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the-darkness-does-not-bargain · 2 years

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Trials 1:40-44 part 1

Well, here it finally fucking is. Part 1 of the monster that is The Hinterlands ChapterTM . I had to break it into two chapters to prevent both myself and you guys from losing our minds. I’ll post the next part soon when I’m done editing. Part 1 gives everyone some time to shine, but Lilith is a major player, so get hype for that. Link to AO3 as always :) (x)

Having signed your life away to a group of religious fanatics (nice going, Ava, you dumbass), you are immediately put to work. There are 1,001 problems that need to be solved, and most of them seem to be in the Hinterlands. Dora explains in a succinct, tactical way that the area has become the central battleground of the Mage-Templar war. This is because the region is huge, and neither side has the numbers to control it all. The rebel mages have based themselves in Redcliffe with the permission of the Arl and King Alistair, while the Templars have holed up in a fortress called Therinfal Redoubt on the opposite end. Both sides have camps and patrols spread throughout the area, harassing and even killing locals, burning down houses, and disrupting trade.

You are charged with somehow stopping all of it. Or “remedying the situation” as Mother Superion puts it. She bids you to seek out a Revered Mother named Giselle who is supposedly active in the area. Gaining her support will supposedly lend the Inquisition credibility to play nice with the Chantry and get them to maybe not excommunicate you all (not that you care, but everyone else says it would be bad, so you’re outvoted). Additionally, if you can get the rebels and Templars to back the fuck off for even a minute, it will supposedly win you massive public support. That’s a lot of supposedly’s, fuck.

But, you go. Everyone goes, actually. Beatrice makes the excellent point that the Hinterlands are so massive that no one team can possibly handle it all. So, after a day of preparations, you set out on the march with Beatrice, Mary, Lilith, Camila, and Solas in tow. Mother Superion elects to stay behind with Dora to manage things while you’re gone, but she sends a number of scouts and soldiers ahead of you to assess the situation and do reconnaissance until you get there.

You have never marched anywhere before, so this trek is more than a little difficult for you. Lilith scoffs when you get tired easily and Mary teases you when you trip over your own feet, but Beatrice helps you back up each time you stumble, and Camila does her best to boost morale as you go along.

You learn little things about each of them along the way. Camila is a kickass archer babe, but she’s also a really good singer. She makes the long walks go faster by singing an upbeat tune, and when you all camp out for the night, her voice lulls you to sleep after you collapse on your bedroll. Mary performs routine checks on her crossbow, oiling and testing all of its mechanisms before bed each night. She also enjoys wood-carving, taking any moment of sitting down to whip out a half-finished block of wood and work on it. She won’t tell you what it’s going to be, though, insisting that you’ll have to wait and find out. Lilith trains constantly. She’s always swinging at something, hacking apart some foe only she can see. It works for her, clearly, but sometimes after you slow the group down a little too long with how many breaks you need, you think the enemy she’s swinging at is you. Solas is a quiet traveling companion. He will talk, ask questions, and make observations occasionally, but overall he seems content in silence. You can feel him looking at you though, still trying to figure you out, so you avoid him more often than not.

As for Beatrice… Beatrice writes. A lot. She takes notes. On everything. You look over her shoulder one night and find her writing in detail about some fish you saw jumping out of a stream, cataloging their characteristics to determine their edibility. She writes about the weather, she inventories your provisions, and she takes extremely diligent, highly-detailed notes on any combat situations you come across.

(And you have found a few. It’s nothing crazy, but brigands hide along the roads to ambush travelers, and they don’t spare your group despite the obvious Don’t Fuck With Us energy you’re giving off. Fighting people is not the same as fighting demons. It’s harder, both because people are smarter than demons and because people are harder to kill. For you, at least. The others don’t seem to have any qualms about it. In fact, Lilith is partial to mocking you when you hesitate to strike a killing blow. The others just repeat that it will be worse when you actually get to the Hinterlands, like that settles the matter.)

Beatrice writes about all of it. And when she’s not writing, she’s reviewing. You’re starting to get a little worried about her neck with how much time she spends per day slouched over her notebook.

You think she may also be writing about you. It’s just a hunch, but sometimes you catch her looking at you too, not like Solas does, or not exactly like he does. She's also trying to figure you out, but for different reasons (you hope). Mainly, she just seems to be concerned for you, but you’ve definitely seen her reaching for her notebook out of the corner of your eye. Although you are desperate to ask, you keep quiet in present company. Lilith still watches you like you might attack them at any moment. Mary watches you too, with something like sadness in her gaze, or regret, or worry. On a bitter note, you know from listening to her story why she seems so familiar to you, but getting into that is not something you have the energy for right now.

So no, you won’t ask here. Instead, you’ll crack a joke (what do you call a pig that catches the Blight?), make up a pun, or just distract everyone by falling on your face again. Whatever works to make them look at you rather than through you.

At least your Friend treats you the same. You think She may be enjoying this time in the world. You can feel it when She focuses on something, studying it, and you can almost visualize Her looking over your shoulder and taking in the mortal plain, which must be completely bizarre to Her.

And it’s not all bad, really. It's beautiful and exciting, surprising and challenging. You’re getting to do a lot of things you never dreamed of before, like camping (hard to adjust to, but fun), eating hot food (Mary smacks your hand away from messing things up every time she and Camila cook dinner), and using magic again. To your delight, Beatrice agrees to teach you some spells, starting with basic stuff you kind of remember like barrier spells and elemental barrage spells. You ask her to teach you an immolation spell, and she agrees, but only once you reach the Hinterlands where there will be enough space to practice with it. Solas chimes in from time to time with tips and advice of his own, and he even teaches you how to dispel an enemy’s magic and protect your allies from hostile magical effects.

And as he predicted, you also learn more about the power your bond with Hope gives you. You start to recognize the feeling that comes right before you phase through an attack, and you think if you ever get a moment’s peace that you can learn to do it on purpose. You also levitate again, which is terrifying at first. A hulking brute of a guy picks you up at one point and chucks you into the air like a child's ball. You brace yourself for a painful landing only to never hit the ground. Instead, you hover two feet above it, limbs flailing, until you lose focus or something and crash down on your ass. Your bruised tailbone is healed by the time the fight ends.

At one point, you discover something entirely new. While you’re stuck battling a large group, someone jumps out of the brush to ambush you from behind. You don’t hear them sneak up, too distracted pushing another one away from Camila. They almost bury a knife in your shoulder when they are suddenly thrown backward, buffeted by a propulsive wave of energy that makes the trees behind you shake. You spin around to find them lying in a boneless heap on the ground, breathing but unmoving.

“Instinctual defense,” Solas comments, far too casually for how he’s currently grappling with a man twice his size. “Later on, we can try to harness that deliberately.” Let it never be said he isn’t an enthusiastic teacher.

Eventually, you do make it to the Hinterlands, and yes, it is worse. So much worse. You’re shocked by it, and you didn’t think you could be shocked by violence anymore. It’s horrific. The rebels and Templars tear each other apart in the smoke of burning farms while refugees starve and freeze to death in overcrowded camps, hemmed in by threats on all sides. The summary report you receive from Scout Harding doesn’t even scratch the surface.

You find Mother Giselle after cutting a bloody path to the Crossroads refugee camp, and you don’t need her to tell you how dire things are when you arrive. You listen, of course, as she explains the general situation and makes several suggestions for how you can help, even as you begin to fear that your best efforts will barely be a drop in the bucket.

You approach the task at hand via a series of delegations, per Beatrice’s suggestion. The refugees need food and blankets, the camps need watchtowers to guard against approaching threats, and the Inquisition needs horses. There are also Rifts everywhere, spewing out demons in alarming numbers. So, divide and conquer. You send Camila with a group of scouts to hunt for food and pick up supplies, and Lilith agrees to travel with some soldiers to capture several lumber yards for the watchtowers.

You, Mary, Beatrice, and Solas set out to get the horses and close any Rifts you happen to find. The horsemaster, Dennet, initially refuses to help you until you complete another series of tasks for him. You want to tell him to take his horses and fuck off, but Beatrice gently, firmly, reminds you that the Inquisition desperately needs mounts and cannot afford to piss off the man who both provides and trains them. So you go, stopping a pack of demon-controlled wolves and closing a Rift tucked inside a cave. Every time you close a Rift, you feel a little stronger. Not physically (Mary won’t stop calling you a wet noodle) but magically. It’s as if the Mark lets you take some of the Rift’s energy back into yourself, a kind of victor’s prize. It hasn’t had a noticeable impact yet, but you think if you keep closing Rifts, it might pan out somewhere down the line.

After completing all of his requests, Dennet finally agrees to give you horses, so you return to the Crossroads that night feeling pretty accomplished. Camila returns with a similar tale of success, having swept a span of several miles to procure ram’s meat and blankets aplenty. Even Lilith sits down at your cookfire with an air of satisfied smugness, talking proudly of how she reclaimed enough wood for an entire set of watchtowers.

Mother Giselle pulls you aside as your group begins to settle down. “It is exceedingly honorable, what you have done today,” she says, and unlike Duretti, you find her Orlesian accent to be quite pretty. “Where others have stood by, paralyzed by fear or apathy, you have stepped forward to be a light in darkness.”

You blush a little and rub your neck, unsure how to respond to such praise. “I’m just glad we could help,” you settle on.

“You have done more than that,” she asserts. “You have restored a spark of hope in the hearts of the people, a rare accomplishment in these dark times.” As if beckoned, your Friend is at your shoulder, regarding Mother Giselle with a thoughtful hum. “Allow me to speak plainly with you now. I have heard the Chantry’s denouncement, and I am familiar with those behind it. I won’t lie to you. Some of them are merely grandstanding, vying for favor, trying to increase their chances of becoming the next Divine. Others are simply terrified.” Grief twists at her mouth, making her seem far older than she appears. “So many good people, senselessly taken from us. I understand their fear, as it is my own.”

“What happened was awful,” you agree, though it sounds paltry leaving your mouth. “I’d be lying pretty hard if I said I wasn’t afraid too,” you admit quietly.

Giselle nods. “Fear makes us desperate, but hopefully not beyond reason. Go to them. I will send my blessing on the swiftest hawk. Go and convince the remaining clerics you are no demon to be feared.”

You balk at that, shifting nervously from foot to foot. “Yeah, I don’t know that that’s going to work, Mother. They seem pretty convinced already.”

“They have heard only frightful tales of you. Give them something else to believe,” Giselle instructs calmly.

“You really want me to try and appeal to them? ‘Cause I’ve gotta say, I wasn’t really up for having a friendly chat with them before this all started, and I’m definitely not now. No offense.”

“If I thought you were incapable, I would not have suggested it,” she says, almost smiling. “You do not need to convince them all. You just need some of them to doubt. Their power lies in their unity. Take that from them, and you will see that I am right.”

“That’s… actually pretty cunning, Mother.”

You think her eyes might twinkle, but maybe it’s just the firelight. “It never hurts to approach life with prudence and shrewdness, so long as those traits do not give way to pride or cruelty.”

“Thank you,” you say genuinely. And then, because it seems important, you add, “I honestly didn’t expect much when coming here. I didn’t think anyone still in the Chantry would give a mage a fair shake, or a non-believer.”

Mother Giselle considers these words. “I do not know if you have been touched by Fate or were sent to help us, but… I hope. Hope is what we need now. The people will listen to your rallying call. You could build the Inquisition into a force to deliver us, or destroy us. Do not fall prey to pride, my child, nor despair. You may not believe in the Maker, but I hope you will believe in the rightness of your actions today, and make it the core of your cause.” She tucks her hands behind her back, standing tall. “I will send my blessing and then go to Haven to deliver Sister Suzanne the names of those in the Chantry who would be amenable to a gathering.”

You blink in surprise. “Are you able to leave at a time like this?”

She nods certainly. “Thanks to the Inquisition, the people here are in better hands than I alone could provide. I will go now to where my two wrinkled ones can do the most good.”

She leaves you then to return to your campfire, and Beatrice looks up curiously at your return. “What did the Revered Mother have to say?”

“She’s going to Haven,” you explain. “She’s going to help us convince the Chantry to cool it on the denouncement.”

Beatrice also seems surprised by that, but uplifted. “She’ll be a great help. She’s very charismatic, and a persuasive writer.”

“How do you know that?”

Beatrice flushes, realizing her critical error and looking away from you quickly. “She’s written some treatises,” she admits shyly. “And I’ve been present for some of her services.”

“Wait…” You grin widely, seeing an opportunity you can’t pass up. “Are you a fan of hers, Beatrice?”

“I am no such thing!” She scoffs, trying to sound indignant. “I simply hold a deep respect for her good works and her faith.”

“Riiight. You know, I could go talk to her again,” you tease, sidling up next to her. “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind giving me an autograph for you. Unless you want to ask her yourself?”

She gasps adorably, smacking your arm. “You are insufferable!”

“But yoouuu liiike it,” you sing, wiggling your eyebrows and beaming.

She rolls her eyes, declaring “I’m going to bed now,” before promptly turning her back on you and heading to her tent, still blushing.

You just laugh, feeling lighter than you have all day, and saunter off to your tent too.

On your second day in the Hinterlands, you are faced with two significantly more daunting tasks than fetching horses and blankets: 1) closing more Rifts and 2) dealing with the blood-drunk idiots currently setting the forests on fire.

Closing Rifts is fairly straightforward. You find one, kick demon ass, and wave your hand around until they stop appearing. Getting the mages and Templars to cool off and quit slaughtering civilians is not so simple. It quickly becomes apparent that negotiating or reasoning with either side is out of the question. They attack on sight and refuse to back down until dead. No matter who you encounter, you get called some variation of "Templar bastards" or "rebel scum", among other creative curses and slurs, and that simply doesn't work as an opener to productive conversations.

You hoped that the rebels would at least be more hesitant to attack, seeing a trio of their fellow mages among you, but your hopes were dashed, quickly and thoroughly, when one tried to impale you and Beatrice reduced him to char. The Templars are even worse (wow, shocking), and you can tell that Lilith feels just as discouraged as you when she sees them acting like lowlife bandits, robbing houses and stealing wedding rings. She’s not a Templar (Beatrice had briefly explained the difference to you one night as you both watched Lilith obliterate a helpless bush), but it's evident that she had hopes and expectations coming into this that were shot down just as harshly as yours.

(You catch her staring hard at a scrap of paper you find in an abandoned hunter’s camp. Her face is like stone, but she clutches the note so tightly that the fragile paper warps and crinkles irreparably. You watch her throw it on the ground and stalk off without a word to anyone. Only once she’s a safe distance away, you pick it up and find that it’s a shakily written diary entry, doubtless inked by the hunter staying here. It is a stricken account of a skirmish between the Templars and mages where several refugees were caught in the crossfire. The hunter’s horror is apparent in every word, but as you read, you think you identify the passage that drove Lilith away. “A refugee was still burning. His arm went up to a templar. The templar used his sword. It went up and down. Up and down. There were pieces of black.” The worst part, to you, comes right after that, when the hunter recounts the Templar preparing to rape a dying woman, and the very last line leaves you chilled. “I want it to go out of my head please, Maker. I been good, I want it to go out of my head.”)

You have to find the main camps for both sides and clear them out. If nothing else, this will stop the attacks on the locals, but the secondary goal is to be an assertion of the Inquisition's power, a show of force to both sides that says "We're in charge now". This is how Dora frames the situation at least, in a letter that arrives on the eve of the third day. Strictly speaking, you'll be in charge of nothing but Haven and a few refugee camps, but it's the message that counts.

There’s an argument over the fire that night about which group you should focus on first. Lilith argues (wrongly) for hunting down the mages first while you argue (correctly) for finding the Templars. Beatrice, to your surprise, agrees with Lilith, calmly explaining that the combined magic of so many volatile mages running loose is the greater threat, but Camila sides with you, pointing out that from everything you’ve found so far, the Templars are the ones doing the most harm to the innocent. Solas doesn’t comment on either position, seemingly neutral, but Mary shuts you all down while testing the tension in her crossbow string.

“We don’t know shit about where either side is camping out,” she says. “We’ve got nothing to go on. Until we do, focusing on one will just make us sloppy and give the other time to regroup. We have to be smart about this.” Since your group has an even six, she suggests splitting up, and claims authority to divide you into teams as follows: Lilith, Beatrice, and Camila on one, and you, her, and Solas on the other. Her directive after that is simple: walk around and look for shit. “But don’t even think about rushing in somewhere without getting the rest of us first.” At first you think she’s saying this to you, but she actually looks at Lilith, who rolls her eyes hard but doesn’t argue further.

