “Does that mean you have a Crest as well? If our powers are alike, surely there must be an answer to why we have it. If we talk to Hanneman about it—”

    “You won’t,” Byleth cuts you off, her tone as sharp as her sword. “You will share no word with anyone about what I just revealed, or I will strike you down.”

    The wind picks up, flickering your robes left and right and rocking trees that bow in humility to a force much greater than them—a feeling you can relate to. Cold sweat runs down the back of your neck. This isn’t a threat. It’s a promise.

    “You spend too much time with Hubert,” you manage with a trembling smile only held together when the tension dissipates from Byleth’s face.

    “Professor Hanneman is still studying my Crest,” she says, a tinge of sorrow in her voice that strikes you harder than any danger or threat, “but I can assure you my abilities are not tied to it. I’m sorry.”

    She must have felt what you so desperately wished for: a connection. The assurance that you are not alone in this world with this strange power.

    It makes the way back to the monastery like a march through mud, laden limbs walking towards a goal you don’t know will be worth all the exertion. When the silence becomes too unbearable, you build up the courage to ask, “What are we, Byleth?”

    She drops her gaze to the ground. It is the very first time you see uncertainty hover like a shadow over her face. “I wish I could tell you, but I don’t know.”

    The sky turns an orange canvas when you finally return to the monastery. The last villagers from the small town downhill start returning home, their tools laid to rest inside their carriages. You can’t wait to sink into a nice hot bath, washing away the dried sweat and grime from the battle and change into loose, comfortable evening robes. You don’t come further than past the entrance hall. Leaning against a high pillar, Dimitri is adjusting the loops on his gauntlets, blond strands falling into his face like golden strips of sunshine. Before you reach him, Byleth says with a light touch to your elbow, “Please see Professor Manuela about your wound, okay? You did great today.” You promise her you will and watch her until she disappears through a hall leading to her personal quarters.

    With your attention on him, Dimitri looks up and stands straighter. He grins at you, his smile sudden and jarring like a thunderclap.

    “I have been waiting for you, Herald,” he says and takes you by the wrist. The cold of his gauntlets bites at your skin, making you hiss. His hand immediately drops, and he turns around in panic. “Oh, apologies. It is difficult to control my strength sometimes and—”

    “No, no, that’s not it. I was just a little surprised.”

    He sighs in relief. “Still, I am sorry. I will try to refrain from doing that in the future.”

    “Dimitri.” You graze his clothed underarm with a finger, unsure if that was a wise decision when his eyes widen in surprise. How is it you only notice now how long his eyelashes are? “I think we have seen today I am not that fragile.”

    His eyes jump away, avoiding contact, the blush creeping up his neck clearly standing out against his pale skin. He clears his throat. “I just wanted to make sure you will join us for dinner. I was not joking earlier when I said we should all celebrate our victory.”

    “Are you guys sure? I’m not your teacher and in the end, I didn’t do all too much.”

    Dimitri shakes his head. “Nonsense. You fought with us and led us to victory. We would love to celebrate with you, and while you won’t be with us all the time, I’d love nothing more than to share our happiness with you. Joy can be so fleeting, after all, and I’m sure the rest of the class feels the very same.”

    “If it really is okay with you all…” You glimpse over at him. Why not. Why not enjoy some leisure time with the students. You could surely use it to get to know them better and distract your thoughts from Byleth’s revelation. “Just give me some time to get ready. I’ll see you in the dining hall.”

    “Actually, please come to our classroom,” Dimitri says. “I don’t know how Sylvain managed it, but the kitchen’s head lady allowed us to dine in the classroom.”

    Your brows fly to your hairline. Dimitri answers with a little, low chuckle. You both have a pretty good idea how he managed to pull that stunt.

    Back in your quarters, you wash away the dirt and pick a simple robe the colour of freshly pressed parchment. The water’s heat renders today’s injuries to a dull pain save for the scrapes on your knees that still burn but are clean now. Hunger quickly catches up as well, dispersing your last doubts of intruding the class’ celebration. After leaving your room, you stop by the infirmary where Manuela makes quick work of your remaining wounds with her magic, turning purple bruises into faded yellow spots you immediately forget once you step out and head to your destination.

    The tables are already laid, arranged into a formation that resembles a circle allowing conversations to flow easily. You expected them to be already stuffing their faces but when you step into the Blue Lion’s classroom, the only source of light is a dim candle flickering in the middle of some students huddled together. Only Mercedes’ soft voice is audible, not counting the little whimpers from Annette or Ashe shuffling as he tries to hide behind Dimitri who appears to be the only one invested in her story.

    “… no one knows how deep the tunnels underneath the monastery run. But once they reach where walls are built from skulls and bones, they turn and go back … or try to do so, for who knows what horror lurks behind every corner.”

    “Nooooooo,” Annette cries, clutching to Dimitri’s sleeve. “Why would anyone go somewhere like that?”

    “A-and who built it in the first place? Tunnels lined with bones…” Ashe shudders, still looking smaller than Dimitri even though he is the one sitting.

    “A fascinating idea.” Dimitri’s excitement, bright as a spark, doesn’t bounce over to his friends. “To imagine there could be a whole civilisation living right in plain sight like that.”

    “I can’t imagine we wouldn’t notice,” Ashe reasons. His conviction would be more credible, would he not still cling to a white tail of Dimitri’s shirt. Before you can join and see if you would fare better listening to stories about haunted and forgotten places, Sylvain steals past you, his voice making you jump. “Shouldn’t you guys be finished by now?”

    Seeing your sour expression, he simply winks and hurries inside, carrying a big steaming pot. Followed by the rest of the Lions, they carry plates with dried meat, slices of bread, vegetables and cheese, and place them on the tables for everyone to just pick whatever they want. With a flick of your wrist flames flicker to life inside both fireplaces and the candles on top of the chandelier above your heads. Everyone hurries to find a seat. The students have all changed out of their battle garments into the academy’s summer uniform, its fabric much lighter than the heavy embroidered regular uniform they wore upon your first meeting.

    “My dear friends.” Dimitri raises a cup, holding the thin stem between slender fingers. It would look more elegant were its contents not simply orange juice. “To our victory today and many more to follow.”

    They raise their cups to toast except for Felix who knocks his drink back as if it were strong liquor he desperately needed to sit through this evening gathering. He doesn’t look as pale as before. A quick check up by Manuela after the battle affirmed that he was alright and simply fatigued from countless sleepless nights spent at the Training Grounds.

    The other participants don’t look too bad either. Bruises that vividly blossomed hours ago have faded, swollen purple eyes already start to heal—all certainly thanks to Manuela’s quick work. Sylvain surely won’t be as successful chasing girls with a shiner that makes the prettiest violet jealous of his colour and Dimitri tries to hide it but you don’t miss him tensing from time to time or moving his hand towards his side; probably a bruised rib he doesn’t want anyone to know. He catches your stare and offers a slight, boyish grin under half-closed eyes that only whispers of a shared secret only meant for you two. It does a funny thing to your stomach, a flip or drop, a light twist like missing a step and the fear of falling only to meet solid ground a split second later. You quickly look away and focus on spreading curd on a loaf of bread, not trying to think too much about how the muscles strained under his clothes wielding his lance or the fierce determination colouring his eyes a shade brighter when victory is in palpable proximity.

    You feel a piercing gaze, hot like a solid touch on your skin. Quickly whipping your head around, you catch Felix’s glare from across the room, completely ignoring whatever Sylvain is telling him. It leaves you completely tense for the rest of the dinner, wondering what his problem is and why he is so hostile towards Dimitri specifically. You’ve heard from some students who have walked into an argument those two had, something about a massacre two years ago but details, as is their nature, grow hazy over time and distort until they evolve into something completely different and unrecognisable.

    Felix holds your gaze for a long second, and it is only later after you all clean the classroom from your festivities and decide to retire to bed that you catch him by himself. The monastery at night is a desolate, lonely place save for a couple stray souls wandering about, either on their way to their chamber or out for a quick, last evening prayer inside the chapel. Felix’s destination is none of those as he strides towards the Training Grounds and you call out to him. He slows but doesn’t stop his step until you catch up. “You’re on your way to training, right? Shouldn’t you call it a day? Especially after what happened—”

    “I’ve got no time sitting around and making smalltalk,” Felix snaps, and a month ago you would have thought he aimed his anger towards you but recently you’ve discovered he’s towards the whole world—always glaring, always hissing like a cornered, wounded animal. “There are more important matters like growing stronger—”

    “And suffering from overexertion, I suppose.”

    Felix pulls a grimace. “It was a mistake I don’t intend to repeat. You saw Professor Byleth’s strength. It took two of you to win, and even then, it was mostly luck. I just want to try out some moves Professor Byleth exerted today so I can surpass her strength next time I challenger her.”

    “Why is it that you seek to fight so much?” you ask, deciding forwardness to be a better approach than idle chatter with a person like Felix. He doesn’t give immediate response, not because he ignores you, as is your first assumption, but because he gives it some thought.

