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dreamii-yume · 4 years ago

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Not a request! ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡ Just Yume trying to dive into darker topics and kinks, that’s all lol Just a heads up in case the whole concept becomes a little too uncomfortable~ (b ᵔ▽ᵔ)b

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Lilia had been watching over his Darling for a very longtime, from beginning and all the way until the end. He had seen both her tears and her smiles, heard every cries and laughter, everything. He was with her throughout the thick and thins of her life. Yet, his Darling had always been a bar that he could never seem to reach no matter how high he could jump. She wouldn't let him, the world wouldn't let him, even a part of himself is preventing him from doing so.

He's sick of it all.

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

It happened in the darkest of the night, in the middle of nowhere, in a no-named town.

Lilia stood high at the top of a bell tower as his menacing red eyes looked down on the chaos that was erupting before him. A gentle breeze blew on his hair so peacefully in contrast of the horrors that was happening from beneath. A mischievous smirk forms on his lips as he watched the flames engulf the houses of the unfortunate villagers, all running for their lives. Green flames roared intensely with no sign of stopping, destroying everything in its way. Bodies soon laying down on the ground one by one, quickly losing what little strength they have left either from a severe injury or the flames that caught up to them.

It was a heart-breaking sight, truly. Lucky for our protagonist though, it takes a lot more than disruption of harmony to break his heart.

Satisfied with view he got, the ancient fae jumped down from the tower, only to land ever so gracefully on the ground, his cloth having not a single wrinkle in them. Lilia looked around, the nonchalant smirk remaining on his face as his eyes observed every single thing around him. He found the green flames swallowing the poor humans' home pretty, like a sight of a bonfire in a camping trip. He walked around without the slightest bit of concern for the screams of anguish the people around him was letting out. Lilia even had the nerve to skip ever so cheerfully, humming as if he was walking around in wonderland.

Until, his sharp ears had heard it. A different kind of sound, buried deep within the terror around him.

Lilia stopped to look around, eventually following where he thinks the sound was coming from. It was quite the walk, he had to go through the corners of many burning houses with all its twists and turns, not to mention avoiding any flaming debris coming down at him. He couldn't really fathom it himself why exactly he was following this sound even after realizing what it could be. Perhaps it was the boredom finally getting to him that a single cry was enough to make him this curious? Even if he knew that he was risking the possibility of disappointment in the end, Lilia always thought of how it wouldn't hurt to try.

Finally, he reached a place far back from the center of the town, a cute little isolated house that was also unfortunately destroyed by the green flames. It had become quite the ruin, deteriorating far quicker than the other houses in the town, sparks of flames still remained to decorate the edges. Lilia approached the wreck of a house, finally coming into terms with a large of debris standing in his way. There was no doubt about it, this was where the sound of an adorable blabbing nonsense was coming from, or rather, underneath this material. With almost no effort at all, Lilia lifted up the debris like that of a window shutter and the price revealing itself to him.

Lilia blinked. It was just what he thought it would be.

A baby tucked neatly in a basket, covered ever so lovingly with a warm blanket. The creature sucked their own thumb as they stared at him curiously with big doe eyes.

Unlike other children in this size he's seen before though, this one smiled innocently upon seeing him, blissfully ignorant of their current situation and their once called home. They laughed, an adorable squeal coming out of them as they must've thought that Lilia was the seeker of a game of hide and seek. The fae was actually astonished on what kind of miracle had befallen on this one human baby to be able to survive such catastrophe. What incredible luck, the universe must've really wanted this poor child to keep on living, even if it's just for a few more minutes. Lilia couldn't help but to return to his usual, laid-back smile as he placed his free hand on his hips, careful to keep the heavy concrete from falling onto the baby.

At least he wasn't disappointed.

"It's unfortunate, isn't it? For us to have met like this." Lilia said, even if he knew that children at this age wouldn't understand any words he'll say. Finally, his hand grew tired of the debris' weight and eventually just threw it in the other direction. The tremors of it falling on the ground reached the child, causing them to laugh once more. Lilia stepped forward and crouched down to have a closer look at the baby who was reaching out for him with their cute, little hands. He chuckled and let them hold one of his fingers as some sort of entertainment.

The baby was very cute, with large (E/C) eyes staring back at him and plum rosy cheeks. Lilia also had come to the realization that the child was most likely a female considering how she was wearing such a cute, puffy dress and headband around her head. Her hair was already a bit longer, giving Lilia the conclusion that she must be at least close to a year old by now. Lilia also paid attention her little basket, it serves as her bed as a few toys were just laying around. Finally, Lilia noticed words written in the hem of her blanket, most notably, her name.

" '(Y/N)', huh..." Lilia read, looking back at the child, who actually responded well at the sound of her given name. He chuckled and brushed his hand on her puffy cheeks. "That's a wonderful name."

Suddenly, Lilia's ears perked as heavy footsteps were heard behind him but the fae did nothing but continue on playing with the giggling child. He didn't need to turn around to know whose presence was looming over him. "Malleus." Lilia called, closing his eyes as he unfortunately has to pull away his hand from the baby, earning a disappointed gurgle. He stood up from his spot before turning around and sure enough, it was the same horned fae that he expected it to be. "Have you had your fun? Are you ready to head back home?"

Malleus silently crossed his arms, not saying anything but his body language was enough for Lilia to understand his response. He then turned his attention towards the cradle of sunshine that his supervisor was so focused on. "A human child...?" Malleus exclaimed, blinking as he raised an eyebrow at the older fae. "Don't tell me that you're going to bring home another one?"

"Well...What can I say?" Lilia shrugged as he gently carried the baby in his arms, removing her from the basket. He smiled widely, his fangs shining under the moonlight as he joyfully spun the child. Lilia looked at Malleus with a cunning look in his eyes, something that the horned fellow had to sigh at. He brought the child close to his face, nuzzling in her warmth before giving her a slight tickle in the tummy, making the child laugh whole heartedly. "You know how much of a soft spot I have for children."

Lilia then brought the child close to Malleus, as if he was flaunting her to him. "See how adorable she is~? I found her under the rubble here and isn't it a mystery on how she survived this long?" He said, excitedly as the child matched his enthusiasm. Malleus merely grunted at his supervisor's behavior, watching him play with the kid in his arms. "I've always wanted to know how it's like to raise a girl, you know~? Like my very own little princess~!

"Besides, wouldn't Silver be delighted to have a sibling this cute?" Lilia said, listening to the child's gentle laughter, like that of bells ringing. "I personally think it'll be fantastic."

Lilia stared brightly at the child, like an angel given to him by God himself. She was certainly worth keeping, worth raising.

A child desperately spared by the universe, only to befall in the hands of someone like him.

No one was quite sure whether it was a blessing or a curse.

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Lilia raised you in a strange but ever-loving manner.

You were placed in a castle so grand, deep within the Valley of Thorns. You were protected, cherished, and loved by not only Lilia, but Malleus and Silver as well. Malleus soon grew fond of you like how Lilia had been the first time and had found himself unable to refuse your invitation to play with him. Silver had treated you like how a brother would, much like what Lilia instructed him to do so. You had no one to fill up the mother role in your very circle but when you already have three eccentric members in your family, what more could you ask for?

Lilia admits that he may have spoiled you a little more than he did with Silver. He would give you anything you would ask him for, even things that you never explicitly asked him about but still somehow, he knew you wanted. It was a bad habit he got from parenting you, but he couldn't help himself especially whenever you would give him those irresistible pleading eyes of yours. To his surprise however, you grew up just fine, you didn't hold any spoiled traits that he was dreading to see. You grew up wonderfully, having remembered all the kind manners and respect that Lilia had specifically engraved in your brain.

Lilia couldn't have been prouder.

"Me and Silver played Knights today! He was so cool! Swinging his sword with a swish and then, bam!" Your little mouth that had just learned how to talk, babbles on and on while making exaggerated hand movements. You were all tucked in your bed, completely dressed in your pajamas with Lilia beside you. He rests his cheeks on the palms of his hand, chuckling at your story. "You should come play with us too, Father! Malleus-sama said he would play as the dragon next time!"

It was already past your bed time but thankfully, Lilia wasn't that kind of overbearing parent that makes a fuss just because they're children aren't sleeping at the right time. Truth to be told, he loved the nights where he got to talk with you like this, hearing stories from you when he was away. "Oh my, that Malleus said that? How controversial~!" Lilia gasped, putting on a fake surprised expression just to entertain you. When he heard you giggled, that's when he returned to his usual, laid-back smile. "I'll come by when I get the chance, alright~? I'll make sure to be the knight who saves you, Princess~"

You giggled once again when Lilia playfully tapped your little nose. "Eh~? But Silver's already playing the knight! Father can't take over his role, silly~!" You said. "Father is better off just playing as Father!"

Lilia puffed his cheeks. "So you prefer Silver being your Knight over me~? How mean, I'm hurt~!" He faked a cry with no visible tears but still enough to pull on your heartstrings. "Did Silver finally became the replacement to the number one spot in my little Princess' heart, I wonder?"

Blinking, you quickly sat up and frantically shook your head in panic. "That's not true! Father is still number one in my heart!" You declared, eyes sparkling in innocence as you laid your head onto him, giving him a big hug. "Silver's a great knight, very cool and amazing, but that doesn't mean he can replace Father!

"I still love Father the most~!"

Lilia couldn't help but smile, feeling genuine warmth in his chest as he stared lovingly at your innocent self. He stroked your hair before leaning down and hugging your small frame in return. You grinned, prompting him to give you a light peck on the forehead, a symbol of deep love between father and daughter.

"I love you too, sweetheart."

This was your daily life. Comfortable, sweet, and wholesome, being well-taken care off by Lilia himself. You and Lilia built your relationship together as family until it grew so strong that things like being unrelated by blood does not matter anymore. He was your beloved father and you were his precious treasure, a jewel hidden away from the public's eye. You thought of how lucky you are, how your relation to one another would forever bloom as that of a parent and a child.

Lilia thought of the same thing as well.

…Until he, the wise ancient fae, who lived for who-knows how long, had made a grave mistake.

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Continue the spice~?

I hate how unnecessarily long this got...It probably got boring right at the end so, I’m very regretful about that. <(￣﹌￣)> I didn’t know how to save it aaa- This drained me all of my creative energy way too much lol I’m currently working on three Sinfics at once and the next one is requested so, don’t worry~! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

#yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #yandere #lilia vanrouge #yandere lilia vanrouge #diasomnia #sinfic #Spicy Dream

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of-forossa · 4 years ago

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❝ the dagger reversed, death claims you ❞ (MERCY KILL AND DESPAIR. LET'S GOOOOO) It was with regret and little hesitation that she raised her rifle and watched him struggle now, gurgling on his own blood and bile. Watched him with beneath his own monsterous weight. He could no longer stand, no longer form words, just harrowing growls that bubbled up from his gullet and spilled through split and slavering, broken, jaws.

@derjaegermond // to the bitter end we rage and fight, till hope burns out in that dying light // not accepting.

Yharnam lives. Beneath the light of a moon now pale and pure, the town and her people have been wounded and scarred by the ordeals they've only just been delivered from. In the crumbling safety of their homes, husbands and wives hold each other for comfort, parents huddle with their frightened children, and the few of them that remain wholly sane and not taken by the hunger of the blood hold one another entirely ignorant of their salvation. For once all is still in these dreaded streets, the howls and snarls of the wolf-things silenced and the crackling of any loose flames dying as both are deprived of something to gnaw upon.

For all horrors of the unending night, for the beasts and bastards and belligerent gods, the hunt is at long last over... and all that remains is for that knight of the dawn to clean up what remains before morning can truly come.

"There's one last thing, Helena." Time is nearly up, he knows, not only for himself and their partnership but for this entire cursed town. From the windows a harsh light pours in, hideous and malformed from that paleblood sky and the moon that sits upon it-- proof enough to him that the end has well and truly come. "You know what you have to do. What you may have to become... and where you have to go. To a place where I cannot follow."

Truly, truly, he is a terrible thing to behold. Even in all the hellish glory bestowed upon him by these gifts gods-given, he would have been a sight that would haunt and stalk the dreams of even the bravest hunter. From the sheer bulk of his muscular, monstrous frame that could crush brick and mortar with a mere swipe of a hideous paw to that slavering-slick maw that could swallow a man whole and crush him between macabre jaws, the beast that had once been holy knight and determined conspirator and Brom resembled nothing of the sort as he growled with a sound not unlike thunder and roared so fierce it shattered the windows of the buildings between he and her.

His grasp in hers is fierce, crooked claws tightly clenched against her hand, not from anger but for fear. Fear for her, for what could befall her far from the reach of his sword and strength. "You may save this wretched place, these ungrateful people, but there will still be monsters stalking the streets even should you succeed. Enough to leave this city a blood-soaked tomb with or without your intervention." With a tug he urges her to sit, and from the window that same paleblood light reveals truths he'd have rather kept hidden. Brom's tattered eyes burn low, filled with the shadows of a restless and tormented mind. His breaths are heavy, uneven things, and his once well-kept appearance is haggard and frayed-- his hair is matted and loosened from their braids, his once stalwart face gaunt and pale with fears writhing beneath the surface... all that remains of the man he once was is the determination in his tone no matter how it shakes. "Leave them to me."

They war against one another as though from a tale torn from myth or legend, a desperate knight turning cleaver and rifle against the bloodthirsty dragon that this town and his own willful ignorance has turned him into. Cobblestones torn up from frenzied swipes of dagger-claws, gunshots that crack against thick hide and thicker bone, jaws outstretched to seize her slighter form and swallow whole this worn and weary woman only to be deterred with the baring of silver sword against wretched fangs-- they tear one another apart with a savagery beyond men but more terrible than proper beasts of the earth and wild, hot blood spilling onto the streets in a river of wasted life.

"Our... compatriot gave me this, should my sword alone not be enough." From with his tattered and stained cloak, once as pure and white as fresh-fallen snow, he withdraws a lump of molded flesh. Immediately what remains of his pupils dilate, claws flexing involuntarily, and the ominous creaking of his jaw echoes loud and harsh enough to be audibly heard at merely the scent of this last resort. "You know what this is, don't you?" It's not framed as a question, not hardly as he stuffs it away and sucks in one deep breath after another to steady himself. "A beast blood pellet, forbidden and for good reason. Where or how that ragged scarecrow came about this, I don't care to know." He swallows hard, thickly, and the resignation in his face is clear even despite the small smile he offers her. "He gave me three, Helena. More than enough to... to ensure a change. One I won't be returning from."

He's slowing now. Even before the jagged teeth of her cleaver hacks again and again into the thick meat of his tendons, even before her rifle scores one blow after another upon his enormous skull, the sluggishness from a night of slaughtering his kindred doomed and damned has taken its toll on him. Their vengeful claws and desperate teeth had found purchase time and again, an entire city of monsters fighting for survival against the one he'd become, and for the dried blood on his gaping maw and the litany of wounds he carried before their battle even began it's clear that dominance didn't come without a price. Every snap of the jaws that misses and is returned with gunfire, every swipe of fiendish claws that crashes against only stone, they all weigh against him until at last he stumbles before the weight of the night and the blows she has rained upon him, his great bulk crashing to the cobblestones with a shuddering quake.

"I know what you'll say," and those ruined eyes for all their weakness and weariness are firm in this, in dissuading her from turning from her task as that small smile departs. "That there is still a chance. That with the break of dawn I may yet become something more than I ever could've been beneath the weight of my misguided faith, beneath the very convictions that brought me to the cusp of madness I teeter upon even now... it was a nice dream, Mephistopheles. I'm glad you shared it with me, after everything I've done. I hardly deserved it, after all, and this... even this is more fitting an end than I have any right to claim." Brom's hand in hers trembles, for weakness or sorrow, and if the gentle squeeze he offers her is more so for himself then he doesn't admit it. Carefully, he reaches for the twine hanging around his neck and withdraws a single hunter's badge-- his own sword hunter badge, still somehow pure and radiant despite all the slaying and butchery these nights have foisted upon him. With a tug it snaps free easily, and he turns her own hand palm up before pressing it into her grasp, closing her claw-tipped fingers around the proof of his former convictions; of what he should have been for all those lost to the blood and horror of the endless hunt. "Take it," he says quietly, hoarsely. "For you have done more in the name of the people here than I ever could have, Helena. You who have healed them and tended to them when their shepherds grew fur and fangs and turned their teeth to them. You who would lay down your life for a people that will not thank you for it, for all you have given up for them..." Another pair of claws cradle her own, and he presses a kiss to her knuckles soft and chaste before letting her go, the strength seemingly sapped from him. "Goodbye, my dear friend... and thank you. For everything."

What once was a man had become far less, and what had been far less has become something even feebler with its shallow breaths and helpless gurgles and growls. Blood and bile spill from between its slavering jaws onto the already filth-laden street, the Oedon-twisted bones of that fearful face fractured by her careful aim and further flayed by the teeth of her cruel cleaver. Forelimbs powerful enough to reduce brick and mortar to mere dust have been torn apart, not even strong enough to raise the bloodied bulk from the ground, and every breath from the beast seemed harder fought for than the last. Tattered eyes, ruined things that seemed less like burning coals and more the last cinders of a snuffed flame peer at her hazily, unseeingly as she approaches. There's an attempt for it to struggle onto its malformed paws, to snap or snarl, but all it can manage is a frail whimper and whine as she levels her rifle for what once was the face of a friend.

"Strange, isn't it? This pact of ours, I mean. For all your talk and supposed intent..."

Cool metal rests against that massive skull as the barrel is pressed against its temple, hammer pulled back with a resounding click. A single, malformed eyes swivels up to meet her own at the sound.

"... somehow I seem to have come away with more than you, Mephistopheles. But... that's not how the story is supposed to--"

Her rifle kicks against her shoulder, the shot shattering bone and pulping the flesh beneath. Beastly eyes still with a sudden jerk, a breath stilling in hideous lungs and a grisly heart stills its beating at long last.

#derjaegermond #verse; holy blade ( bb. )#// one of brom's canon endings in this verse.#// been sitting on this one for some times... to get it out feels pretty good rofl

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haikyuu-scenarios-drabbles · 5 years ago

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Asahi x fem!reader

(informally known as bby boy on my Google Docs)

Summary: Asahi just wants to impress you when the two gym classes combine and the activity just so happens to be volleyball. Little does he know, his plan to impress you goes awry in the worst way possible. Or so he thinks...