You follow through with Mary’s plan the next morning after a breakfast of scrambled eggs and nut bread with jam that had been gifted to you by a merchant at the Crossroads (side note: you love eggs). You, Mary, and Solas decide to investigate north of camp, back through the Crossroads to where rocky crags and unassuming caves could hide a small force with ease. Lilith, Beatrice, and Camila head westward, where the river runs and offers many tempting spots to camp. You agree collectively to regroup at your camp on Lake Luthias at nightfall.

You have to walk carefully as you make your way through the crags. The terrain is uneven and prone to sudden dips and inclines. You nearly twist your ankle stepping on a rock concealed under moss, and you wonder idly if Solas goes barefoot in order to avoid such mishaps.

You find nothing in the crags themselves, save for the odd, tiny cave where the occasional spider or smuggler stash sits. Druffalo lumber lazily past you, seemingly quite confident that you won’t attack them, but other than that your trek is uneventful.

About four hours into your search, during which time you cover a fairly impressive amount of ground, you stop for a snack before changing course toward the small cliffs and ponds further north of the crags. Mary speculates that these might be more promising, as a consistent water supply would be important for any group settling in for an extended stay. You keep hiking well into the afternoon, trying to be as thorough as possible. The midday sun begins its descent in the west when you finally see it. Something quite bizarre. A giant pillar of ice sticks out the ground, standing some fifteen feet tall by your estimate, if not more. More accurately, it sticks out a frozen pond a little bit larger than your camp, where it is joined by several others.

Mary stops you in your tracks when she notices this too, making you duck low and move to the side, toward a cluster of large rocks overlooking the water. The three of you take cover there, peeking your heads up carefully to survey the scene.

The pond is thoroughly frozen. The ice is apparently thick enough to walk on, as eight armed men are currently walking on it with careful steps. They are armored, but they don’t bear any identifiable symbol or emblem. They appear to guard the entrance to some kind of cave nestled into the rocky wall that towers over the pond.

“Those are sellswords,” Mary says confidently.

“How do you know?”

“They’re dressed like soldiers, but there’s no consistency in their gear. Organized armies like to have all their guys wear the same stuff. These guys don’t have that. They’re mercs, mark my words.”

“Does that help or hurt our chances?”

She frowns. “Too early to say. But they don’t wear the colors of any of the well-known companies, so they’re probably just small-timers.”

The entrance to the cave is blocked by a magical barrier, warping the air and glowing bright green. At first, it doesn’t seem particularly daunting, but Solas frowns when he sees it.

"We will not be able to penetrate that barrier," he explains when you ask. "It is too powerful."

"How can that be?"

He scratches his chin thoughtfully. "Likely, they are using a talisman or rune of some kind to keep it in place, something they can activate or deactivate as necessary." He hums. “It requires a certain level of training to create, so I would hazard a guess that one of the mages inside is experienced and likely Circle-trained, if not more.”

Mary curses softly. "So how do we get inside then?"

Solas hums, looking hard at the swirling currents of the barrier, analyzing them. "A difficult problem, which may require a creative solution.”

You all puzzle over this for a time, squinting at the barrier and biting your lip.

"Well, what if I try to go through it?” You ask.

Solas tilts his head. “How so, Ava?”

"When we talked, you said that Hope could help me overcome otherwise impassable obstacles.” He begins to smile, catching on quickly to your meaning.

‘"You want to phase through it?"

You shrug. “I dunno. It’s worth a try.”

“What are you two talking about?” Mary asks, sounding a little irritated.

You turn to her, starting to feel the tiniest bit excited. “Mary, remember when we fought that huge demon at the Breach, and it almost hit me?”

Mary frowns. “Yeah, that damn near gave me a heart attack.”

“But it didn’t hit me,” you explain. “Because I phased through it. My body changed so that its claw went right through me. I can pass through things, or things can pass through me, if I phase.”

“It’s true, Mary,” Solas confirms when she looks skeptical. “And when I think about it further, I have a good feeling that Ava would be able to phase through the barrier if she tried.”

She looks at you. “And that’s one of your… things with your buddy, is it?”

You frown right back at her. “Yes, I can do it thanks to my Friend.” Mary just shakes her head. “Why not?”

“It’s dangerous, kid,” Mary says, not ungently. “You barely know anything about your whole deal with this spirit. You don’t know how volatile it could be.”

“With all due respect, Mary, I believe this is a negative overreaction,” Solas says. “Ava will not become an abomination simply by phasing through a barrier.”

“You don’t know that,” Mary insists, shutting you down before you can argue. “No, we’re scrapping that plan. No more discussions.” She tugs the back of your shirt and starts moving out from the rocks. “We’re heading back to camp to talk to the others about all this. Then, as a group, we’ll decide what to do. No back-talk,” she growls when you open your mouth. “Let’s go, we’re losing daylight.” Solas gives you a commiserating look before helping you stand and follow Mary’s footsteps.

You find the other half of your group already sitting at the fire by the time you return, talking seriously while Camila stirs together a stew.

"Any luck?" You ask Beatrice, who is the first to notice your approach.

"We found the Templar camp," Lilith says before Beatrice can utter a word. "They've claimed a section of the river running across the West Road, guarding it like brigands." There is unmasked disdain in her voice, something you have yet to hear her express when talking about the Templars. She's rubbing a rag along the blade of her sword with quick, harsh strokes, the only other sign of her anger.

"They seem to maintain a force of 50 at any given time, with the rest spreading out as we've seen." Beatrice picks up the telling from here. "A mix of knights and archers, with 1 knight-captain presiding over them."

"Nice job," you compliment as you sit down in the spot next to her. "How did you guys find the camp?" In answer, Beatrice produces a number of rolls of paper from her bag and hands it to you before accepting a bowl of stew from Camila.

You unroll the notes and read. The first thing you notice is the neatness of the handwriting. Words inked by practiced fingers talk of the "call of the Maker" and "the Just" and "righteousness". They urge all Templars to join them on the West Road. One line in particular stands out to you, twisting your stomach, making you unable to eat despite how good the stew smells. "By their rebellion, they have forfeited their right to live. They are not people, and any order that asks us to end this just and righteous battle is a lie." They are not people. They are not people.

"So they just left these for anyone to find?" You ask, swallowing against a sudden, bitter taste in your mouth. "That's kind of dumb, isn't it?"

"Arrogant," Lilith corrects, still polishing with violent strokes. "That's what they are. Arrogant and senseless. To shamelessly disobey the Lord Seeker? To dare encourage their comrades to do the same? It's unacceptable!"

Your brow furrows. Okay, what's all that about?

As if reading your question off your face, Beatrice quietly points to the second note again. You reread, and on the second pass you notice the mention of a Lord Seeker and his supposed directive to withdraw from the Hinterlands and instead gather in Val Royeaux. The reason for this order isn't stated, but the author clearly thinks it isn't worth following.

"So they're going rogue."

“In a word, yes.”

"This knight-captain," Lilith growls, finally discarding the rag and not-quite slamming the sword back into its sheath. "He will not dictate his own agenda against the order of the Seekers. I will not allow it."

"Did you guys have any luck with the mages?" Camila changes the subject while taking one of Lilith’s hands and placing a bowl in it with a smile. Surprisingly, Lilith quiets, abandoning whatever diatribe she was about to start and accepting the stew with a stilted "thank you".

"We found them," Mary confirms. "But not much else."

"What do you mean?"

"They're hiding out in a cave," you explain, moving your spoon around, hoping your appetite will return if you do it enough times. "Next to this pond northwest of the Crossroads. It doesn’t look big from the outside, but we couldn't see inside to confirm."

"Why not?" Beatrice asks.

You shrug. "Big magic barrier in the way. We think we can get around it when the time comes…” Mary glares harshly at you. “But we'll be stuck walking in blind regardless."

"They've got mercs guarding the entrance for them, though," Mary adds after watching to make sure you won’t mention your idea. "Which makes me think there aren't as many hiding out in there as it seems."

"How do you figure that?" Asks Camila, finally sitting to eat her own portion.

"If you were a group of mages, drunk on power and itching for war, would you hire sellswords to fight your battles for you if you had the numbers to do it yourself?" Mary responds, drawing head shakes from everyone. "Exactly. They're not as unified as they look, at least not this offshoot. That's not a guarantee, of course, and we still have to kill the mercs before we go anywhere, but I'd bet 5 royals that there's a lot fewer of them than they've made it seem."

You are still left with the question of who to eliminate first. You have more information on the Templars, but they might have more numbers. The mages might be less organized, but you’ll be walking into a situation with no sense for how it will play out. There’s also the how and when to consider. Mary proposes attacking at night, but if you attack the mages you’ll not only be metaphorically in the dark but literally as well.

To your surprise, Lilith completely changes her tune from your morning argument, declaring strongly that you must defeat the Templars first. You can tell by the others’ expressions that they are similarly taken off guard by this turn, all except Mary, who gazes at the Seeker with a quiet understanding.

“Okay, so we attack the Templars at night,” you say. “Wait ‘til they’re all asleep and jump them in their tents?”

Beatrice shakes her head. “If even one of them gets the space to sound the alarm, we’ll be doomed. It’s too risky.”

“That’s if we just go in, swords-swinging,” Mary contends ponderously. “If we could keep them off guard and off their game, then it won’t matter as much if they realize we’re doing it.”

“Allow me to make a suggestion,” Solas cuts in for the first time since you arrived back at camp. He stands relaxed against a large rock, stroking his chin, his empty bowl long abandoned next to him. “In my dreams, I once witnessed a battle in the Exalted Plains. A small force was able to defeat a much larger one by spreading panic and chaos among their ranks. They invaded the camp in the dead of night, dressed in dark clothing to hide from sentry torches, and carried with them small jars or oil and alcohol. These they hid throughout the camp in unassuming places near wooden crates and tents, anything flammable. They waited until the next night, and when the time came to strike, archers in their ranks struck the jars with flaming arrows.”

“Fire spreads, and suddenly it’s a free-for-all,” Mary concludes with a growing smirk. “We strike in the middle of it and pick ‘em off like sheep.”

Solas grins and inclines his head. “Indeed, Mary.”

It’s a good plan, provided you can pull it off. You’ll need supplies, time, and luck on your side. The first you should be able to acquire from the merchants at the Crossroads. The second you’ll have so long as the Templars aren’t alerted to your movements in advance. As for the third… Lilith insists that luck doesn’t determine the outcome of battles, diligent soldiers do, and just this once, you hope she’s right.

So it’s decided. The Templars go down first. You all sleep that night and head back to the Crossroads at dawn’s break. It’s even easier than you expect to convince the merchants there to give you what you need. They hand over two dozen jars of tarry black oil with barely a promise of compensation from the Inquisition. One of them, a purveyor of hard liquors chased out of his distillery by the Templars, supplies you with a score of bottles of a Ferelden favorite called Dragon Piss. Your ribs ache something fierce with the force of not laughing during the purchasing discussion, and Mary slaps you upside the head when you can’t stop making both dragon and piss jokes on the way back to camp.

The in-depth planning stage is next. Beatrice, Lilith, and Camila collaborate to map out the camp from everything they remember. Beatrice, predictably (adorably), pulls out her notebook and dictates to the other two as they attempt to draw on a roll of canvas also gifted by the merchants. They plot out the clusters of tents and the position of each campfire, making tiny X’s wherever they identify a good place for a jar. You, Mary, and Solas take charge of planning the attack itself. The soldiers in Solas’s story only had flaming arrows to rely on, but you have that and three mages too.

“Your affinity for fire will be most helpful, Ava,” Solas says. “You need no oil to set tents aflame, but you should perhaps focus on the cookfires throughout the camp. They are all centrally located, and upending them will ensure the flames spread quickly and thoroughly.”

You think back to Beatrice’s promise to teach you an immolation spell, and see her look up from her notes to nod at you. “Beatrice’s magic will help too,” you point out. “There’s not much scarier than out-of-control fire and lightning bolts raining down from the sky.”

So it’s decided. Camila, Mary, and Beatrice, deemed collectively to be the stealthiest of the group, are charged with placing the pots at midnight. It’s a risky operation, one that will require them to leave most of their armor and tools behind, but Beatrice’s observations about the Templar patrol patterns provide windows for silent infiltration.

That afternoon, Lilith and Mary travel with a band of scouts to transport the makeshift munitions. There are unoccupied stone ruins close to the camp but not within its direct line of sight. You can’t ask for a better hiding spot than that. While they’re gone, Beatrice takes you to the lakeside to teach you the spell.

“You want to picture it in your mind,” she explains, steady and calm, standing next to you as you grip your staff and call fire to your fingertips. “An eruption of flame. See it surging up from the ground. A gout. A geyser. Then, contain it. Like a lid on a boiling pot, contain the surge.” She reaches out to carefully adjust the height of your hand, her skin nearly as warm as the inferno waiting for your command. “You have to hold it tight in order to position it properly. Let it go too soon and it will ignite right under your feet.”

“Not interested in being a roast chicken,” you joke.

“You’d be the sorriest roast chicken I’ve ever seen.”

You drop your hand in shock, mana dissipating with your loss of focus, and your head whips around to stare at her. Did she really just say that? Sure enough, she’s looking at you with a tiny smirk, her eyes sparkling. You put your hands on your hips with exaggerated indignance. “Beatrice, are you implying that some snooty Orlesian chef wouldn’t want to serve this,” you wave pointedly at your figure, “up as a main course in some weird wine sauce?”

“Of course not, Ava,” she denies, but her smirk is growing. “I was implying you wouldn’t even be an appetizer.”

You gasp, clutching at imaginary pearls. “Rude! Just for that, you don’t get to eat me no matter how good the wine sauce is!”

Your choice of words registers in your brain a second too late, threatening to stop your heart as you see them register with Beatrice too. Her jaw drops, her smirk transforming into a surprised O, and heat that has nothing to do with fire magic paints her cheekbones pink.

Your own face feels like it’s being roasted. You’re sure it’s bright red as you quickly look away from her, stuttering, “Uh! I, um… Th-that came out wrong! I wasn’t implying… anything!”

You see her suck in a soft inhale out of the corner of your eye, visibly composing herself. “It’s fine,” she says, still sounding a little breathless. “Let’s… get back to the spell.”

“Great!” You squeak, hastily turning back to the lake whose water continues to swirl serenely, unaware or indifferent to how you’ve just made an ass of yourself. “So, containing it, right? Until it’s in position? Where should I aim it?”

She clears her throat loudly. “Ahem, aim for the center of the water. Then the flames won’t spread through the grass.”

“Right, got it.” You force all of your attention onto the task at hand, thinking about lids on pots harder than you’ve thought of anything before.

You raise your hand toward the lake and call your magic again. The flames come, dancing around your fingers, waiting for you to direct them. You picture them moving out from you, gliding unseen across the surface of the water until they sit just above the center. You can almost feel them tickle and spark against your palm as you hold them still in that spot, waiting, counting down from 5. At zero, you let them go, and sure enough, an enormous blaze of fire bursts from thin air as if pulled from the lake itself. It extinguishes immediately upon contact with the water, but you beam at your success, bouncing up and down on your feet. “Did you see that, Beatrice?!”

“I did,” she confirms, her familiar, gentle smile back in place. Some pink lingers in her cheeks, as you’re sure it does in your own, but the awkwardness of the previous moment has passed. “Well done, Ava. Let’s keep going.”

That’s how you spend the day until it’s time to execute the first part of the plan. The rest of you travel with the chosen infiltrators as backup should anything go wrong. Moving through the pitch darkness is fucking difficult as shit, to put it mildly, but Solas shows you how to conjure Veilfire in your palm as a makeshift torch, which makes avoiding uneven rocks and tree roots a little easier. He doesn’t have an ounce of trouble moving through the dark, you notice. Indeed, none of the others seem to either. It’s a little infuriating. You know you’re still getting used to walking again, but seriously, what’s the fucking secret?

The ruins on the West Road are about 200 yards from the camp, give or take 10 due to the various rocks and little hills that apparently break up the camp (you can’t see them, so you take Beatrice’s word for it). Camila takes the lead when you arrive. Small and quick, she sheds her extraneous items, keeping only a pair of daggers strapped to her thighs, and slinks into night. Her first responsibility is to watch the sentries patrol and signal to Mary and Beatrice when to move. You learn something else about Camila here, she’s apparently excellent at mimicking bird calls.