    “Why, hm… I learnt to thrust a sword before I learnt to write my name. This is how it is for all children in my country, the perfect environment where I could live free of stodgy values and virtues. Grow strong so you may live, and live to grow stronger. That’s what I was taught.”

    It is no secret Faerghus is the land of knights and chivalry, and still it is hard to imagine a small version of Felix wielding a sword even before he learnt how to use a quill, scraped knees instead of black inked fingertips. What a strange world.

    “As long as you don’t forget to take a break should it get too much. Everyone was worried today.”

    “Everyone should mind their own business. I’m not their problem, and they aren’t mine.”

    You’re too tired to argue relationships don’t work like that, any minute longer on your feet and they’ll simply give out. Wishing Felix a goodnight, you turn towards the chapel but don’t get very far.

    “Herald.” Felix is halfway through the door. “Let me give you one advice.”

    “That is?”

    “Don’t get too close to that damn boar.”

    You’re about to ask what he’s talking about, but he continues, “Beneath all that princely polish, he’s an animal, nothing more. He’s strong and skilled, sure. But don’t place your trust in him as a human being. Take care he doesn’t chew you up and spit you out.”

    Not waiting for a response, Felix moves on, leaving you with more questions than answers. Every creature with two eyes can see hostility between Dimitri and Felix crackling like lightning about to strike the ground and burn down forests and villages. But to go this far and say these words about his future king … Words that couldn’t be more contrary to the impression he’s left on you.

    Whatever Felix wanted to accomplish, his words succeed to remain in your head the whole night, driving off any sleep you direly needed after that day. But even without that, your mind is occupied with questions. It is like stumbling into a spider web, sticky tangles everywhere with no way out.

    Who is that man you remembered? It was such a brief, yet striking memory, of what moment you cannot recall. His hostility was evident in his stance, sharp sword high up to drive down with enough force to cut your head from your shoulders. And yet here you are.

    And your words, You don’t have it in you. If you were familiar enough with that person to know this, who was he to you, and what had stopped him? Did he have a change of heart and instead used the blunt end, giving you a concussion and amnesia instead? Where is he now? And would he return to finish his work?

    Since that day, you look out for anyone fitting that built: tall and lean, visible even through robes with a design completely different from anything you’ve seen around the monastery. Asking Rhea or Seteth could be an option, but strangely enough, you don’t want to reveal it to anyone yet, not until you’ve found an answer yourself first.

    That is how your first moon at the monastery passes. Now there are more questions than before, more secrets to carry with no clear goal in sight. Lessons continue, you attend seminars and life unfolds in Garreg Mach, surprising you how easy it is growing accustomed and familiar with the place and its people—some more so than others.

    Byleth still invites you to her obligatory weekend-tea time sessions, rarely accepting no for an answer even though tea isn’t really what you consume to wind down. She’s acting like your talk after the mock battle has never happened and you do your best to mimic her even though you’d love nothing more than to see her power in battle. That opportunity shows at the end of the following month when Byleth and her class are tasked to deal with bandits the knights cornered in Zanado, the Red Canyon, but Rhea has different plans and instead sends you with the Golden Deer House to the village at the foot of the mountain to help clear debris a flooding left on one of the main roads leading to Alliance territory. It takes two days until the stench from the muddy riverbank is completely washed out of your hair.

    There is still no sight of the man from your memory, even though word about the Herald’s return has reached every corner of Fódlan by now. It makes you wonder if it’s less a matter of if and rather when he sets food inside the monastery. No additional memory has resurfaced, no sudden epiphany provides explanation and you doubt that will change even though Seteth drags you inside the chapel to pray for the goddess’ help whenever his time allows. Mostly, you use those occasions to ask her to make Raphael and Ingrid leave some Nirvana Cake for you.

    Then there is your other little secret of course. After another month of waking to an indistinguishable voice calling out to you every once in a while, you’ve grown used to it, finding a strange comfort in someone or something looking over you. Maybe it is the goddess. Maybe she is trying to reach out to tell you something important, to give divine insight and reach out to her followers. You just hope once she comes through to you, her words won’t proclaim hardships and sorrow.

[youngclaire]

One Last Final Goodbye

I rewrote sending Claire back through the stones at the end of book 2 but from Jamie's POV. I thought it would be a nice way to ease myself into writing these two. This is very book compliant, I actually bad the book open next to me whilst I wrote this in order to translate it from Claire's POV to Jamie's and it was a lot of fun. It's not a copy of the fuller chapter, it's been shortened down in places but the essence is there. I've also removed bits and pieces. Uhh yeah...all dialogue in this belongs to Diana and the book I'm just responsible for remixing the words. Anyway, I hope whoever bothers to read this likes it :)

(This is also my first fic in this fandom with these two so don't expect it to be perfect, it probably isn't)

- - -

He wouldn’t stop for anything; not food, water, or rest. He keeps the horse at a constant gallop at all times, scared that if he paused or hesitated for even a moment he would lose all courage and go neither back or forward.

I shall see my wife safe, is a mantra that keeps him riding. If he is to die tonight or on the battlefield tomorrow, he would not take her down with him; not her or the innocent being she carries inside her.

The stones come into view just above him. A cursed salvation of granite and Jamie tries not to see them, his gaze fixated forward. Behind him, Claire lets her displeasure be known, protesting against the idea. Jamie steels himself against them, clenches his jaw and gallops harder, fighting the urge to give in. This was the only way to see her safe and unharmed, he tells himself.

She protests still, even while he urges her up to the ruined cottage. She doesn’t realise he has no intention of parting with her right now, he just wants time to breathe, to think, to let the panic and worry abate. He sinks to the ground, his body cold and his mind racing.

“It’s alright,” he thinks he hear himself say. “We have a bit of time now; no one will find us here.” He shivers, though from the cold, and wraps his plaid around him.

God, he could still see it; Dougal’s lifeless eyes, the blood pooling out of him, the shock on Willie Coulter’s face. How long before everyone knew? How long before everyone found out he had committed familicide?

Jamie’s head falls forward onto his knees, a tiredness washing over him, fatigue clutching at his bones and eyelids. Tired as he was he could not sleep for fear of the images in his mind’s eye.

His breath comes out in ragged pants and he can barely stand the sound of it. He feels Claire’s warmth and presence beside him, uses it as something to anchor himself to.

What happened in that room and who knows wasn’t the priority, while Claire had yet to explicitly say so Jamie’s fate waited for him on Culloden Moor. Tomorrow he will die and all this will cease to matter. Claire will be safe.

His breathing eases back into its natural rhythm, the panic wilting away from the edges. He’ll take hold of Death’s hand, gladly accept his destiny knowing he did one thing right at last.

“I won’t go, Jamie,” she says, as if she’s read his thoughts. “I’m staying with you.”

Jamie shakes his head. She couldn’t persuade him, he couldn’t change his mind. He needed to do this.

“No,” he says. The firmness bites at him, makes him wince. He hopes she can hear the gentleness that lies beneath it. “I must go back, Claire.”

“You can’t,” she cries. “Jamie, they will have found Dougal by now! Willie Coulter will have told someone.”

Aye, that was a fact he had resigned himself to, a fact she must resign herself too as well. He grieved for Dougal, for the second father he had, but Jamie had done what he’d done- he would take whatever consequence waited for him behind that door. She talks of fleeing to France but it’s no use, he’s chosen his fate, set his heart and mind to it, accepted it. A traitor twice over, a rebel, a murderer…The English will hunt Prince Charles. The English and the clans will hunt Jamie. He was dead either way.

“Claire, I am a dead man.”

He watches the tears freeze on her cheeks. “No,” she says but the effect is lost, she knows he speaks the truth.

“I wouldna get very far anyway.” On its own accord, his hand runs through his red hair that makes him a beacon at all times. Not exactly inconspicuous. “I can save you, Claire,” With his other hand he brushes away the tears that continue to fall. “and I will. That is the most important thing.”

Then he will go back. If he finds he cannot do it for himself then he will find it in him to do so for his men.

“I think I can get them away,” he says thinking the plan through. “Even if it’s known what I’ve done, none will stop me wi’ the English in sight and the battle about to begin.” The plan visualises in his mind and he nods to himself. “I will bring them safely away and set them on the road toward Lallybroch.”

“And then?”

Well…wasn’t that obvious?

“And then I will turn back to Culloden.”

He lets out a breath, strong and final as his decision. He catches Claire’s worried look and gives her a smile.

“I’m no afraid to die, Sassenach,” he says, but then he thinks of that door, black and foreboding, the unknown behind it. “Well…not a lot, anyway.”

He hears a sound a human being should never be able to make as arms fling around him. He finds himself surrounded by Claire, caught in her tight embrace as the scent of her overwhelms him. He clutches her back, trying with all his might not to succumb and cry.

“It’s all right, Sassenach,” he says into her hair as she cries once more. “A musket ball. Maybe a blade. It will be over quickly.” A lie, they both know it, but Jamie will them both to believe it. He’s seen men die in battle, knows how horrifically slow it can be but it was better than waiting for the hangman’s noose, that would be the one thing that does not lie behind that door.

“I’m going with you.”