A/N: pls enjoy this fluffy Asahi scenario that I wrote with my best friend who helps me sort through all my ideas and is there for me always LOVE U 💕

- J

“It has come to my attention that coach Ito is home sick today, so coach Saito will be taking both classes today.”

Your head whips up at the announcement, eyes immediately wandering to a certain ace of the men’s volleyball team that you’ve had a pathetically massive crush on since first year. And you’ve never once been in the same gym class—miraculously—otherwise you think you’d have already made a fool of yourself in front of him. You’re not the most athletic person on the planet, and since Asahi must be a top athlete, there’s no reason for him to even notice you in the first place.

As long as you’re not playing volleyball, you think you can survive it. Please—please let it be anything else but volleyball.

Your heart sinks upon walking into the gym, the volleyball net strung proudly across the court.

Just kill you now. Either your heart will explode from watching him up close, or from being so nervous that you’re going to look like a complete idiot. He must tone it down for gym class, right?

Across the court, you think Asahi is standing there calm, and collected; but little do you know he feels like his intestines are tying themselves into knots from his nerves. He might be able to pull it together on the court, his mind fixated on winning, but with you here as his opponent he’s not going to be able to focus.

Only adding to his nerves, Suga and Daichi are not helping in the slightest. Having known about his crush on you since first year, they’re egging him on that this is his opportunity to impress you. Of course, he wants to impress you, but he’s unsure if he can—or rather, if he should. This is just gym class, not some high stakes game at a tournament.

Suga assures him that he’ll get him an opening. He ‘guarantees’ by the end of the hour, you’ll be head over heels for him.

Not knowing you already are. You certainly don’t need any help in that department.

True to his word, Suga does get him an opening. A perfect one in fact, in the form of a flawless set. So perfect, that as the ball connects with his hand, he can just feel how good his spike is going to be. It might be a little much for gym class, but it’s just this once; and he hopes you’re watching.

You are watching, kind of, from the back row where you’ve been trying to stay out of the way and touch the ball as little as possible. And you’ve allowed yourself to slip into a daze at Asahi’s perfect form, seemingly floating through the air as his hand connects perfectly with the ball. So entranced that you don’t even notice where the ball is going.

Directly at your face.

It’s then that Asahi realizes it too.

Please duck. For the love of god, please duck.

To his horror, you just stand there, completely unaware that you’re about to get nailed in the face. His entire being shrivels up as the audible sound of it smacking your face resounds throughout the now quiet gym. The force of it sends you flying backward onto your ass, abruptly knocking you out of your daze. Voices of worry begin to fill the silence, and as you blink your eyes open, squinting at the bright gym lights, you realize that the entire gym class has surrounded you sprawled out on the floor. The first thing that comes to your attention is the unbearable throbbing of your nose, and a tentative touch to it reveals that it’s bleeding.

Coach Saito pushes through a throng of students, concern strewn across his face. “Take it easy, don’t get up too fast.”

Asahi’s instinctive reaction is to crouch on the floor, weighed down by his guilt, hands covering his face in shame. How could he have done that to you?! He was only trying to impress you, not break your nose! One of Daichi’s hands comes to rest on his shoulder, quietly reassuring that it can’t be that bad while kicking Suga behind Asahi’s back to stop him from snickering that of course Asahi hit you in the face. Just his luck.

Slowly, you sit up with Coach Saito’s help, a little blood falling from your nose before he can hand you a tissue to staunch it. Asahi thinks he might throw up seeing it drip to the floor. There’s no way in hell you’re ever going to like him now!

“Take a breath, Asahi, it’s just a nosebleed,” Daichi whispers, nudging him to get to his feet.

He takes in a sharp breath, unable to breathe properly with the weight on his chest. Abruptly, he stands, bows, and shouts at the floor, “I’m so sorry!”

You chew on your lip, unsure how to handle having his undivided attention on you. Smiling sheepishly, you assure him, your voice muffled from the tissue pressed to your nose, “It’s alright Asahi-san, I’ll be okay.”

Coach Saito sighs loudly before instructing, “Why don’t you take her to the nurse, Asahi.”

His horror morphs into unease that he has to be alone with you after nearly breaking your nose not two minutes ago. In what world is him taking you to the nurse the best option? He’s the reason you have to go at all!

At this rate, Daichi knows Asahi is spiraling into a pit of despair and it’s going to be his job to drag him up out of it. Unsure if this will help or make it worse, Daichi murmurs “You can turn this around, use this time alone with her to your advantage!” And with that, shoves him forward to at least give him a physical stimulus out of his pity pit.

Asahi gives them a pleading look over his shoulder, only to be met with a reassuring expression from Daichi—and a terrifyingly stern one from Suga just behind him. With a look like that from Suga, he knows he has no choice in the matter. Taking a deep breath, he forces his feet to move towards you. He feels like his joints are creaking with each step he takes, screaming at him to stop, for he knows he’s only going to embarrass himself further by being alone with you.

You watch him carefully as he extends his hand down to you, unsure if you’re imagining his stiffness. One thing you’re certain you’re not imagining is how you think you might pass out from how hard your heart is pounding against your chest. Being alone with him? Sounds like a dream in theory, but in all honesty, you don’t know if you’re going to be able to say a single word to him.

He pulls you to your feet, steadying you as you stand, afraid the sudden movement might make you faint. “You alright?” He asks softly, so close to your ear you almost jump. You’ve never been this close to him before, and while you knew he was tall, you feel tiny beside him.

Doing your best to curb the heat crawling up your neck and threatening to color your cheeks, you stutter, “Y-yes, I’m alright.” You then realize your hand is still clasped in his, dwarfed by the size of it. It’s nearly impossible to stop the redness blooming across your cheeks; Suga and Daichi are beside themselves watching the scene unfold. It becomes clear to them that not only can Asahi turn this around—he has a real chance with you.

Slipping your hand out of his, you assure him that you’re fine to walk without help, and you both make your way out of the gym. The two of you walk in silence, not knowing what to say to each other, until inevitably Asahi becomes consumed by guilt and abruptly apologizes to you yet again.

He nearly keels over at the small smile you give him, accepting his apology and telling him, “It’s okay, honest.” Comfortable silence befalls the two of you again until you reach the nurse’s office.

Once inside, you explain to the nurse what happened—and Asahi is eternally grateful you don’t explicitly say who hit you in the face. He wouldn’t be able to look the nurse in the eye if he knew the culprit. The nurse instructs you to sit while he goes to find an icepack and some other supplies. While you wait, your eyes wander to Asahi standing awkwardly in the doorway.

He’s unsure if he should stay or not. Would it be weird if he did? You probably don’t even want him to stay, since he’s the reason you’re here in the first place. Yeah—he should leave.

But as he makes his move, he’s surprised to hear your voice muffled by the paper towel shoved against your nose say, “Can you stay?”

Not only is he surprised, you are as well. Did you really just say that?! You’re not doing a very good job of keeping your crush a secret! You bite your lip, wondering if he’s going to grant your request, hoping with all your heart he will.

His heart skips a beat in his chest, causing his steps to pause. So, he takes a seat beside you, reflexively apologizing for what feels like the millionth time since walking you here. He can’t muster the courage to look at you, eyes glued to his hands currently clasped in his lap. You notice his knuckles are white from how hard he’s holding them together.

Is he...nervous?

You open your mouth to say something, after all, when is the next time you’re going to find yourself with him alone? But you’re interrupted by the nurse returning and conducting a few tests to make sure you don’t have a concussion.

Ten minutes later, you’re cleared to go with just an icepack and some ibuprofen. As you gather your things, Asahi thinks he better make the best out of his remaining time with you. But the only thing he can manage is a stale, “I’m really sorry. I’m glad you’re okay though.”

You seem unbothered by his impulsive apologizing, giving him another smile, chuckling, “It’s okay. I’m sure you weren’t aiming for me, right?”

His face flushes without his permission and he’s certain he’s going to pass out from how fast his heart is racing right now. Sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, he stumbles, “Oh, uh—no, I—I wasn’t.” He closes his eyes, wondering if he can garner the courage to confess what he was really doing. “I was...actually...trying to impress you.” He quickly mumbles the last few words, hoping you’ll think nothing of it.

You blink, stunned at what you think you’ve just heard. Did he just...say...he was trying to impress you?! You can’t help the grin that spreads across your lips, and his eyes widen, completely unsure what this reaction means. It’s then that you start laughing, and he really doesn’t know what to do with that. Are you—amused?

“Impress me?” You giggle. “You don’t have to do anything to impress me, I mean—look at you!” You gesture wildly in his general direction, the image of him floating through the air to spike the ball with the power of the ace behind him flooding your mind.

His mouth drops open.

Your heart slams to a halt in your chest. Did you really just say that...out loud? “Oh—oh, I didn’t—,” your voice falls silent, totally embarrassed that you just actually said that to him. Even worse when a small smile lights up his face.

“Would you want to come to a volleyball game sometime?”

Your throat dries up and a small voice inside you urges you to say yes.

So, you do.

#asahi azumane x reader #asahi x reader #haikyuu x reader #azumane x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu scenario #asahi azumane imagine #asahi azumane scenario #asahi scenario #asahi imagine

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theholycovenantrpg · 4 years ago

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In the beginning was ISOLDE WICKEN, a GIFTED loyal to the cause of the HUNDRED-EYED GOD. She is said to be TWENTY-EIGHT and uses SHE/HER pronouns. In this New Testament she serves as a ALL-SEEING PRIESTESS of the HUNDRED-EYED GOD. Blessed be her name.

THE INDELIBLE MARK.

As the only Seer, Isolde was quickly given the status of All-Seeing Priestess within the religion of the Hundred-Eyed God. Her visions often depict the endings of things and are highly subjective. She is able to bear witness to the outcomes of different decisions, however it is difficult for her to focus on specific people and scenarios without a great deal of mental power and concentration since she can become overwhelmed by her Sight. Due to this, she may have to meditate for hours or even days before being able to give definitive details. It takes quite a physical toll on her and can render her incapacitated due to the fact that when she was a vision it is almost like being swept into a waking dream -- she has difficulty pulling herself from its overwhelming tide. However, many people within positions of power still seek to solicit her and utilize her gifts, hoping that they might obtain some control of their future. It is why her journalings are coveted and carefully guarded by those who are closest to her. As all who have suffered and survived the Blood Plague, Isolde’s scars are obvious and unsettling: her vision was heavily impaired and her eyes, once warm, dark and warm as they were, now look as though they are made of molten gold with similar colored tear stains falling along the curves of her cheeks.

THE HISTORY.

TW: VERBAL ABUSE, ABUSE IMPLICATIONS

From the moment she was nothing more than a beating heart, she knew what it was to be cursed. She knew what it was to never work quite right -- each breath seemed to make her lungs ache, every too-loud thump of her heart seemed like an offense against her, her bones seemed to grind against one another; Isolde was an ever-evolving study of how intimate a person can become with suffering, with pain. Yet still, she learned to bear such things with an enigmatic smile and an endearing bat of her lashes, steps as light as naiad’s, laughter as bewitching as a siren’s. There wasn’t much choice in the matter given to her, the Wicken family being such an auspicious name within the confines of the Holy Land. Their name was a gilded one, murmured among the society’s elite, often with a mix of reverence or envy -- oftentimes there being a mixture between the two. Such a legacy necessitated perfection from every figure bearing the name; her parents were philanthropists and innovators, her cousins were highly regarded socialites, and she had no commendations to speak of. Isolde was bright, but not clever and personable, but not quite charming. In a world where excellence was expected, mediocrity was tantamount to the most abysmal of failures. And, as she looked at herself in the mirror, she could not help but shed a tear at the mundane creature that looked back at her with red-rimmed eyes.

How could she see past the horror of her own reflection when her mother clutched her shoulder, nails digging into flesh, all too eager to highlight the faults that were to be found? Never did the great Lady Wicken dare to pass a chance to compare her daughter against the other socialites and heirs, sneering each time at how Isolde paled in comparison; a weed that marred the garden of carefully cultivated beauty. All the while her father acted as though his mouth had been sewn shut, content to look on, far more interested in what glitter of his next mistresses’ eyes rather than the bleakness that was to be found in his offspring’s. When one is told that their mundanity is a curse, that their excellence is passable and their accomplishments are subpar, it is difficult to believe otherwise. You have nothing to offer this world, little Isolde, her mother hissed into her ear, you have more to offer the worms in the garden, you have more to offer by withering away. It is difficult to imagine that there is a world of color when you are told - time and time again - that there are only muted grays. It took her a great while to realize that a sculpture is simply a block of stone before an artisan liberates the beauty from its marble confines -- a painting is a blank canvas until someone dares to bespeckle it with rich, vibrant colors. The realization dawned on her the moment that her tutor strode into her life with their great, bellowing laughter and ruddy cheeks.

They liberated her from her stony confines, coaxing from her laughter so arresting that it would leave her with aching cheeks and streams of tears. It was through them that she learned how gentle hands could be more cutting than the blunt edge of a blade, how tender words could cause a more fatal blow than any strike to the heart. Slowly, deliberately, the colors of gray that had painted her world sloughed off like the blood and mud that blinded a warrior’s gaze; suddenly, her vision was clear and she could see the world with its vibrant, impassioned hues. She had been through the hell of her own soul and came through it wielding a sword of empathy and compassion -- how could she not want to aid others in their quest to do the same? But the moment that this red-flamed dream flared to life, it was dashed away. Not only was her newfound dream stolen from her, but the source of its inspiration too. In a fit of fevered, scarlet-colored tears her great mentor was stolen away. Crying out in anguish, she held their pale, limp hands in hers -- she begged and she pleaded, bargaining with the Hundred-Eyed God to return them to her, striking at their hollow chest in despair when her cries fell on ears of stone.

The pain that befell her when the Blood Plague took hold of her soul was welcome. It was a relief to the numbness of her grief -- just as it was a relief for her parents to turn their backs to her, taking advantage of the opportunity to rid themselves of a daughter that they considered a blight on their name. Throughout the bouts of her fevered agony she clung to the one memory of her mentor that had been left to her; a delicately carved thing, gilded and as pale as bone. She should have died, and there was no denying that something within her did. However, as the fever abated, as those abhorrent parts of her soul were burned to ash, something took root in her. When she stepped forth upon the great green earth, with her eyes of molten gold, there was complete and utter clarity to all that she had endured -- and will continue to endure. The world had been born anew, just as she was; it was like a newborn fawn, attempting to rise upon its shaky legs while starved wolves encircled it. The calamity that could befall it might leave it in irreparable ruins. Her vision had been taken from her, but in its place she was able to bear witness to something far greater than that -- was granted a gift that allowed her to see the truth of the matter: the Wicken woman was tasked with shepherding the New Testament, with creating a world greater than the last. With a heart burning so righteous and pure, it was Isolde, and only Isolde, that could ever achieve it.

THE CONNECTIONS.

ESTIENNE WICKEN: Half-sibling. They are her opposite in every imaginable way and yet the reality of sharing the same name as them is enough to cause bile to rise in her throat. Whatever lessons that her parents failed to instill in her as a youngling seems to have been easily grasped by Estienne. If they did not share the same aristocratic mannerisms and enigmatic smiles that are practically a Wicken trademark, she might have claimed that they were not related at all. But alas, the blood that runs in her veins runs in theirs as well. As Isolde builds her name among the Holy Land’s society, it seems that Estienne is determined to ensure that it is tied with theirs as well -- what could be more winning than spiritual recognition as well as political? The portrait that they paint of themselves incites within her an anger that is barely recognizable, because she has buried it for so long; it has festered like an open wound and the mere mention of Estienne’s name is like rubbing raw sea salt upon it.

ZADKIEL: Heartache. When he looks at her, she feels as though she is drowning. Not within her own despair, no -- this is a very nuanced sort of pain. In the throes of her fevered dreams, his face had appeared to her, lingering over her shoulder, the edges of his wings brushing against her cheek. It did not take long for her to place the pieces together. The look that painted his gaze when his eyes flickered between hers, the slight downward tilt of his lip, the palpable pounding of her heart and the ineffable ache that descended upon her. He had been tasked to be her guardian angel at one point in time -- and he had either forsaken his duty or failed at it. And to be honest, she is not entirely sure which possibility might be more cruel. What she is sure about is this: the fact that he dares to see her at all, to talk to her, and grow close to her and tug at her heart-strings so shamelessly is the most sadistic thing he could do. (Why, then, can’t she bring herself to make him stop?)

GADRIEL: Guardian. It was odd, initially, having a shadow with teeth -- stepping forth and knowing that a creature that once brought forth ruin hounded her steps. The guardian of the High Priestess was initially a means of the angels demonstrating their good will towards a religion that they would rather those within the kingdom of Caelum not ascribe to. It was made an all the more imperative position to hold once word spread of Isolde’s abilities; having an angel so close to a mortal that was so powerful could only be seen as leverage. But she has found that Gadriel’s presence serves as a comfort more than anything -- the angel’s rather stalwart protection of the Seer being the only thing she can depend on when in the throes of a vision. It is odd, she thinks, how much solace one can take in a creature so rigid that she seems to be rendered from marble. It is even more odd, then, how fond Isolde has grown of her.

ORIAS: Catalyst. She cannot help the singularly unnerving feeling of being a sparrow caught within the sights of a hawk whenever she steps into Orias’ line of vision. She feels their gaze upon her, fixated like an arrow, string taught and ready for release. Though they have never given her a reason to think that there was any animosity or maliciousness in their intent, she still remains attuned to the small details of the interactions. The way that their eyes seem to drink her in, the curl of their mouth, the merest twitch of their fingers are all meticulously noted and analyzed in the night, when the moon is high and the shadows pervade every corner of her room. There is something primordial that resonates within Isolde whenever they approach her, something ancient that yawns widely the longer Orias is within her presence. And Isolde refuses to be blindsided when it truly awakes.

Isolde is portrayed by Sydney Harper* and was written by ROSEY. She is currently TAKEN by LISSA.

#biblical rp #literate rp #rpg #lsrpg #new rp #w #g #isolde wicken #c #cw

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annes-andromeda · 4 years ago

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Ragnarök: Asgard’s Twilight

Chapter 7: Vanaheim

N/: I had to literally search up shit like Astronomy, Astrophysics, Cosmology, Physics, and bunch of theories just to make this make sense and not look like I was pulling it out my ass.

What is she doing here?

Our rangers scouted her out within the forest.

She should be in Midgard, not Vanaheim!

Take her to the healers. A fall like that could’ve severely damaged her.

Foster...