You wait in the ruins with Lilith and Solas, the former crouched on a worn chunk of debris, her eyes trained in the direction of the camp, unwavering, ready to charge at the first sign of something amiss. The latter pays no attention to any of this, standing serenely in the center of the ruin, where the distant, twinkling stars can be seen through shattered stone. His face is tilted toward the sky and his eyes are closed, almost like he’s listening to something. You stand next to him, looking up at the stars.

“What do you know of the constellations, Ava?” He asks softly, without opening his eyes.

You shrug. “Nothing, really. That people think they exist, I guess.”

“You do not see them, I take it?”

“Nah. You can’t make me believe that someone took those little dots and deliberately arranged them into dragons and boats for us to gawk at from down here. If they did, they were kinda shit at their job.”

“Hmm, perhaps. Still, deliberate or not, we may find valuable insights in those little dots, as you call them. Peoples both ancient and modern have gazed at the sky and found meaning in its patterns, using them for navigation as well as religion and culture. For instance, it was common practice in ancient Tevinter to create astrariums, magical tools designed to analyze each constellation in search of secrets.”

“Why?” You scoff. “Did they have their fill of secrets here on the ground? Were they so bored with their lives that they had to make up shapes out of lights they would never touch?”

Unexpectedly, this makes him smile. “You remind me of myself as a young man. You treasure the here and now, life lived from moment to moment, never wasting energy on things out of your reach.”

“Are you insulting me?”

He shakes his head. “No, merely pointing out the similarity. It is not wrong to live in the present, where our actions often have their greatest effect. These are simply the musings of an old man who spends much of his time reliving memories through dreams. Old men tend to wallow in the unchanging past while grasping feverishly for the intangible future.”

“Solas, you’re like, 40 at most.”

He laughs, a quiet, unassuming noise that blends into the sounds of the night. “You flatter me, Ava.”

The hoot of an owl interrupts the conversation. Camila’s signal. Damn, she really is good at that.

“They’re moving in,” Lilith informs the two of you. You leave Solas to his musings and join Lilith at her perch, keeping a safe distance between you as you do.

You can just barely make out Mary and Beatrice moving silently over the grass, each of them transporting a tray of tightly tied pots and bottles. You wait with baited breath, switching your grip on your staff every few minutes to wipe the sweat off your palms. Lilith and Solas may as well be statues.

It’s a long time to wait. You can’t see what’s happening, but you know it’s going to take multiple trips through the sentry lines to place all the pots without being seen. You eventually get tired of standing, sitting down with your knees tucked into your chest.

When the retreat signal sounds, it startles you. It’s not a bad signal, it actually means they succeeded and are heading back, but the pregnant silence was so heavy that its removal makes you feel unexpectedly weightless. Another minute, and you see Lilith relax ever so slightly as three shapes move toward the ruins. When they arrive, you scan their faces, looking for indication of worry or injury, but find none. Mary smirks, Camila winks at you, and Beatrice squeezes your shoulder as she passes, gracing you with a reassuring smile. They don their armor and weapons again with practiced movements, and as a group, you retreat from the ruins and head back to your camp.

There is brief discussion of how the plan went and any adjustments that had to be made, but overall the infiltration was a resounding success. You retire to your tents with Solas and Mary taking the first watch. As you shrug out of your armor and take your boots off, you see Beatrice and Lilith talking quietly by the Seeker’s tent. You can’t tell what they’re discussing, but Beatrice reaches out to touch Lilith’s elbow, her deceptively strong fingers holding the other woman steadily. Lilith’s expression twists, then opens, a flash of vulnerability elicited by whatever Beatrice just said. Whatever is happening, it’s an intensely private moment. You look away out of courtesy.

The morning arrives gray and dim. Clouds obscure the sun and put a wrinkle of tension in Beatrice’s brow at breakfast. “We should be mindful of rain.”

“Those jars are sealed,” Mary says with a shrug. “And with sparky here on our side, getting the flames going won’t be an issue.”

“But it will create mud,” Beatrice points out, setting her bowl of mushy oats and dried fruit (“Beatrice, that’s gross as fuck.” “I’m not accepting critique from girls who eat plain hardtack in water.”) aside and reaching for her notebook. “If it does, the fire may not spread effectively along the uneven slopes. And they will have an easier time putting the flames out if they can roll in mud.”

“But then they’ll be on the ground,” Camila says, shrugging. “And it will be twice as easy to shoot them.” You can all only concede to her excellent point.

It doesn’t rain, ultimately, but the mood in camp is solemn regardless. The day is spent conducting preparations. Camila and Mary inventory their arrows and bolts while Lilith checks every buckle and strap on her armor, including some you didn’t know it was possible to have. She’s silent today, not even wasting breath to make snippy remarks to you. That’s how you know the specter of the upcoming fight is really getting to her. That, and the fact that Beatrice keeps glancing in her direction with that furrow of worry ever present.

You practice your spell over the course of the morning, training until you can hit a series of increasingly distant targets almost instantly. You stop at midday to avoid exhausting your mana, turning instead to watch Mary talk strategy with the handful of Inquisition soldiers who will be fighting with you.

Dinner is a nearly silent affair. Lilith advises you all to eat light, which is fine because you still feel good from your breakfast, no matter what Beatrice says about it, and your rations at lunch included some absolutely awesome jerky. You’re settled in to eat some more when Mary suddenly frowns at you before prying one of your hands free and shoving an apple into it. “Um, thanks?” You say, bewildered. She rolls her eyes and doesn’t respond, instead sitting with her own meal while repeatedly glancing at you until you toss away the barren core.

When the time comes to move, the night air takes on a new feeling. It didn’t rain, but a chilly mist has settled over the lake, just thick enough to obscure the path ahead. Something about that feels distressingly appropriate.

Together, you are a band of 20 soon to face 50. You could have summoned more soldiers from the Crossroads, or waited for more to arrive from Haven, but the former would leave the refugees unprotected, and the latter would take too much time. Whatever happens, it has to be now, and the numbers you have, your skills, and your planning, will all have to be enough.

You reach the stone ruins where you waited the night before, and the plan commences like this. Camila and three soldiers will go first, armed with bows and daggers, to pick off what sentries they can without raising the alarm. Once they clear enough space, the archers will advance in two groups, taking positions around the camp to wait for the signal to strike. You will go with one while Beatrice goes with the other. Your team is responsible for setting the fires. Your job is to light the arrows and then target the cooking pits. Meanwhile, Beatrice and her team will wait to bring lightning and steel-tipped fury down on the Templars when they scatter. And once their ranks are broken and panicked, Lilith, Mary, and Solas will lead the final charge.

That’s how it’s supposed to work, at least.

Camila is dressed for war: bow over one shoulder, quiver full, and three pairs of knives strapped across her torso and legs. Without her usual mischievous grin in place, she looks downright fearsome, ready to hunt and kill whoever gets in her way. The three soldiers chosen to go with her are two humans, a man and woman, and a female elf, all similarly armed.

Camila approaches the five of you before joining them. She graces you with a smile as small and quick as she before saying, “Here goes nothing, I guess.”

“You’re ready, Camila,” Beatrice says, reaching out to squeeze her elbow as she did to Lilith the night before. “Maker be with you.”

“Knock ‘em dead, Cami,” Mary tells her with a smirk.

“Do stay safe,” Solas adds. “I would like to continue our discussion from earlier.” Camila’s expression brightens, making you wonder what they might have talked about.

“Eyes up,” Lilith commands, short but sincere, allowing the tension in Camila’s frame to ease minutely.

Then, she turns to you, and you struggle for the right thing to say. You’ve gotten to know Camila a fair bit over these past days, but the friendship you’re slowly building pales in comparison to the bond already well-established between her and the others. There’s a distance there, a line drawn between you and them that yet remains uncrossed.

So, in the absence of anything heartfelt or clever to say, you do what you do best. “Have a knife time, Cam. Don’t bow out before we get there.” This draws exasperated groans from everyone within earshot, but you hear Camila’s soft snort, and it makes the weight pressing on your chest a little lighter.

Two minutes later, she is gone, her trio of assassins following close behind. As with the night before, you wait anxiously for an owl’s hoot, the signal to move forward. It comes five minutes later, right when it feels like your grip on your staff can’t tighten any further.

“That’s our cue,” Beatrice tells you. “Are you ready?”

You exhale slowly. “As I’ll ever be.” Your shoulders abruptly feel warm under your pauldrons, like Your Friend is resting Her hands on them, not to hold you back, but to embolden and reassure you.

“Trust your team, Ava,” Beatrice advises, gifting you with another of her gentle grins. “We’re at your side.”

Her smile coaxes out one of your own. “Right back at ya, Bea. Let’s kick Templar ass.”

Lilith catches your arm as you’re about to leave with your team of archers. Her expression is hard but, for once, not actively hostile. “If you see the knight-captain,” she says. “Leave him. He is mine.” You are caught, momentarily, by her eyes. They are dark, lovely, and filled with a sharp-toothed determination that evokes a second of pity for the man in question. He’s fucked.

You give a nod of understanding, and she releases you. Hesitantly, she adds, “Don’t set yourself on fire.”

“...Thanks, Lilith.” It’s as good a send-off as any, you suppose.

Your squad moves on silent feet toward the camp. You can see the entrance ahead of you some 100 yards away, and you give it a wide berth, already spotting two Templars guarding it. Instead, you sneak around the side, up the small, steep hills and through the trees, passing over the bodies of sentries killed to prepare your arrival. At the top of a steep ridge standing some thirty feet above the camp, you see one of Camila’s assassins, the human woman, waving you over. She greets you with a tricky grin before turning your attention to the camp below. She points, guiding your eyes to different spots among the tents and boxes, and in each one, you can just glimpse a pot or bottle sticking out, perfectly positioned for an arrow’s strike. Once you nod your understanding, she takes her leave, disappearing into the darkness like a ghost to rejoin Camila.

You wait, scanning the rocky hill opposite yours, and sure enough, you see four figures creep into view, one of them being Beatrice. Her squad stays low but ready, waiting for the signal.

When it comes, it sounds for you. Your archers nock their arrows and hold them up for you to light. You take a breath and summon a tiny flame between your thumb and index finger. It’s big enough to get the job done without creating enough light to draw unwanted attention. They each hold their tips to the flame before stepping back and taking position on the ridge’s edge. Their arrows glow like fireflies in the distance, looking almost harmless. But then they draw their bows back and fire.

The first volley strikes quite anticlimactically. There’s the thrum of the bowstrings, the keening whish as they cut through the air, and a distinctly mundane shattering sound as they connect with the jars, like the crashing of the box Marabel dropped when you first awoke in Haven. What happens next, however, cannot be described as mundane or anticlimactic. The first flames catch, tiny at first, but then they grow and spread, adhering to wooden crates and licking at the billowing tarp of tents.

Several more arrows fly from your perch, hitting their targets with merciless precision. You can see the sparks catching in all areas of the camp, from the lowest point at the muddy banks to the highest slope where you imagine the knight-captain sleeps, unaware of Fate’s enclosing jaws.

Once all the small fires are lit, the archer next to you, a slim elven man with dark hair and bright green eyes, gives you an encouraging nudge. It’s your turn now. At this moment, you are not a girl. Instead, you are a match, an accelerant, the falling lamp that burns down the barn. Fire seeking oil. You target the cooking pit closest to your position, where two Templars sit, not yet aware of the inferno steadily building around them. The magic comes to your call like a dog, heeding the weight of your hand, and letting it go is as easy as closing your eyes.

There are shouts, shrieks, curses. Not just from the two men now writhing on the ground but from everywhere, up and down the slopes, inside the tents…

They come stumbling out in singles and pairs, these terrors that haunt your dreams. They crawl through the dirt like rats, coughing, screaming as some part of their clothing ignites and heat eats away at their flesh. You light more fires, watching them explode into existence one by one. Sparks and chips of glowing hot wood pelt any Templars who get too close, and one explosion propels an iron pot directly into a man’s face as he tries to run by.

“We’re under attack!” One of them yells from somewhere you can’t see, but no sooner do you hear the words than a bolt of lightning descends from the sky, silencing them. Beatrice has joined the fight.

It’s almost quick from there. Some of the Templars realize where this assault is coming from and attempt to move on your position, only to be pushed back by your fireballs and cut down by metallic rain. On the other side, they try to do the same with Beatrice, meeting an even swifter end. Camila signals for the charge, and the screams of the burning are overpowered by the battle cry of the Inquisition.

You see Beatrice’s team abandon their position as Lilith and the others rush the knights below. The stench of smoke, burning hair, and cooking meat floods your nose as you follow them, descending into the fray. Camila’s squad maintains the high ground while your team and Beatrice’s trade their bows for axes, cleaving savagely into the nearest Templar they can find.

You focus your energy on casting barriers and controlling the flames so they don’t hinder your side. To your left, Beatrice is battering an archer with her staff, knocking his bow aside and using the opening to push lightning into his chest with her hand. He collapses dead on the grass, and she advances to the next without missing a beat. To your right, Solas ducks deftly around a knight’s swing, using his staff to trip the man directly into a wall of flame.

In front of you, another knight prepares to stab Mary from behind. You rush him, slipping between the two just in time to catch the blow with your own body. It never lands. Instead, a pulse of golden light explodes out from you, just like before, and sends the knight crashing into a burning crate some ten yards away.

“Thanks, kid!” Mary says. “Now duck!” She shoves you down to one knee before launching a trio of crossbow bolts into a Templar charging your flank. Then, she pulls you up and turns you so you’re back-to-back, a bulwark, a fiery stockade, never to be overtaken.

It’s not a fight without losses. Although your plan was a success, you’re still facing Templars, and their superior numbers and training cannot be discounted. On all sides of you, you see Inquisition soldiers dying. Sometimes they take a Templar with them, dealing a fatal blow with their last gasp, and sometimes they never get the chance, torn apart before they can even lift their blade. Camila’s squad is eventually pushed back and forced to scatter, but not before taking down a handful more knights while retreating. They join you on the ground, trading arrows for daggers, and you cast a barrier over them to keep them safe, but the battle is reaching its most dangerous point.

You and Mary are forced to separate to avoid being hacked apart by a man with a longaxe as tall as you. Mary tries to spin and counter, but his gauntleted fist collides with her face, knocking her to the ground. You swing at his back with all your might, aiming the sickle end of your staff at his neck, but he knocks it away with a flick of his arm and grabs you by the throat.

You lose your grip on your staff, abandoning it to scrabble frantically at his icy-cold fingers. You gasp soundlessly as you are lifted off the ground and held aloft, forced to stare through the man’s helmet into his cold, cruel eyes.

“So,” he growls. His voice is gravelly from the smoke, but his tone is mocking. “A little pack of mages and their lackeys think they can defeat me and my boys?” This is the knight-captain, you realize, as your windpipe is slowly crushed. “Well, I’ll give you this, girl. The fire was a nice touch, but playtime is over now.” Phase, you need to phase out of his hold. But he’s using all of his Templar power on you, suppressing your magic until you can’t even feel it. If you can just reach your Friend, you know you can escape, but you’re starting to panic with every second your lungs beg for air. “I’ll send your unnatural soul straight to the Void. The Maker guides my hand!” Unnatural soul. Sir Francis had said the same thing while beaming with delight as she killed you.

The image of her ugly, smiling face is all it takes. Your panic turns to anger, and your desperation becomes determination. No matter what happens, you refuse to die to another Templar blade.

You draw your feet up to your chest and kick them into his breastplate, all while you visualize your neck slipping through his clenched fingers. It works. He stumbles back a step as you fall to the ground in a heap. You immediately scramble to grab your staff and stand up, but he is already lifting his axe to liberate your head from your neck.

He tenses his body to bring it down on you, but the trajectory of his swing abruptly changes, burying the axe head in the dirt several inches in front of you. You realize why a second after it happens. A chunky stone, just big enough to fit in your hand, lies on the ground, and the knight-captain is rubbing the side of his helmet. Someone hit him square in the face with a rock, saving your life in the process.