Lost in thought he barely registers it but when he does he reels at the notion, startling backwards.

“The hell you are!” He has a plan, damnit, and not even Claire will deter him from it.

She displays her argument but he will not listen to it, will not give it thought.

“No!” he says. “No, Claire!”

How could she suggest such a thing, knowing what they both knew? How could she be so selfish?

“If you’re not afraid, I’m not either. It will…be over quickly. You said so.”

You said so. What he said was a lie, did she not see that? A lie to comfort them both.

“Jamie- I won’t…I can’t…I bloody won’t live without you, that’s all!”

He had a thousand things to say and none at all. His mouth opens and closes before he shakes his head. Through the gaps in the ceiling he can see daylight dwindling, night approaching. The sky is painted red. Blood of a battlefield, blood of childbirth.

He reaches toward her, pulling her close. He knows where this fight comes from, if the tables were turned he would say the same thing, knows because he feels it too.

“D’ye think I don’t know?” His voice is soft, a whisper. “It’s me that has the easy part now. For if ye feel for me as I do for you- then I am asking you to tear your heart out and live without it.”

She lets out a whimper, clutching him closer. He fingers stroke her hair, whispering soft coos towards her.

“But you must do it,” he finally says, feeling his stomach twist and turn. “Ye must.”

“Why?” She is angry, considerably so. Confused and hurting. “When you took me from the witch trial at Cranesmuir- you said then you would have died with me, you would have gone to the stake with me had it come to that!”

He had said all that, and to this day, it remains true. He’d have rather died than to be parted with her.

“Aye, I would,” he says. “But I wasna carrying your child.”

The reason he is allowing them to part.

She is surprised, shocked, frozen in place as she looks up at him in bewilderment.

“You can’t tell,” she says at last, shaking her head. “It’s much too early.”

It makes him smile, brings amusement to him.

“You havena been a day late in your courses, in all the time since ye first book me to your bed. Ye havena bled now in forty-six days.”

She hurls insults at him, shocked he even managed to keep track of such a thing during a war but he had for hope they would have a second chance at raising a child and for fear that it would end like this.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” she tells him, rattling off reasons for why she might not have bled. It’s no use, she forgets he’s seen her so before, studied all the tell-tale signs of her body changing, committed them to memory.

“Claire…” His voice is quiet, not sounding like him. “Tomorrow I will die. This child…is all that will be left of me- ever.” He reaches for her hands, needing some part of her to hold. He casts his gaze to their joined hands, running his thumb over her fingers. “Claire, I beg you, see it safe.”

He keeps his eyes downcast while he waits for her answer, scared she’ll say yes, scared she’ll say no. The silence feels long and he shuts his eyes against the twisting of his stomach.

Finally her answer comes.

“Yes.” A whisper in the darkening cottage. “Yes. I’ll go.”

He nods, swallowing back the lump in his throat, hearing the sound of a flower stem snap.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

After telling her to sleep, she doesn’t sleep himself. Time seemed wasted on that and they didn’t have much of it left anymore. In a few hours he will take her to the fairy hill and part with her forever.

He wanted to rage at the unfairness of it all. To brandish his sword and yell and scream and cry but he knew there was no point to it. He knew that what he had been handed was more than fair, that not many men live the life he’s led and are allowed to be rewarded in such a way.

Lord, ye gave me a rare woman, he had said to her, quoting what he would say to God when he met him. God! I loved her well. He had, he could really say that. He took this woman, in all her unbated strangeness, into his broken hands and within her found company and peace, a place to call home.

She loved me well, too, he adds, watching her sleep for the last time. Content and safe, here in his arms and their fortress of cloth. He had healed him with her touch and love and perseverance. Picked a broken man off the floor and carried him through towards the light at the end of the tunnel no matter the setbacks. She really was a rare woman, his sassenach.

He wraps his arms tighter around her, murmurs a quick thank you in Gaelic to God and to the fairies for dropping her into his life.

Pressed against her, safe in their fortress of clothes, her skin warming his bones, his eyelids grow heavy and he succumbs to sleep as the first inklings of tomorrow break across the sky.

.:.:.:.:.:.

She was gone.

Disappeared in the same manner in which she had appeared. Gone through the stones and back to Frank.

Jamie presses his hand against the stone. The hard granite presses back on his wound, her mark, the letter C, reminding him it was real, she was real.

Her arisaid lies on the grass, forgotten in their haste to love each other one last time. Jamie picks it up, bringing it to his nose, inhaling her scent still lingering on the tartan. Tears fall on their own accord as he prays she made it back, prays that she and the bairn are safe.

A cannon in the distance booms, startling the birds and startling him. It’s beginning.

He is hesitant to move, to leave the place of their last coupling, his last connections to her.

Yet destiny waits for him on Culloden Moor, along with his men. He pictures the thirty men waiting for their laird.

There is nothing he can do for Claire now but there is something he can do for his men.

He kisses the inside of his fingers, presses it to the stone and bids his soulmate one last final goodbye.

[onwesterlywinds]

The Body Fragile Yields

Part of my Godhands series, set roughly in the year 1544 of the Sixth Astral Era - thirty-three years before Hydaelyn’s present-day, and thirteen years before Ala Mhigo’s fall.

Content warning for sexual assault and body horror.

GODHANDS IS NOW ON AO3! If you like it, send over some kudos!

Once, in the early days of her service to the crown and only some few moons after her father's death, Sigrid had been sent out to attend to Theodoric and Hrodric on a stroll through Queen Edila's gardens. Theodoric came across a dead marmot and at once took a stick to it. He poked it over and over again until its half-scavenged, half-decayed innards collapsed into themselves and spilled out over the earth. That single act of violence loosed a stench so foul that Hrodric went running; even Sigrid had to cover her face and recoil from it. That memory was one of the very few of her own that would overcome her once the vera root took hold, though it came more as a dream than a recollection: it seized her whether or not she wished it to, usually whenever Blackram seized her in kind.

***

"It's alright," Blackram whispered, again and again, as his blackened hand moved across her skin, as his body moved over top of her body. He could not reach her when she was like this, not truly, but her distress was an agony for how deeply it had taken root in him. If he could not soothe her, he would soothe himself, and he would speak to her as he did not ever need to when they were truly one.

Each time the primal's influence waned, they spent at least a week abed while they shook off the mantle of divinity and regained some semblance of their selves. It was a harrowing process made somewhat less so by the warmth of Sigrid's body lying next to his, and the persistence of their bond, and the knowledge that their suffering would soon be at an end.

***

His given name, she divined from their pervasive mental thread, was Grimms. It was not that he disliked the name for any reason; he simply doubted whether or not he was worthy of claiming it. Every woman and man who had spoken his name aloud had met a brutal end, and rarely ever by his own hand, as if the Undercity itself could expunge any trace of it on a whim. As such, he preferred Blackram, the title of his own making, at least until he could pass it on to a deserving heir.

***

Ashley. Their heir could only be Ashley, and yet this conviction invariably brought them pain twinned with pride. Sigrid would weep from it, no matter how much vera tonic she'd imbibed, and the prospect of Brynhilde's son as her son - their son - brought forth in him her visceral grief and guilt, as debilitating as their shared sickness. Of all he had done to secure the Undercity, to remake it on Sigrid's behalf, he could not yet fathom what it would mean to bring Ashley into their fold: in fulfilling his own destiny, in treating with the power of the gods, would he condemn his only scion to this same hell?

Only the Ascian would know.

***

Some days, when he needed solitude but ached for her closeness, Blackram would carry her on his arm to a spot deeper still than the catacombs: a placid saline lake where snowflies gathered to flit above the surface if the air was warm. While there, he would release her for some few moments to tend to his own musings, and she would run her toes along the smoothed rocks that comprised the banks until her last dregs of energy were spent and her legs would heed her no more.

It was akin to how the Saltery had found Blackram's mother so long ago, floating face-up and stone-cold in the shallows of Loch Seld. In life, the lot of them had called her a banshee - one of the beings that haunted the valleys with their wailing lamentations since long before the flood - and even as they hauled her corpse from the water, her hair and lips and lashes crusted with salt, they handled her with far more caution than reverence.

***

The Undercity was deep in the throes of winter, and only the salt of the lake kept it from freezing over so far beneath the earth; the snowflies were well into hibernation for the year and would not return for another few moons at best. The cold settled itself upon every ilm of stone like a fine shroud, brutal to bear without the warmth of their bed, and the bite in his boots intensified as Sigrid stretched out her own feet into the frigid, numbing depths.

Through it all, his dead hand ached worse than ever.

"You're late," drawled the red-masked figure.

***

No matter how deeply the vera root infringed upon her consciousness, no matter how low she had sunk into vague scenes from her memories or Blackram's, that voice had a way of cutting through the debility, the cold, the fear. Half the time it did not sound like Common, let alone any other language she had ever heard, and yet she understood it better than she understood her innermost thoughts.

She would have to simply lose herself, as she had learned to do while chained to the catacomb walls at this voice's behest, while lying futilely on her back, while Blackram whispered over and over that it was alright. She threw her head back to the cavern ceiling and a moan escaped her lips - the first sound she made in longer than she could remember.