Jane’s eyes shot open, her body aching. She was covered in blankets and lying in a bed. Getting up, Jane adjusted to her surroundings. The ceiling was covered in trunks of wood and leaves. Golden dust fell from the trees, falling onto the fabric of the blankets.

Getting up, Jane could see a dress piled upon a chair next to the bed. It was a gorgeous shade of blue with purple lining and an armored corset.

Looking around, Jane tried making sense of where she was. Her head was still aching, and she noticed that her arms had bruises of yellow and purple, possibly from the fall.

The fall...That’s right. Hela had pushed her out of the Bifrost, separating her from Thor and Loki. Once her body was out of the bridge, Jane felt her breathing full on stop. The feeling of her heartbeat pausing and her body freezing was horrible.

She then felt her heart drop as she moved around the bed feeling for her diary. Jane then sighed as she found it on a small table, seemingly untouched. Jane couldn’t handle having her research being taken for her yet again. Only if it was lost, she was sure she couldn’t sue some thousand year old aliens.

A knock was then heard from the door, causing Jane to jump slightly. She took a deep breath and straightened herself “Come in” she said

The door opened, and a familiar dark beauty poked out. Lady Sif greeted Jane with a warm smile, her deep eyes piercing, yet inviting. She was clad in silver armor and red cloth, and her hair as black as night was tied back to frame her face.

“You took quite a fall there, Ms. Foster” Sif said, standing at the doorway “Had you not been found in the forests, the void of space surely would have killed you”

Jane got up from the bed “Where am I?”

“Vanaheim” Sif answered “My home. Still not sure how you were able to be here in the first place, but know that you are welcome here. The Vanir are not as...skeptic as the Aesir”

“Thor” Jane said abruptly “Have you seen him? A-And Loki? Is there anything on them?”

Sif’s brows furrowed “Loki? Loki is dead. What are you talking about? Jane, what happened with Thor?“

”Th-There was this woman. And she pushed me out the Bifrost. I-I don’t know what happened. I-“

Sif shushed her quietly, seeing the distress in Jane’s eyes “Calm now, Foster. I need you to remain calm. What was it that happened”

Jane stopped for a moment, and looked directly at Sif “I need to see Heimdall”

———————————————————————————————————–

The two ladies walked across the halls of the building, Jane now wearing the dress left for her. Sif took her outside, where bond fires and large tents were put up. Some of the people looked at Jane with curious eyes, which she replied with a bewildered gaze of her own. There were rock trolls and ogres within the camp, working at their weapons or conversing with some of the Vanir.

They then stopped at a tent with bodyguards, Sif stepping out of the way for Jane to go in first. She could see a man talking with some soldiers, and Jane could recognize the familiar voice.

“Excuse me-“ Jane then froze as the man turned to look at her. Heimdall no longer wore a large helmet and golden armor. He donned a dark poncho with leather, and his hair was much longer. No longer did he look like an imposing figure, but someone who appeared somber, yet inviting.

Jane turned her head “Oh wow...” she muttered under her breath before clearing her throat “Heimdall, something’s happened. Thor-“

“No need to inform me, Jane Foster” Heimdall interrupted “I know what was happened with Thor and Loki”

Sif was heard gasping lightly as she moved in front of Jane “You mean...it’s true? Loki is alive?”

“Yes” Heimdall answered. He turned back to the group, resting his hands on the table “It seems the God of Mischief survived his wounds in Svartalheim”

“So he paraded as Odin this whole time?” Sif asked

“Seems so. My eyes have seen what has happened to Thor. I never thought I’d see this in my lifetime. Never could have imagined the day would come”

“Brother” Sif said “What is it?”

Jane’s brows furrowed. Brother? That was new. Mirroring Sif’s actions, Jane moved to the side of the table, looking to Heimdall.

His golden eyes were fixed on both of them “It is Ragnarök. The twilight of the gods has begun. Hela of Niffleheim has escaped her prison, and she is on her way to Asgard as we speak”

Murmurs could be heard from the other men, murmurs of fear and shock “What about Thor and Loki?”

“I cannot see them anymore. Hela has pushed them far beyond my reach”

Sif exasperated “Well then how in Bor’s name are we supposed to find them?!”

Heimdall put his hands up “Calm now, sister. We will find them. All we need is a correct course of action. Hela is far more powerful than any of us realize”

The tent fell silent at Heimdall’s words “We must be cautious”

Jane was about to speak but then, a familiar noise came from outside. Almost like...Bifrost? Everyone immediately ran out the tent to see what it was. Volstagg and Fandral were moving through the crowd, pushing past the people and telling them that it was urgent.

“Heimdall!” Fandral exclaimed “Lady Sif! Most terrible news!”

Volstagg pushed in front of him “Tis Hela! She has taken the throne of Asgard and proclaimed the All-Father dead!

Everyone gasped in shock, with Heimdall’s golden eyes widening as he turned to Jane “Is this true?”

Jane nodded “Yes. Hela put a sword through his chest and took the Odin force”

“The Odin force?!” Sif said in shock “With that sort of power she would be impenetrable. Not even a thousand men could stop her!”

“What must we do?” Fandral asked “With Odin gone and Thor absent, Asgard is at Hela’s mercy. Ragnarök will come and we’ll have no way to stop it! All of the Aesir will die. Men, women, children!”

Volstagg grumbled “Absolutely not! We mustn’t let all those innocent lives fall by the hands of that murderous she-devil! Whatever actions need taken, we need to proceed now!”

“What will we do with the men we have?” Hogun said, stepping forward “Even if we manage to acquire a weapon more powerful than her, it will not stop the inevitable destruction that will befall Asgard”

Fandral agree with Volstagg “Which is why we must retaliate this very moment!”

“No!” Jane exclaimed. Everyone turned to look, causing her to feel rather awkward. But Jane stood her ground nonetheless “You don’t know what Hela is capable of! Most of you have only heard of her from stories told by your parents or your nannies. We can’t just use brute strength and luck”

“Then what do we need?” Sif asked

Jane stopped for a moment, trying to think. Her technology would be really handy right now, if weren’t for the fact that were currently on Earth. And she doubts it would stop the Goddess of Death.

But then, something clicked in her brain. She couldn’t guarantee this would work, but it was well worth a try.

Jane grabbed Heimdall by his arm to get his attention further

“Do you guys have a library I could use?”

———————————————————————————————————–

Everyone around her looked at Jane like she was crazy. Most of them were seasoned warriors who, although highly skilled and intelligent, seemed to take less interest in books and more in weaponry. But Heimdall was almost hopeful, letting Jane take the reins from there.

When rummaging through the shelfs, she eventually made it to one book that had the rune of Asgard on the cover, alongside the runes of the other eight realms circling it. Jane carefully went down the ladder and placed the book atop a table.

“On Earth, we’re told that Ragnarök is basically the end of the world” Jane explained, flipping the pages of the book before stopping at one with Yggdrasil. Before she proceeds, she turns to Heimdall “What do your people know of Ragnarök?”

Heimdall raised an eyebrow “It’s as you said: it is the end of all things and of Asgard”

Jane put her finger up “Except that’s not all. On Earth, we’re taught that Ragnarök begins with a Great Winter that’ll cover the world in snow. Food becomes scarce and people will slaughter each other for survival. The stars will fade, the World Tree will tremble, and the monstrous wolf Fenris will break free of his chains to swallow the Sun whole. His brother Jormungand shall rise from Midgard’s ocean and spit his venom into the world, poisoning the land and the water”

She continued “Surtur will march on Bifrost with his army, all the while Heimdall blows the Gjallarhorn to announce the coming of Ragnarök. Odin is killed by Fenris, Heimdall and Loki slaughter each other, and Thor dies by Jormungand’s poison. The rest of the world falls into the sea, leaving nothing but an endless void”

The Warriors Three, Sif, and Heimdall had looks on their faces that could only be described as true horror.

“All my years of long life “Heimdall rasped “I had only been told that Ragnarök was impossible. A story meant to show that all beginnings have an end. But this-“

“It’s death” Fandral interrupted, his face pale “That’s all it is; nothing but endless death to our world. To our people. To ourselves”

Volstagg growled angrily “This cannot be! Ragnarök was not supposed to come within our lifetime! Now, we have no choice but to prepare ourselves!”

“We could not have known!” Hogun stepped in “The end of our world is unbeknownst to all but the Norns who oversee the roots of Yggdrasil”

“But the signs!” Volstagg exclaimed “If Ragnarök was something that needed warning, then there must’ve been an eternal winter!”

“Which is exactly my point!” Jane finally spoke above the Warriors Three, their attention focusing on her again. She sighed before speaking, trying not to sound stressed or worried “I’m what humans call an Astrophysicist; I merge chemistry and physics together to learn about different celestial bodies. But to be in this profession, I had to also study Astronomy and Cosmology”

“Yes, we know about Midgard and your science” Sif commented. The words may have come out condescending, but her tone begged to differ

Jane flashed an awkward smile at the beautiful warrior goddess “We essentially have theories where we try to explain how the universe was created. There’s the most famous one, the Big Bang Theory, which says the our universe began with a cosmic explosion that created everything”

“Preposterous” Volstagg muttered “Everyone knows that it was Odin and his brothers, who slew the Frost Giant Ymir, that created the cosmos”

Heimdall shushed him immediately, allowing Jane to proceed. Jane sighed “Anyways...we also have theories talking about the end of the universe, like the Big Rip theory and the Big Crunch theory. Then there’s theories saying the universe will only expand further until it’s too cold to sustain any life, like Big Chill”

“So?” Fandral asked “What’s your point?”

“My point,” Jane retorted “Is that like you, humans have spoken about the end of all things too. But, as I explained, I am a Astrophysicist. Most of the theories I’ve stated have yet to come to fruition or proven to be true. Just like I know Astronomy and Cosmology, I also know Physics. And one of the most famous laws, primarily Newton’s laws, explains that an object will remain at rest until a external force acts upon it”

Sif’s eyes lit up, almost as if she beginning to understand “It’s almost like battle” She said “One person may have a plan to stop armed forces, but it can only be successful if the ones behind it act on that strategy”

Jane smiled “Yes!” She exclaimed happily “Yes, exactly! We have another law that says that for everything action, there is an equal and opposite reaction” Jane returned to the book and pointed at the World Tree “That could be what’s happening with Ragnarök. There must’ve been some sort of act that caused the event to change. Even though Ragnarök has begun, it’s already far more different than in the story!”

The Warriors and Heimdall looked at each other “You’re right...” Heimdall agreed “If your Midgardian myths are to be believed, then Hela had no part to play in Ragnarök. And Odin was supposed to be slain by Fenris, yet here he is, skewed by Hela’s hand”

“And also” Jane added “In Norse myth, Hela is supposed to be Loki’s daughter. But as far as we know, he hasn’t shown interest in anyone romantically”

“What?” Sif said, her brow furrowing

Jane pursed her lips “Odin said that Hela is actually his daughter from Jord, who’s basically the Nordic Mother Nature. Hela also gave birth to Loki, making her his mother and Thor's sister. Since she’s older than Thor, she was able to get the Odin force despite Odin naming Thor the new All-Father”

Everyone looked at each other in shock. So many words in so little time, they thought

Hogun looked to Jane “With all this information, it must mean that perhaps there might be a way to slow Ragnarök before it ends Asgard. Although Hela rules Niffleheim, she cannot raise souls from the dead, merely tend to them or control them”

“And she must have some sort of weakness” Fandral added “Even someone as powerful as Odin managed to have shortcomings”

“So what can we do?” Sif asked Jane. They all looked to the mortal girl, who tried to avert eye contact. Jane had never been given this much leadership freedom before. She felt she was useless on Asgard. She couldn’t fight or wield a sword like Lady Sif, and yet, here she was, looking to a mere mortal for guidance.

Jane felt an almost adrenaline rushing through her “We need to conduct a plan to take the Aesir out of Asgard and stop Hela. You think you guys can handle that?”

The Warriors Three nodded “We are at your most humble service, Lady Jane!” Volstagg proclaimed

”Good” Jane said before looking to Heimdall “While the Warriors do that, we need to build Gjallarhorn for you to sound. I know you have your all seeing magic, but we need to warn everyone, not just Asgard”

Heimdall nodded “I will have the craftsmen mine the strongest metals to construct it. With my eyes and my horn, I shall be able to send out the warning of the inevitable twilight”

Jane clasped her hands together and smiled “Alright then, let’s get started”

The Warriors Three left the library, Heimdall staying to stare at Jane with a smile “You burn brighter than any star I’ve ever seen, Jane Foster” Heimdall said proudly “It is no wonder the Valkyrie have called to you in slumber.

Jane’s mouth was agape “You...You know about that?”

”I hear their voices from the halls of Valhalla” Heimdall commented “Although their physical bodies have been lost, their spirits live on and protect the fallen in battle” He put a hand on Jane’s shoulder “Due to our circumstances, I am unable to fully help you. But perhaps my sister might be of service”

They both looked at Sif who was rummaging through the pages of the book “Great” Jane’s voice broke the pregnant silence, and she waved at Sif “Hey, are your coming?”

Sif only nodded halfheartedly “Yes, I’ll be with you in just a moment. You go ahead, I’ll meet with you shortly”

With that, Heimdall and Jane left the library, with only Sif in the room. She kept looking through the pages, until she stopped at one. Atop the paragraph, it read her name in runic text. Sif trapped the paper with the pads of her fingers, stopping at the first few sentences:

Lady Sif, the Dark-Haired Daughter of Asgard, Fairest of The Fair, Gentlest of The Gentle. The Unstoppable, The Stunning, the shield maiden of Asgard. Sister of The Good Heimdall, Daughter of the Vanir, Goddess of War, of The Hunt-

The last sentence was off.

Sif could see that the page had been tampered with, as the words ‘Goddess of War, of The Hunt” were clearly added in. She tried to see what text was underneath, but her efforts had failed. Sif could only sigh and close the book, walking out the library to return to Jane’s company.

#marvel #my writing #fanon marvel #ragnarok rewrite #jane foster #lady sif #heimdall #the warriors three #volstagg #fandral #hogun #gagnarok

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pantheon-god-of-war · 5 years ago

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Diana

Updated Lore

Diana did not belong on Mount Targon. A group of Solari hunters discovered her swaddled between her frost-claimed parents—strangers to this land, who had clearly traveled a long way. The hunters brought her to their temple, dedicated her, and raised her as a member of the Tribes of the Last Sun, known to many as the Rakkor.

Like all of the Solari faith, she underwent rigorous physical and religious training. However, unlike others, Diana was determined to understand why the Solari act the way they do, and the reasoning behind their beliefs. She spent her evenings digging through the libraries, devouring texts with only pale moonlight to read by. Paradoxically, this pursuit provided more questions than answers, and her teachers’ aphoristic replies did little to sate her inquisitive mind.

When Diana began to notice tomes had whole chapters torn from them, and all references to the moon seemed missing, the teachers assigned harsh punishments, intending to exhaust her into devotion. Likewise, her fellow acolytes distanced themselves from her and her questioning.

There was one shining beacon in these years of confused, frustrated isolation: Leona. The most devout of Diana’s peers, they often found themselves in impassioned debate. Though one never swayed the other in their long and frequent conversations, they developed a close friendship.

Then, one glorious night, Diana discovered a hidden alcove deep within the mountain. Moonlight spilled against its walls, revealing imagery of the sun, of soldiers armored in gold alongside silver-clad warriors, and matching imagery of the moon, atop Targon’s greatest peek. Delighted, Diana raced to share this clear message with Leona—the sun and moon were not enemies after all!

Leona did not react with joy.

She urged Diana to put this heresy from her mind entirely, warning of the punishments that may befall her if she were to voice such thoughts to others. Diana had never seen her serious friend quite so grave.

Frustration gnawed at her. She had reached the end of the Solari’s knowledge, yet not even Leona would take this new discovery into account. What were the Solari hiding? Increasingly, Diana felt certain there was only one place she could go for answers: the top of Mount Targon.

The climb tested her in every way imaginable, and time seemed to stand still as she scaled the peak. To survive, she focused her thoughts on her lone companion, and the answers that would make the Solari better, more whole.

The summit greeted her with the brightest, fullest moon she’d ever seen. After a rapturous moment, a pillar of moonlight slammed into her and she felt a presence taking hold of her, sharing glimpses of the past, and of another Rakkor faith called the Lunari. Diana realized this presence could only be one of the legendary Aspects… and she had been chosen as its host.

When the light dissipated, her mind was again her own. Diana found herself clad in armor, holding a crescent blade, and hair once dark hair now gleaming silver. She turned to find she was not alone—Leona stood at her side, similarly bedecked in shining, golden battleplate, a sunbreak-bright shield and sword in her hands.

Diana was overjoyed to share in this revelatory moment with her friend, but Leona thought only of returning to the Solari. Diana begged her not to, desperate that they face this new future together. But Leona refused, and their disagreement quickly turned into a titanic battle, erupting with moonlight and sunfire.

Fearful of losing herself to the Aspect’s power, Diana ultimately fled down the mountain. But, vindicated in her search, she felt more certain than ever that she had been right to question the Solari’s teachings. It was time to confront them, and show the error of their ways.

Pushing past their Ra’Horak guardians, Diana burst into the chambers of the high priests. They listened with mounting horror as she told of what she had learned of the Lunari… and then they denounced her as a heretic, a blasphemer, and a peddler of false gods. Rage filled Diana, amplified by the Aspect within, and she embraced it in a terrible burst of moonlight. Startled, she fled the temple, leaving a trail of death in her wake.

Now, driven by half-remembered visions and glimpses of ancient knowledge, Diana clings to the only truths she knows for certain—that the Lunari and the Solari need not be foes, and that there is a greater purpose for her than to be a Solari acolyte of Mount Targon.

And though that destiny remains unclear, Diana will seek it out, whatever the cost.

#League of Legends #Diana #for those of you who want to read it here

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auntie-browning · 2 months ago

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Horror, pure unbridled horror. The doll, as weak as she was, feared less for her life for it was nothing real to anyone. No, she feared more for those who did know what they were doing. Fools of grandeur partaking in the sadistic euphoria of vengeance, unaware of their own culling to befall them. Slowly, the shadow of despair loomed out of the light-depraved crevasses of the world, striding effortlessly toward two targets of value.

Browning was all too weak to prevent this.