“Enough!” You know that voice. While the knight-captain is distracted, you get to your feet and put distance between you, all while your gaze searches wildly for the exclamation’s source. You find it, find her, standing tall amidst the inferno some yards away, her armor covered in ash, her sword dripping red, her black hair shining in the firelight. Lilith.

The knight-captain recovers himself, turning to face his new challenger, and he snarls upon seeing the crest of the Seekers on her chest. “So the betrayal is complete,” he spits. “For all his talk of justice and glory, the Lord Seeker is truly just a drooling Chantry dog!”

“Spare me your petty insults,” Lilith snaps. “You are the traitors here. And now you’ll pay the price.”

“You should be on our side, Seeker!” He shouts, pointing the ax-head at her. “We are the champions of the Just! Why will you not stand with us?”

“I stand where I have always stood, in the Maker’s guidance.” Your mind is cast back to the war table in Haven, where Mother Superion said those same words to Duretti. “I stand with the Seekers, and with the Inquisition.”

“The Inquisition?” He sneers. “Then you are doubly a traitor, and will be dealt with accordingly!” He grabs his longaxe with both hands, lets out a thunderous roar, and charges at Lilith, who simply takes her stance and readies her shield.

It’s breathtaking, in a way, the scene that plays out before you. You compared Lilith to a bull when she fought demons at the Breach, and that’s still true, but now you witness her true ferocity unleashed. Not a bull, but a wildcat. Not a woman, but a weapon. She moves around the knight-captain’s first strike, letting it glance harmlessly off her shield, and retaliates by slamming her pommel into his side, forcing him off balance. He knocks her blade aside when she tries to stab him through the gap in his chainmail, but she only rolls with the force, using the momentum to drive the edge of her shield into his jaw. He stumbles back, clutching at his mouth, barely able to avoid a second hit by ducking, dragging his axe along the ground and spitting out blood and teeth. Lilith is relentless. She chases him, stomping down on the axe’s shaft before he can lift it again and smacking him across the head with the flat of her sword, knocking his helmet loose. He is forced to abandon the weapon to catch her next swing with his hands, and she slams her shield into his chest to push him away, hitting him over and over until the pristine emblem of the Templars warps and dents under the merciless blows.

The battle continues to rage around you, but you can’t pay attention to it. Nothing seems capable of disturbing this moment. The knight-captain cannot withstand Lilith’s onslaught, the hurricane that she’s become. He falls backward, coughing and spluttering. She must have broken his ribs. He holds up his hands, gasping and pleading. “Please, Seeker,” he begs. “Do not do this! We fight in the Maker’s name! He would not want this!”

Lilith is unappeased. “When you greet Him, feel free to make your case. I don’t need to argue for mine.” She plants one booted foot on his chest, smearing blood, mud, and soot across the battered insignia, and buries her sword in his neck.

From there the battle ends in an unceremonious fashion. The remaining Templars are wiped out by your friends as Lilith withdraws her bloodied sword and kicks the knight-captain’s body to the side. She spares you a single glance before walking away, dropping her weapons to help one of your injured archers to their feet. You are left to stare at the man’s body, at the fatal puncture that still spurts with the last of his lifeblood, until Beatrice calls your name, and you turn away.

You don’t return to camp until after sunrise. There are wounds to bandage, bodies to count, and lingering fires to put out. Mary is bruised but alright. Solas uses his magic to freeze a wet rag for her to hold against her eye. His robes are dirty and torn, but he is unharmed. Camila took a shallow slash across her stomach and forearm. She winces as Beatrice cleans them with elfroot salve and a bottle of Dragon Piss that somehow survived the fight. Like Solas, Beatrice is uninjured, although you can’t help but scan her body repeatedly for any sign of harm or discomfort. You frequently catch her glancing over at you with the same concern, but the bruising on your neck has already faded away, and you feel fine, if exhausted.

Of the 14 soldiers who fought with you, 9 are dead, and there is no practical way you can carry them all back to the Crossroads for proper burial. They will have to stay here, carefully separated from the dead Templars, until a larger force is able to pick them up. Lilith has already ordered one of the surviving archers to place an Inquisition banner outside the entrance as a landmark. Scout Harding can bring a team with shovels and a wagon once you send word of your success. It will have to do.

You hike back to your lakeside camp at a limping pace, and it takes all of your willpower not to immediately collapse inside your tent and sleep until noon the next day. Only when Beatrice gently undoes the buckles on your armor (after watching you fail at it for nearly three minutes) and pushes you toward your bed do you finally give in, falling unconscious before your head even hits the mat.

#warrior nun #dragon age #da: inquisition #da:i #ava silva #sister beatrice #sister lilith #sister camila #shotgun mary #dragon age au #my writing #lilith fans i am holding delicious food for you in the palm of my hand #god i hope this beast pays its due and doesn't feel bloated #part 2 will come later this week probably

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simplykorra · 1 year

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The light in the room settles again, the halo going dormant as she lands back on the mattress. She’s shaky and uncertain, kind of torn between breaking out into a fit of laughter and bursting into tears.

Beatrice is still above her, naked in both body and soul, watching her.

This time, when she touches Ava’s cheek with her hand, Ava presses into Bea’s palm and kisses her thumb as it brushes over Ava’s bottom lip.

She wants to say it, wants to scream how much she loves her - but the fog is fading away. She can feel and if she can, she knows Bea can too.

So she keeps quiet, scared of what regrets tomorrow might bring. This isn’t something they can just brush off. It isn’t something Beatrice will be able to brush off. She has vows and commitments and internal struggles with her sexuality that she’s battled for years.

The halo has a seemingly endless power, but Ava knows it can't fix that.

Still, in the safety of their bedroom, in the pitch black of night, Beatrice doesn’t pull away.

-------

HUGE thank you to @smallandsundry for this commission for the definition of insanity. it truly does capture the moment so perfectly and just...look how well done it is. i am in love

#avatrice #avatrice fanart #avatrice fanfiction #warrior nun #warrior nun fanart #warrior nun fanfiction #fjklsafjslaf i can't stop staring at this #i'm that one parks and rec meme now #thank you so much smalls!

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cozymoko · 1 year

Note

plz make a part two of your Yandere Diabolik lovers x sister reader were yui discovers reader

THE SECRET SAKAMAKI pt. 2

Note: Of course, of course!

Btw; I had to stop this at some point before I lost all my sanity. I will update later.

Part one! synopsis: Yui finally meets the only sister of the Sakamaki family who has been hidden away by her brothers. This but part two.

Format: Scenario; 3rd person and 1st person (some)

Word Count: ???

WARNING(S): slight platonic yandere themes.

Want more Diabolik lovers? → Masterlist! ★

Please proceed below the cut.

CREAAKKK—!

An unpleasant sound tore through the air, loud and haste. “Oh, it seems they’ve returned,” [Name] sighs, slowly rising to her feet. “Come now, there’s no need to keep them waiting, is there?” Her words came off as more of a demand than an inquiry. Even so, it was not Yui’s place to refuse her.

The walk was short, but to Yui, it felt much longer. She struggled to keep up with the strong strides of the woman in front of her, as they were brisk and confident. Despite just barely looming over her (and her rococo dress), Yui had nearly slipped countless times. Oh, how embarrassing!

[Name] paid no mind to the trembling girl at her side, nor the thin layer of sweat sandwiched between their palms (thanks Yui). Her sleek pumps served as the perfect distraction for the eerie silence that fell between the two of them, and so did the audience so joyfully awaiting their arrival. Well, Yui's arrival.

A loud huff escaped the woman’s lips, for they had finally reached the end of the hallway. Excitement surged through the vampire’s veins like an unhinged drug, slowly eating away at her polite front. And with one swift motion, her palms collided with one another, their sound commanding the attention of the brothers.

“Boys, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” She smiled.

Their reactions were rather strange, to say the least.

That's if they had one.

For what felt like the first time in history the boys were silent, like mice. Various of emotions were brewing amongst them, yet very few of them made it to their faces. Once growing bored of the silence, Laito let out a low whistle before shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Well this is definitely a surprise. Who would've thought the two of you would meet this soon~?”

“What is the meaning of this?” Reiji pushed Laito aside with a dismissive hand, gazing intently between the two girls before him. His lean arms tightly crossed along the front of his chest, waiting expectedly for a response.

Despite being at the mercy of the second eldest, Yui could not help but allow her mind to foolishly drift to the conversation she shared much earlier with the beautiful woman. [Name] Sakamaki, the one who'd seem to hold all the truths of this wretched place...

⠀⠀⠀⠀“Why do you continue to waste your time with them, with Shu?” Reiji had often asked me in our youth. Though we’re all related under that man, solely Reji, Shu, and I shared the same mother. Thus, we were arguably the closest.

⠀⠀⠀⠀As a child, Shu cared very little about being the heir, that much we knew. But my mother, Beatrice, wasn’t very pleased. The thought of the three of us not surpassing the others pained her greatly, and I often suffered for Shu’s defiance. I suppose Reiji took note of that.

⠀⠀⠀⠀That day, he took my hands in his own. “If you stick by me we can surpass them all,” He lamented, tucking a loose strand of hair away from my eyes. At that time, that was the most passionate I’d seen him. “We will no longer be overlooked, we can be together. Shu Won’t you join me?”

⠀⠀⠀⠀The offer was tempting, but my answer remained “No,” in the end. I knew, his motivates had very little virtue. Seeking validation at the demise of out own flesh and blood.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Reiji’s proposal was driven by resentment and envy. That I could not condone.

The clearing of Reiji's throat brought the girl back to reality. From the looks of it, his patience had been wearing incredibly thin. Poor girl, thinking everyone will help her in life. With a woman so well-spoken at her side she must've expected her to take the lead. How foolish!

Glancing to her side, Yui's eyes widened; frightened and in utter bewilderment. The woman she had met merely hours ago was watching her, also waiting for the mortal's response. She alone could get away with being silent, but Yui could not.

Angst had begun to well up in her stomach in the form of warm bile. Her lips drew into a taut line, swallowing her anxiousness as well as she could. Even so, that was not enough. Sensing its arrival, the girls was quick to place a hand over her mouth. Further and further it crawled; closer and closer it drew.

But of course, someone came to her ‘rescue’.

“I'm also curious~!” Laito chimed, that same sing-song playfulness was laced in his tone. Yet there was some malice lying deep beneath it. “You just had to go and stick your nose in other peoples’ business didn’t ya, little bitch? I warned you already; what a shame~!”

His eyes flashed a quick tint of red, narrowing ever so slightly. Laito circled the girl, who's expression mimicked that of a caged mammal. It was a laughable sight, her anguish and fear. And to some, Laito's disdain may have been far more entertaining. However, [Name] knew better than to let this go on for much longer.

In one swift motion, [Name] had swept the mortal to her side, successfully out of her brother’s grasp. In her eyes, it was just an accident waiting to happen. That look in his eyes was one she'd been well acquainted with from a young age.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Now Laito is an interesting one. He wasn’t unbearable, that I can admit. There was just a bit of clinginess and I suppose he was a bit selfish at times. Nonethenless, I loved spending my time with him, there was never a dull moment.

⠀⠀⠀⠀That was in the beginning.

⠀⠀⠀⠀As we were approaching our “teenage years”, his behavior had become rather bizarre. All my friends at the time, male or female, had begun to disappear: one by one. I remember running home and sobbing to my brothers, asking what was wrong with me. What had I done wrong? That boy is surely Cordelia’s son, for they manipulate all the same.

⠀⠀⠀⠀“It’s okay, [Name], don't cry!” Laito had been quick to comfort me, rubbing comforting circles into my back. “I hate to see you like this but it's your fault.” He scolded me very often.

⠀⠀⠀⠀“The world is filled with ugly people who want to take you from those who love and care about you as I do. Now, come with big brother. Let's get you cleaned up, you’ve stained your new dress~!”

⠀⠀⠀⠀It was evident, my naivety at the time. My mother had regarded me as a fool for lacking better judgment for the words of others. Looking back on it, I suppose that witch was right about something. Laito had successfully filled my head with lies, leading my dependency to increase tenfold.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Hah, what a bastard. Yet I cannot bring myself to hate him despite his actions. Perhaps it's due to his upbringing? The abuse he went through in comparison to mine? Hm, what do you think Yui?

A sharp pain shot through the hip of the mortal girl, the connection of another one, pulling her from her thoughts once more. “No need to punish this one, I quite like her.” [Name] cooed, rubbing her cheek against Yui’s. “It’s been so long since I've last talked to a girl my age. Can’t you just let me enjoy this opportunity?”

Though your question came off as more of a statement, it had somehow managed to detear him. You in no way needed their approval to do as you pleased, but seeing as the sacrificial bride already knows of your existence, what's the harm in roaming around a bit?

Reiji’s face contorted in pure disgust, “Absolutely not—”

“Hah- Pancake? Why her?” The redhead threw his arms up in exasperation, he was baffled rightfully so. “Man, and here I thought Kanato would be the most annoying bastard I’d have to deal with.”

Reiji didn't look pleased in the slightest at the interruption, as hypocritical as it is. Yet he kept his lips sealed. His mood had visibly soured, and by the looks of it he's not the only one.

⠀⠀⠀⠀I swore those two would’ve killed one another if not for my interference. They absolutely loathed the idea of sharing me, let alone my time. Somehow that had not been Ayato’s biggest issue. I’m sure you’re surprised.

⠀⠀⠀⠀No matter what we did or the few events Father took us to, Ayato always had to be the best. Initially, I thought it’d be for Cordelia’s approval but I couldn’t be more incorrect. He wanted me to see him, see the success he displayed.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Regardless, of how much I congratulated him, he wanted more. His stunts became more extreme. His motives were no longer crystal clear. There were times I found him antagonizing his brothers in hopes that I would scold him.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Thankfully, he managed to even out over the years. Even if it was only a little bit. Ayato is still competing with our brothers, mainly Kanato, but old habits die hard. Especially for people like Ayato.

"Sister!" He wailed, glaring at Ayato through misty, dewy eyes. "Are you going to let him speak to me like that?"

Streams of tears began to descend down his fair skin. If not for the bags beneath his eyes, one could say he looked like a doll. With his free hand he pointed accusingly at the older triplet, using his other arm to clutch the teddy bear closely to his chest.

“Fight your own damn battles for once!” Ayato scowled. “You're always running and bitching to her about the dumbest shit."

⠀⠀⠀⠀Kanato, my dear older brother Kanato.

⠀⠀⠀⠀His clinginess never ceased to amaze me. Despite Kanato being older than me by at least three years, it often felt like I was his older sister, comforting and consoling him as his pitiful mother had failed to do.

⠀⠀⠀⠀If anyone were to hog my attention the most, it'd be him. We met when I was four, and at first he didn't really like me because “Babies are loud and gross!” But he changed his mind in the future, clearly.

⠀⠀⠀⠀The way he used to scream and shout when I spent time with the others was hilarious. Sometimes, I even detour bad for laughing at him.

⠀⠀⠀⠀“Uu...You love Ayato more, don't you?” He sobbed, gripping the hem of my frilled, violet dress. “Thats why you're leaving, you're going to play with him!”

“Shut the hell up, all of you!"

⠀⠀⠀⠀I cannot count the times I spent feeding his clinginess, enabling him. I never truly became close with Ayato until a year later because of it. It's a shame, truly. And honestly, he's no better now as I'm sure you already know.

Here we go again. [Name] sighed internally.

There, hiding in the shadows, stood Subaru Sakamaki. His arms were crossed securely along his chest, whilst his cherry red hues narrowed in discontent. His lips were pulled into a taut line, just barely exposing his fangs.

“You're the loudest one!” Kanato cried out, sending a glare of his own to the distant male. His nails began to dig in his skin just enough to leave little crescents in its place.

"Eh—?" Subaru pushed himself off the wall, pale fingers coiling into tight fists. “What the hell are you on about? Tch, you're a fuc—"

Admist the chaos, his frantic faze hadlanded on [Name], lingering just bit. The shock on his face was evident, as though his heart had dropped at the sight. Almost immediately, the corner of his mouth dips into a deep frown, shame slowly flooding his being.

He averted his gaze, finding his sheen coating of his boots to be rather interesting. Nonetheless, he could not dare to meet the eyes of his beloved sister, the ones burning and simmering through him like a heated torch.

This was a sight, [Name] hadn't seen from the young Sakamaki more than two times, counting. Seeing how they often visited one at a time, on their own accord, there was no true reason to do such. Yet, there went this perfect facade he tried so desperately to hold together; crumbling into thousands of pieces, collapsing at the feet of his beloved sister. The one he'd give the world to.