***

He had grown used to the Ascian's dramatic entrances. Whoever they were and whatever their origin, they defied every law the Undercity imposed upon its denizens. The passage before him, now only a vague memory of Skalla, was the sort of place no living soul could traverse without leaving some trace of themselves - and yet there his benefactor stood, surveying the clawed tips of their gloves as dark currents from the void swirled around them.

"We've done it," Blackram declared. He was breathing heavily, as though he had run a malm while wracked with fever, all from the strain of having carried Sigrid to her point of rest in the pool. "We've summoned Zalera of our own flesh and survived."

The Ascian gave him an evident once-over from behind their blood-red mask and scoffed. "Albeit the worse for wear."

Blackram gritted his teeth but offered no retort. He would endure the weakness, endure the chills, endure his own dead hand until the primal was to be brought forth again. The only other choice was for him to lie down and die - and if he were to perish with so much left undone, then so too would Sigrid.

"We have fulfilled our end of our bargain, done as you instructed. But I would ask something different of you in exchange."

The Ascian's smile widened, ever the more unsettling for the fact that it was their only visible feature. "Oh?"

"I set my previous terms before Sigrid and I were joined - and now, there is much more at stake than the specifics of my past. I would inquire instead of the future."

"Hmph." They shrugged, rolling out their shoulders. "This could be your only chance for answers - to know of yourself, where you came from, how you came to be. You would deny yourself this knowledge forever?"

If this was a trial, a test of wills, he would overcome it. For Sigrid's sake. "I would."

"Suit yourself - though I must warn you that foresight is not a gift I possess. Nevertheless, I would not have your deeds be met with a reward you deem unfitting. Ask whatever you wish, and if it is within my knowing, I will grant you your answer."

For the briefest of moments, a glimmer of Skallan tilework, as blue as a clear morning, captivated his attention from somewhere off in the darkness. "If our heir should take up the mantle of Zalera in our stead," he began, and found that his question evaded him until only a fatalistic certainty remained. "...He will suffer as we have."

His benefactor did not move. They gave no sign that they were even breathing, let alone listening; when they spoke again, it was in a voice far softer, far more deadly, than any they had used before.

"That is something no one can say. What you have achieved thus far - the binding of two souls in service of a primal - is without precedent for your kind. Whether this mantle can be passed down to another will depend entirely on this boy, and perhaps on what he can learn from you."

And for the first time in longer than Blackram could remember, his gut clenched with stirrings of hope.

"Now, then. If that's all, you'd best return to your lady love. There's no telling what she could get up to unattended, even in her state."

Sigrid would be missing him; she was alone and cold and so distant in body and mind. But he was halfway to the primal's haunt, and he could use the last of his strength to make that journey alone, to gather what he needed with her none the wiser.

"Oh, and Blackram?"

The Ascian was at his flank in an instant, tucked into his blind spot faster than he could blink. He raised his arm to fend off an attack, only for the Ascian to whisper in his ear.

"Your success has also earned you this..."

They did not speak the next words aloud. His father's name fell into his thoughts as though it had been there all along.

***

The knife brought her back to herself. Her hand slipped to the stones at the pool's edge and touched its hilt, and she knew it at once as a gift from Rhalgr or Byregot or Brynhilde. Its blade was rusted along its edge but plenty sharp at the tip, sharp enough to pierce skin, perhaps rupture vital organs. For the first time in moons, she was reminded of her father - not a specific moment in which to lose herself, but the sound of him at work in their home's basement forge, then the smell of his sweat when he'd emerge at the end of the day. The memories stung her all the more for their vagueness, for the reprieve they could not grant her.

And she was alone. Blackram had yet to return for her, though she could sense some decisive purpose driving him deeper into the cavern, much deeper than his talk with the Ascian had required. The vera root was wearing off and her pulse was quickening, and the salt on her tongue tasted of Brynhilde.

She tucked the knife into the band that tied back her hair, though her arms ached to stretch them so, and she prayed the glint or press of it would not alert Blackram when he came to pick her up once more. When at last he reappeared, he lifted her across his unblemished left arm, steady against his shoulder. He whispered words she could not make out, adjusted her headband to cover her eyes, and the knife did not fall. She endured the familiar, troubled movements of his body as he walked them back up to their chambers in the catacombs, where a new horror beckoned.

A swath of red lay across the bedsheets, so violent in its scattering that she retched. She could smell the rot of flesh from him and from everywhere, as overpowering as ever. She backed away from the bed even as Blackram reached for her, shaking her head and trembling all over.

Get away from me. The words would not leave her, no matter how she screamed.

"Sigrid," he whispered. He held more of it in his blackened hand, its perfume overpowering; a bloom of-

Red lilies.

He reached for her but the knife was already in her hand. He reached for her and she stabbed outward until the lilies fell to the stone at their feet. He reached for her until he drew back with a hiss of pain, a shuddering gasp, a gush of blood flowing freely from his side.

He reached for her and held her fast about the waist, stanched his wound with her skin, pressed his dead hand to the base of her spine and bared his soul to hers.

Blackram, bastard son of Titus yae Galvus, summoned Zalera from their agony once more.

[evilponds]

ok ok alright i caved and wrote some warden-as-inquisitor shit. sorry if i mischaracterized blackwall i mean he doesnt talk much in this im realizing now but if i did mischaracterize him no i didnt. also i literally dont remember what happens in inquisition. sorry about that as well. in my defense i dont care

Blackwall's blood doesn't sing to her.

Tabris doesn't think anything of it, at first. People's blood doesn't usually sing. And it’s been a while since the last time she was near a Warden, so for a moment she forgets what it feels like - the pull of your soul to theirs, a feeling like part of you has known them before you even knew yourself. But she’s halfway through asking him why he’s here alone when all the other Wardens have suddenly disappeared, when the wrongness settles over her so quickly she nearly loses her train of thought altogether. And he catches on and looks at her like she can see right through him, and she can’t, is the thing, because she knows he’s lying but she can’t figure out why. All she knows is that Blackwall was a Warden, she’s heard the name before -- in passing, from Alistair, or maybe Duncan -- so whoever’s standing in front of her, wearing Warden armor and sounding for all the world like someone who actually believes in their worth, isn’t him.

She gives him a week. Partially because she isn’t sure how to approach this, partially because she wants to know more about him, or who the fuck he’s pretending to be, and partially because she already kind of likes him and she hopes he’ll tell her himself. He doesn’t, though -- he skirts around a lot of the questions people ask him, or he makes shit up outright and doesn't notice when Tabris narrows her eyes at him (Bull notices, of course, but Bull notices everything. Damned annoying, that). She understands why he wouldn't — why should he trust her, after all, a near stranger? A stranger with a name like “Veriel Tabris, Hero of Ferelden, one-time Commander of the Grey in Ferelden, former Arlessa of Amaranthine, current Herald of Fucking Andraste,” no less. But Tabris can't stand being lied to, so she has to do something about it. 

So a week finds her waiting in the smithy for him, in the dark, sitting on a counter and struggling to stay awake because he goes to bed far later than she’d expected this time around. But eventually the door opens, and Tabris watches him step into the doorway and wearily sigh.

“Did you kill him?”

Blackwall’s hand goes straight to his sword with the readiness of someone who never relaxes, not even alone; but she’s far away enough from the door that in the time it takes for him to cross the room, he recognizes her voice and scrambles back mid-step instead. Tabris watches his eyes as he struggles to track where she is so he can look away.

“Beg your pardon?” he asks, his voice half gone like he hasn’t spoken in days.

Tabris lights the lamp by her side and watches the match burn down. “Gordon Blackwall.”

“Your Worship, I’m -”

“Do not treat me like an idiot,” Tabris snaps, ears twitching once. “That’s a sport for Mother Giselle.” She smiles when she says it; the man before her doesn’t return the favor. “Thing is, if you were a Warden, I’d have felt it. The Joining connects us the same way it connects us to the Darkspawn. Kind of like getting matching tattoos, only it goes a lot deeper than skin. So whoever the fuck you are, you’re not him, but you’re walking around saying you are, wearing what I can only assume is his armor. So again, I ask: Did you kill Warden Blackwall.”

Seconds tick on. His gaze meets hers and when it does he can’t look away, can only watch her prepare to decide whether he lives or dies. Because he must know those are the stakes - he must know what a long fucking shot it was, lying to an actual Warden, and what the answer is to the murder of another. But she believes him when finally, he says, “No.”

Tabris feels some of the tension leave her, and she nods slowly. She’s surprised by how badly she’d wanted not to have to kill him, and at how easily she believes his answer. But she’s always been a pretty good judge of people - Maker knows that’s one good thing Denerim gave her - and that one word rings true.