Her attempts to warn her assailants weren’t able to leave the lower recesses of her trachea, smothered by logic loop processes of simulated pain and an ancient evil force within her. Weakness overflowed her system, something foreign to her artificial being. Try as she might, she was too powerless to prevent what was happening. All desires to voice were suppressed within and every instance to pray for Zia’s restraint were ignored. She couldn’t bare to watch what would happen next. She hoped that it would have been quick…she hoped she didn’t have to bear witness…

She wasn’t that lucky it seems.

Ziatrix had shown her prowess in full force, savoring that display of force. Browning was in as much horror as her skewered assailants, pierced by clear spires of liquid…tainted crimson from the blood flowing free. Nothing prepared the doll for what she was witnessing. No amount of neural computational power could have let her imagine such a macabre image before her. Flurries of sadistic intent laden deep within her gaze. This wasn’t just to survive for her…no, this was an artform…a ritual of flesh and spirit.

Cries of horror filled the air as this ritual of new faith continued, dining onto the flesh of the damned. If the doll could muster up the force, she would have screamed with them. She knew now, without a shadow of doubt, what fate was to befall her now. It was no longer some abstract imagination of painless death she feverishly hoped for. No, for the first time now, the doll saw what her death will be, how it will happen, what will happen to her, and why it will occur. The only question left to answer for herself will be…when?

As these thoughts race around in her neural cloud, they seemed to leave her mind particularly vulnerable to the further corruptions of this infection of Red. This new primordial maw from within beckoned upon the mind of the doll, like trumpets upon the walls of Jericho. Her linked sensations beholding the feelings of euphoric satisfaction upon every morsel of flesh and every bound of spiritual essence. The screeching of the flesh replaced with the haunting wailings of the soul consumed.

All that was left now…was the satisfied squelching of a demon well fed.

The demon queen turned her gaze upon the poor doll. Violet beams watching over the pathetic mess of a soldier on the floor. For once in her life, Browning didn’t know what was going to happen. She feared that this sampling would not satiate her, even if she were full. She wondered what evils will now befall her own being.

Every step she too seemed like an eternity. Browning struggled to escape away from what she saw as certain death. She didn’t want to die, not like this…not like how she saw her consume them. Please, dear God not like this.

Of course, it seemed that it was not to be the end for her…not yet at least. Be it mercy upon mercy or simply the sadistic glee of prolong her suffering, Ziatrix was not going to cull her being tonight. For whatever reason, she seemed content with the idea of repairing that pathetic doll…even if she were to reject the way she was going to do it. Flesh for flesh, blood for blood…an equivalent exchange of beings. This monster was to repair her with the flesh she had enjoyed.

Even if it were against everything the doll was against.

“…P-Please…s-stop…I-I…d-don’t…want…”

She tried her best to protest, feeling the unholy binding of flesh to bionic skin occur. The attunement of cells to plaster themselves next to synthetic meat, bonding into unnatural matrimony. Nerve endings entwined with electrical processors, bridging signals to communicate with the systems already there. Her groans of pain grew louder as the bonds stronger.

Zia had repaired her at the cost of finally sullying her old existence. There was no coming back from this path she had decided to take with her. This road to oblivion.

Just as the situation was about to cascade, Ziatrix slipped away from the scene. Just as quietly as she moved, as inhumanely as she could be, one moment Browning saw her. The next when she moved to confront the men, the strange woman vanished.

If anything it was a last attempt to abide by Browning's wishes. No death, no fighting, avoid the conflict, be unseen and leave once the task was done. As they walked Browning away, Ziatrix slipped back to the vehicle unnaturally, setting the process up and letting fuel flow by itself into their container.

She filled what she could from watching Browning do the same, unseen in the dark by the vehicle, as if light itself wished not to interact with her.

Even if one looked back, they'd see nothing. They wouldn't notice Ziatrix finishing what she could and moving on, hiding their stuff before following them silently into the alley.

Purple eyes watched as diplomacy was eroded away, they men were angry and they were about to take it out on Browning. Could she handle them? Perhaps... Browning was not just a human, but a stab being inflicted already, with possibly more on the way.

She fell, pain causing her to seize up. The men standing over her, kicking the body to see how much it hurt, gawking and reveling in their petty revenge.

They wouldn't even notice Ziatrix dropping down behind them, only Browning out. Her eyes catching the purple eyed woman landing behind them, shadows from the streetlights behind her hiding the intent that only Browning could feel.

Hunger. Malice. The feeling of helplessness towards a peaceful solution, and the decision made hastily.

I eat.

"Men of the alley, refined guests of our banquet." Her voice startled the two, both of them looking at the stranger before them.

"Get lost bitch, this isn't any of your business." One shouts.

The other pulls from his jacket a firearm, and points it. "Did you not hear us?"

Ziatrix does not flinch, she continues her approach. Her tongue licks her lips, Browning can feel it. Utter desire to eat.

"I did not... nor do I care." A gunshot rings out, the sound of a knife hitting the cement clatters beside Browning. The two men are stuck, their eyes wife, red drips down their bodies to the floor.

From puddles all over, thin needles of water are stretching, piercing both men in several very non-lethal points. Enough however to lock them in place, their wrists and hands are pierced and the gun and knife drop.

Like being caught in a max of spikes, each running through their body avoiding delicious precious insides.

"If action is taken...near not a shred of their behind." She walks to the first man, the one who stabbed Browning. Her hand swipes through them, splashing water, ripping flesh with claw like fingers. She takes a literal chunk from them, just enough to fit in her hand.

As the flesh leaves his body, a spectral looking thing follows. It looks like a translucent copy of him being stretched from the body. Brought with that flesh as Ziatrix savors it, eating the meat and the soul of the man. It screams, his body screams like it should in pain, but the soul, the translucent one of him screams too. It shreds apart, some of it returning to the body.

The man's yells subsided as his mind recoils, panic set sin. She's eaten a part of him, and a part of his essence, of his soul and personality.

The man is jumbled, he can't make words, he can't form thought. And Ziatrix only gets more excited, she turns to the other, and the same thing.

A leg severed, the soul stretched out, she rends into it, like the flesh is vanishing as it enters her mouth. She eats it all down and some of his soul and personality.

The water spikes turn from needles to blades almost, water pressure cutting the men up as she eats them piece by piece, the screams of their physical bodies subside to their screaming souls being sucked up and eaten too.

As if when she bites, it's merely torn to become part of her. Stored in an infinite nothing, and the translucent visible souls even to Browning, are torn apart, muffled as they're slurped up like pasta.

Until nothing is left and the water washes away the blood, a horrid vision to take in.

Ziatrix' eyes turning to Browning. The poor girl left with one feeling inside.

Full and Satisfied. Crouching down she places her hand to Browning's gut, a cool running water feeling seals her would and fixes her.

"Don't move...I will use their mass to mimic your body and fix what is broken."

Probably not.. the words one might wish to hear from the blood lips of a creature that horrendously just ate two men in both physical and soul ways.

#;> that old gal ( m1918 )#;> the last long mile ( undefined )#soulstagger #||: Sorry for the wait #||: Had to mull around how I wanted to tackle this one #||: Hope it was worth the wait

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thegoldendice · 5 years ago

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Love Is A Battlefield

Fandom - American Horror Story 1984

Pairing - Xavier Plympton/Reader

Rating - Explicit

Warnings - Suicide, Violence, Mental Heath Issues, Sexual Content, Language, Religious Content

Chapter - 11/12

Read on - ao3, ff.net

Fic Summary - The year is 1984. You’re a poor student living alone in L.A., plagued by your problematic relationships with a false friend and a disturbed ex. You meet Xavier Plympton, an aerobics instructor with a dark past, at the gym where you’ve taken a reception job. You quickly develop feelings for him, and you learn to your relief that he likes you too. Soon a deadly series of events befall you and the people in your life. Overwhelmed by tragedy and with your blossoming romance cut short, you are left a wreck. Six years later you discover that while Xavier is dead, he hasn’t quite departed. You soon realise that if you are to be with him and finally achieve true peace and happiness, you must take your own life and become a Camp Redwood ghost.

Chapter Summary - You struggle in the aftermath of your death. Xavier reminds you that you will feel better in time.

Tears fill your eyes, as they so often do of late. You welcome them like old friends, relieved that you have come through death but retained the ability to cry. It's something you had feared you might lose. Despite the moisture on your cheeks, you feel numb. It's as though your emotions are trapped deep within you, your heart enclosed in ice. It’s not a wholly unfamiliar feeling, you dealt with depression for several years and became used to the sense of being disconnected from your own soul. You realise however that while this new numbness makes you sad, your tears have not appeared in mourning for your loss of feeling, but because of the memory of your suicide.

You now know that Xavier was wrong when he said that death is artful. It is not. There was pain. You knew there would be, but you didn’t realise that it would consume you as if a fire surged within your veins. The agony caused you to tear at your hair and curse your own stupidity. Your stomach cramped and complained as you lay doubled over on your cabin bed, one second grasping for Xavier’s hand, the next, pushing him away with shocking viciousness.

Your memory is hazy after a point. You weaved in and out of consciousness, the poison inside you doing its work, all of this transpiring mere hours after your happy return to the camp. Xavier never left you as you died. He murmured soothing words about spending an eternity together out by the lake, basking in the sunshine. He rubbed your back and wiped away your stinging tears when you lay still enough for him to draw near. Your last memory is of pleasant birdsong outside the cabin. How ironic that the birds were so cheerful, so blissfully unaware of your demise. For a long time, according to Xavier, you were very still, adrift on a sea of emptiness with your eyes tightly shut, completely oblivious to the world around you.

You glance at Xavier now, fully clothed limbs tangled with yours in the orange glow of sunrise. He appears to be asleep, but he’s simply deep in a meditative trance. You don't blame him. The events of last night were more than enough to exhaust him, and he needs no sleep. You feel drained too but have yet to grasp the ability to switch off and mimic slumber.

You’d materialised outside of your cabin mere moments after your body finally gave up its fight to survive. To your relief, there was no trace of the black smoke that had signalled Ramirez’ resurrection when you witnessed it. You made a mental note at that moment to apologise to Ray for doubting the existence of God. The dark wisps you'd seen in Ramirez’ cabin were a sure indication that Satan was at work there. You felt a palpable aura of evil in that place. Surely if Satan does exist, so then must God. You are certain that Satan is only responsible for Ramirez’ lasting existence. Something else holds sway over the other souls in the camp, but you're not sure you will ever find out quite what it is.

You flung the old cabin door open, causing it to creak on its decrepit hinges, and rushed inside, not caring that you would be faced with your own lifeless form, only thinking of Xavier and whether or not he was alright. He had held on to your body, measuring your last breaths, bearing witness to your final moments, and was still cradling you, or at least the physical remains of you. He let the body down gently when he heard you enter, placing the most tender kiss on its forehead, then he rose to hug you tightly in his arms.

”That was awful.” He breathed.

”For me, too.” Your voice was hoarse, almost as if you'd never used it before. ”Thank you for being with me, Xavier.”

”Of course. There's nowhere else I would be. Thank God you're back.”

”Maybe we should thank God.” You attempted a jovial tone. ”I’d ask Ray how but I doubt he'll speak to me.”

Xavier sniffed loudly and chuckled. ”No he probably won't, not for a few years at least. Don't worry about him, he usually keeps away from the rest of us anyway.”

You look at Xavier again. His chest rises and falls as if his lungs actually need the oxygen they draw in. You're breathing too, although there's no point. It's something you can't switch off, the most natural human instinct. You'd gulped in huge amounts of air when Xavier finally took your body away. Chet and Trevor showed up to help him carry you away as the sun was setting, having already prepared a grave. The shock of knowing that your remains were about to be buried overwhelmed you.

Montana had rushed into the cabin, an uncharacteristically sympathetic look on her face. She stayed with you until Xavier returned. You spoke no words to each other, but her physical presence kept you from spiralling into a panic. You don't know exactly where your body lies in the ground. You asked Xavier to keep that knowledge from you. Maybe one day you will visit the grave, but for now, you'd rather remain unaware of the location. A wave of nausea rises inside you at the thought of rotting flesh and maggots crawling inside crevices. You shift, suddenly uncomfortable, and Xavier opens his eyes.

”Are you okay?” His brow creases in concern.

You nod slightly and bring yourself closer to him, settling in the hollow made by his outstretched arm. He wraps himself around you protectively.

”You’re not okay, I can tell. You shouldn't expect to be. I wasn't for the longest time when I died. One day you'll wake up and you won't feel so heavy. You'll laugh and really mean it. We’ll run around and cause havoc, we can push Ray in the lake and hide Montana’s favourite outfits.”

A tiny smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. ”That sounds fun.”

”And we’ll have better sex than you can even imagine. Everyone will get sick of hearing us.”

You laugh out loud. ”Do you promise?”

”What, that we’ll have amazing sex? Uh, remember who you're talking to.”

You shove Xavier’s shoulder lightly, causing him to gently headbutt the side of your face in response. ”No not that, that goes without saying of course.” You roll your eyes, making sure he sees. ”No. Do you promise that one day I’ll feel okay? That this weird combination of sad and numb will go away?”

Xavier looks at you, his blue eyes shining with love and a hint of mischief. ”I swear it, and I'll be with you every step of the way.”

Notes: The next chapter will be the last one in this particular story, huge thanks to everyone who has read/commented/left kudos! Thanks for reading! I’m always happy to chat in the comments or over on ao3

#xavier plympton #xavier plympton x reader #xavier plympton x you #ahs #ahs xavier #ahs 1984 #american horror story #american horror 1984 #fanfic #ao3 #ff.net

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loyalflutist · 5 years ago

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Knight in Shining Armor (F!Byleth x Dorothea)

Challenge: Bylethea Week 2019 (Twitter) Day 6: After the War

A/N: This is actually a direct continuation of Day 5′s OS, so feel free to refer to that! Otherwise, it could still act as a standalone in a way.

------

Would this be the last time she would see her wife? That sort of question never crossed through Byleth’s mind. No matter how many times she was sent out under Edelgard’s orders, she would always return home.

She was unstoppable. Despite her weakened health, despite the frail heart, despite the abnormal gait, Byleth lived up to her nickname as the Ashen Demon. The woman easily crushed their spirits by mere existence. Terror ran through their spine, her enemies frantically cutting her down. Their actions were elementary. Byleth simply had to sidestep a few times and swing the Sword of Creator with a flick of her wrist. Victory was always one-sided for the Adrestian Empire against Those Who Slither in the Dark.

But what about this time?

A shaky exhale slithered out of her bleeding lips, her head hung, and wrists bound from behind the chair. Droplets of cool water dribbled in the background as the bruised warrior slowly breathed. Goosebumps formed on her exposed skin after having shed the tattered, large overcoat, the piece of attire crumbled in the far corner. Byleth shuddered from the chilly damp atmosphere.

‘ I messed up big time, didn’t I. ‘

Was 29 years of age starting to catch up to her? Impossible, as her deceased father, Jeralt, was far older than that and was in tip-top shape. Could it be from arrogance? Byleth relished in the pride of becoming a hero for the Adrestian Empire and for striking fear in the hearts of her enemies as the Ashen Demon. Whatever it was, she couldn’t fix her mistake. She was stuck in this underground cellar with no natural light peeking in, only the faint, neon blue, technological lights inscribed into the solid walls.

It was a trap she should have seen from a mile away. She, Edelgard, and Ferdinand raced to tackle the main headquarter of Those Who Slither in the Dark. Other members of the Black Eagles Strike Squad were to act as a diversion to the terrorist organization. Soldiers and commanders engaged in a violent skirmish as the three headed into the depths of Shambhala and descended into the secret tunnel.

Edelgard led the two volunteers deep into the dark terrain. Man-made lights eventually filled their vision and dispersed the black surroundings. They were greeted with the city standing without light. Yet it was too late for the trio as the emperor stepped on a thin, silver wire. Boobytraps were rare in this time era. Technological advancements procured simple ones, but not ones that were as futuristic as the ones Those Who Slither in the Dark had.

She hurriedly grabbed the back of their attires and summoned all her strength to chuck them backward. The impressive feat caused the nobles to fly away from their professor. A loud slam echoed throughout the suffocating chamber, a metal barred box trapping its prey. And the moment they landed on their behinds, Byleth was surrounded by hidden assassins and soldiers, their lances, daggers, and swords aimed at the encased female. Edelgard and Ferdinand were spared the misfortune of being captured by the cursed group thanks to Byleth.

Or rather, this was Those Who Slither in the Dark’s intention.

‘ At least they ran away. I don’t know what would’ve happened if they were captured too… ‘

The tales Edelgard and Hubert spoke of about the dreadful organization were full of truths. What made matters worse was the fact that they hadn’t spoken about the horrifying details that encompassed Those Who Slither in the Dark.

“You still awake?” Their dark, lanky boots stopped in front of her. Byleth’s eyes trailed upward to the captor’s face. The sight of the cruel male made her blood run cold. It was none other than Thales, the leader of Those Who Slither in the Dark. A faint smirk ran across his lips as he remarked, “You just don’t know when to give up, do you, Byleth?”

“…”

She glared at him. Seeing as how she will not answer to his rhetorical question, Thales came closer to the wounded female. Standing above the limped ex-mercenary, he added,

“Your body houses the same power that we’ve bestowed to Nemesis. I think it is time we resurrect him.”

“In your dreams,” she spat on his shoes. Never losing that fiery gaze, the teal-haired harshly whispered, “I don’t have the power of the progenitor god anymore. You’re too late.”

“Yet you are still connected to Sothis. Am I wrong?”

“…”

Another silent treatment. This time, it was not well-received, Thales sinking his fist into her abdomen. Byleth’s navy eyes widened, her mouth wide open from the sudden strike. He kept his hand buried into her abdomen and bent down just enough to speak into her eardrum.

“I suggest you tell us the truth, Byleth. You will suffer if you do not.”

“Nngh…”

Despite having the wind knocked out of her system, Byleth remained steadfast on keeping her mouth shut. The torture she endured from him earlier was nothing… sort of. His methods of roughing her up were more extreme compared to the times when she was a mercenary. However, if she was able to survive two of his sessions in the past two days, she could bear through another. Another sharp gasp left her throat when Thales twisted his wrist, burrowing the fist further in. The immense pressure squeezed uncomfortably upon her intestines.

“Think carefully, Byleth. I wouldn’t want to get answers from you the same way as I did to Dorothea.”

“!!!”

This was a first! Fury colored her vision red as she snapped open her jaw. She instantly lurched forward to bite his ear. Tear that pale cartilage off and make him suffer, even if it’s for a little bit. It was unfortunate that he pulled away just in time. His hand was gone, but it instantly came back to her, this time to the face. He socked her squarely on the nose. It was shocking that the fragile body part hadn’t been crushed or fractured from the powerful blow.