⠀⠀⠀⠀And Subaru, I couldn’t help but coddle him. He’s the only one younger than me, and the only child of Christa at that. I thought I could perhaps be the older sibling he needed.

⠀⠀⠀⠀“Why do you have to leave?” Short, fragile arms had made a home around my waist. Despite his lack of muscle, his grip was almost bone-crushing. “Can't we just stay together?”

⠀⠀⠀⠀Times were tough, my family which had once felt whole was gradually being torn apart like an old, tattered piece of cloth. I’d spent most of my days with Subaru, he was the youngest so I thought he might need extra support. And I couldn’t help but coddle him. Unfortunately, that caused him to grow a bit too dependent on me.

“Fufu, Subaru, it's so nice of you to finally join us~!” Laito breathes out sarcastically, resting his chin in the palm of his hand.

⠀⠀⠀⠀He’d always do this when it was time for me to return to my mother, frankly, it broke my heart each time.

“No, it's really not,” Kanato frowned. “leave already.”

“That's the only thing I'll agree with him on.” Ayato cackled, hoisting himself onto the back of the vacant loveseat. “Why do you always have to be so damn loud? I'm the star of the show; Yours Truly.”

“Shut the hell up already! No one calls you that!” Subaru snarls, picking up a nearby vase. Poor thing.

“Can't you all just be mature for once?” Reiji sighs, and yet it doesn't take away from the vein in his neck practically threatening to burst.

“Heh, I should've known you wouldn't listen,” The champagne-haired man chuckled humorlessly. “Troublesome woman.”

The blonde blinked rapidly, as though surprised at the idea of her being addressed. Knowing the closeness of the two, she didn't think it would happen. Instinctively, she gripped the ends of her brown shorts, nervous and without an answer.

Shu merely chuckled, drawing his attention to the woman kneeling by his side. His youngest sister; his only sister.

“Yui,” [Name] called, reaching out to gently grab her hand. “Do you remember what I told you earlier?”

“U-um...huh?”

Yui hadn't noticed it before, despite the stories she'd listened to from the kind woman. But the two of them shared some uncanny resemblance. In face shape and hues alike. Both were gifted the same soft blue eyes, cold yet vivid in color; mimicking the tranquil waters freezing over in an unforgiving winter.

⠀⠀⠀⠀“Mother look! We all have the same eyes!” Shu shouted, shifting on the balls of his feet in sheer excitement.

⠀⠀Upon my birth, Shu had never been happier. This was before he became so cold, so it wasn't that far fetched at the time. I remember mother shushing him for being too loud around me when I was a baby. But that didn't seem to stop him.

⠀⠀⠀⠀“It feels nice to look like someone for once,” He mumurs, lightly poking the plush flesh of your stomach. A soft smile overtook his lips as your giggled at his antics. “Well, besides mom, but she doesn't count!”

⠀⠀⠀⠀Our mother always said we looked like twins, hah, at least a little. Our eyes were the same, and our face shapes were too. The first and the sixth born being so alike was truly an anomaly to us all, but I suppose that's what makes it amusing.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Surprisingly enough, my hair was a similar to his when I was younger too. Though it wasn't that noticeable, in my mind. Faint, platinum strands littered among the rest of my hair. Everything else, was all my own. That's all I had to my name in comparison to Shu.

“So noisy,” Shu moved to place his other earbud in, allowing his pale lashes to flutter over his cold eyes. He released the hand of his younger sister, finally giving her the ability to move once more.

⠀⠀⠀⠀“I'll protect you, forever, [Name].” Shu grins, craddling you in his small arms. “I won't let them hurt you like they tried to hurt me. We can be happy; you'll be happy. I promise.”

[Name] shrugged at his laziness. It was nothing new. Leaning over, she poked at his cheeks, digging into the softness hidden deep within them. “Stop.”

“Hah, no way!”

Yui could not help but admire the scene before her; it was warm and sweet. Bickering amongst the six was not a rare occurrence, yet something about this seemed different. (Even if Subaru threw a vase at Ayato) The air around them felt light and clear, the boy’s faces looked to be much younger and youthful. Almost as though she was peering into their past.

Sighing, [Name] raised to her feet, placing her hand upon the curve of her hip. Her cheeks were lightly puffed out, upset, after Shu had swatted her hand away. “Ahem,” She cleared her throat.

Silence.

“Now, you all know how much I hate seeing you fight.” She started, slowly approaching Yui (standing by the door). “Without me.”

“W-what?!” Yui cried out.

“I want to be involved too! It's been so long since we've all been in the same room.” [Name] smiled mischievously, running her manicured nails along Yui's slim arm. “So, let's have some fun.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀I know what you might be wondering. Why did they keep me in this room? If they love me so much then why did they act the way they did? The answer is simple really, it wasn’t their choice (entirely).

“Catch us if you can!” She shouted, making a beeline down the long, dark hallway. “C'mon Yui!”

⠀⠀⠀⠀Despite being the only one to comfort them when they were down, hug and nurture them with genuine worry - love. Ever since my father proposed the idea of a sacrificial bride, I was tucked away. He feared I would influence them far too much and they wouldn’t be able to rise to their ‘fullest potential’.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Realistically speaking, they just had to come to terms with that.

“Yui,” [Name] says, gently clasping the mortal’s hand once more. A small smile tugged at her painted lips. “Don't think you're safe because of my arrival. You'll surely be feeling the affects later on.”

“W-what?!”

[Name] merely giggled, loud and filled with glee; ignoring the question of her mortal friend. “Run, quickly, before they catch up!” Kicking off her troublesome heels, the woman dragged her down the hall. Their hands locked tightly in one another, and their smiles sewn onto their faces.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀THE END!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀—いつも、いつまでも♡

#—🍁#x reader #diabolik boys #diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers headcanons #diabolik lovers imagines #diabolik lovers x reader #shu sakamaki #reiji sakamaki #laito sakamaki #kanato sakamaki #ayato sakamaki #subaru sakamaki

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jtl07 · 8 months

Text

There's a story behind each trinket, each wrapper, each pebble and Beatrice learns to always turn out Ava's pockets before putting her clothes in the wash. While the machine rumbles, she'll have Ava explain each one, allow herself to lean into Ava's side as she plucks each item from Beatrice's palm. (When they get to the end, Beatrice leaves her palm open and sometimes, Ava will take her hand. And Beatrice will want - Ava; will want to ask what kind of story Ava thinks they'll have, how many chapters, how many novels will it span. It's the same part of her that wants desperately to hear forever from Ava's lips.)

Art for pocketful commissioned from the ever incredible, the incomparable @princington

(More thoughts - about Prince, about their art - below the cut)

Prince has done so many wonderful works of art for the Warrior Nun fandom, especially their fanart for fanfics - there have been countless times I've discovered a new beloved fic through their art. It's even more special when it's your own fic - it's like looking through someone else's eyes, and when it's an artist like Prince, it's nothing short of awe-inspiring. So when I was thinking of getting art commissioned for pocketful, I knew it had to be Prince.

They were very kind and easy to work with, and they took one of my favorite moments I've written and made me fall in love with it all over again. I mean, look at their expressions! If you've seen Prince's work, you know that they have an extraordinary ability in drawing emotion in such a heartfelt way. I love the fondness, the intimacy, the devotion. I just - [goes off to flail and squee for 10 minutes]

And then there's the physical closeness, how Ava's almost in Bea's lap, how indulgent Bea is as Ava is pointing out the different items in her palm (I love that there's a leaf!). There's so much to love in this - the contrasts and "them"ness in their posture, in their clothes. Also the way Bea has her hand tucked between her thighs makes me think about how she tries so hard to keep her hands to herself, yknow? (That theme was one of the things that made me want to write this particular fic to begin with.) And gosh, how comfortable they both are here, in this humble, gentle space they've carved for themselves. It's incredible, seeing this scene like this.

Prince, we're so lucky to have you - thanks for all you do and for sharing your amazing work with us. I'm going to treasure this for a very long time <3

#everyone say thank you Prince!!!#gonna go and squee and cry and flail and all the things for the rest of the night #the rest of the week oh gosh #avatrice #avatrice fic #jt writes fic

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cha-melodius · 3 months

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firstprince +💚

💚 true love's kiss / magic kiss / healed (I said no more than 500 words and of course this is 589 lol. Sorry for the cliffhanger; I just can't help myself. send me a heart and get a ficlet)

When the summons comes, Henry refuses to believe it’s real.

It is, course—heavy paper, dark ink, embossed seal. Your assistance is respectfully requested concerning a matter of some urgency…

Henry doesn’t read the rest. He knows what it says. The whole world knows what it says. Every since the American President’s son was cursed and fell into a deep and unending slumber, which was supposedly only able to be cured by true love’s kiss, there’d been a steady stream of hopeful girls through the White House. Still, Alex remained stubbornly asleep. Henry hadn’t heard of any men being invited, though, which is one reason he’s convinced this was a mistake.

“The palace staff must have mixed up our mail,” he tells Bea, trying unsuccessfully to shove the invitation at her.

Bea just gives him an exasperated look. “It has your name on it.”

“Then someone at the White House made an error in addressing it.”

“Because ‘Beatrice’ is so close to ‘Henry’. Happens all the time, really. The other day I got a polo club invitation meant for you.”

“Really?” Henry asks.

“No,” she huffs. “This is for you, dumbass.”

Henry stares down at it, chewing his lip. “But why me? Out of everyone else?”

“You didn’t hear?” Bea asks, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“Hear what?” He’s been actively trying not to read news about Alex’s condition, actually.

“It’s supposed to be someone he’s touched before. Otherwise, he’d still be awake. Someone must have remembered you two shaking hands in Rio.”

“But Alex hates me,” he says plaintively. This is, of course, the other reason this must be a mistake.

“So, now’s your chance,” Bea tells him with far too much mischief sparkling in her eyes. “Go lay one on him, and he’ll never remember.”

“Bea,” Henry gasps, horrified. “I would never—”

She rolls her eyes at him. “It was a joke, Haz. But the fact of the matter is that you don’t have much of a choice. Think of how it would look for international relations if the Crown refused a request from the President.”

And so, Henry finds himself with sweating palms and his heart in his throat, staring down at the most beautiful boy in the world as he lays sleeping in his bedroom at the White House. The First Family are all wan and sallow as his interminable condition wears on them, but Alex himself looks vibrant, as if he’d just nodded off. Perks of magic sleep, Henry supposes. A terrifying woman in stilettos and pencil skirt gives Henry instructions that he barely hears, then they all file out to wait.

Henry wrings his hands and twists his signet ring and shifts on his feet, knowing he can’t put this off for much longer. He’s not sure what he’s more terrified of—that it won’t work, or that it will.

“I’m sorry, Alex,” he murmurs. For the past, for this, for what may come.

He leans in—and hesitates. The aroma of cinnamon strikes him, drawing him in like a gravitational field he can’t escape, and he sways closer. When their lips brush, Henry feels it—not the kiss, but the fire that it kindles under his skin, the flame that flashes down his spine and out to his toes, the inferno that sets him alight. It’s too much, it’s going to burn him up—

Alex’s lips part and he gasps, long eyelashes fluttering as he wakes, and Henry stumbles backwards. He stares at Henry, rubs his eyes, then looks again.

“It's you?!”

#rwrb #rwrb fic #red white and royal blue #firstprince #firstprince fic #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #my fic #kiss ficlets #i truly am sorry but that's the risk you take with ficlets lmao

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drinkinboilingcoffee · 3 months

Text

Useless headcanons for the characters in no real order whatsoever:

-The Aftons have a cat named Beatrice and the Emilys have a golden retriever named Felix. As an adult Michael had a ferret named Noodle. -Mike has a bad habit of scratching his palms when he’s stressed. This became a pretty big issue post scoop when he had claw-y hands and more fragile skin, and he sometimes rips his hands right open during nightshifts. -Evan has schizophrenia (his Fredbear doll has a speaker in it, the others are auditory hallucinations). -Charlie is lactose intolerant and can’t eat ice cream, which is inconvenient when Elizabeth keeps trying to give her coupons for it for her birthday. -William has unusually sharp teeth due to a genetic mutation. Michael and Elizabeth both inherited it. -Henry has gotten burned in the workshop so many times that he can’t really feel his hands get burnt anymore. -Charlie had a twin that she absorbed in the womb (sorry Sammy). Henry dropped this information in casual conversation when she was like 7 and she has been horrified ever since. -Post-scoop Michael uses crutches to help get around. -William is legally blind after the springlocks but still drives. Out of spite. -William is like 5’5” and Clara was almost 6 feet tall, and Michael inherited her genes, so William just watched his son slowly tower over him more and more over the years. -Elizabeth held onto Evan’s doll after he died, and Michael took it after she died. Elizabeth used it as a blunt weapon a few times. -Michael holds random items in his chest cavity post-scoop (he could fit a whole ass person in there if he wanted). -Michael definitely posted The Immortal And The Restless fic and fanart once social media was invented. He hates Twilight so much. -Henry never learned how to text. -Jeremy has memory lapses and seizures post-bite. Every time someone asks about the scar he tells a different story. -Mike (as a zombie) accidentally bit one of Jeremy’s fingers off once. Can’t elaborate. -Zombies are Michael’s least favorite supernatural creature, he’s so pissed he ended up as one. -Undead Mike acts kind of animalistic sometimes. Like he is very much a continuation of “every non-human character has to purr”. Also bites people. -Elizabeth used to bring stray cats home and most of them had like the bubonic plague.

#fnaf #fnaf au #michael afton #william afton #sleepwalking insomniac #shitpost #henry emily #elizabeth afton #evan afton #charlie emily

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lisenberry · 2 months

Text

The sweat on your skin is better than regret on your heart

Part three! (One and Two) I know I promised smut, but I just got really deep into his tattoos. Part four will finish this up, I swear.

Tattoo Artist!Price x F!Reader

He led you towards the back of the shop, past the reception desk and the waiting area, and behind the black velvet privacy curtain. You were surprised at how clean it was in his workspace. Welcoming in its warmth. You expected neon lights and goth décor. Crystal skulls and gleaming stainless steel.

Instead, it was a palette of rich, earthy tones. A supple looking camel-colored leather sofa, maps of the ocean and model ships of every shape and size. A compass rose painted with elaborate detail on the ceiling. A stained-glass light fixture at its center.

“It’s beautiful in here,” you mused, as you spun around slowly in a mix of awe and anticipation. If you were to get a tattoo, it would be the place.

“If you give me a second, I can draw you up a few ideas. The ones you showed me on your little phone are uninspired shit.” He slipped another cig from his pack and tucked it behind his ear. Always at the ready.

“I’m actually more worried about the placement.” You bit your lip for courage. You couldn’t believe you were doing this. “Could you show me yours? Maybe that’ll help me decide.”

You sat atop a padded seat that he could recline forward and backward, raise up and down to suit the best position. It was comfortable and smooth against the back of your knees.

“I think we can stop pretending why you’re still here. You want me to help you forget your boyfriend, don’t you? Work you up so hard—so good and proper—that you don’t remember his name.”

But even as he spoke, he obliged you. Tugged his shirt off efficiently, pulling it up from behind his neck and shrugging it over the front of his shoulders, letting it come to rest between his wrists. It briefly looked like handcuffs before he tossed it on the floor beside him.

His hair stuck up in roguish angles before he could smooth it down with a stiff swipe of his palm.

“No, I want to remember. Remember this feeling for the rest of my life.” You couldn’t look away as he stood so close to you, so proudly as if for an inspection.

At the swath of hair that curled around the thick muscles of his chest and trailed down to disappear beneath the waist of the pants that hung low where his hands rested on his hips.

“What feeling is that?”

“Empty?” You reached a hand out tentatively to touch the skin along his side. To move him closer for a better look. “But free.”

He was inked in a scattering of places, like memories collected over time. No rhyme or symmetry to their arrangement. A snake coiled around his shoulder and sunk its teeth into his collarbone. A black bird with a long neck and hooked beak sat vigilantly on one bicep while a simple, unadorned dagger with wings claimed the other.

Some more weathered than others, it was hard to tell which was the oldest.

“What’s the bird for?” you asked, nodding to his left arm. Below it was written “You’ll never walk alone” in stylized script.