After another moment, he - whoever he is - moves to say something else, but Tabris cuts him off. “I don’t need to know why you’re doing it,” she says. “Not just now. Hell, I can keep calling you Blackwall if you’d rather, because something tells me your real name might bring trouble. You want to wear a dead man’s name, that’s between you and your god. I just - I had to know. ‘Cos if you had-”

“I know.” Blackwall pulls out a chair from the table and settles in it, insofar as he seems to be able to settle anywhere. Tabris feels some pity for him, just a bit; she can’t imagine having to put on an entirely new life like this. She decides she’ll worry about the why of it later. He readily offered his help when he could easily have kept on with his charade, and that has to count for something. Saved her life a couple times already, too. And she remembers the way he’d spoken, back in the Hinterlands. “Save the fucking world, if pressed,” like he really believed it, like he was willing to. That had been entirely real.

“Yeah,” she says softly, “you know. Good. So. Anyone out there who could identify you? Anyone who could cause trouble for me? As I’m sure you’re aware, my position is… precarious. Plenty of people already don’t like me, and I’d prefer not to give them more ammunition than ‘potential murderer of the Divine.’”

Blackwall sighs. “I… can’t rightly say. Could be they’ve given up on me, but even if they hadn’t, I don’t think they’d recognize me. I’ve played my part well enough.” When Tabris arches one eyebrow, he actually laughs. “Well enough for most, then.”

“I’ll take it.” She hops off the counter, pretends to brush dust off the front of her pants just for the sake of having something to do. “So. You’ll stay Blackwall to the rest of them, and you’ll learn more about the Wardens so you’re not bullshitting about the organization I’m actually pretty proud to have led once upon a time, and I’ll worry about whether or not this is going to end up biting me in the ass.” 

“I… Are you quite certain?”

“That I don’t want to tell everyone that I knowingly took in a liar, bringing scandal upon my already tenuous reputation as the sole witness to a world-altering murder and potentially losing the trust of what few friends I’ve managed to make so far?” Tabris asks. “Pretty certain, yeah. Pretty certain I trust you, too, this whole thing notwithstanding. Listen, the fact that you’re here, risking your life on a daily basis rather than using your whole Warden disguise to, I don’t know, get laid or whatever - that means something. Might mean that you’re an idiot, but it could also mean that you’re a good man, and I need those in my corner right now.”

Blackwall shrugs and looks guilty, which Tabris realizes seems to be his default expression. “Could be,” he says, and if it weren’t so quiet and so close to midnight she might not even have heard him. Tabris is about to leave when suddenly he speaks again. “I was meant to be a Warden, you know. Before… Well. Before the real Blackwall died. He’s the one who conscripted me.” 

“Suppose that explains how you knew him." Tabris considers her next words carefully. "You still could be, you know, if you wanted. A Warden. 'Course, I mean only once this is all over. There’s a whole process you might not survive, and if we’re going to take that chance I’d rather it be after we deal with that thing in the sky. But, you know. Offer stands.”

“Might take you up on that,” Blackwall says. “If we live.”

“If we live.” Tabris smiles grimly. “I’m, er, glad we talked. And glad I didn’t have to kill you. And tired as hell, and my arse is asleep from sitting up on that counter for twenty years waiting up for you like you’re a kid late for curfew, so I’m going to get out of your hair, yeah? But, just.” She taps her fingers against the doorframe as she’s about to leave for real, glances back at him once more. 

“Listen. I’m told the real Blackwall was a good man - some people I respect spoke real well of him. So you do his name good, alright? If you do nothing else, make sure he stays a good man.”

“He will,” he promises, and he’s earnest again the way he was when she met him in the Hinterlands, almost reverent. Not of her, but of Blackwall himself. She wonders if he actually looked much like the man sitting at the table right now.

Tabris can't keep looking at him for some reason. She feels embarrassed, almost, though she couldn't say why. The way he talks about the Wardens, she wonders if he believes in them even more than she ever did. She wonders what that says about her. "Yeah, okay. Good enough. Goodnight, Blackwall."

She hears him move behind her, probably to wave, but she's already out in the cold again, wondering. The nights are far too long out here.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Prompt: “A bold move to show your face here in the shadows of night.” With any of the DR characters :3 (or maybe Caesar and Johann :3)

The Day of Liberty was always high stakes. Caesar Gattuso looked forward to it every year. It was his day to reassert his greatness by defeating his one and only serious rival, Chu Zihang by demolishing his club, Lionheart.

For years, Caesar’s Student Union had won the favor of the other student societies on the campus with the promise of luxury, prestige, and funding as well as an established position after graduation. It seemed to be an easy choice. Lionheart’s leader was reclusive, soft spoken and solitary. He wasn’t entirely concerned with making a name for himself other than adhering to his own personal set of ethics. When comparing the two, Student Union seemed to be an easy choice.

As few as they were, however, those who chose Lionheart were usually the ones who had met Chu Zihang personally. Even Caesar had to admit that the man was unconsciously charismatic. Once someone joined Lionheart, they wouldn’t so much as look at a Student Union application.

 It didn’t matter to him that it was the original club that was founded by Cassell. As far as he was concerned, if it wasn’t strong enough to stand, it didn’t deserve to exist at all.

With that in mind, this year, he sent a message by one of his club members to the Lionheart club. It was an open letter challenge. This time, he would bet the entirety of his club on his win. The losing club would be forced to disband.

The message shook the ranks of Lionheart. Caesar, who had always been charitable to rivals, had finally decided to crush Lionheart once and for all.

Caesar penned his final challenge to Lionheart, and it was accepted immediately. Caesar  understood that this enemy would fight to the bitter end. And he preferred it that way. 

At Amber Hall, spotlights shown high into the night sky and music blared from a DJ booth. Student Union members gathered in gowns and their best tuxedos, champagne flowed freely. Caesar stood among it all, Nono yawning on his arm and looking bored.

“President! Sir!” A drunk and swaying member of the cartography guild staggered up to him. “I just want to congratulate you on your win! This is historic! You’ll be the only club on campus.”

Caesar grinned and threw a steadying arm around him. “Thank you for being a supporter. Without you I couldn’t have gotten this far.”

The man blushed. “I can’t really accept that sir. All I do is make maps…”

“And those maps were key in plotting our strategy these past three years. Don’t sell yourself short.” Caesar’s eyes twinkled like sapphires. “You deserve congratulations. And so does everyone else here!”

A few people in earshot raised their glasses to the ceiling. “To Caesar! To the Gattusos! To Student Union!” They shouted.

Caesar lightly shoved the cartography leader back into the crowd with a low chuckled. 

Nono filled her lungs and sighed. “Well, you finally did it. Are you happy?”

“Not really,” he murmured. “To be honest… I thought it was going to be a lot harder. At least, I have only one more year after this. It’s a shame it will be the most boring year of my life. Cassell College was to be this great institution but…” He looked around before his eyes fell on her. “Other than you? There’s too much room for improvement.”

“My last challenge will be assimilating Lionheart into the Student Union.”

Nono chuckled. “Good luck  with that.”

She tilted her head up to look  at him. “You know how loyal Lionheart members are to Chu Zihang. They would sooner leave the College entirely than leave him.”

Caesar sipped from his glass, staring out over the crowd.

“Are you going to attempt to recruit him?” He didn’t laugh with her. “Caesar?”

Caesar continued to look out over the crowd, his eyes far away, gazing out the window towards the Lionheart headquarters. Inside his heart, he had given Chu Zihang one last chance and he wanted him to take it, more than he cared to admit.

Within the Lionheart Hall, Susie and Lancelot leaned over their inventory of supplies and ammunition. “We have more than enough Frigga bullets for everyone. They’ll be stacked five high at our gate.”

Lancelot took the phone from his ear. “Moreland isn’t responding. My guess is he’s going to surrender to Student Union. Not that I blame him. I wonder if Caesar’s even going to bother leaving Amber Hall. He’s got enough people to swarm this place. All we can do is try to hold them off as long as possible. They outnumber us ten to one.”

Lancelot joined Susie at the table. “Lionheart had a good run. I for one am going to take down as many as I can.”

Footsteps were heard approaching the central room and both turned to look. Chu Zihang was like a shadow in the doorway, his amber eyes like lamps in the dark. “Is everything ready?”

“Yes sir.” Lancelot stepped to one side to let Zihang examine the plans. 

The man’s eyes lowered, taking in everything in a glance. “We’re staying here?”

“We’d fall in a hail of bullets out there. We ran every scenario. They’ll have us surrounded, flanked, cut off from each other. There’s just too many of them.” Lancelot replied.

“We’ll win by staying here?”

Lancelot and Susie exchanged glances. Lancelot gently continued, “Sir… with all due respect, winning… isn’t exactly in the cards.”

“Then your goal is to extend the life of Lionheart for a few more hours.”

Lancelot sighed, clenched his teeth and slammed his fist against the table. “I feel so bad that it's come to this. I understand why you took Caesar’s bet but… Why did he have to make it? I love this club! I don’t want to give it up. I hate thinking that we’re going to lose before we even fight but what else am I supposed to think?”

“That’s a yes then…” Chu Zihang watched as his loyal second in command nodded slowly. He placed one hand on his shoulder and squeezed it in a tight grip. “This is a fine plan Lancelot. You did your best.”