An outcry was heard from her and the weight of her body caused the steel chair to fall sideways. She winced when her head collided against the smooth flooring. Stars danced in her vision as the neon lights blinded half of her sight. Byleth groaned from the burst of needle-like pains frenzied her face and skull. She nearly blacked out… but wouldn’t allow herself to do so. Instead, Byleth forced herself to shoot a glare at the leader.

Thales felt humored. He took one step and pressed his foot against her side. The weight of his boot caused her ribs to creak, Byleth biting her tongue to remain silent.

“Don’t act so surprised, Byleth. Those Who Slither in the Dark know everything and everyone in Fodlan… especially you.”

Tears pricked from the corner of her eyes as the old male began his dialogues.

“Dorothea Arnault… She was a precious… hostage. No… Hostage is not the right word. She was vital to finding you. At least, that’s what we originally thought.”

Byleth gasped when he stomped on her bruised side, his features contorted.

“That cursed songstress had nothing to tell us! Even after we’ve tortured her, she wouldn’t tell her where you are. Had it not been for Edelgard von Hresvelg either, we would’ve killed her off long ago.”

“…”

Just… why didn’t Dorothea tell her this? Weren’t they wives now? Byleth grimaced. Ever since she came back from her coma, she immediately leapt back into the fray. The Black Eagles Strike Squad and the Adrestian Empire were so preoccupied with the three-way war… When the instructor had tea sessions with the opera singer, she would never touch upon events that occurred during the five years Byleth disappeared. Thinking back upon it… Byleth never really tried to delve into her wife’s traumatic history. Even when they got together, Dorothea strongly urged that they make new memories in place of old ones.

‘ It’s no wonder why Dorothea argued with me… ‘

It wasn’t just weak health or missing her wife in the end. Dorothea feared that the same fate she experienced would befall upon the very person she loved. Too bad Byleth didn’t listen to her… and it was horrible that Byleth never took the time out of her day to really sit down and relieve Dorothea of the nightmares and depression that plagued the poor woman.

“…I have something to say to you… Thales…”

Thales’s attention reverted to the warrior. A shadow overcame his white eyes as Byleth snarled, “You’re going to regret touching my wife.”

“Wife? How amusing.” He slammed his foot once more. “All the more reason to move forward with our plans.”

“I’m going to kill you..!” She gritted her teeth and barked, “You’ll wish you’ve never captured me here!”

Anger was a foreign concept to the retired professor. She may be irritated and annoyed, but never scathing in pure fury. Byleth squirmed under his iron foothold. Thales squinted his eyes. Then, he laughed. She was just like a bug! The way she squirmed and growled at him… she was more pathetic than a bug, actually! He couldn’t hurt her anymore. In fact, he didn’t want to, the sight of the struggling warrior far too entertaining.

Thales took a couple of steps back. “Perhaps keeping you here for another day isn’t going to hurt our resources. Besides…” He snapped his fingers. One of the two followers for the organization stepped forward from the cell. “I would like to find Dorothea again. This might make you talk.”

“YOU…” Byleth hollered, watching in horror as the listener took a step away from the premise, “DON’T YOU DARE LAY A FINGER ON HER!”

“Not unless you tell us what we need to know,” Thales warned.

“…”

“Smile, Byleth. You have a choice here. I’m not all that generous. I’ve never given anyone any options… not even to Edelgard and Dorothea.”

“You monster!”

“Only if you make me one.”

Byleth audibly snarled at their leader as a dog. She viciously tugged against the bondage and desperately wiggled out of her ensnarement. Thales never was a man to play around. His words were absolute. Those Who Slither in the Dark would always accomplish their goals. Their passion and determination were frightening. The teal-haired slowly lost her strength to fight for freedom and pummel him into submission. Byleth laid still, her chest rapidly rising and falling, her hues darkened while watching the sadistic man.

Was it really going to end this way? In the end, she was never going to come home, was she? If she did… would it cost Dorothea’s life?

Byleth squeezed her eyes shut.

‘ I’m… I’m so sorry, Dorothea… ‘

“ARGH!”

The remaining guard in this room bellowed from the top of his lungs. Byleth’s and Thale’s attention swerved to the man. He was on fire, the flames searing through his exposed epidermis, the black cloths and chainmail melting into his sensitive skin. Screams and wails filled the cramped room as he dashed out of the room. Thales could hardly cast a spell of his own when electricity crackled through his sturdy figure. Yet what would have downed most ordinary man or woman did not apply to the leader.

“You…!”

At that moment, Byleth stared at the person, who wielded the Sword of Creator, standing before the greatest enemy in Fodlan.

“Dorothea…?”

How did she manage— But… why?

Standing behind Dorothea was none other than Edelgard and Hubert. They both quickly parted way towards Byleth as Thales’s gaze focused on only one person: Dorothea. A bead of sweat slid down his face as he forced a chuckle.

“What a surprise to see you again, Dorothea. Did you come here to die?”

“Not today,” the songstress pointed the relic in his direction. Although one should not use these ancient weapons, ever since the disappearances of the Crests and its system dissolvement, these artifacts were nothing more than ordinary weapons adorned in mystical materials. (Excluding Byleth, who still possess some inherited level of the Crest of Flames thanks to Sothis’s permanent connection.) Dorothea frowned. “I’ve come to take back my professor and defeat you.”

“Defeat me? You?” He almost buckled from laughter. “You’re nothing compared to the strength I have.”

When she charged forward with the Sword of Creator, Thales grinned. It was reckless of her. Did she not learn this from the Officers Academy of rushing headfirst without a plan? Dark energy enveloped his dominant hand as he reeled it back. He didn’t bother to use up all his energy in delivering a punishing blow. A direct hit to her stomach. Dorothea felt a spray of pain seep into her surrounding muscles as spit flew out of her mouth. At that same moment, the sword slipped out of her grasp and flew upward into the air. The songstress flew in the opposite direction and slammed into the thick wall.

Dorothea managed to crack an eye open as Thales came close.

“See? You were never a challenge, to begin with.”

She coughed and stared up at the intimidating man. Then, she slyly smiled.

“You… You may be right, but… I have my wife!”

“What—?!”

Thales had an issue with hyper fixation. When Edelgard and Hubert slipped past his figure, he was so focused on Dorothea, his mind automatically ignored them. It was a devastating biological mistake to make. And he cursed them.

Turning around caused the Sword of Creator, bright in its glory, to puncture into his chest. Blood flowed into his mouth and trickled out as the tip protruded out of his back. Byleth had slammed the blade so hard, the hilt smashed right into his chest cavity. Thales could only gasp for breath. His hands violently shook, the pair grabbing ahold of Byleth’s back. His fingertips tried to claw at her in a futile attempt to get back. What he didn’t notice was how weak his attempts were.

Byleth tore the weapon out of his tainted body. Then, she twirled the sword and gave a diagonal slash in his direction. Blood spurted from his newly-formed gash, its crimson substance splattered onto her weakened figure. His death was immediate after the final blow. When he crumbled to the ground, the injured professor glanced at Dorothea.

“Dorothea…”

Dorothea had gotten up from the floor, brushing the debris that soiled her vermillion robe. The punch that the songstress had sustained was minimized thanks to the thick armor plate hidden underneath the attire. (It was a good thing she had listened to Byleth long ago about it.) Linhardt, who was supposed to be retired in a remote village, was present and had cast white magic on Dorothea’s injuries in addition. This made her healthy as a horse, ready to get into another fight if needed.

“…”

Byleth felt like the invisible weight amplified its pressure on her shoulders. The ex-mercenary’s knees buckled, the sensation overwhelming her balance. Her vision began to fade in and out, the whole world begins to tilt sideways.

“Byleth!”

Dorothea rushed in to catch her slumped lover. Byleth barely held onto her consciousness as she murmured,

“You came…”

“Of course I did,” her wife responded.

It was a good thing Dorothea listened to her gut feelings. Since the night she tossed and turned, Linhardt stopped by that same night, providing a message that they should hurry to Shambhala. He predicted that their presence is needed now more than ever for Byleth. How did he know? Linhardt prefers to call it an educated guess... or it was just another fancy way of saying that he had a horrible nagging feeling like Dorothea. Regardless, they hurried as fast as they could to the destination from afar. Bumping into Edelgard, Ferdinand, and Hubert was by chance. That led them to crawl into the underground city and demolish the dreadful organization.

She shifted her position so she could cup one side of Byleth’s swollen face. Scabs from old cuts and broken skin riddled parts of her sturdy features. Dorothea dryly swallowed, knowing that her face would be scarred. She had once been captured by Those Who Slither in the Dark. They hadn't tortured her as Thales bluffed it to be, but it wasn't a pleasant experience either, Edelgard luckily coming to her rescue. The fact that they did a number on Byleth... Dorothea felt her blood pressure rise.

“Oh, why did he do this to you…?”

“Probably… bored out of his mind…”

“This is no joking matter!”

Then again, if she was able to joke around, that probably meant Byleth isn’t in danger of dying. She hadn’t lost much blood either, save it for the beating she’s experienced these past three days. The songstress had to resist the temptation to shake her wife silly when the teacher added,

“Looks like my… my knight… in shining armor… came to save me.” Byleth faint smiled. “Thank you…”

From that day onward, Those Who Slither in the Dark were no more, the remaining members arrested and executed for their criminal activities. Byleth was finally able to retire from her duty as a tactician and a key figure to dismantling the corrupted group. Not that she had a choice as her weakened health began to deteriorate even more after the events with Thales. Going into battle was still possible, but it was more out of self-defense and last resort. It pained the professor to use a cane for the rest of her life... but at least she was alive and by her wife's side. Now, she was stuck with the duty of handling simple responsibilities such as watching over the house and hosting her famous tea sessions with alumni.

Tranquility befalls them. At long last, they were finally able to live their lives in peace. Yet what if danger arises again?

"It's my turn to be your knight and protector, Byleth," Dorothea boldly proclaimed as they snuggled in the comfort of their homes. The two spouses laid on the bed, the songstress resting her head on top of her wife's chest. Their fingers were intertwined as she continued, "I'll always come to your rescue... just as how you did with me."

#loyalflutist #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #f!byleth x dorothea #f!byleth #byleth #byleth eisner #dorothea #dorothea arnault #dorothea x byleth #fan fiction #fan fic #fanfic #fanfiction #one shot #oneshot #os #byletheaweek2019 #day 6: after the war

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currypotatowrites · 6 years ago

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A Last Stand

I watched as the army of Mer marched towards us. If I had told any of my forefathers that one day, they would march into our home to take our lands, they would've laughed at me. "The Shoranna are many things, weak is not one of them. It will be a dark day when Mer grow stronger than us " my father would say. But that day has come.

It was a fault caused by our own folly. We grew strong, then complacent and finally arrogant. We thought ourselves invincible. We forgot that we too can bleed. And we because of that, too many have. Even the admission of such a thing is wounding. To realise our own folly was the cause of the deaths of fellow Shoranna. But now was not the time to let such thoughts cloud my mind. For today, we prove to the One who Is that we deserve a place in his hall. I prove to him I deserve a place in his hall.

Shor-tak and Valnor ride up next to me, Shor-tak frothing at the mouth at the what he sees before him. "We could take them right now, kill all those bastard's and be done with it. Why do we wait?" He growled. "For the spectacle of it," Valnor responded. "The Shoranna must be able to look back upon this day with great pride. What would become of us if we do not give our enemies the respect to prepare themselves? What would our people remember? That their greatest warriors feared the might of Mer so greatly that we attacked them while they were in a vulnerable state? No, it is our duty to ensure we can never be accused of such a cowardly thing" She responded calmly. Shor-tak spat at ground and merely mumbled curses. But I cared little for their conversation, I merely watched our enemy, as they marched towards us. I turned to check the machination that was mounted on my horse one last time, to ensure it was fastened properly. I had very little knowledge of how the contraption worked. I just knew that when the time came, I was to do what I was taught. And when that time came, my clan and I would be remembered for many years to come. Their army now stood still, waiting for our armies to attack. But no armies of ours will do so this day. "Heed me now, my heroes" A familiar voice boomed from the cliff side behind us. "Heed me and rejoice! For yours is the glory and honour this day." The voice said. I turned to look back upon our High Warlock. He stood bare-chested, his arms outstretched. "Show our foes what it means to war with the Shoranna, Let them feel our strength and quiver. Let them hear our resolve and falter. And let them feel our wrath and fear!" He shouted as a dagger was placed in each of his hands. With as much strength we could muster, we howled into the sky and charged forth towards our foes. As we charged, we could hear their laughs. "They mock us! They dare fucking mock us!" I heard Shor-tak scream. A part of me understood why. Here there stood, an army that withstood our most hardened warriors, and walked away, barely unscathed. They stood undefeated. And now, instead of an army, they find us, alone, charging towards them. "Not for long brother, soon they will know our power" I shouted back.

The High Warlock then began his incantation. Even from this distance, he could be heard with such clarity. His words, though we could not understand them, strengthened our resolve as we rode towards the amused Mer. And then the Sky grew a dark red, as we heard thunder in the distance. "Brace yourselves!" Valnor shouted as lightning began to strike the earth around us. The laughing soon ceased among the Mer as I heard their Officers bark orders to their men, their spears and bows, now at the ready. "Hah, the fools think they can stop us, let us show them otherwise" Shor-tak laughed as I heard the crack of lightning before my world entered into darkness for a brief moment. When my eyes had opened I turned to look back at my contraption. It had worked. For in the long, dark, metallic tendrils of this weapon, there was a bright, red, lightning. I watched for a moment the way it danced from one tendril to another as if it was confused as to how it could be contained. I grinned from ear to ear. The Mer would not survive. I strapped on the gauntlet that was attached to the machine and pressed forward. I could hear now the sounds of disbelief and shock sweep over the army of Mer. Such magic had never been seen before. And if it was, never on such scale. I could smell their fear. Like a fresh corpse, I could smell them shit themselves. "Rejoice Shor-tak, the Mer's day of reckoning has come and we will be the hands that deal it," I shouted. But I received no response. I turned to look at him and cursed the gods. Smoke rose from his body and burn marks covered it to the point that I could not tell if he was the man I once knew or not. The fool had put his gauntlet on too soon. We had been warned to only wear it after we had ensured that With another curse, I swung my head around to Valnor. By the One's mercy, she was still alive, returning to consciousness. "What happened. Did it wo- by the Gods!" She screamed as she stared at Shor-tak, loud enough for it to cut through the sounds of thunder and our horses galloping. "It is too late for him now Valnor, we must complete what we have set out to do," I screamed back, knowing full well that without all three of us, our chances of surviving were now next to nothing. We continued riding as we were caught off guard by a piercing sound. "Banshee's!" I screamed as I looked at the sky and saw a hail of arrows began to fly towards us, whistling in an unnatural manner. I lifted the shield in my right hand as the arrows rained down upon us. We were fast approaching them. A few more seconds more I thought And then it will all be over. I heard a scream as I turned to see Valnor. She was struck by an arrow that had found its way to her stomach. With a growl, she grabbed it and with a howl, pulled it out of her. "All glory and Might to Shoranna!" She screamed as she spat the blood that was pooling in her mouth. We raised our gauntlets towards our foes and with all our might attempted to channel the electricity through it. But nothing came forth. No lightning. No Reckoning. Nothing. I turned back to Valnor. I saw fear in her eyes. The fear that we had failed our people. The fear that I had in myself now. I could feel it travel up my spine as my breathing began to quicken. We had lost.

I take a deep breath. " If this is to be my end" I shouted. "I will not fade away quietly into the dawn. I will fight for all who have come before me, and all who will come after!" I screamed as continued to hold my gauntlet pointed towards the Mer. As we approached I saw their spears at the ready. I would not survive this. We would not survive this. And we were to die as failures. It was then I felt a small jolt run through my gauntlet. I turned back and saw a burnt, disfigured face, look up from its horse, a gauntlet pointed towards the army before us. "For The One who Is." Was all I heard before I felt an overwhelming rush course through my hand. The last thing I saw was lightning fly towards the Mer, and the faces of pure horror befall them as I lost consciousness. I awoke to a grey sky, as the rain began to fall. I tried to move but found myself unable to, realising my horse had collapsed on top of me. After a great struggle, I managed to free myself from underneath its weight. I slowly pushed myself to my knees. As I did a sharp pain shot through my left arm. I looked down and realized that I would not be leaving this field unscathed. The gauntlet had seemed to have melded into my arm, and the skin on my arm had changed from a deep purple, to pitch black. Gritting my teeth I attempted to move it, only to feel another sharp pain shoot through it, this one more intense than the last one. With a groan a knelt there for a moment, before rising to my feet. What I saw gave me relief, but also left me scarred to this very day. The army of Mer lay before me. Disfigured and burning. Some, unfortunately, still had life in them. But all they could do was howl and screech until death came for them. As I gazed at the destruction that had been caused I turned to see Shor-tak's horse. It lay still on the ground, but Shor-tak was not to be found. As I approached the horse, I saw stuck underneath it, a charred corpse. His hand pointing towards the army that once stood there. I stood in silence. I knelt down and lay my palm on what was once his head. "Va'sa noor ven ter nol, Shadar nel dulur ves felar." I whispered. "May the One who Is grant me the blessing of joining you in his hall one day, friend," I said, as I stood and left the remains of what once was a great warrior, but was now only a husk. As I walked through the carnage, the rain began to intensify. As it poured, I heard the faint cries of a familiar voice. Making my way there, I found Valnor laying on the ground, tears of pain flowing down her cheeks. I looked down and saw that not only did her hand burn but so had her legs. "I fear I cannot feel them." She whimpered, barely managing to bear the pain she was in. "Tell me, Brother, did we do it? Did we succeed?" Before I could answer, I heard the sound of hooves, trotting through the mud. I turned and saw a large group of Shoranna approach. At the head of them stood the High Warlock. I smiled and looked at Valnor. "Yes, yes we did" I replied as I turned toward my people and, with great pain lifted my left arm into the sky. "All glory and might be to the Shoranna!"

So yay first post. I wrote this in one sitting. And it was already quite polished IMO (Of course I know it could do with some editing and what not, but I’m fine with it as it is for now.). I’ve tried to write on here once or twice, but never really fully got into it. So lets hope I don’t stop writing cause I think I’m a failure and my whole world is crumbling as I reach an age where I’m being pulled in a million different directions continue posting regularly.