“That’s a liver bird. The symbol of the LFC.” A football club? You cracked a smile at the boyishness of it. You wondered if that was his first one, as a lad staking his claim on his body. And the world.

“And the snake?” You took your time tracing his right shoulder with your fingertips.

“I hate snakes. Scare me to death.” Brave then, to carry one around with him always, forever creeping up to bite him.

“And the bees? You scared of them, too?” You noted the collection of realistically drawn bumble bees at his side, fresher and with bright yellow colors.

“Those are for my nieces. Beatrice, Brenna and Bailey.” He pointed to each, with a glimmer of softness in his voice as he recalled their names.

As you slid your hands to his hips, you turned him around to view the larger canvas at his back. Just as disjointed as his front, your gaze fell to a ghostly face.

More skeleton than specter, it sat on his right shoulder. It’s teeth were made of bullets, and it stared blankly back at you. The pitch black in the depths of its eyes unnerving.

Beside it was a bear, warlike in its posture. Its face open and fearsome, ready to consume its foe. A claymore style longsword, with a thistle design at its hilt held in its massive paws.

One last piece balanced out the trinity. A Knight Templar, crouched in armor. On one bent knee, in service to a force unseen.

They felt significant, inked in a similar style and with a fluidity that bound them together.

“They’re important to you?”

“To be at my back? Yeah. They’re the best.”

From there, your fingers moved lower, to a set of four lions sat on their flanks. You recognized them from history. They were the Landseed lions of Admiral Nelson’s monument in Trafalgar Square. They’d once held names too, like his nieces.

Peace. War. Vigilance. Determination.

But these had arrows in their backs. You imagined that each one in the count held a significance. Not a life taken. Or a victory. Not something so crass and boastful. Instead, something lost.

Below each, he’d had a set of coral red poppies added. Bright and vibrant and new.

“It’s lovely,” you felt a tear drift down your cheek. You didn’t know why. It happened sometimes when you were at a museum or a gallery. Moved beyond words at something beyond yourself. The unbridled expression of another.

The last was a lone set of crosshairs, in a style so different than the rest. Thin and unsure, as if doodled in a dream. Just below his neck. Dead-center at the crest of his spine.

“What’s this one?” You grazed it gently with your fingers. Not entirely sure you wanted the answer.

“That’s the one that finally gets me, love,” he growled as he twisted around and held your probing hand in his. “You’ve looked your fill. Now it’s my turn.”

#call of duty #john price #captain price #captain john price #price x reader #captain john price x reader #john price x reader

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bumblesimagines · 9 months

Note

i bet your neighbors hate us.

you're wearing my shirt.

Guinevere Beck

you're wearing my shirt.

i bet your neighbors hate us.

Pronouns: They/Them/Their, GN!Reader

The dream of a nice vacation on a warm, sunny beach in a new country waiting to be explored shattered abruptly at the agonizing sound of your alarm blaring in your ear over and over again until you lazily pawed at your phone and somehow managed to silence it. You sighed heavily into your pillow and contemplated sleeping for a few more minutes that would surely turn into a few more hours, but you doubted your friends would appreciate you ditching them for sweet, out-of-reach dreams.

Lifting your head from the pillow and rubbing a hand over your face, your eyes cracked open when the smell of food slipped into the room. You lived alone and the only people who had copies of your apartment key either couldn't cook or weren't nice enough to. You rolled off your stomach and sat up to give your bedroom a quick scan.

You first noticed the clothes you'd worn the night before scattered around the floor haphazardly as if they'd been aggressively thrown around. The unfamiliar jeans and shirt stood out to you next, also on the floor alongside a pair of beige sandals and a vibrant red jacket that looked vaguely familiar to the one your sister's friend wore often. The bottle-blonde with pretty eyes and naive enough to believe your sister's other friend vaguely gave a shit about her otherwise known as the lit student your sister had taken under her protective wing.

...Shit.

Peach would have your head served on a silver platter or worse if she were ever to find out. She'd never been the most rational or level-headed, no matter how hard she tried to come off as put-together, and she'd become rather obsessive over... Bella? Beatrice? Your foggy mind refused to remind you of the aspiring writer's name but it happily reminded you of that time Peach had pulled you aside at a party to borderline threaten you into keeping a friendly distance from Beck because she 'already had one asshole in her life and didn't need another'. You could only pray Brooklyn? kept her lips sealed about the whole ordeal.

The door creaked open and the blonde poked her head, a smile breaking out on her soft features. "Hey, you're awake! I heard your alarm go off." She laughed airily, and somewhat nervously, before fully stepping into the room and tugging lightly at the shirt that almost covered her bare thighs.

"You're wearing my shirt." You mumbled in a still drowsy tone. Besty (you were fairly certain her name started with a B) nodded, her cheeks flushing a light pink as she glanced down at the shirt and smoothed it out with the palm of her hands. For a girl you knew too much about- other than her goddamn name- due to your sister's inability to not complain about those close to her, she seemed awfully shy. She'd had her fair share of encounters from what you'd heard and you doubted you'd be the last one-night-stand.

"I hope you don't mind. It was the first thing I saw when I got up and I didn't want to walk around shirtless." She chuckled and her eyes flickered up to meet yours, her smile turning mischievous. "Unless that's what you're into." Ah, there she was. The Bianca you knew from the countless parties you'd seen her in. Cheeky, sweet, and an overall hot mess that attracted trouble.

You released a huff of amusement and pushed the covers off to get out of bed and slip on the first pair of pants you got your hands on. "You making something?" You asked, pulling out a shirt from your drawer.

"Well, I planned on doing sunny-side-up eggs but I always end up burning them so I settled on scrambled instead," Berdie responded with a light shrug, her fingertips raising to toy with the silver necklace around her neck. Her cool and flirty demeanor faltered when you moved closer to her but she quickly covered it up by cupping your face and pressing her lips to yours. Her arms wrapped snugly around your shoulders and she let out a flustered giggle against your lips.

But the moment felt too intimate, too close and domestic for your liking. With a family like yours, it was best to keep everyone else at arm's length. The Salingers destroyed whatever and whoever got too close, the things around them wilting and rotting at just the lightest touch. People were often ruined beyond salvage over the smallest of things. You'd lost count of how many careers and lives had been ruined by your family over a bruised ego or the slightest hint of rejection.

Almost as if sensing your hesitance, Brianna pulled back and cleared her throat, tucking a strand of hair behind her reddened ear. "I bet your neighbors hate us. We were... pretty loud."

"The Daltons are too busy traveling Europe and ignoring their kids to care." You reassured her lightly, combing your fingers through her soft, frizzy hair. "I think we should probably talk about this... Guinevere."

"How many times do I have to tell you to just call me Beck? Guinevere is... a lot." Beck. Close enough. "But, yeah, we should talk."

#x reader #x you #x y/n #x male reader #x male!reader #you x reader #you netflix #you netflix x reader #you netflix x male reader #you netflix x you #you x male reader #guinevere beck #Guinevere Beck x reader #guinevere beck x reader #Guinevere Beck x male reader #Guinevere Beck x you #Guinevere Beck x y/n

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hypertic · 11 months

Text

I’ve seen a lot of AUs of spiderman/vigilante Ava but the potential vigilante Beatrice has is >>>

like it all begins when Ava, who’s working in a biomed lab late at night, finds Beatrice in the storage room stuffing her bag with medical supplies paying no mind to her bleeding leg (about to leave her entire DNA evidence in a lab) and clearly Ava is shocked.

too shocked to react when Beatrice tackles her and covers her mouth, spreading all her blood on the floor and dropping her bag. the thing is Beatrice is shocked too, so she just stares, at the pretty scientist who’s breathing against her palm.

“This is the part where you say something along the lines of its not what it looks like.” Ava speaks when Beatrice takes her hand off.

“It’s exactly what it looks like though.” her accent is off, ava thinks, not American.

“Breaking and entering, robbery and assault?”

“This is not assault!” Beatrice almost seems offended by it, but loosens her grip around Ava’s shoulder, pinning her down.

“So you admit to breaking and entering?” Ava’s smile is so smug, as if she’s not the one being held down by a criminal. Beatrice doesn’t answer, contemplating her choices. “I don’t care, honestly.”

“What?”

“It’s not my company, not my responsibility, I’m just here doing overtime checking on bacterial growth every 2 hours.” Ava shrugs, and Beatrice believes her.

She wants to believe her. She seems very honest and she doesn’t want to restrain her or anything. She’s also lost some blood and is a little lightheaded.

So Beatrice slumps back, finally releasing ava, who notices the (medium sized) pool of blood underneath the mysterious, masked woman.

“Need help with that?” Ava is teasing but genuine, and Beatrice wonders why she didn’t run out the door. Then she wonders why she didn’t close the door, at least.

Ava scoots closer, her hands hovering over the supplies scattered around the floor.

“So what are you, exactly?” Ava asks, opening a pack of gauze. “Like Spider-Man? With powers and all?”

“No powers.” At this point, Beatrice has decided Ava is not threat.

“But do you fight crime and stuff? I can see your cool stick back there.”

“What makes you think I’m not the crime?” She’s not threatening she’s curious and dumbfounded because who in their right mind would catch a masked person stealing, patch them up and ask if they’re a hero?

“You don’t give evil vibes.” Ava shrugs. “And there’s rumors you know? About a masked figure going around, known criminals showing up cuffed to a lamp post.”Beatrice cheeks blush slightly under the mask and shakes her head.

“So like, a vigilante?” Beatrice doesn’t answer, eventually giving a small nod, her eyes following Ava’s moved closely, who’s finally cleaned the wound. “But no powers?”

“No powers.”

“That’s… dangerous.” Ava’s brows furrow in a mix of concern and awe.

Beatrice doesn’t know what to say, and she’s beginning to realize that only happens around this woman.

“It might need some of those butterfly stitches.” Ava declared, pressing (hard) on the cut right above her leg before tying the bandage around it.

“Thank you.” Beatrice says.

“It’s alright. I’m Ava, by the way.”

“Im Be-.”

“Alright, B, let me pack this up for you and clean up.”

“Are you kidding?” Ava is not kidding, for she starts to wipe the blood off the floor with some alcohol wipes and stuffs the bag with even more supplies, all while Beatrice stares.

“Won’t you get in trouble?” Ava shrugs for the hundredth time, but Beatrice can’t seem to find it annoying (yet).

“Nope, because this was a robbery, and I am a victim.” Ava takes a hand to her chest dramatically. “Go on, I won’t look. But you need to be quick because I’m calling the cops now.” Ava takes out her phone and stares at Beatrice expectantly.

Beatrice just stares back, before grabbing the bag and jumping to her feet, heading for the door and taking one last look back. Ava’s smile is the last she sees of her before sprinting away into the dark.

#this came to me in a vision #so who’s writing it !!!#avatrice #warrior nun #writing #ava silva #sister beatrice #wlw #avatrice au #ava x beatrice #save warrior nun #ficlet

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aloysiavirgata · 5 months

Note

How about some middle-aged reflections on the early days of their (romantic/sexual) relationship?

They’re spreading mulch around the trees, tucking flowerbeds in for winter. The air is crisp and dry, sharpened by the pungent smell of the mulch.

“Got the Stanford alumni newsletter yesterday,” Scully says. “Guess who their new entomology professor is.”

He frowns back, puzzled. Her tone indicates that the answer is one he should get. Does he know any entomologists?

Mulder starts to shake his head. “I have no-“

He sees her face, the smirk she’s trying hide, and then he remembers. “Nooooo,” he says, drawing the word out with a laugh. “Bambi?”

“Bambi,” she confirms, grinning now. “Did you sleep with her? I honestly can’t remember.”

“No!” He’s a bit shocked that she thought this. He’d kind of wanted to though, he recalls. Little khaki shorts.

Scully rolls her eyes. “Oh, sorry to impugn your virtue.”

Mulder offers her a petulant look. “You make it sound like I was Wilt Chamberlain-ing my way through every case.”

She leans against the big sycamore, scoffs. “You’re mighty defensive there, Marty.”

He grins back. “Judge away. You weren’t putting out yet. Not to me, anyway.”

Scully laughs. “We were so young.”

“We were so young.”

She rolls her palms around the rake handle, her beautiful slim fingers with oval nails like the inside of a seashell. She’d been pretty back then, he thinks. Lovely. But now she’s ethereal, refined to some radiant essence.

“I think….hmm. I think some part of me really felt that if you and I followed the rules then everyone else had to as well, you know?” Her expression is a little wistful. A little sad.

He does know. “I like to think it made it that much sweeter in the end.”

“It did. I loved you so…so….purely. I remember when you made it to that Congressional hearing. I think I was done then. The rest was just waiting to happen.” She laughs, a little shy even now.

“You were like Beatrice,” he says to her, adoringly, in the honeyed light. “Come to lead me into Paradise.”

Scully drops the rake, walks over to take his hands in hers. “Is this heaven?” she asks, gazing up.

Mulder smiles back, squeezes her cool little fingers. The wind chimes on the deck ripple like harp strings. The sun makes a halo on her tawny head.

#xf fanfic #xfiles fanfic #msr #my fic #prompt #inbox #bambi berenbaum #war of the coprophages

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perotovar · 10 months

Text

hey sweeties!! kel and i put a list together of all the submissions we got for our event and split them into two masterlists of fics for you all to read and enjoy! this is my part of the list, so if you don't see yours give @beskarandblasters 's list >here< a look and see if that's where your fic/submission ended up!

we can't thank you enough for submitting and helping us give a voice to the smaller writers of the fandom ♥ oh, and for any multi chapter fics/series, we only read the first chapters to make it fair!

please make sure to read each fic's warnings carefully and happy reading! ♥

@iamskyereads - Compulsion (Ezra x ofc!Beatrice)

i can't even begin to describe how much i love this fic already. it's so smart and the worldbuilding?? incredible!! it feels like a sequel to the film, or like it could easily take place in the same universe. just brilliant. and ezra's voice is so clear here, i could hear him saying every word. and the oc, beatrice, is fascinating already, i can't wait to see where it goes!

@all-the-way-down-here - This Is Why We Fight (Dieter x nb!oc!Bell)

i love the start of this. both dieter and bell have excellent characterization and the conversations being had by every character feel so real and are so important. bell's group of friends all sound like friends i would have, and i would love to hang out with them. i love the direction this is going!

@linzels-blog - Delta Palms Tropical Resort (Frankie x f!reader)

ahh what a delightful little fic! it feels very much like an early 2000s rom com and i mean that in the best way! very cute and i love the vibes. everyone's characterization is great and i can't wait to sink my teeth into the rest of it!

@elvenmother - Context and Perspective (Marcus M x f!reader)

completely obsessed with this concept. i love a good enemies to lovers and this is such an awesome way to do it! i always see marcus m fics featuring someone without superpowers, but to have a character that's just as powerful as him? sign me up!

@kedsandtubesocks - In the Dead of the Night (Din x f!reader)

one of my absolute favorite din fics. the worldbuilding and din's creature form is incredible. i love a horror au that's flipped on its head. i also love the "creature is also the hunter" trope and this does that incredibly well. the atmosphere is off the charts.

@ghostofaboy - Rock Bottom (Frankie x original male characters)

god, i don't even know where to begin with this story. it's so raw and visceral and i can't say enough how much i enjoy it. i love reading something new and especially if it's coming from a male perspective. this is, unfortunately, something i could see frankie getting up to. frankie is such a deeply tragic character and this fic does that justice in a dark, but really intriguing way.

@ishabull - The Way We Were Drawn (Marcus P x f!reader)

ohh this is such a sweet fic. i love the imagery painted and the dynamic between marcus and reader is so sweet!

@secretelephanttattoo - Headshots (Marcus P x f!reader)

this fic is beyond sweet and so dreamy. the ideal scenario for anyone, in my humble opinion. who wouldn't want to take pictures of handsome fbi agents and then fall in love with said agent?

@lesbianhotch - you walk by and i fall to pieces (Frankie x f!reader)

THIS WAS THE CUTEST DAMN THING. i love me a nervous frankie (hello, have you read my fic lmao) and this was by far one of the cutest. i'm obsessed with reader's confidence and i just know those two are gonna be menaces once they're together. throw in some patsy cline and i am a goner. this is going on the reread list for sure.