Lancelot’s throat closed and his eyes teared up. He just shook his head, unable to speak.

“That’s why I regret to tell you that I will not be accepting it. We can’t win this way.”

Lancelot gave a short laugh and Zihang returned his smile. “Longevity has never been a goal of mine.”

“I understand that I have almost no chance of winning. If anyone doesn’t wish to join me in this fight, they’re free to stay behind. However, whoever wants to join me. Have them meet with me in the entry hall in 20 minutes. Susie… let everyone know.”

Chu Zihang walked towards the entry, leaving Lancelot and Susie staring wide eyed at each other.

20 minutes later, every Lionheart member had shown up at the entry with even the previously AWOL Moreland making it.

“I’ll need twenty five of you to cross the plaza at ten minutes to the stroke of midnight and take a  position near the Hall of Valor. Stay there and wait for my instructions. Susie, you take one half of the remainder, Lancelot take the other half and position yourselves on either side of Amber Hall.”

“The Day of Liberty begins on the stroke of midnight. As soon as the last bell tolls…” Zihang spoke quietly and so the crowd surrounding him were completely hushed, hanging on his every last word. 

Zihang opened the map that Lancelot and Susie had been working with.

“Don’t they have scouts everywhere?”

“Presumably.” Chu Zihang replied. “The twenty five will be enough to draw their attention. Make sure they are wearing their uniforms. Hm…” he thought a moment. 

“Taunt them?” Another piped up.

“Don’t be too obvious.”

A gentle chuckle rumbled through the group as they realized what Chu Zihang might be up to.

“Susie, Lancelot, you two leave out the back entrance, go in opposite directions, take the long route around campus. Don’t let yourselves be seen. Gather on opposite sides of the building. Lancelot, you enter first take out everyone you can, set up positions facing out. Susie, stay outside and keep a group with you to keep others from getting in.”

“And you sir?” Susie asked.

“Don’t worry about me.” He turned to her. “No matter what, when you see me lower my sword, open fire with everything you have.”

-------

As the clock ticked closer to midnight, it began to rain. The outdoor pavilion emptied into the building and people were now milling about on the dance floor. Caesar’s mood dipped lower and lower. Caesar was a warrior. There was nothing quite as good as the fiery battlefield to him, and nothing quite as boring and anticlimactic as a siege.

All night, there had been little movement out of the Lionheart club. 

He sat at the head of a banquet table, swirling his wine but not drinking it. Nono was silent at his side, valiantly trying and failing to keep him from noticing that she was nodding off.

Then someone shouted. “Hey! Something’s happening at Lionheart!”

A series of windows had a great view of the campus, including the rival club. The Student Union members crowded them, eager to get a look at what their rivals could be getting up to.

“There’s so few of them?”

“Are they giving up?”

They moved aside as Caesar Gattuso approached the window with his wine. It had started to rain steadily but the Lionheart members were identifiable even at this distance. They were all dressed in tactical gear in Lionheart uniforms. 

.His phone rang. 

“They’re headed to the church.” Came the voice over the receiver.

“We have enough positions there, they’re not a threat. Keep me posted on their movements.”

A loud commotion erupted near the entrance of the banquet hall.

“Hey! What are you doing here? You’re not allowed in here!”

Caesar turned. His phalanx of body guards had surrounded a familiar figure dressed in a dark trench coat, a sword sheathed at his side. Caesar’s heart raced when their eyes locked. He felt an overwhelming thrill, his mood lifting from the depths and soaring high!

“A bold move to show your face here in the shadows of night. Did you come here to give up before the fight’s even started?” He bellowed, standing up.

The other Student Union members were confused at Caesar’s enthusiastic greeting and fell silent. In the lull of noise, Chu Zihang got right to the point. “No. I’ve come here to say that I won’t make you disband your club even though that is in the terms of our agreement..”

Disbelief and shock at those words silenced the entire hall. But in another moment, the banquet hall erupted into roars of uncontrollable mocking laughter. Some could barely stand up, leaning over and banging on tables, tears coming to their eyes. Even the bodyguards squinted and smirked, wondering if the Lionheart Leader had lost his mind in his defeat. Meanwhile, Chu Zihang never took his eyes off his rival.

Nono looked up at Caesar, covered one mouth with her hand and backed away a bit, crossing her arms.

It took a few moments as people glanced over at Gattuso and realized he wasn’t laughing. A cold, icy stillness had come over him as he stared down his rival. His eyes snapped with such a fearsome anger that the minute he glanced at someone, their mouth shut and the color drained from their face and ladies stepped quietly behind their men.

Out of any other person, those words would seem like a joke. 

But Chu Zihang didn’t joke. 

Once his club mates were subdued, Caesar opened his arms in a magnanimous gesture of welcome. “There’s still a few more minutes before the fight begins. Until then, Chu Zihang, you’re free to drink at my table.”

A strange, wild light flared in Caesar’s eyes. Some wondered if he was drunk by the way he approached Chu Zihang openly while the others started to reach for their weapons. Some wondered if the wine given Chu Zihang would be poisoned. 

All eyes were on Chu Zihang as he made his way to the table and on the small group of students setting up under the church tower.

The clock struck twelve. The sound of the bells, the rain and the wind whipping through the campus, masked the approach of Lionheart from the east and west entrances of Amber Hall.

Chu Zihang and Caesar Gattuso watched the wine fill up the wine glass between them, neither willing to take their eyes off the other. At the final toll of the bells, Caesar drew his weapons in an instant, but Chu Zihang was quicker, drawing his blade in an arc of light and slashing the bottle in half, sending the wine spraying into his face.

The other guests drew their weapons to defend their leader just as the Lionheart Club burst into the banquet hall from two sides.

Crowded and barely able to maneuver, more Student Union members were cut down by friendly fire than by Lionheart members. Not all of the Student Union had bothered to even arm themselves and were taken out without a fight. From outside the hall, there was nothing but the sound of the screams and gunfire, something out of the assassination of a royal family. It was mayhem.

A slaughter.

Outside of Amber Hall, the attack was so sudden that the waiting outside scout groups wondered if the party had just intensified. Instructed to keep their eyes on the Lionheart members at the church, they stayed watching, not even bothering to call in. Assured of victory, most of the Student Union had gone to the party. Those stuck watching the outside were a much smaller group.

Finally, word got out that Lionheart had struck at the headquarters of Student Union and the scattered club members poured out to the fight.

But their hesitancy had lost valuable time. By then Lionheart was already entrenched in Amber Hall. Lancelot sent his group to the windows. The rushed and disorganized approach to the building was met by a wall of fearsome gunfire. 

The twenty five members waiting next to the church, rallied and attacked the bedraggled group from behind, scattering them.

But the Student Union wasn’t done. 

Nono rushed away, followed by a trail of bullet holes in the century old plaster. She dove and rolled behind a bus table, grabbed a fallen member’s gun and fired from behind it, felling three Lionheart in three shots, before being forced to duck behind cover again. 

Pinned, she looked around and then looked up. The large banquet Chandlier shined like a sun above her. She shook her head as she imagined the look on Manstein’s face before aiming her gun at the supporting golden chains.

She fired once and it rocked, twice and it jerked lower.

One the third try, her gun clicked empty. Hissing curses she tossed it aside. A serving platter would serve nicely as a shield. She grabbed it from the bus table and dashed out of cover, the Frigga bullets leaving a trail of crimson liquid running down it. 

She dashed up the stairs towards the mezzanine.

From her vantage point, she could see Caesar and Chu Zihang locked in combat. A few Lionheart members were aiming at them, but it was impossible to get a clean shot. They were a blur of motion. Caesar pressed the offensive, cutting his blade at his nimble opponent’s neck with a power that stopped her short.

The Day of Liberty was not meant to be a lethal contest.

Zihang’s eyes kept their practiced detachment. He was not counter attacking, content to dodge and occasionally parry. He leaped behind a table to evade a thrust, knocking it over with a powerful kick, the crash of thousands of dollars worth of food seemed to wake him up. He paused, and realized he was surrounded, a dozen guns pointed straight at him.

Nono took her chance, and took a flying leap off the mezzanine and grasped the massive chandelier. Her weight was the last straw needed to send the metal structure, weighing hundreds of pounds, down onto the Lionheart members. In a second of descent it smashed into the ground sending crystal shards in all directions. Lionheart scrambled to get out of the way.

The banquet hall went dark and in the confusion, she dove on them like a lioness, knocking the Lionheart members out of the fight with a vengeance. Caesar and Zihang circled each other, taking a moment to regain their stamina.

“You don’t disappoint. I’m going to really miss this.” Caesar murmured.

Zihang was unmoved. “This was only possible thanks to your carelessness.”

Caesar snorted. “Even at my most careless, you barely stand a chance. For the past three years, you couldn’t eke out a single win. I wanted to give you every chance. I would have been disappointed if you didn’t take it.”

“It’s clear that Lionheart doesn’t deserve to exist. Any last words, Chu Zihang?” He asked, leveling his Desert Eagles at him.

Chu Zihang lowered his sword.