Ciao for now

#fantasy #writing #my writing #firstpostever #fiction #short story

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legion1993 · 6 years ago

Text

i hate horror movies, but now i feel like i have been in one

A/N: i cant believe that i almost watched the Exorcist for the first god damn time in my life... but anyway my big thing is what little i saw in clips of the movie terrified the living daylights out of me... for this story i took a different approach, you could kind of say i did it as a Supernatural DCEU crossover... plucking the reality we all know and ‘love’ and twisting it into an obscure viewpoint. feedback appreciated... this is for @thing-you-do-with-that-thing Kari’s Supernatral Halloween Challenge... this is for you girl!!!!

pairing: Jensen x reader

prompt: “what an excellent day for an exorcism.” ~The Exorcist (1973)

word count:

masterlist

its been several months since it happened, since you & your fiance found yourselves not where you had been but found yourselves in a most terrifying paradox...

but thats way past where i want to start my story, let me take you back to the day it all happened... warning what i am about to tell you may be something that most people would find most horrific and completely bizarre...

Jensen & you for like 3 months now had been going through the motions of being a newly engaged couple... Planning the wedding was slow, steady and stressful.

Jensen is the love of your life, you believe that everything happens & everyone comes into your life for a reason.

Jensen: “babe i think you would look good in any sort of honeymoon attire...”

Jensen said as he came up behind you wrapping his arms around your shoulders placing chaste kisses along your neckline as you browsed some lingerie for your honeymoon...

Y/N: “well i dont think any of this is gonna get any of the big wedding details done. dont worry about what i’m going to wear on our honeymoon love... lets worry about how big of a reception hall we will need...”

so far the plans for your wedding consisted of little to no ideas except on the theme you guys wanted...

Theme: Superhero (based off of the Batman & Catwoman wedding)

you and Jensen throughout your relationship had decided that you guys were like Batman & Catwoman. one of the features of your wedding included a creepy church, similar to the one in Gotham City.

this week you guys decided to check out a few candidates for churches, you guys wanted something creepy yet do-able to fit the entire bat & cat scenario.

Jensen: “babe are we really sure that this Bat & cat scenario is gonna work?”

Y/N: “i am confident that this is going to work, besides we can’t always count on everyone else to plan everything for us... besides this first place is supposedly haunted which sounds gotham-esc.”

Jensen: “babe you’re terrified of anything haunted. are you sure a haunted church is where we want to get married?”

Jensen knew you all too well, he was right, you got scared way way too easily.

Y/N: “Jensen you’re right this is gonna terrify me to shit, but as long as your there i feel safe. now lets go and see what we can do about finding our wedding ceremony venue.”

Jensen looks at the road and notices a thick cloud of fog rolling in.

Jensen: “babe does something feel off to you? like did it just get really foggy?”

You look up from your book of ideas and notice the road becomming really foggy.

Y/n: “yeah it did umm.. lets throw on the GPS, get to the venue and find a hotel..”

after an hour of following the GPS you guys arrived at the venue, from the looks of the outsie it looks very promising.

Jensen: “this almost looks like the real deal, almost like an exact replica of the gotham cathedral.”

thats of course when the fog cleared, revealing you guys to actually be in Gotham City. thats when you guys enter’d the cathedral grounds, confused beyond belief by the sudden change in your surroundings but there was trouble that would soon befall you.

for stepping into the church, both of your appearances shifted almost immediately. almost like you were in a really messed up movie or something.

Jensen: “this is so stupid what the hell happened? how the hell did we get here?”

Y/N: “trust me babe i’m just as confused as you right now... but it loooks like we have our roles to play.”

you & Jensen now fully examining your wardrobe understood, you guys were stuck in Gotham City but looking like Selina Kyle & Bruce Wayne. the scariest moments in life are watching your first horror movie or being in the hospital with a loved one whose dying. but being trapped in a city where lunatics run free and looking more like batman and catwoman take the cake.

Y/N: “Babe i recognize this, usually for things that are unusual i was gonna do everything possible to get this venue but it will be alot worse if this is what we are gonna be. Jay we need to do something, we need to hide Gotham’s 5 hours of terror act is about to begin.”

ah yes the 5 hours of terror, Gotham implemented an act or a lay a while after both Arkham asylum & arkham ciy failed to contain all the crime. the GCPD implemented together with the judges panel at the courthouse came up with the idea to allow 5 hours where crime is completely legal between the hours of midnight and 5am.

Right now in Gotham or wherever the hell you were it was 11:56pm... when you and Jensen left the car it was barely 6pm.

Jensen: “trust me babe if something is gonna go...”

at that moment an alarm sounded, which was immediately followed by a bunch of sounds filling the air, you & Jensen left the car locking it running into the church.

Jensen: “babe, i love the venue if we ever make it back to our reality, we are so picking this venue! now, you had said that the church was supposedly haunted...”

it was time for you to give your fiance the history lesson of a lifetime, its not everyday you get to explain something rarely known to anyone!

Y/N: “this church was built in 1790 by the Pseudo-Immortal Mister whisper, who designed the place using Gothic architecture to imbue it with magical properties, so it could trap massive amounts of souls. his plan was to release a deadly plague through the cathedral’s glass that would contaminate and kill most of Gotham’s population, but he had to wait hundreds of years to accomplish this... when the time came Mr. Whisper was stopped by Batman & the plague was removed from the cathedral by the GCPD... it has also been the sight of several demonic entities and of course suicides...”

Jensen now very impressed with your knowledge started to take a walk through the cathedral. you spun round in the center of the cathedral.

Y/N: “its so pretty here, this building is amazing, despite its unruly original purpose. this architecture is incredible! Jay, i want this to be where we say our vows... but the first hour barely started its gonna be a long night.”

Jensen: “well lets get settled...”

as soon as you guys got settled, a bunch of low intense growls could be heard surrounding you both on all sides. turning around both of you saw that you were surrounded by all the horrible main badies from every part of gothams horrific past.

Y/N: “uh, Jensen, we may want to leave now...”

Jensen: “Y/N, look at your belt!”

you look down and see a whip along with several other things...

Jensen: “maybe that will be useful..”

you pulled out the whip & felt yourself becoming very familiar with it, almost like you had used it before. you struck it against the ground in cross strikes, making everyone back away...

Scarecrow: “dont think that this little whip excuses you from anything, Selina, kill the bat...”

you knew what to say, but you had to make sure Jensen knew there was no disrespect & that this wasn’t real...

Y/N: “now now crane, we don’t need to do anything hostile after all i wasnt the one who used your fear gas the wrong way... isnt that right Dent.?.”

Two-face: “thats it pretty kitty, your gonna die, i’m not even gonna consult my coin...”

Scarecrow: “dent, is what the kitty says true?”

Two-face: “yeah its true but i didnt do it alone.”

Scarecrow: “well it seems that we are at an impass...”

Y/N: “i have an idea, you deal with these infidels and i can leave with the bat in peace...”

Scarecrow just looked at you, you were scared but you were prepared, you also were putting on a brave face. It was hard to be brave when up against some of Gotham’s most formidible foes.

Scarecrow: “you know Kitty, your love for the bat is a little concerning and on tonight of all nights you choose to align yourself with this bat over your own kind...”

you laugh & begin to feel your inner feline when you realize that playing the role of your character may help you to survive. with a purr you back right up and end up against Jensen.

Y/N: “crane darling look. we all know that you are just a paranoid psycho but if you have any sort of humanity left know this. i aligned myself with the bat cause we are in love...”

Jensen now understood what you were doing why you said what you did and after everything that happened it was clear that you were still you...

Jensen: “Selina has a point, we are in love in fact we would like for you guys to leave so we can continue our romantic evening...”

Two-face: “i dont think scarecrow would allow that... then again he has always been clueless... aint that right kitty...”

now with Two-face looking at you violently, you began to wonder what he was reffering to then like a ton of bricks it hit you...

Scarecrow: “what is he referring to kitty?”

Y/N: “he is referring to how i have helped batman put some of you in the past... but i didnt say anything to save my own hide. i said what i did, i technically lied to save the bat... i lied to save him cause like me he roams alone searching for our next prey or you know happiness but our cause has always been the same.”

at that moment scarecrow released his fear gas on you. your worst fears were realized all over again... but at the same time as the fear gas hit you a demon possessed you...

it was only Jensen who seemed to really notice the difference, who seemed to realize that you were not you...

Jensen (through his hands over his nose/mouth): “what did you spray her with? was that black stuff part of it?”

Scarecrow: “what are you talking about? bats, i would answer fast if i were you.”

Jensen took 1 very strong look at you as scarecrow was generous enough to hand him a gas mask so Jensen could breathe.

(*yes i know this story doesnt make much sense right now, but it will soon in one way or another all the pieces will fall together 1 by 1...*)

Jensen (through gas mask): “there are rumors of this church being haunted is that true...”

Scarecrow: “of course its haunted, but that doesnt mean... wait, you said black stuff right...”

Jensen (thru gas mask): “Yeah, why?”

Scarecrow gestures to Dent who approaches Jensen with a glower to his face.

Two-face: “come with me bats..”

Jensen (through gas mask): “crane watch her like a hawk...”

Jensen followed Dent to the security room, where he then was able to see what happened all but 5 minutes ago...

Jensen: “okay theres the fear gas, and theres a black smoke. its real, its all real...”

Two-face: “what the hell is with that black smoke bats...”

Jensen: “thats what i’ve been trying to tell you... Selina is not only in danger of the fear gas but also from a demon possessing her... Dent as a favor for an old friend can you get crane to lead everyone out of here so i can expel this demon?”

Dent: “okay bruce i’ll do it but on 1 conditon...”

Jensen: “whats that?”

Dent: “put me back in prison far away from crane and his band of bad guys...”

Jensen: “fair enough but why do you want to be away from them?”

Dent: “cause crane wronged me... and he wants to kill me... crane said he was going to tear me in 2 if my “coin” ever got out of line again.”

Jensen: “fair enough but promise me you will try to turn over a new leaf old friend...”

Dent: “will do old friend...”

Jensen & Dent now walk out of the security room & back to the others... you or rather your body had now become very very flexible as Crane was trying to get you off the wall...

Crane: “okay she is seriously messed up...”

Dent: “crane we need to get out of here, on to the next location while the night is still young.”

Crane: “your right dent, it seems we are at an impass bats... tell you what we will go and let you deal with the cat, but know this: on the day you marry dont expect any mercy from us for that day will bring your death.”

Crane & everyone else left, Dent followed last leaving a note with his location on it with Jensen as per to their arrangement... Jensens eyes kept tracking your very fast movements as he looked for something that he could possibly do to save your life.

thats when he saw it, laying on the ground, your whip it must have fallen from your grasp when you were hit with the fear gas and a demon.

Jensen: “baby, i’m so sorry about this...”

Jensen ran at it sliding as he picked i up. he began looking around the interior of the church till he spotted it, the holy water. (this next bit is not entirely thought out i just hope it works...)

Jensen: “hey demonic bitch, your possessing my fiance & THATS NOT OKAY WITH ME... now with every last breath in me i’ll save her. now prepare to fry bitch...”

Demon(in your body): “always the hero, never the villan, i’ll make your fiance tear your body to shreds, you know she’s awake in here she’s screaming for you to save her. she’s also very scared. if your thinking about going for that holy water, dont cause i’m not done playing with yoou yet...”

before she said her last word, Jensen was already on his way to the basin of holy water with your whip. Jensen tossed the whip in the basin to let it saturate the whip.

Demon (in your body): “you son of a bitch that is gonna cost you your life.”

Jensen: “not in my fiance’s body it wont... cause your not gonna be round much longer...”

as you got closer, Jensen timed it out so he would pull out the whip just as you got to him.

Jensen: “taste this you demonic bitch.”

Jensen pulled out the whip covered in holy water & flung it at your lunging form making sure that you were done up in the whip covered in holy water.

Jensen: “babe if you can hear me through that demon, fight it, i cant loose the only girl ive ever loved to some lousy demon. come back to me & forgive me for this babe.”

Jensen took your form and slammed you to the ground taking the rest of the whip and wrapping it round your neck forcing your body to look at him.

Jensen: “exorciamous te, omnis imundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis asversarii, omnis congregato insecta diabolica, ergo draco malidicte, eclesia secura tuam facias libertate, te regamus, audios bitch...”

at that moment the demon left your body, you were now unconcious, which made Jensen not only release the whip from your neck, but also made him kneel beside your body.

Jensen: “babe, babe, come on wake up please, baby please... i love you...”

Jensen at that moment kissed you & thats when both of you woke up with a jolt in the car on the side of the road.

Jensen: “did you also...”

Y/N: “dream that i was possessed by a demon and you choked me with catwoman’s whip covered in holy water and somehow we ended up in Gotham city and say scarecrow and others... yes i did but how...”

Jensen shrugs his shoulders...

Jensen: “what an excellent day for an exorcism, hey babe?”

you didnt answer but your head spun round in a 180... this sight scared the living hell out of Jensen.

Jensen: “not again, we are going free you from this demon forever babe i promise...”

driving as fast as Jensen could he got the rest of the way to the church parking lot, where your body in response gave a low hiss, causing Jensen to open his door and get out of the car.

Y/N (possessed): “please dont pretend like im still your fiance sugar. you know she’s screaming in here for you right. she wants you to save her. but i’m not gonna let you...”

Jensen: “i’m addressing the entity in my fiance who the hell are you & why are you in my fiance?”

Y/N (possessed): “my name is not important, but my boss has plans for your wife’s body... he plans on breeding her body to make a million more of me...”

Jensen: “your boss is a sick psychotic bastard and he can leave his dick in his own ass... now follow me if you want to kill me...”

Jensen ran into the church where it became reality that you would soon follow.

Jensen: “excuse me priest but i have a situation.. my fiance is possessed by a demon and i need help... do you guys have chains or something that i can use to save her...”

Priest: “well we did find something in the center of the church the other day... maybe you can use it to save your beloved...”

Jensen watches as the priest goes around the corner and comes back out with the whip, the one from the dream... The priest’s yes widen as your possessed form comes bounding through the doors of the church... Jensen reaches his hands out as the priest tosses the whip to Jensen.

Jensen: “can you bless this baptismal pool so i can save my fiance...”

The priest nods knowing what Jensen was going through and the terrified look on his face the priest knew that only love could bring about the clensing that is needed to save the fiance of this young man.

Priest: “of course try to lure her over here...”

the face that the priest was blessing the pool and believed Jensen in the first place was a miracle. Jensen stood right at the alter blocking the priest and what he was doing. making sure he had the whip hidden your body started to run up the aisle.

Demon: “im gonna skin you alive...”

Jensen: “not once im through with you...”

thats when the plan took place the priest took a 2 second leave of absense to hide nearby so Jensen could use the whip to trip your body into the pool... the demon possessing you shrieked as it hit the water, Jensen jumped it after your form, the priest came back out using his latin he sanctified the water and the area surrounding it to help expel the demon from your body.

Jensen: “Priest you may want to look away now, cause what i need to do is not gonna be pretty.”

Priest: “do what you need to do its to save the one you love God isnt going to discriminate for this action...”

Jensen nods and unleashes the whip around your neck, your body once more shrieked... Jensen pulled your body down into the water and started the exorcism stage again.

Jensen: “baby im gonna save you, may God have mercy on my soul for drowning the possessing demon from my fiance. exorciamous te, omnis imundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis asversarii, omnis congregato insecta diabolica, ergo draco malidicte, eclesia secura tuam facias libertate, te regamus, audios bitch...”

after about 4 minutes of Jensen holding your convulging body in the water your form stops moving... Jensen pulls your body out of the water and watches as the priest comes back with a blanket...

Jensen lays your body on the blanket as he carries you out of the water.

Jensen: “forgive me father for i sinned in your house.”

Priest: “no need to seek forgiveness my child, you were saving the one you love, i appreciate your courage and bravery.”

Jensen smiles lightly as he starts chest compressions on you... after 5 minutes you start choking & coughing up water and your breathing is eratic... but Jensen wraps you in the blanket bringing you into his worried grasp.

Jensen: “thank you priest i cant ever thank you enough...”

Priest: “no need my son thats what im here for... now what had brought you both here in the first place.”

Jensen: “we were searching for our wedding ceremony venue...”

Priest: “i would be honored for you both to use this church as your venue for free... the happiness of having you both married is how you can thank me...”

Jensen: “thank you thats very generous... is there any hotels near by where i can stay at with my love.?.”

Priest: “of course just 3 miles up the road... tell them John sent you...”

Jensen stands up holding you against him...

Jensen: “knowing that the love of my life is alright is good enough for me...”

with you still wrapped in that blanket now craddled in Jensen’s arms Jensen places you in the front seat buckling you in as he shuts your door going and climbing in on his side he dares not mention anything to you.

to this day you know only what you were told by Jensen A.K.A your husband.. yes you got married not but 3 months later... it was a magical time... but what truly happened that day still haunts both you & him.

~in each of us is a darkness, sometimes we can fight it, sometimes we cant... in the end we all have a choice, to keep fighting the darkness, or to let it win...~

#kari's supernatural halloween challenge #jensen x reader

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moonbelt · 7 years ago

Text

»mind over matter

↳ neighbors to lovers au

⇢ pairing: jaebum | reader

⇢ genre: fluff + slight angst + sexual themes

⇢ word count: 9.704

⇢ description: as it turns out your cat loves your neighbors apartment more than yours. consequently it happens to belong to the new neighbor dude that’s stuck comforting you after a measly break-up.

author’s note: born out of this request, and the sheer need to read a neighbor au fic haha. i hope you enjoy it anon! i really hope i did this justice!!

It takes only a moment for your life to change right before your eyes. And although you had never been one to abide or listen to corny quotes ripped off the internet, your step-mother had framed more than half of them around your apartment. In an attempt to bring "life" into your dingy residence. You hadn't even realized that they could, in fact, be true. Actual facts.

You had long since accepted the fact that there were always greater things at work. You were in control of your life but not that of others. Everything had a cycle, a plan, and that didn't by default make it any fair. Nothing in life ever was, your mother had drilled into your head, but that didn't stop you from resenting it.

You resented the things you could not change and loathed the things you could. Like how you could've prevented this whole shit-show from happening if you'd opened your eyes a little wider and seen all the thorns beneath the roses. The thorns being your ex-boyfriend. Major emphasis on the ex because you wouldn't be caught dead crawling back to that bastard, Theo.

Theo. It all led to him.