@insomniamamma - Remain Nameless (Ezra & Cee w/ gn!reader)

ok, this one actually made me cry. i'm not sure if it's my own sleep-deprived ass that caused it but this is probably one of the most beautiful but sad fics i've read in a long time. i mean all of this in the best way because i don't normally get emotional from fics. prospect as a movie makes me emotional, though, so it doesn't surprise me that this did as well. it's such an incredible missing scene that i can, unfortunately, see absolutely happening. have some tissues nearby.

@sweetercalypso - Unlikely Friends (Joel x gn!reader)

this fic is one of my absolute favorite fics for joel. a big reason for that is i have a cat named tilly. and imagining joel reluctantly and grumpily cuddling with my tilly makes me emotional, ok??

@softstarlite - The Casualty of Love (Javi P x f!reader)

very cute! i love the awkward tension around not seeing someone for so long and there being a huge glow up maturity-wise from one of them! seeing someone in a new light is always a strange thing and i love the start to these two and their journey!

@julesonrecord - Shots (Jack x f!reader/oc)

probably one of the best post-movie fics i've ever read for jack. the way jack's trauma and therapy is handled is so fucking brilliant and tonic is one of the best fucking characters, god. eva is written so well and i just. i can't recommend this fic enough. if you like jack, hell even if you don't, give this fic a shot. i promise you'll come out of it liking it.

@coulsons-fullmetal-cellist - The Audition (Dieter x f!reader)

goddd this was so cute! dieter's insecurities don't come up very often and i absolutely love what a match he and reader make. she's so sweet with him and takes such good care of him. and he loves her so much and i love them ok

@max--phillips - A Little Lipstick Never Hurts (Max P x f!reader)

this is one of the best explorations into kink that i've ever read. it's so respectful and hot as fuck. completely obsessed with this take on max as a character and i can't get enough of the dynamic between him, reader, (and eventually dieter). it may not be everyone's cup of tea, but i highly encourage you to give it a try. max gets some well deserved lessons taught, and who doesn't love that?

@coastielaceispunk - The Gift of Lingerie (Max L x f!reader)

god, this was so fucking hot. i'm so here for a mentally healed maxwell in a healthy marriage with a fulfilling sex life lol the little bit of teasing on both their parts was beyond sexy and i loved how equal everything felt. ugh, will be rereading this one for sure.

@lotrefcp - Hidden Away (Javi P x f!reader)

i'm obsessed with a no nonsense reader with just as much attitude/sass as javi does lol i just kept reading going GET HIS ASS. an excellent start to a universe i'm excited to sink my teeth into!

@beefrobeefcal - On the Waterfront (Frankie x f!reader)

oh, this is dark. i love the vibes immediately. i've had a weird fascination with the mafia for most of my life and this has that air about it. a dark, chubby mob boss!frankie is right up my alley for sure. i love that he's still frankie tho. sensible, practical, but with an edge. mind the warnings.

@flightlessangelwings - La Estrella de Mi Vida (Javi G x f!reader)

ahhh so romantic and so tragic!! i swear, it's impossible to make javi unappealing but this fic is just so sweet and manages to make me love him even more (somehow). but i love the added drama and tension from outside forces!! i need to read the rest of it asap!

@littlemisspascal - Rockford & Roan (Tim x f!reader)

my god, i love this?? i'm not usually one for superpowers/soulmate au's but i'm in love with the practicality of this? it feels otherworldly without being too much and it's very grounded. i love the reader and the way tim is written is so believable. i love that we as a fandom have created such a visceral image of this character from only a minute's worth of footage!

@something-tofightfor & @the-blind-assassin-12 - Aphelion (Oberyn x Ellaria & f!reader)

goddd the imagery painted in this one. so heartbreaking. absolutely breathtaking. i'm a slut for vampires and i'm a slut for oberyn/ellaria. this is absolutely something i will be reading the rest of lol

@bluestar22x - The Rockford Files (Tim x f!reader)

ok this is insanely good. one of my favorite books of all time is "red dragon" by thomas harris and i felt like i was reading that again while i read this. the details of the case and the cadence of everything was top notch. obsessed with the psychic element thrown in there and i'm beyond excited to see where tim and psy end up next!

bonus:

@sweetenerobert - Fiction vs Reality (Tommy Miller x m!reader)

ohhhh my god. you give me a bisexual tattoo artist tommy miller with stretched ears and i'm supposed to be normal about it??? UNLIKELY. i am extremely tempted to edit this into reality ngl but my god. this was so fucking hot lmao

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thelastwarriornun · 3 months

Note

7. To shut them up 🫠

Without the burden of duty, Beatrice is prone to sleeping in, Ava usually the first to wake up, only to burrow into Beatrice’s side until she’s ready to greet the day. Today is different. Ava stretches to find the other half of the bed cool, empty, and grumbles at her misfortune. So, dejectedly, Ava crawls from the bed, pausing just long enough to steal Beatrice’s button up from the night before, doing up just enough buttons to give the impression of modesty.

They’ve been here long enough for Ava to memorize which wooden panels creak beneath her feet, and which path is silent as she slips through the hall. Beatrice is at the table, notebook in hand, and Ava swears she’s gotten the jump on her when she sees the smallest inclination of Beatrice’s head. “I made coffee. I haven’t made breakfast. I was waiting to see if you wanted to eat here or grab something at that cafe around the corner.”

“Fuck.” Ava deflates, realizing the game is lost.

“Language,” Beatrice hums, lacking her previous reproach. It’s hard to muster the same level of admonishment now. Especially when Ava can recall with perfect clarity, Beatrice cursing beneath her just the night before.��

Ava slips her arms around Beatrice, smiles when a hand lifts to wrap around her arm, and Beatrice tips her head back to rest against Ava’s chest. “What gave me away?”

“The shirt,” Beatrice pauses, turning to press a kiss to Ava’s forearm. “And I heard you huffing when you realized I’d already gotten up.”

Ava can’t help the scoff that escapes her. Beatrice’s smile shifts, devolves into something wider, maybe even bordering on smug, and Ava can’t help the way her heart seems to miss a beat in her chest. This version of Beatrice, lighter and flirtatious, is something Ava’s not sure she can ever get used to.

It’s easy to loosen Beatrice’s hold, removing the notebook from her hands and dropping it dramatically on the table behind them, before slipping into Beatrice’s lap, her hands coming to rest atop Beatrice’s shoulders. “So you’re saying I should’ve come out here naked? If that’s what you wanted all you have to do is ask Bea.”

And Beatrice has changed, but she’s only human, and Ava’s had just a bit more practice. Her cheeks are crimson, her own hands having come to rest on Ava’s hips, thumbs just brushing above the waistband of Ava’s boxers, flex against her skin. “You asked what gave you away. I was just– I’m not– there’s nothing wrong with–”

Ava lets her ramble for a moment. Enjoys the flush in her cheeks, and the frantic edge in her tone, before she takes mercy on her leaning down to press their lips together.

Another change. It used to take Beatrice a moment to catch up. The final dregs of her vows, and habit a difficult thing to break. Somewhere in the normalcy of their shared lives that had changed.

It’s Ava who’s left flustered, as one of Beatrice’s hands slips along her back coming to rest at the base of her neck deepening the kiss. Beatrice who nips at Ava’s bottom lip, licking into her mouth before retreating leaving her dazed, chest heaving.

“You never answered my question,” Beatrice's tone is steady, and it's unfair really how easy it is for Beatrice to reorient herself.

Ava blinks, tries to think about anything other than the feel of Beatrice’s thumb brushing along her hip, or the firm press of her palm, now resting just above the halo. “You asked a question?”

Beatrice smirks, not totally dissimilar from the way she looks just before she pins Ava when they spar. Her hand slips from beneath Ava’s shirt and finds its way to trace her thumb along the curve of Ava’s jaw. Checkmate. Ava can practically hear it, when she tilts her head into Beatrice’s touch. Letting out a breathy sigh as her skin tingles under Beatrice’s gentle touch.

“Did you want to go to the cafe-” Beatrice’s voice trails off, leaning forward to brush her lips against Ava’s neck. “Or did you want to stay in?”

Ava tries to formulate an answer. Tries to ignore the pounding in her chest, or the heat pulsing through her, as Beatrice presses her lips along the curve of Ava’s neck. It’s only when she stops again, Ava’s fingers somehow having tangled in the hair at the base of her neck, an eyebrow arched expectantly that Ava remembers she’s meant to have an answer.

“Honestly, who needs breakfast?”

“Well actually breakfast is the most important meal–”

Ava only feels a little bad when she cuts off what she’s certain would’ve been a very informative lecture on the science behind eating breakfast, pulling Beatrice’s lips firmly against her own.

#myfics #Avatrice #warrior nun #Was this the original plan for this prompt? definitely not #but I needed to write something soft so here we are

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be-missed · 10 months

Text

Not Strong Enough (Chap 6)

Jenna Ortega x Fem!Reader

(pictures not mine)

Summary: Jenna was visiting her mom in the hospital to drop off the food that will be eaten for the hospital party, but she met a resident surgeon and she thought "God forbid I ran into an accident, but I want her to open me and stitch me up." While the surgeon tries her best to keep her fan girling low-key.

Warning: curse words.

A/N: uhm, hi thanks for waiting, enjoy!

Words: 2.6K

Masterlist

Chap 1 | Chap 2 | Chap 3 | Chap 4 | Chap 5

______________________________________________________________

Chap 6

"What the fuck is happening?" Ava said as she enters the breakroom, Y/N is breathing with the help of a paper bag, Beatrice on her side guiding her how to properly breathe, and Camila in front of them with her phone out capturing every moment that Y/N is losing.

"You should've entered earlier Ava, Y/N was panicking because Y/N is going to have dinner with Jenna's family tonight" Camila exclaimed while checking all the photos that she have earlier of Y/N.

Y/N then crumpled the paper bag and throw it to Camila "You asshole, are you really my friend? You should be helping me!" while Camila just laughed and said "Beatrice is by your side, and helping you breathe is a one man job anyway" smirking to herself while Y/N answered "Okay, that's it, I don't give you the permission to talk to Jenna."

And as if on cue, the breakroom door then opened and Jenna entered.

"Who am I not talking to?" Jenna asked Y/N with a raised eyebrow and a smile. Y/N then started to look at Bea while Ava kicked Y/N under the table and whispered "Get your shit together."

"Hey" Y/N said while she waved to Jenna and invited her to seat in their table. The girl who just entered put a paper bag in the middle of the table, "Here are uhm, some cookies that I baked earlier, just a small treat for you all."

Ava started to open the bag and bring out the container with Beatrice helping her, Camila is still standing in front of them and said "So Jenna, as I promised you last time, I'm gonna show you my Wednesday Dance."

Jenna then looked at Y/N who was shaking her head and said "Please say no..." Jenna doesn't have the chance to answer when they heard the Bloody Mary Sped up Version in Camila's phone.

Camila stood up in front of them, tapping her foot with the beat. Beatrice was shaking her head and trying to not laugh, Ava was eating a cookie and enjoying the act, while Y/N landed her hand on Jenna's thigh and whispered "You don't have to do this" with a sad smile.

I'll dance, dance, dance,

With my hands, hands, hands

Camila started to dance, Jenna was nodding her head to the beat, Beatrice palmed her face, and Ava is clapping. Y/N's phone vibrated and got a message from their co-surgeon that all of the residents are needed in the surgery room.

Above my head, head, head like Jesus said

"Uhm, Bea & Ava, I think we are needed in the surgery room, we need to get going" Y/N said tapping the table to get the attention of the three of them, "Okay, show is over Camila, you can wait for us in here so that we can go home together" Beatrice said, while walking out with Ava.

Y/N looked at Jenna and said "Hey, will you be okay here? I'll be going back to you after, okay?" Jenna then nodded and replies "Duty calls, yes, I'll be waiting for you. I think me and Camila might bond for now."

With what she heard, Camila jumped up and down. But before Y/N reached the door, Jenna pulled Y/N and kissed her on her cheek and said "Work well."

Jenna then went back to the seat and Camila is side eyeing her, "What? You are creeping me out" Jenna said, "What was that for?" Camila asked the other girl with her eye brows raised, "Nothing, Y/N told me friends kiss each other's cheek so we just kinda did... for fun..." Jenna answered, not really telling the truth that she just wants to kiss Y/N, but Y/N did tell her about that so...

"Okay, friends... So did Y/N showed you her collection of her funko pops?" Camila asked Jenna, "Uhm no, actually I haven't been into her house" and that surprised Camila, "WHAT? She have all of the funkos of your character and what do you mean you haven't been to her house?"

"Funkos... of all of my characters?", Jenna thought, "Why would Y/N have funkos of my characters?" Jenna asked, "Well in the first place, she is like one of your biggest fan, she also went to some of your movie premiers but not lucky enough to get your autograph, and like she have a massive crush on you ever since, so like..." Camila ended with a shrug, Jenna was just listening to this new information that she is getting.

Camila then continued "Yeah, and we were like so surprised when you released a Nighttime Routine with Harper's Bazaar and Y/N was like, viewed that a hundred times and was like so dreamy about it. You know, I thought she knew that because like, you know, you are her friend so I thought you'll advise her with that, but I guess not since she fucking screamed at my ear when she refreshed her YouTube."

There is only one thing in Jenna's mind, "What the fuck?" and as for the Harper Bazaar's video, she saw Y/N all smiley while watching Melissa, so she contacted her agent if she can also do that video, and Jenna did that because she was just jealous on how Y/N is all smiley watching the video, before Jenna gets to ask Camila again, the three surgeon enters the breakroom.

Y/N went towards Jenna and asked "Do you wanna go home? Your mom said she'll be with your dad and you can come home with me..." and Jenna just nodded her head and said their good bye's to the other doctors.

Inside the car, Jenna is looking at Y/N and its creeping Y/N somehow, since she feels that Jenna is hiding something, "Why are you looking at me like that?" Y/N asked, "Nothing, I just learned something new today, and also, can I come to your house?" Jenna asked.

Y/N stepped on the break, "I'm sorry, uhm... Yeah sure, we can have dinner in my house next time" Jenna accepted the answer "That sounds fun, I can't wait" and smiled at Y/N.

---

Getting home, Y/N got acquainted with Jenna's family, seating at the sofa talking to Jenna's dad, going to the kitchen to help Jenna's mom, running around to chase Jenna's nieces and nephews, talks about social issues with Jenna's siblings.

Jenna pulled Y/N next to the stairs, away from everyone, "Are you good?" Y/N asked, "Yes, I just pulled you to the side to let you breathe, you're like a talking machine out there" Jenna answered with a smile, appreciating the effort that Y/N puts to get to know her family.

"Well, I mean your family is nice and they are fun so, I can't say that I'm getting tired, I actually enjoy it" Y/N says and leans her back to the wall waiting for Jenna to say something, but instead, Jenna just walked closer to her and smiled at Y/N.

Y/N feels a big hole inside her stomach is forming while Jenna just situated herself between Y/N's legs and rest both of her arms in Y/N's shoulder. "What are you doing?" Y/N swallowed and asked Jenna with a shake in her voice, "Nothing, just situating myself" Jenna answered and assisted Y/N's hand to rest in her hips.

Jenna rounded her arms tightly into Y/N's neck and played with the baby hair in her nape. Jenna stared intently to those beautiful eyes that she adored ever since Y/N greeted her in the hospital. Y/N's breathing becomes quick, with her proximity to Jenna.

"Hey relax, it's just me and you" Jenna said quietly and tries to help Y/N to slow down her breathing "Relax, it's just me and you, yeah?"

After a few seconds, Y/N relaxes her arms and tightens it hold around Jenna's waist that made them closer than they were. "I like this" Y/N said that made Jenna smile and said "Then probably you'll like this more."

Before Y/N gets to process what Jenna said, the other girl kissed her in the lips that surprised Y/N, she was like a stone for a second and Jenna felt that Y/N is not reciprocating the kiss, so she started to pull away, not until Y/N's arms tightened and kissed Jenna back.

Jenna's pushed Y/N's head towards her and tilts her head to make the kiss deeper and keep Y/N in her arms and her lips longer. Y/N bit Jenna's lip and pulled away slightly util their foreheads are touching.

"Dinner's ready, come to the table now!" Jenna's mom yelled from the kitchen.

Y/N and Jenna are just staring at each other with a lingering smile plastered in their faces.

A knock on the wall beside the stairs stopped them from their own bubble, "Girls, dinner is ready, come on."