The glass next him shattered. Susie’s wing of fighters were still outside, fresh and ready, waiting for that one signal. Caesar hadn’t counted on the outside force on the opposite side of the building that were waiting just for him.

With that, taken off guard, panicked and with the complete loss of their leadership the Student Union forces evaporated. The weakened forces were like carrion for the galvanized Lionheart members who fell on their scattered ranks with the same mercilessness that they’d been dealt over the years.

And yet no one touched Nono, who wearily walked over to Caesar’s prone body and tipped him face up with the toe of her heeled shoe.

Then she looked at Chu Zihang. He was staggered, leaning against the wall, the red blood-like marks of Frigga bullets dotting his clothing. His breathing was labored. 

Despite the powerful drugs coursing through his system, he was upright, eyes open, fighting the unconsciousness by raising his dragonblood purity through blood rage. Even then, he was visibly shaking.

He looked at her, one hand still on his sword despite everything. 

“Don’t make me shoot you again, Nono.” Susie’s voice came from outside. “There’s enough of us to take you out easily.”

Nono casually tossed her pistol aside and laughed. “Far be it from me to get between my boyfriend and his one true love.”

[wrestlingisfake]

Triplemania XXIX preview

This is traditionally the biggest show of the year for AAA. For the first time since the pandemic started, AAA is doing an indoor show with fans in attendance. The show starts at 9pm EDT tonight, but it's only being streamed within Mexico, because AAA's international broadcast rights are tied up in a lawsuit. Noted lucha libre reporter thecubsfan plans to get around that, though, so you might want to check out his Twitter for more info.

Psycho Clown vs. Rey Escorpion - This is a lucha de apuestas, so if Psycho loses he must unmask and reveal his true identity, and if Escorpion loses he must have his head shaved in the ring. There are no higher stakes in Mexican wrestling that putting your mask on the line, and the only thing that comes close is risking your hair. So if you're wondering why this is the main event and not Kenny Omega vs. Andrade, that's why.

The backstory here goes all the way back to 2013, when Escorpion was in CMLL and defeated Psycho's father, Brazo de Plata, in a hair vs. hair match. That was supposed to lead to another of Brazo's sons, Maximo, getting revenge on Escorpion, but the match never came together. Escorpion ended up going to AAA in 2017, starting a long-running feud with Psycho. So now Psycho has a chance to do what his brother couldn't, and avenge his father. Coincidentally, Brazo de Plata (aka Super Porky) passed away a few weeks ago, and I assume that will be incorporated into Psycho's motivation here.

I don't follow AAA closely enough to keep track of the regulars, but I know Psycho Clown is one of the biggest stars in the promotion and he's no pussycat. I would expect a wild brawl between two guys who can't afford to lose. Of course, in a match like this, I tend to think the favorite is the guy defending his mask, since hair grows back. So look for Escorpion to finally get his comeuppance after all these years.

Kenny Omega vs. Andrade El Idolo - This is Omega's fifth defense of the AAA mega championship since he won it in October 2019. Kenny went on to win the AEW men's world title in December 2020, and the Impact/TNA world title in April 2021, becoming a triple champion with four belts. However, he lost the Impact and TNA belts to Christian Cage yesterday, which has him looking particularly vulnerable. If Andrade wins the AAA title tonight, Omega will have lost three of his four belts in about 24 hours.

Andrade was best known as La Sombra in CMLL until he joined WWE/NXT in 2016. After requesting his WWE release in March 2021, he appeared on a May 2 AAA show and challenge Omega to this match. A month later he debuted on AEW, in a baffling storyline where nobody seems to understand how anything works. As far as I can recall, AEW has never once mentioned that this title match is happening, even though Omega, Andrade, and the AAA belt appear regularly on AEW programming.

Andrade's post-WWE career has not impressed the pundits, raising questions about whether he can reclaim the greatness that got people to care about La Sombra in the first place. If he can't have a great match with Omega, that discourse is likely to dog him for a long time.

Within the world of AAA, Omega has planted seeds for a match with Hijo del Vikingo, and Andrade has teased the idea of a match with Psycho Clown. I would think AAA would rather have the title involved in Andrade vs. Psycho, but that doesn't necessarily mean they'll go that route, or that they'll start setting it up right now. I'm leaning toward a title change happening, but either outcome won't surprise me much.

Faby Apache vs. Deonna Purrazzo - Apache is the AAA women's champion, and Purrazzo is the Impact women's champion. Both belts are at stake, so it will be champion versus champion, title for title. Deonna is already booked for a title defense on August 28 against Melina Perez, so it's not clear what would happen to that match if she loses here.

There's not much of a story here--Purrazzo just wandered into an AAA show to confront Apache and issue the challenge. This comes across as AAA's big idea to get their belt on international TV by putting it on a top foreigner, similar to what they did with Kenny Omega. It doesn't really feel like Impact is even involved, outside of their office approving the booking. I'm not sure Impact has promoted or even mentioned the match, although I haven't kept up with it lately.

Apache is a big star for AAA, but Purrazzo looks to be the heavy favorite to win. She's gotten a lot of buzz for her in-ring work, and Impact recognizes that and presents her like a big deal. It feels like they've got a destination in mind for her later this year, and I can't believe they'd disrupt that to have her lose her title in Mexico. I can believe, on the other hand, that AAA would send their women's title to the US and forget about it for six months.

Pentagon Jr. & Rey Fenix vs. Hijo del Vikingo & Laredo Kid vs. Taurus & ? - Hey, remember when the Penta and Fenix defended the AAA tag team title in the ladder match at AEW All Out 2019? They've had those belts this whole time! I totally forgot. Anyway, they're defending them here in a three-way, so whoever scores the first fall will win the title for his team.

Vikingo and Laredo were once teammates in Los Jinetes del Aire, but that was a couple of years ago. Taurus normally teams with Crazzy Steve on Impact Wrestling, and he holds the AAA trios title with El Texano Jr. and Rey Escorpion, but for this match he's got a mystery partner. It remains to be seen if this is the kind of mystery partner that's a big surprise, or the kind where it's just some guy that wasn't worth advertising ahead of time.

I don't keep up with AEW's Youtube shows, and Penta and Fenix haven't teamed on Dynamite in months, so I haven't seen those two really go nuts in a long-ass time. Vikingo and Laredo have a lot of buzz, and I keep assuming they're about to sign with a major American promotion, but they still haven't from what I can tell. So this could get pretty flippy and wild, especially with Taurus there to, like, be huge and catch people and stuff.

If I thought AAA gave a damn about keeping their belts on regulars, I'd expect Vikingo and Laredo to win. If I thought the priority was to deliver a big surprise to pop the fans, I'd expect a win for Taurus's mystery partner. But as it is, these belts belong to the Lucha Bros., and I expect that's where they'll stay.

Pagano & Chessman & Murder Clown vs. Puma King & DMT Azul & Sam Adonis - Azul used to be Diamante Azul in CMLL, but he recently jumped over to AAA to team with Puma and Adonis, who are also ex-CMLL guys. Together they're La Empresa, an unofficial CMLL invasion group. So the other team is fighting for the honor of AAA, but Pagano and Chessman are nuts and hate each other, so the big question is CAN THEY COEXIST~? My guess is that they can't, and La Empresa will pick up a win to build steam for this storyline.

Copa Triplemania battle royale - This is basically an undercard battle royale featuring everybody that isn't booked for some other match. The rules are kind of like WWE's Royal Rumble, but frankly I've watched several of these and I've never been able to figure it out. "Copa Triplemania" translates to "Triplemania Cup" but I can't remember if there's an actual trophy or any kind of stakes to this. As I recall it always comes down to a babyface and a heel and then somehow the heel referee is always in there, but somebody clobbers him and the good guy wins anyway.

Marvel Lucha Libre something something - For some reason Marvel has a promotional deal with AAA, wherein AAA books matches featuring wrestlers dressed up as Marvel superheroes. It's hard to believe this is going to sell even one extra ticket to a Marvel movie, but okay. Anyway, I remember seeing one of these with Captain America and Spider-Man vs. Thanos and Venom, which you'd think would be awesome, but it didn't really hold my attention. I don't know which characters will be represented this time, although if AAA wants to book the Loki and Sylvie vs. Kang and Renslayer, I promise to mark the fuck out.

[ms-rampage]

Eden’s Gate: The Mother Chapter 1 - Hope County

Warnings: Some swearing

Word count: 1.8k

Where it all began. 

Summary: Mandy Winchester, a single mother who lost custody of her 2 teenage daughters 4 months earlier passes through Hope County, Montana that has been liberated by a doomsday Cult. Upon arrival in Hope County she catches the attention of a certain Leader.

Guest OCs: None

Guest Characters: Archangel Raphael (Supernatural), Chuck/God [mentioned]

Note: This takes place in 2012. Supernatural & Far Cry 5 crossover. 

*********

*Ace of Spades by Motorhead plays over the radio*

If you like to gamble, I tell you I’m you man

You win some, you lose some, all the same to me

41 year old Mandy Winchester drives down the road entering Hope County, Montana.

Passing through to get some gas, food, maybe some beer and rest.