Well not necessarily everything, more like anything that had to do with your romantic and, in a long round-about, extended way, your social life. A deep shudder racks through your body as you begin to think about him. Oh God, you wanted so badly to run out of your apartment and back to his and smack his head so hard he saw the stars all the way from the Upside Down.

So maybe you're being a bit overdramatic when you say: All the moments that have happened so far in your life were, inevitably, leading to shit. But in no way are you not entitled to say it.

Your boss had nitpicked everything you'd done all day, creeping steadily up your already tensed nerves. One of your colleagues — René — was always within earshot when this happened, like glue you couldn't scrape off no matter how hard you tried. Always ready to throw a sly remark your way every time your boss had something to complain about. The only thing stopping your fist from connecting firm with her jaw was the fact that you prided yourself on having more class than her.

This decision that you wrongfully, and albeit naively, made came back to bite you deep in the ass.

Reason one as to why you're cooped up in your small apartment alone on a Friday night. Keyword in that sentence is: alone. You suppose that the blame doesn't lie with René alone. It's more eighty percent Theo and twenty percent René. Theo. Even his name begins to remind you of quickly decomposing poop. You would never have guessed him to be a cheater, but then again you had been blinded by whatever the heck it was you'd seen in him.

You shudder for the nth time that night as you bring your blanket closer to your chin and sigh into your chest. This whole situation is stupid and you're positive that in three months you'll look back at it and laugh. But not now. Now you'd rather throw yourself into watching your favorite French melodrama titled Piégé.

At first, you'd only started watching it in a bid to get more accustomed to the language as you were taking a French course in college and you did not want to fail. But it had been approximately eight months since you'd graduated university and you were under no obligation to be watching it anymore. In fact, you have no idea how you even got into Piégé in the first place, but at least it's helping you attempt to forget what a shitty boyfriend Theo had been. Never mind that the series is filled to the brim with unnecessary drama. But, hey! You'd rather watch the drama about other people's lives than dwell on the drama brewing in yours.

Turning your attention back to your laptop that's gingerly placed on your lap, you try to get immersed back into the film. The main character — Alphonsine Vernoux — is saying, no screaming, at her boyfriend to get out of her apartment because she "can't be with him because our parents would never approve." Her boyfriend, a man named Jean-Louis refuses and long story short — because there's a lot of back and forth squabbles that ultimately mean the same thing; Alphonsine and Jean-Louis have really hot make-out sex.

The scene though is disrupted by your phone beeping off with the arrival of a new text message. It's from Youngjae, your best and only friend from work. For a moment, you're tempted to ignore it and watch Jean-Louis push Alphonsine up against the wall in sexy frustration. But alas, you decide against it, Youngjae probably has a really good reason for seeking out your companionship, even if it does come in the form of a text and my actual speaking.

Youngjae: Did you know a Tarantula spider can survive for more than two years without food?? [9:32 pm]

You fight a laugh as you think of an answer. And you'll admit, you had no idea this particular breed of spider could survive that long. You figure he must be watching another documentary because this is a reoccurring theme. Almost every(?) night, Youngjae sends you threads of rapid-fire texts narrating the things he found out from animal documentaries, that he's definitely already watched a thousand times but still is beyond fascinated by. Usually, you also sent him texts about Piégé but today you weren't feeling it.

You: really??? thats cool. maybe i should hope to be a tarantula in my next life? [9:33 pm]

Youngjae: lol who says you even have a next life? might be ur last one right now [9:36 pm]

Youngjae: oh hey, i was gonna ask you. are you and theo down to go watch a movie tomorrow? that new horror movie you were wanting to see is playing [9:36 pm]

You stare at your phone for a good ten minutes wondering what exactly you should send as a reply, berating yourself for having not yet told Youngjae about the things that transpired between you and Theo. That you caught Theo in bed with René roughly a week ago and you doubt you even want to tell him.

You know he won't pity you, Youngjae would most likely feel saddened by the events but not pity directed at you. Maybe pity directed at Theo? Because he damn sure lost the second-best thing that happened in his life, the first best thing being Ara, your cat. And it's not like you're heartbroken and devastated by what happened, you feel more sad about it than anything. Sad and tired. Five months with that dude and it all amassed to absolutely nothing.

The only thing that seems able enough to break you out of your trance state is the loud blaring of your alarm clock as it reads you the time. Nine forty-five. Time for you to feed your cat. Your cat that always seems to magically disappear once you get home from work. You groan. Ara had always been fonder of Theo than you, after all, he had been the one to pick her out. You had wanted a dog but as always, Theo had convinced you. And even though at first, you'd hated how Ara scratched almost everything in sight, she'd grown on you and now you wished she'd done the same.

Pushing yourself off the sofa, you make your way to your apartment searching for Ara. Usually, she likes to hang in dark places, ergo your closets, but after you make two rounds of opening and closing every drawer or door without finding her, you begin to think that something has gone amiss.

Alphonsine Vernoux is still going on whatever new drama has befallen her. She talks in rapid French that you don't understand completely because of the lack of your trusty subtitles. Well not talking, more screaming than anything. She always seems to do more screaming than actual talking, but maybe that's just you.

"Merde!" She cries now, and if the broken understanding of the language is anything to go by. Fuck! is the translation.

Fuck it really is. You can't lose a cat. Correction: you can't lose your cat. You love Ara too much and although the love isn't reciprocated in the same way you want, you can't be responsible for the death of a good ole cat.

Okay, so maybe the 'good' is an oversimplification but you don't want the blood of anything on your hands, with a little exception for Theo, you're not above getting into a catfight with him (which you technically already did, although the damage was mainly done with words.) Calling Theo a bloody bastard and airing out all his dirty laundry (mainly his nauseating habits that you'd pushed to the side) to dry in front of his new fling, René was as much metaphoric blood you were willing to have sprayed on your hands. Maybe you were being more influenced by your dramas than you thought?

But back to the real point at hand, you do not want ill to befall anyone (apart from Theo). And especially not your cat.

You're so far gone with searching every nook and cranny of your little apartment for a hint of Ara that you don't notice the incessant knocking that has started tapping up your door. Quickly, you drop the pile of clothes you'd thrown out of your wardrobe, as you had raided to look for Ara, and head over to your front door.

Peering up through the peephole, you try to decipher who's there. Hopefully not Theo. He'd tried stopping by twice since you broke up with him and it always ended in you telling him to get the hell out and he claiming to have made a "grave mistake" and all that jazz that you do not believe which leads to you yelling at him to leave again. Jesus Christ, you were turning into a miniature Alphonsine, the only thing missing was the hot sex. Which you weren't getting any time soon and even if you were, it sure as fuck wasn't coming from Theo.

But regardless of this new discovery, you're still in no mood to see him today. You already have to deal with him every day at work and you'd rather not bring that hell of a mess home.

So, when you pull the door open the door, you're somewhat already preparing yourself to clash face-to-face with your ex. Ready to send him away again because, for the love of God, you're not going to hand him a second chance even if your life depends on it. But instead of Theo, it's someone completely different. Someone that's holding a sleepy Ara in his hands, scratching her head lightly.

"Oh my god," you say, reaching for Ara and taking her cautiously into your arms. You know better than to try and disrupt her sleepy state. "Thank you so much. I had no idea she even left the apartment."

The man waves away your gratitude with a shrug, smiling in a blithe manner. "It's no problem at all. I'm not sure if you noticed but she likes coming to my apartment a lot."

This is news to you but you don't want to seem as incompetent as you feel in front of this stranger, so you force a smile unto your face and try to relax the tensions in your shoulders.

"Really? I'm sorry but I have to ask, who are you?"

A look of embarrassment washes over his features as he soaks in your words. Maybe you were too harsh, calling him out like that? But you truly didn't know him at all. There was no way you'd ever forget a face like his, you don't think. He didn't have rough around the edges, rogue looks like Theo (or any of your exes, to be honest) but he had a sort of laidback and soft vibe with black locks falling short off his shoulders in smooth bouncy waves.

Clearing his throat, he replies. "I'm your neighbor, Jaebum. You can call me Jae for short. I moved in about four weeks ago? Sorry I wasn't able to introduce myself earlier, but yeah, your cat likes to come over to my place and at first I really did think she was a stray, that's why I've been taking care of her anytime she showed up but had I known, I would've never tried to impose on you like that, that was—"

You have a feeling that he's not going to stop rambling unless you do the honors of helping him. So, you interrupt.

"It's okay, don't worry about it... Jae. She can do that sometimes. I really should get her a collar or something."

Since she'd mostly stayed at Theo's place and not yours, you hadn't thought about getting her one before. Theo didn't want it on her and you hadn't really thought about the possibility of losing her. Mainly because the events that surrounded you bringing Ara to your place had been unnerving. You'd found Theo in bed with Rene and subsequently, you had stormed out of there (after giving him a full piece of your broken mind) with Ara in your hands and your car keys already fumbling with trying to open your car.

"What's her name?"

Jaebum — Jae — is the one to shake you out of your thoughts, looking genuinely curious to know the answer to his question. You figure there's nothing wrong with telling him, especially since he'd been kind enough to take care of her in your negligence.

"Ara," you finally say, giving him a dry smile. "Thank you for taking care of her for me in my absence."

He shrugs again, running his hand through his hair and you watch as Ara meows as she stretches her body towards him. You still in your movements of scratching the top of her head. She never does that. At least, she's never done that to you, she'd always craved Theo's attention and now you see, she craves Jaebum's.

Maybe she's going through a phase where she only wants male attention?

You think it'll be rude to send him on his way without making small talk so after a while of restraining Ara in your arms, you fix your gaze back to him and say:

"So... do you have any cats?"

"Yeah. Three but one is staying over at my sisters for the meantime."

Wow. You don't think you could ever be responsible for more than two lives, you could barely remind yourself to have three meals a day and had to set timers to feed Ara because, god willing, you are bound to forget to one way or another. So, for that reason alone, you begin to hold this neighbor of yours on a higher pedestal. Taking care of three cats doesn't sound as comfortable or easy, you admire him for that.

"You must really love cats then," you snort to yourself at how obvious you're being. Of course, he loves cats, he has three.

He nods his head, probably realizing that this is his cue to leave. "Cats are amazing. Anyways, it was nice meeting you..."

"y/n," you fill in for him.

Jae smiles at your name as he continues on. "It was nice meeting you, y/n. If Ara ever needs to hang out with other cats or anything like that, mine seem to love her more than me."

Oh, how you can relate. Ara seems to like everyone else on the planet but you, her caregiver. You frown. Maybe you're feeding her food she doesn't like? You make a mental note to research more on cat food before you turn in for the night.

"Nice meeting you too, Jae. Hopefully, we see each other sometime."

Against your own words, you do not, in fact, see each other sometime after that. If not for the fact that you're mainly preoccupied with due dates from work, you think you would have gone out of your way to make sure it happened because contrary to what your heart was telling you, you thought he was kind of cute. Well, not kinda. You really thought he was cute.

And if it had been of your own will, you would've long ago tried to ask him out on a date because hell, your single and ready to move past your ex. But your boss has ridiculously been on your case the past few weeks and by the luck of your fate, you've been paired, for the latest project, with René. René that refuses to let a day go by without rubbing into your face the "amazing" sex she's having with Theo, not that you even care. Fuck, you really want to deck her. How can someone be so un-classy about having your sloppy seconds? You'd never know.

Either way, René doesn't seem to be any help with the project. You've tried to work with her, although you really want to shove a stiletto heel through her eye for always going on and on about your fucking ex, she is adamant on not being productive or helpful. You wonder how she even got her job as a secretary in the first place. If you were the boss you'd never hire her. But in any case, you're stuck with her unhelpful ass for the next two weeks until the presentation to pitch a new update would be held.

"Ugh," you sigh to yourself as you lay on your living room floor, staring idly at your laptop. "This isn't going anywhere."

True to form, René had forgotten to send you the age demographics of people that had been using your company's app in the last six months. And without that vital information, you were stumped with how to prepare your speech. You wish you could call her and ask her to email it to you ASAP, but you know from experience that she would either ignore it or send you something completely irrelevant. What did you ever do to warrant such unprofessionalism from her, you wonder.

Flipping on your back, you stare absentmindedly at your ceiling. Maybe you should go out? It is a Wednesday night and you're almost certain that you're not going to clubbing today but you want to get out. So, after minutes of deliberating, you decide that you would go jogging. It's been a long time since you'd done anything active, you preferred to stay inside and watch stuff. But Piégé isn't scheduled to release a new episode until tomorrow, and you're bored.

Quickly, you go back to your room and try to find your exercise clothes that are hiding behind more used clothing. When you open your closet, you're met with the piercing blue eyes of Ara and your skin jumps off your bones.

"Oh my god, Ara," you say after catching your breath. "Why do you always do this."

These days she seems to be sulking. Maybe she's finally realizing that Theo is a no-show and you're all she's got. She refuses to allow you to carry her anymore and you think she's going through some kind of withdrawal phase. The only time she comes out of her dark places is to eat or to sit in front of the front door. Waiting for what? You don't know. But you guess she might be waiting for a long time.

Gingerly, you lift Ara up and make fast work with finding your clothes. Once you do, you strip out of your pajamas and change into your athletic leggings, a long-sleeved shirt and tie your shoes. Ara has made her way to the living room and once again has resumed her spot in front of the door. Christ, maybe you should call Theo and have the two of you work out details about the rearing of Ara.

Maybe two weeks with him and then two weeks with you? But then again, he hasn't actually asked about Ara at all since the breakup, so you wonder if he even cares that she's gone. You check to make sure her collar is on her neck before you grab your phone, keys, and earphones. Even though you're sure she won't care, you blow Ara a kiss right before you close the front door and lock it.

As you're walking past the apartment next to yours — room 321, to be exact — their door opens and out comes Jae. He has a leash connected to two collars that are respectively connected to one white cat and another black one. You still have at least a few seconds to dash down the stairs without him seeing you but you find your feet remaining where they are and you find yourself saying:

"Oh, hey!" There's so much excitement in your voice that you inwardly cringe at it. "Long time no see."

He makes a loud noise of surprise when his gazes rests on you, his hands reaching out to clutch his chest. "Shit, that scared me."

You laugh at him. His hair is hidden behind a gray beanie and it helps you see his face clearly and you notice the little black dot above one of his eyes, it's cute — you think.

"Sorry," you say, not sorry at all.

He knows this and his mouth breaks into a low smirk. He makes a move to run his hand through his hair but stops halfway when he remembers that he cannot because of the beanie. "Are you heading out?"

You nod your head. "Yeah, this body isn't going to work out itself."

"I'm taking Kunta and Odd for a walk, mind if I join you?" He points at each cat when he says their name and they perk up when he says it.

You suddenly feel like going back to your apartment and hugging Ara, but you know she'd probably scratch your face against the skinship. So, you grit your teeth and focus on the cats in front of you instead.

"Not at all. Do you have a route you usually take?" You ask as the two of you walk down the stairs, Kunta and Odd in Jaebum's arms.

"It's a pretty simple one. From here to the park and back."

Fucking hell. The park is at least thirty minutes away by car, imagine how far it'll be by walking? You groan at the thought. This is the first time you're going jogging in months and by god, you need to take it slow or else you'll end up passed out before you even make a round trip. Jaebum must realize your distaste about the prospect of making a fifty-minute walk because he offers to cut it short. Faster than you'd like, you agree to his adjusting. Maybe in a few weeks, you'd be able to, but right now in the state that you're in, you doubt you'll last.

Outside the August air is not as hot as you thought it'd be so you're thankful that you had enough sense to wear a long shirt because if not, you'd be tempted to run back inside your apartment and watch reruns of Piégé in the comfort of your bed. Jae sets his cats on the ground, oblivious to your internal turmoil, and begins to lead the way. Easily, you fall into step with him.

You find out that he's a very fast walker as you try to keep a conversation going. You ask him about his job and find out that he owns a pizzeria, to your astonishment. You'd always wanted to be your own boss, sadly that was a bust. He tells you that running his own place is pretty fun minus a few exceptions but it was a family business so, once he graduated college his father passed it on.

He asks you about what you do for fun and you tell him about your obsession — love — for Piégé with a pride in your voice. Although you tell him that you can't really watch it without subtitles since your French is still lacking, he seems blown by it regardless and you feel satisfied for some reason. Like you've impressed him a little.

After almost a good fifteen minutes of keeping the same pace and you feel as if you're finally getting the hang of things, he breaks into a run. You think you can keep up, you're not that out of shape but before you know it, you're struggling to release a breath and you're about ready to collapse on the concrete ground in defeat. Even his freaking cats have better stamina than you, damn.

"You okay there, y/n?" Jaebum asks when he catches a glimpse of you almost knocking your knees against each other. Fuck, this is embarrassing.

Struggling you manage a response. "Definitely. I'm a just a little... peachy."

Jaebum snickers at you, folding his arms across his chest and halting his steps to allow you calm down. "Really? Wouldn't have guessed."

You're tempted to throw him the finger because you know he is mocking you but instead, you squat down and place your head in between your hands. It hasn't even been thirty minutes and you already want to quit, how the hell is he doing it? You raise your head and give him a once-over. In his black t-shirt and matching basketball shorts, you think, he definitely looks the part of a healthy runner.

"Are you checking me out?"

Whoa, you are most definitely not. Okay, maybe you are. But it's not like you can help it. He has pretty defined muscles and his smile sort of does something to you, you're not exactly sure what, but you'd be a fool to deny how sexy he looks. He doesn't come off as cocky or overbearing. His looks are more soft and easy on your eyes, a good kind of feeling.

"So, what if I am?" You cock an eyebrow at him.

He doesn't expect your reply. You know this because, after a few seconds of him looking out of his element, he clears his throat and says:

"I was not expecting that."

You scoff lightly at him, standing back to your full height and dusting imaginary dust off your leggings. He's cute, you think for maybe the second(?) time that night.

"I'm ready to continue if you are," you pull your hair strands together and tie them into a ponytail.

"You're telling me," Jaebum laughs softly at the smirk dancing on your lips. "Bet you'll need another break in fifteen minutes."

Rolling your eyes, you pat his shoulder playfully. "Try me."

And try you he does. If you thought he was running fast before, he turns into damn sonic in front of your eyes. Holy shit, he's fast. You know now that he's toying with you, making you eat your own words. You kick yourself in the shin because of this, if you had kept your mouth shut, none of this would have happened and you wouldn't be begging for another rest-stop not even ten minutes later.

Jaebum guffaws at you as you crash with a heap onto a wooden bench littering around the plaza. Your muscles are crying for help, you think you might need to order an Uber to take you home because this running thing just isn't going to work out.