The whole family started to sit in their places, while Y/N and Jenna got situated, Aliyah said "Y/N, i think your lipstick is smudged, here wipe it" and handed Y/N a tissue with a smirk in her lips, and the whole family looked at Y/N looking like a deer caught in headlights while Jenna reached for the tissue and wiped her own lipstick in Y/N's lips.

"Okay, let's dig in" Jenna's mother said to ease the situation.

The whole dinner was filled with chatters, laughter, and banters with each of them enjoying the food and the company of each other. To note, Jenna kept her left hand situated into Y/N's lap the whole dinner and eats with her right hand that made Y/N's heart beats so fast.

After the movie, everyone gets up and started to say their good nights and went to their room, as for Y/N, she started to walk towards the door and said her good bye's and thank you's to the family.

"Are you leaving?" Jenna asked while Y/N is holding her hand, "Sad to say, but yes, I need to sleep to" Y/N said with a sad smile "Can you like stay? Please" Jenna said and squeezed Y/N's hand "...please" Jenna added and she sounded so small.

Y/N answered "Sure, I would love to" and the two of them went up and straight to Jenna's room, "I don't have any clothes though" Y/N stated and Jenna answered "Don't worry you can wear mine."

The both of them got inside Jenna's room and Y/N's eyes roam, trying to embed every detail that she can see "Here, think my clothes can fit you?" Jenna said while handling Y/N her oversize clothes "Yeah, your clothes would totally fit me." Y/N replied with a smile and went inside the bathroom to shower and change.

After minutes, Y/N went out and saw Jenna was now under the covers using her phone, "So you're a right side of the bed sleeper?" Y/N asked that made Jenna look up, and wow oh wow, Y/N looks so cute in her clothes, and also the first time Jenna saw Y/N with house clothes. Y/N looks soft and small without her white coat and her formal clothes on, Jenna thought.

Y/N got situated beside Jenna. The two just looked at each other, wiggling their eyebrows at each other and smiling, "What?" Jenna said "Nothing" Y/N answered.

Jenna seated closer to Y/N and reached for Y/N's hand, "About earlier... I uhm. I'm not sorry for kissing you, just so you know. I have been wanting to do that ever since" Jenna said, "It's okay, I'm not sorry too" Y/N said, so what Jenna did is to lean in and kiss Y/N again, which Y/N gladly reciprocated, but before everything got out of hand, Jenna pulled away and remembered what Camila said to her earlier and plan to tease Y/N.

"So, what's your favorite show of mine?" Jenna asked with a smirk, "Huh?" Y/N played it off and tried to act like she doesn't know it "Camila told me earlier that you like my movies and you have a crush on me" Jenna added. If Y/N was not red earlier, well she is definitely now, heat creeping up her cheeks and pulling Jenna's blanket to cover her face.

"Come on don't be shy now, you just kissed me" Jenna stated as she situated herself on top of Y/N and started o tickle the other girl. Fits of laughter can be heard, "Okay, Okay stop please" Y/N said while giggling "I'll tell you my favorite show of yours" Y/N added.

Stopping her movements, Jenna helped Y/N to fix her hair, "Ok, so what's your favorite?" Jenna asked, "Iron Man 3, I really like how you sat the whole scene" Y/N stated, and Jenna slapped Y/N's arm and exclaimed "Be serious oh my god!" Y/N laughed and answered "It's The Fallout, honestly, I love Vada."

It surprised Jenna since the answer she got commonly are Scream or Wednesday, so she again asked Y/N "What makes you love Vada then?" Y/N shrugged and answered "Well first of all, she is a trauma survivor, and I loved how the movie showed a different perspective of how a teenager cope to such trauma" and Jenna did agree to Y/N, "But most of all, Vada is a girl kisser so..." Y/N added.

"You can't be really serious, yeah?" Jenna answered trying to get off of Y/N, but Y/N held Jenna's hip to stay in place "Stay on top of me, I'm starting to like your weight on top of me" Y/N said with a loving smile.

With that, Jenna situated herself and lay herself down on top of Y/N.

"On a serious note, I'm really just curious" Y/N started caressing Jenna's back "I don't know, I just need to be sure okay. Don't laugh at me please" Jenna lift herself up and look at Y/N "Please just say it."

"Do you like... like me or I don't know, I mean, do you like me as you know... do you like envision me as your girl friend or something, I mean not to jump into conclusions, but like you know, I just want to know like, are we dating? Or like a winter thing?" Y/N stuttered and Jenna just looked at her.

"I just brought you to our family dinner, yeah?" Jenna asked.

Y/N nods,

"I hold your hand and rubs your thigh at dinner?" Jenna asked.

Y/N nods,

"I kissed you, in the lips, hard, and deep before dinner, yes?" Jenna aksed.

Y/N nods,

"I invited you inside my room, let you wear my clothes, I lay on top of you, kisses you again, and listen to you talk, yes?" Jenna asked for the last time.

And Y/N nods for the last time.

Jenna sighs and sits, "Yes, I like you Y/N. I also want to be your girlfriend, and yes, we are dating, if you want to. I mean, if you don't want to dat-"

Before Jenna finished her sentence, Y/N kissed her and yelled "YES! Oh my god" Y/N is now doing her happy dance while Jenna just smiled at the girl "Okay let's get to sleep now."

Y/N lay down Jenna on top of her, "Good night" Y/N whispered and Jenna answered back "Good night and sweet dreams" and kissed Y/N's collar bones.

______________________________________________________________

Chapter 7

A/N: FINALLY I FINISHED THIS. Hope you enjoy! Open for Comments and Suggestions. To those people who leave comments on my work, I really appreciate you, thank you! Also added a word count just because I feel like this is my current longest story (really not sure, I just feel like it, lol).

What's your favourite show/movie of Jenna?

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #fanfic #fiction #jenna ortega imagine

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heliads · 2 years

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I just saw your account and can I request Tobias x Reader?

Reader is from Erudite and she and Four are the same age. Both of them were top of their class and became trainers. The reader goes by the name 2 sometimes, as a joke. She has a younger sister who also join Dauntless and Reader and Four are just a total power couple. Reader is also Divergent and knows Four’s real name and that he is divergent too. So the day when Tris kissed Four, he moves so she only kisses his cheek. Tris then thinks that Four is shy and likes her. But the next day the reader is very tired from staying up all night helping a kid who was sick, comes and Four kisses her and gives her his jacket. So Tris is really heartbroken since she was the only one who didn’t know about their relationship. Reader and her sister ( who are really close) also hate Tris. Reader is pretty shy and sweet but she has a bitchy face that scares people away a lot.

I hope I am not bothering you… Feel free to tag my name

do you ever think about how tris is really just a y/n in disguise

masterlist

Tris does not know what is coming for her.

Some time in the future, she may be able to look back on all that happened and realize what she never did back then. She’ll connect the dots with far more clarity than she ever could at the time. Hindsight is always easier to understand than the present moment. Tris cannot be held accountable for that, and neither can you.

At the moment that Beatrice Prior became just Tris, your story had already long since begun. She was still in denial back in Abnegation when you made a decision in your own round of the Choosing Ceremony. She would not have been there to see how it all went down, but you were.

Perhaps she heard about what happened through word of mouth. Most new Dauntless come from Dauntless with the exception of a wayward Candor or two that decide the truth is beneath them. You were an exception, then. When Beatrice heard about the sharp-eyed Erudite girl who dashed her blood into Dauntless’ vessel, do you think she thought about it later that night when no one else was watching? Do you think she heard about what you did and realized that she could do it too?

No one will know for sure, none but Tris herself. After what happened, you doubt she would ever be so candid as to let you know. You can guess, though. You can take your time and wonder about what might have gone down in a grayed out faction where a girl heard for the first time that she might be able to have a life outside of endless sacrifice.

There is one story that she most certainly did not hear at the time, however, and this one would hit a little closer to home. At the very moment that Beatrice Prior was wondering what would become of this year’s round of transfers, another boy was making waves by switching to Dauntless. He was Abnegation too, and at the moment that he let his blood plummet into Dauntless’ bowl, he was as good as dead.

Later, Tris will wonder how she didn’t connect Four to the boy she had met before, Tobias Eaton. In truth, it’s because every step was taken to ensure that nobody else would. Marcus Eaton’s son died the moment he got the chance to leave his old life behind. Tobias Eaton was buried in a shallow grave under the cover of night, left to the mercy of scavengers like time and poor memory to make up his legacy. Abnegation did not want its followers to think that escape was an option, so he was covered up.

Perhaps, then, the only one Beatrice heard about was you. Tobias was simply one in the crowd at that point, nameless and utterly without character. Every single facet of him had disappeared the second he chose to step away from Dauntless. The boy standing by your side in the Dauntless section of the Choosing Ceremony was staring at his bleeding palm and wondering whose history he could end next. He was no one, not until he remade himself again upon entering Dauntless.

Regardless of what Beatrice did or did not think of the two of you at that moment, your future was set in stone. You bid Erudite goodbye and ran out of the city center with the rest of the assembled Dauntless once the Choosing Ceremony was over. You had analyzed your decision over and over in the preceding months, so you had no regrets at the moment. All there was to do was run free and wild in the sun, and let your body think that it could do whatever you asked of it.

Like Tris, you also had to leap from the roof and deal with the aftermath of what you found when you fell. Like Tris, your first encounter with the boy who was once called Tobias Eaton and would later be whispered of as Four was life-changing. You were one of the first jumpers, he was one of the second. It was the two of you in an empty hall, lingering by the edge of the net and watching the graduated Dauntless pace back and forth at the edges of the room. The horizons seemed to shift where the black-suited faction lingered to watch, and in the middle of all of it, you found one point of stability.

Four.

You don’t remember what name he gave when he first jumped down, if he even gave a name at all. He didn’t seem to use one until he progressed into the fear landscapes and was able to be rewarded with his famous nickname. Perhaps he had gone by Tobias all that time before then, but if he had, it had never seemed real. Tobias was a prop to be discarded at a moment’s notice. It suited Four no more than the gray cloth still clinging to his back.

In the time to come, you would watch with the same awe as the rest of the faction as Four quickly rose up through the ranks of initiates. Obviously, no Abnegation would ever have a chance to learn how to fight, but that didn’t excuse Four from being uncannily good at it. He knew how to throw a punch from the moment he arrived, although that could have just been from watching someone else do it. Sometimes lessons are learned from watching the imprints of your own bruises flower on your skin.

Dauntless forgave Four of his Abnegation heritage quickly. You doubt most people even remember he once wore gray instead of black. To suggest that cold, deadly Four could ever have been giving or merciful is laughable. Dauntless’ Four is the pride of their faction. He makes no mistakes and he tells no secrets. No one could ask for anything more.

Why, then, would you? Why would you seek him out after that first meeting? Was the fall from the roof not enough of a rush for you, that you had to track down the one person capable of making your head spin? In the end, you suppose you’ll never really know why you chose Four, only that you did and it is the best thing you could have ever done for yourself.

Choosing Four was choosing survival. You were Divergent and so was he. Maybe that’s why everything went so south so quickly. You were never meant to live past discovery. You should have woken up to a gun pointed at your head the moment someone found out that the dots weren’t connecting for why you were here and not in your home faction.

You always thought that the first person to figure you out would have been someone back from Erudite. They were always too damned clever, every single one of you. They delighted in figuring out people’s past mistakes, every single loophole they’d ever tripped. Death knows what they would have done to you had they known.

The only thing that might have saved you also damned you. See, Erudite was as sickly brilliant as a smoking gun, but so in turn were you. You knew the perfect answer to say to every question. You knew what to do in the aptitude test so no one would question you. To any onlooker, every bone of yours seemed to be laid bare, when in reality you hadn’t given a thing away.

It was the only thing you could do, but it was exactly what revealed you. Four knew you were as sharp as a blade, both in violence and in mind, and he knew that no one like you would have ever left Erudite if you didn’t have something to hide. What is the only thing in this world that would ever make you fear discovery? Why, the same thing that made him flee to Dauntless’ shadows as opposed to any other place to hide. Divergence.

He had to be the first one to say it aloud. You would never expose a weakness in yourself unless you had a choice. That was the initial moment in which you finally laid down at least part of your armor. In the weeks to come, you would shed more and more of it, until at last the young woman that you became could be the first one to say ‘I love you’ instead of having it be the other way around. You are not the Y/N that came into Dauntless, and you don’t know that you could ever be her again.

That is the wonderful thing about this faction, what it can do to change you. Beatrice learned this as well, you know. You were there to see it start to happen for the first time. She was just the right sort of ember to fanned into a flame around here, and you let it happen.

You should have known from the moment you saw Beatrice Prior become Tris that she would be a threat to you. Instead, you saw a girl not unlike yourself and you welcomed her with a smile. You had been trying to be more forgiving. That is Four’s worst curse on you.

Perhaps it’s because Tris reminds you of your sister. They’re the same age, they both jumped around the same time. In some better world, perhaps Tris would have turned to your sister for a source of friendship instead of looking to your boyfriend for some sort of comfort. That way, far less troubles would be raised, and perhaps you and Tris could see each other as hesitant friends instead of whatever has become of the two of you now.

The worst part is that you could almost see it happening. You and Tris are damned near identical. Both first jumpers, both Divergent, both fleeing a home that could never be truly yours, and worst of all, both in love with Four. How is Tris any better than you? How are you any worse? She made the exact same choices you did, but because you got there first, you get everything and she gets nothing. It is relentlessly unfair, but that is Dauntless; that is life. Nothing in this world will be yours unless you take it. In her defense, that is exactly what Tris tried to do.

Four told you the first time he suspected she had feelings. You and Four are nothing if not honest with each other. He wanted to let you know that something may happen, partially as a warning and partially also in the hopes of using you as a tool to stave off Tris’ crush. You’re a training instructor alongside Four and Eric, so it wouldn’t be difficult for Four to let you handle Tris instead of trying to teach her himself to encourage some distance.

That’s what you did the first few weeks, at least, but Tris got clever. She really is like you, isn’t she? You can’t possibly hold that against her, but it’s not like you have any other choice. Tris tried too hard to have what she could not. There was no way the two of you could be anything other than enemies. That is what becomes of our doubles, cruel universe; you see yourself in another body and you cannot do anything but despise it.

Four dropped by your place late one night, later than usual. He had a haunted look in his eyes, the sort of guilt you only see on him when he wakes up with a nightmare, muttering the name of a boy long since dead. It wasn’t his fault, he says. He didn’t know what she was trying to do until it was already done.

Here is how it went down, from what Four tells you and what you can pick up from his social cues alone: Tris had been in trouble. Four has always been a savior, he was certainly yours enough times for it to stick in your head. When Four had come across the scene, he would be able to do nothing if not help. Tris had been grateful, both for the rescue and what she took as a final confirmation of Four’s feelings. She had tried to kiss him. He had moved so she only kissed his cheek. Still, it was a touch that was not yours.

What can you do about that? Tris is not going to go away. Even after initiation ends, she will be a strong member of your faction. Obviously, Four doesn’t want this, but how does he put a stop to it? Eventually, the two of you brainstorm a solution, and go to sleep with no more guilt curled up on the inside of each other’s throats.

You’re helping in the medical wing the next day. Tris is there as a check up to make sure that she was alright after last night’s incident. You don’t treat her, as there are enough patients to fill up anyone’s schedule, but Tris is still there to see what happens when Four drops by. In a perfectly orchestrated move, he gives you his jacket the second you shiver and presses a kiss to your lips. It is a neon sign in the dark, she cannot miss it.

And she doesn’t. You can see Tris’ face crumble across the room, and she quickly turns away to hide her surprise and anguish. You had thought that everyone in Dauntless knew about you and Four, but it turns out that is only true now. Tris might have been the last to know, but she’s learned her lesson now. You don’t have the heart to hold it against her.

At the end of the day, how could you? Dauntless trains its soldiers to fight for what they want. It is not Tris’ fault that you already did. She will go about her days with a sinking feeling in her stomach, a bit of blood spilled where her heart had previously been healed, but eventually she will be able to act as if nothing ever happened. Soon enough, it will almost be true. Tris will find a new meaning to fill her days.

How do you know this with such certainty? It is exactly what you would have done.

requested by @sakuraazharuno, i hope you enjoy!

divergent tag list: @rogueanschel, @with-inked-solace, @gods-fools-heroes, @23victoria, @manyfandomsfanvergent

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