Drumming her fingers along with the song on the wheel, singing along with the song.

The pleasure is to play, makes no difference what you say

I don’t share your greed, the only card I need is the Ace of Spades

The Ace of Spades .

Playing for the high one, dancing with the devil.

Going with the flow, it’s all a game to me.

Driving down the countryside road.

Seven or eleven, snake eyes watching you

Double up, or quit, double stake, or split- 

Not even halfway through the song, the radio cuts out with static. Changing it to some depressing Christian music.

“What the hell?!?” she says, trying to fix the radio.

When none of that helps, she shuts it off. Driving in silence. 

She was told she had to go to Hope County by Archangel Raphael. He didn’t say much on why she had to go. 

All that she had to protect a certain man.

Because “God was gonna speak with him, or that God spoke with him about the end”. Something like that. 

She doesn’t even know this man’s name, or what he looks like. But he did say that she’ll know when she sees him. Her gut will tell her, that still didn’t help. She thought she was wasting her time, she could’ve been looking for her husband’s killer, but Raphael said that this will “help her with what she needed” whatever that meant.

She drives down the road in the Henbane River. 

Nothing unusual, seems like a normal country town. She pulls into the Misty River Gas station. Getting out, putting gas into her truck. 

A quiet town. She knows her daughters would’ve loved it here. As gas is being pumped into her truck, she looks around.

“Passing through?!” a man’s voice asks from behind her.

She turns around to face him, “Yeah, I’m here on business”.

He nods, “Well be careful. There’s a lot of crazies here”.

She chuckles, “Don’t worry”, she pulls out her .45 pistol, “I got that covered”.

He nods his head, smiling, “Well that’s a good start”.

She takes the pump of her truck putting back in the gauge.

“Where can I find a place to eat?!” she asks him. 

“Well you can go to the Spread Eagle bar that's over in Holland Valley, 8 Bit Pizza, Aubrey’s Diner or Whistling Beaver Brewery they’re here in Henbane, or you can go to the Grill Steak that’s over in the Whitetail Mountains”.

Mandy nods her head, “Which one do you prefer?!?”.

He takes a moment, “I would say Spread Eagle”.

She nods her head again, “Alright I’ll check it out. Thanks”.

“No problem. Have a nice day ma’am” he says, going back inside the gas station. 

Mandy takes off down the road. Crossing over a bridge leading to Holland Valley.

“Okay where is this place?!” she asks herself.

Driving through Falls End, she spots the bar. Parking her truck outside. She walks in to it with the smell of chicken wings, and whiskey. Looking around the bar, its not too busy, not too slow, she takes a seat at the bar.

A blonde young woman behind the bar approaches her.

“What can I get you hon?”

Mandy looks down at the menu attached to the bar counter.

“Uhh, I’ll have Guinness, and some chicken wings. Buffalo sauce on the side please. Thank you”.

She gives her order to the cook, and gives her a bottle of Guinness.

“You’re not from around here are you?!” she asks.

Shaking her head, “No, I’m just here on business” she answers.

“What kind of business? If you don’t mind me asking” she asks.

“FBI” she replies. 

She raises her eyebrows, “Really?”.

 She laughs, “No, I’m joking. I’m just passing through”.

“I see you got a sense of humor. We need that around here” she says, cleaning glasses. 

“What’s it like around here?!’ Mandy asks, before taking a sip of her beer.

“It’s quiet. But beware there’s a Cult growing here” she says.

“A Cult?!” she questions.

“Yep, they’ve been growing, kidnapping people to join, stealing property.”

“What about the police?! What are they doing about it?!?” she asks.

Mary May scoffs, “They ain’t doing fucking shit. We have to fend for ourselves”.

“I’m Mary May by the way"

“Mandy” she says. 

“Nice to meet you Mandy” she greets.

She gives Mandy her food, and she eats them, while chatting with Mary.

“So what’s this Cult?!” she asks.

“They’re called the Project at Eden’s Gate”

“A religious cult. They’re the worst” she jokes.

“This Cult ain’t no joke. They’ve kidnapped people, forcing them out of their homes, taking over businesses, killing innocent people if they refuse to join them” Mary tells her, while cleaning the counter, “They’ve tried taking my bar. My father’s bar. I did everything I could to protect this place”.

They talk for another hour, and a few beers later, Mandy leaves for a motel in the Henbane River that Mary May had recommended, King’s Hot Springs Hotel, to get some shut eye. 

She planned on leaving the next day, but unfortunately due to the Cult, she’s trapped in Hope County. Now she has a reason to “protect” this man who is living in Hope County. Doesn’t know his name, what he looks like, none of that shit.

While driving back to the Henbane, on her way to the hotel, she slams on the brakes to her truck. When three bald people run in front of her truck. Looking like they escaped a mental asylum.

“Oh shit!!!” she yells, slamming on the brake pedal. That scared the living shit out of her.

“What the fuck?!?” she says under her breath.

She continues her drive to the hotel. Arriving at the hotel, she walks in, goes up to the front desk

She’s able to get a room, despite all the Cultists running around and stealing properties.

Mandy’s showers, and goes to sleep.

Figuring out who this person Raphael told her about in the morning. In the middle of the night around 1:30am, a loud crash sound of glass breaking from downstairs in the lobby wakes her up. 

Gun shots, and the sound of bodies dropping. Making her room windows vibrate. Heavy footsteps, moving up the stairs. She reaches over to her nightstand, and grabs her pistol.

Waiting for whoever that broke in, to break into her room. 

After a few minutes, her bedroom door bursts open, and before they could even take a step in, and see her.

She fires two bullets at them, one in each of their skulls. Killing them both.

“What the fuck?!?” she mutters.

She checks them both, and one of them as an usual symbol on their forehead. 

“What the fuck is that?!?” she asks herself, examining the symbol. She has never seen anything like it before.

She moves the bodies out of her room, and into the hallway away from her door.

She tries to go back to sleep, but fails to do so. Staying up, listening to every little sound. The sun finally comes up, Mandy gets dressed, and goes downstairs.

The clerk that checked her in is dead, the bellhop is dead.

A few people that were staying there are dead.

She quickly leaves the hotel, and drives towards Aubrey’s Diner for something to eat. On the drive there she sees that same exact symbol on a billboard.

“What the hell is that damn symbol?!?” she asks out loud to herself.

She pulls up to the diner, and it’s been taken over by Cultists.

“Are you fucking serious?!?” she says.

She drives away, and pulls over to the side of the road, near a huge field with cattle.  She sighs, closes her eyes and prays to Archangel Raphael.

“Hey Raphael, it's me Mandy Winchester. You told me to come to Hope County, Montana to protect some man. You didn’t even tell me his name, or tell me what he looks like. So get your feather ass down here, and give me that information!!”.

After a few minutes of silence, she’s about to start her truck and drive away when the fluttering of feathers, and the Archangel appears in her passenger seat.

“Well it’s about time!” she says.

“You prayed for me?!” he asks.

She nods, “Yeah, you told me to come here to protect some man. I don’t know from who, or from what. But you told me I needed to protect him because of Chuck”.

Raphael sighs, “His name is Joseph Seed. You can’t miss him, he wears yellow sunglasses, and is often shirtless. A very distinguished character”.

Mandy shrugs, “Okay where would I find Joseph Seed?!”.

“His compound. The middle island between the Whitetails, and Henbane. The one that's all fenced up” he says.

“Okay, so what do I do?!” she asks.

“You’ll have to wait” he says.

“For what?!”.

“For him to approach, or ask for you. God has mentioned you to him” he tells her.

“Why would Chuck say that to him?!” she asks, concerned. 

“He didn’t say. All he said to Joseph was that “A woman will make herself clear to you, and will be your guide”. That’s all he said to me, but I’m sure he said more to Joseph”.

Mandy sighs in frustration, “Great, so what do I do?!. Just sit around, and wait for him to notice me?!”.

“God will tell him of your arrival” he tells her.

“So when I do meet him, what do I say to him?!?. “I’m here to protect you?!”, or “God sent me?!”, what do I tell him?!”.

“Whatever Joseph says to you. Go with it. It is important that you protect him. From death, being arrested, anything that’ll cause him to be gone, or in danger”.

***********************************************

Joseph’s compound

The Church of Eden’s Gate just finished having their sermon, spoken by The Father Joseph Seed.

God has been speaking to him, about the arrival of a particular woman that will guide the Project to the gates of Eden.  After the sermon, Joseph gets lost in a trance, lost in his visions, he closes his eyes, the voice speaking to him.

Telling him, “She has arrived, she is here. She will show herself. The Mother will guide you, and your flock to the New World”.

Mandy’s face shows in Joseph’s mind. Her smile, driving in her truck, filling it up, eating at the Spread Eagle, checking into the King’s Hot Springs Hotel, and killing one of his followers. 

“Father?, Father Joseph? Are you okay?” one of his followers asks.

He opens his eyes. “Yes my child. It was just a vision" he responds.

“A vision?” they ask.

“Yes, she has arrived. The Mother has arrived” he answers, turning to face them.