"Try me," he repeats your words but with a mocking undertone. "You're way too cute, you know."

Apparently, you don't know because you can feel your ears getting hotter by the second. Keep it together, y/n! You scream to yourself. You're not some high schooler. You've successfully graduated university; you are an adult. Being called cute should not get you lightheaded, goddamn! But your words fall on deaf ears because your body is still heating up, you effectively blame it on the lack of oxygen reaching your head and nothing else. Of course, nothing else.

"Shut up," you mumble mainly to yourself but he hears it and breaks into another fit of laughter. "I'll have you know, I'm usually a good runner. I'm just not in the mood today."

Jae raises his hands up in faux surrender. "Hey, hey. I believe you."

You want to chuck your sneakers at him but restrain yourself because you know there has to be something that he's bad at and when you find it, by gods, you would never let it go. You laugh to yourself. Yep, all you have to do is survive this one embarrassing moment and you're sure the world would be kind enough to repay back for your deed.

After all, life was all about the moments. And contrary to how the moments in your life were adding up about two weeks ago, this time the moments in your life, you were sure, are going to lead to you getting sweet, sweet revenge on Jae. He can have his laugh right now but you know in the end, you'll be the only one laughing... you hope.

It takes a while for him to sober up but when he does, he squats down and gives his attention to Kunta and Odd. He treats them tenderly and talks to them in a voice akin to what someone would use on a baby. You're not paying any mind to what he's saying until you hear your name fall from his lips. Much to your dismay, he is telling his cats all about your blunder and how he thinks you'll probably "pass out any minute now."

You huff out a breath and repeat your mantra to yourself. The universe was going to slip up and let you see the thing he was bad at, but until then you resign yourself to instead try your best at catching your breath.

You watch Jaebum interact with his cats and a small portion of your resolve fades away. You can tell that he really does adore them and for a moment you long for Ara. She's soft and cuddly whenever she allows you to hug her, you feel at peace thinking about it. Definitely one of the only good things that came out of your past relationship.

Contrary to the laugh bubbling in his chest, Jae is the one to suggest that the two of you head back to the apartment building without completing the route. You guess he's taking pity on your exhausted state because you simply can't do it anymore. The walk back is better and you're somewhat thankful that he doesn't start running halfway through.

He asks you, tentatively, about your job and it takes you several moments before you decide to tell him about your position as a management and research officer at a fashion wear company. The brand is considerably popular and you've seen more than a handful of people wearing the outfits your company produces. It fills you with joy that you're able to work there, although these days that joy has been replaced by laced displeasure, courtesy of Theo and René.

You don't tell him about them though, it's not like you want to air out all your problems, but you tell him about Youngjae — your silver lining of sorts. You tell him about the days where Youngjae is the only thing that keeps you smiling with his new discoveries from animal documentaries. Youngjae and you have been friends since your freshman year at college and you think it's a miracle that the two of you managed to get accepted into the same workplace.

Jaebum points out his favorite coffee shop as you near the apartment complex. It's a big one, the biggest store on the block, and you know this because you pick your late coffee fix from there when you're heading to work every morning. He likes his coffee black, no sugar and you gag over-exaggeratedly.

"What? It tastes good," he says incredulously.

You shake your head remorsefully, appalled by his lack of quality coffee taste. "It tastes like liquid shit and you know it."

He concedes. "Okay, maybe it does. But it keeps me awake at least."

Smiling smugly at him, you revel in your win. "Still tastes like shit."

The two of you keep talking about seemingly irrelevant things; his favorite genre of music, your love for ice cream in the winter, his favorite author — which happens to be William Shakespeare. You were tempted to laugh at him and call him pretentious until you saw the admiration glowing in his eyes; it was enough to make you reevaluate and let him go on a full expedition of his favorite works by him.

You don't realize you've been listening to him describe this love for at most eight minutes until you're in front of your apartment door and it's time to say goodbye but you kind of want to keep listening to him. It's something he really cares about, you can tell and for a reason, you don't know, it fills you with a sort of contentedness watching him talk about Shakespeare with such fervor.

Leaning on your apartment door, you're about to pitch in your own opinion to something he's said when your gaze catches someone walking up behind Jae. Oh, fuck shit. Groaning, you close your eyes. This cannot be happening. Not now, not here. You aren't starring in a melodrama, so why does it feel like you've been assigned the role of the main character?

"y/n!" The last person on earth that you want to see says with so much excitement in his voice you want to hurl yourself at the sun.

You can sense the confusion rolling off Jaebum in waves. You don't want him to be caught in the crossfire that's bound to happen between Theo and you. You're not very good with confrontations, blame Alphonsine for teaching you it was best to scream it all out when push comes to shove. You peel open your eyes and focus them unwaveringly on Jaebum.

"It was really nice hanging—"

"y/n! It's me, Theo," he repeats, coming closer and sidling up to you. "I came with flowers."

And what the fuck are flowers supposed to do? Flowers aren't going to keep his dick from finding the nearest trash can and dumping his load in it. God, you wonder, whatever you had ever seen in him?

Jae furrows his eyebrows in concentration, trying to piece who Theo is to you. Kunta and Odd are quickly becoming restless, wanting nothing more but to go into their home already and you take this as your cue.

"It was amazing hanging out with you Jae," you offer him a smile, ignoring Theo. "But I have to go now. We should hang out soon though, yeah?"

You don't wait for an answer, instead, you grab Theo's wrist roughly, because you're furious at him, and drag him into your apartment. You're about ready to pounce on him, ask him why the hell he's here — you thought you'd made it clear that you didn't want anything to do with him, apparently not clear enough.

"Jae? Who's Jae?" He asks once he's in the solace of your apartment.

"That's what you're asking me?" Unbelievable. Simply unbelievable this fucker is. "How many times do I have to tell you that I fucking hate you?"

"You don't hate me, y/n. Right now, you're angry, I get it. But we can work through this—"

You can't bear to listen to the bullshit that's coming out of his mouth. The way he says your name like you’re some kid that's throwing a non-deserved tantrum, makes you clench your fists at your sides. How, the ever-loving heck, had you dated him for five months? You can barely stand him now.

"Shut up! God, just shut up and get out. Why do you keep embarrassing yourself? Go back to René. The two of you deserve each other."

"I love you," he says and you know he's pulling out all the stops tonight directly out of his ass.

"Oh, fuck your love," you push his shoulder and direct him to the front door. Suddenly you're very angry, boiling even, and you can swear a vein in your neck is about to burst. "Go. I'm not playing Theo. If you don't leave, I'll call security."

There's a shift in the air and suddenly Theo is too close. You've never been afraid of him before; Theo's all talk and no bite. However, right now the feeling that slithers through your body is unadulterated anxiety. You're not backed against a wall but you feel like your safety has been compromised and you want him out. Out of your house, out of your hair, out of your life.

"Get out. We're done." You manage to say without your voice shaking, but your heart is pounding furiously in your chest. "I don't want you here."

"But you want Jae?" His already rough face contorts to something uglier. "What does he have that I don't, huh?"

For starters, he hasn't cheated on you, not like there's much competition there. Theo isn't the smartest cookie in the box, he thinks more with his sexual body parts than he does with his brain. You could swear that if you knocked on his head a shattering hollow sound will echo out, can't say you'd be surprised.

Alphonsine Vernoux, you think to yourself, watch me and be proud.

"His dick is pretty impressive, not going to lie."

Even when you're shaking in your boots, you can't really resist the urge to engage in a catfight with him. Your step-mother had always told you to go down screaming and by god, you are not going to allow Theo to intimidate you for something you don't need to feel bad for. Because you don't.

"You are a fucking slut!" His voice is loud and you can't help the incredulous laugh that falls from your lips.

"Me? Newsflash Theo; we're not together anymore. I can do whatever the hell I want."

He doesn't deserve an explanation because it doesn't matter. If he can do it when he's in a relationship, what's stopping you from doing it when you're not?

"It hasn't even been a month, y/n," he says this like it would matter to you if it has been a year or three. He doesn't own you, he ever did and he never will. Moreover, did he expect you to wait a fucking month to get over his sloppy ass?

"Are you seriously saying this right now? You're the one that screwed somebody else when we were dating! Are you fucking stupid or what?"

Theo blinks a dozen times a minute, not quite understanding what you're saying. A pig, that's what he is. So, he was allowed to go around sticking his small as fuck dick in anyone he pleased, but god forbid you do the same? (let's not even put into consideration the fact that you're single as a circle sure as hell isn't straight.)

Oh, how you want to reach up and smack him so hard he fades to dust on the spot but you're not crazy and you don't want to abuse him, you just want him to leave you alone.

"You know what? Just get out." Without waiting for him, you pull open your door and push him out with as much force as you can gather. "If we're not at work, I don't ever want to see your sexist, disgusting ass ever again. Take your stupid flowers and go give it to a bitch that cares because it sure as hell isn't me."

And then you slam the door with so much fervor it shakes on its hinges. You pull at your hair, agitated and tired because you hate him so much. Why did you even think it was a good idea to date him? The selfish prick only thinks about himself and must be some different type of delusional to think flowers were going to do anything to salve your relationship. Christ, you'd basically left Jaebum standing like a fool outside and for what?

You are pretty sure that he probably heard all that just happened. The walls in this apartment complex are thin and it's not like you weren't screaming at the top of your lungs. Ugh, you doubt he'd even talk to you again but you truly can't bring yourself to care anymore. All that you want to do now is sleep. Sleep and forget about everything. Never in your life have you ever felt so humiliated. If you could go back in time and erase meeting Theo from your history, you wouldn't even bat an eyelid.

Furiously, you punch the air and imagine it's Theo's face. It feels good to do it, like your dishing out his own medicine. You truly can't believe he thinks you were going to turn celibate because you dumped him, did he really have no sense? You keep going at it, punching the air until it feels like you've connected with his jaw because frankly, it's helping you release all your pent-up tension and annoyance.

A set of knocks proves to be the only thing able to bring you out of your punching galore and without missing a beat you yell:

"Go away, Theo! I mean it when I say I'll call the police. Don't try me."

"It's not Theo."

Indeed, Theo, it is not. Scrambling, you rush over and jack open your front door for the third time that night and through your eyes you see a glassy and blurry silhouette of Jaebum standing at your doorstep. Oh, he's not what you're expecting.

Clearing your throat, you attempt to correct your previous words. "I'm sorry about that. You're obviously not Theo and I'm sorry again for being so rude earlier, I don't—"

You're not really sure where you're going with your apology because even though you know what you want to say, the words keep mangling and choking up in your throat before you can say them.

"You're crying," he states softly and you realize now how wet your cheeks have become and why your vision is all muddled up.

"I'm not," you lie because dammit, you shouldn't be crying over that douche. You hastily try to wipe the tear marks away with the back of your palm but oh boy, they keep on coming.

He hesitates for a second before he raises his palm up and uses his fingers to rub at the tear stains. "You are. I heard what he said earlier."

You stomp your feet in annoyance because this is so unfair. How dare your ex just waltz in here and make you regret one of the best nights you've had in a long, long time. How fu—

"I for one, think your ex is the dumbest donkey on the planet. Not that I meant to eavesdrop or anything because I'd never do that but fucking hell, does he really have no filter? I've never been more inclined to use my fists and punch the light into someone as much as I want to do it to that dude. He deserves it, I think."

You crack a smile at his ramblings. God, it's endearing when he goes off tangent. Especially when you can see that he's trying his best to stop you from crying — he's doing a phenomenal job because you've been reduced to irregular sniffling.

"I'm sorry that you didn't get to finish what you were saying about how Shakespeare should be treated in modern society." You refer to your earlier conversation before everything had blown bigger than you could contain it.

"y/n," he sighs out your name. "I honestly don't give a flying shit about that right now. Your ex-said some really rude things and I hope you know it's not true."

"I know. I don't even know why I'm crying, I guess I'm just frustrated because I should have known he wasn't the smartest or the loveliest. God, how could I have been so blind?"

Jae shakes his head slightly, releasing your cheek and instead grabbing your elbows to keep up grounded. "What's done is done, so it doesn't matter but I just couldn't stand to listen to him degrade you like that. You're an amazing person y/n."

"Thank you," you say and you mean it. "I probably would have gone and cried myself to sleep if it wasn't for you."

Truthfully, you think you still will. At this point, you want to rush to your bed and collapse into a deep sleep for at least ten years. Like you've said again and again; you're not devastated. But you're so tired. Tired of it all.

"Or you could show me that French TV show you like. I wouldn't mind staying up with you and watching it if it means that you won't cry yourself to sleep... obviously, don't do this if you don't want to. I mean, I wouldn't hold it against you. Your stupid ex just came in and ruined your night, I don't want to impose on you and make you uncomfortable or anything like that because uh, you know that would suck. So—"

Watching him ramble on, you imagine the gears in his turning. On one hand, you could take his proposition as a move on a very vulnerable person but on the other you can take it as someone, a very nice someone that your body and mind seem to be keen on keeping around longer than you want, trying to console you. And you don't know why, but you think it wouldn't be a bad idea to allow him to do that.

"It's okay. You can come in," you cut him short as you step aside and push your open door wider, flashing him a watery smile. "I'm not exactly sure if you'd enjoy Piégé though. Loads of drama."

His eyes flicker between your face and then the floor, you believe he didn't quite expect you to accept his offer. But then he shoots you a slow smile in response. "Good thing I love drama then."

It is because it turns out that Jaebum loves Piégé more than you. Gradually but surely, it becomes somewhat of a ritual for the two of you to go for a run (something that you definitely got better at) and come back home to your apartment and watch the newest episode together. Something you never thought would be happening when you first met him.

You don't know when exactly the switch came but it did — slowly. You couldn't really deny the sexual attraction brewing between the two of you, not you wanted to, but this time you didn't want to build a relationship only on the physical. This time you wanted to actually know the person you were becoming accustomed to. And although we, as humans, can never know all there is to know about another person because we do not even know all about ourselves, you at least want to try. Especially since he lets you do it.

Finding out that Ara becomes way less irritable when Jae is around is a golden opportunity that you don't miss, and hence use it to keep him at your apartment longer because screw it, you feel something with him.

So, it comes as no surprise to you when he texts you in the middle of your workday — three weeks later — telling you that he has successfully binge-watched the first four seasons of Piégé in two days and he finally was up to date on the happenings of Alphonsine Vernoux and her love, Jean-Louis, so by association, you were finally able to gush and rave about the newest additions along with him and god, that was a good feeling.

It's not the same kind of feeling you had with Theo or Seongwon or any of your exes. This is different. It's calm. Being with Jae is calm and relaxing. It's more of a slight-tingle-that-washes-all-over-your-body-until-you-can't-think-straight kind of feeling. It's not explosive or counterproductive and it doesn't make you want to tear your hair out by just thinking of it. Instead, it makes you want to flow with the waves and enjoy the seasons because you know no matter what, you feel warm.

He makes you feel warm. When he remembers that your favorite time of the year is Halloween and hence helps you prepare two months in advance so the two of you can coordinate costumes for Youngjae's annual Halloween party. When he listens to you rant on and on about how much you hate René for making some otherwise snarky comment about your love life and when he rejoiced with you when she finally! packed her bags and moved five states over to marry the dude you hope will last with her for a long time because you know nobody else on this goddamn planet will.

When you introduce him to your rather small friend group and he makes it a sole duty to try and get in their good graces, which to be honest wasn't hard. He makes you feel warm when you listen to him talk about his dreams and his hopes or when he listens to you talk about the new things your attention has latched onto.

He makes you feel proud whenever you stop by his pizzeria and watch him handle his business in a cool, organized fashion. Most times trying to impress you and most times you leave there fully impressed. You listen to him talk about how much his dream of wanting to write and get something — anything, published. His parents had been against it. But then you encourage him to do it because fuck, life is too short to not do the things you love. And you can tell he loves it; in the way, his eyes light up every time you ask him about it.

"It's all about the moments," you tell him as you pretend to not see the corny grin lacing his lips as you do so.

He pushes you over the edge when he challenges you to do the things you're too afraid to. You never admit your fears but somehow, he knows them and proceeds to drag you out of your shell. You would say you hate it, but not really. You hate how he knows you like the back of his hand. You're not sure how you feel whenever his arms wrap around you at night and pull you closer to him, filling your emptiness with something more.

There's so much to be said about the way he holds you. Like you were made for him. He tells you he believes "loving one person for a long time is enough." And as the days add up to weeks that add up to months, you begin to believe them too. Being with him makes you believe in the corny quotes ripped off the internet that your step-mother has ingrained into you. It makes you wish you'd believed in them sooner.

He makes you feel content with everything every time his lips come in contact with your skin. It wraps you whole and makes you want to choke out "I love you," again and again until he believes it and burns it in his mind because it's true. When he doubts whether he is enough for you because he believes you're too good for him, you want to scream it aloud at him. Oh, how you want to but, you're scared. It's been months — eight to be exact — and you're not particularly sure if it's enough time for him to believe your words.

But after several weeks of trying to get Jaebum out of this stalemate that he's in, of him thinking that you deserve better than him when really all you ever want is him, you decide that you've had enough.

You corner him after work. A few hours after you've already gone back to your apartment to grab Ara for her nightly jog, you'll be damned if you allow her only to sit on her ass and eat all day, and left her to fall asleep soundly in the living room.

He's wrapping up the last things left to do at his store — telling one of his workers, a girl named Haru, to leave for the night and that he'll close up — when you find him. Instead of walking in like you'd usually do, you wait outside.

You're nervous. More nervous than you've ever been in your entire life. You've known for quite some time now that you love Im Jaebum. You love him so much that it seems almost stupid to not let him know. You know he loves you back, if not for the fact that the two of you have been dating for the past eight — almost nine — months, his little nickname for you "my love," was enough to tip you off. And at this point, you don't care. You just want to let it all out.

When he comes out of his store, wrapping a scarf tightly around his neck, you think to yourself: this is it. Looping your arm through his, you watch as an affectionate smile automatically slips onto his face. God, this is so incredibly corny but you feel your stomach do flips.

"How was your day?" He asks you first, maybe because he can tell how nervous you are. "Anything happen?"

You shake your head. "Not really. I did pitch in this really good idea though and my boss actually liked it. I thought I would cry."

"Bet you did," he chuckles out, wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

"Did not. I would never cry in front of that woman. She'd probably fire my ass because of 'disruption or negligence of duties.'"

Jae snorts at that but doesn't say anything in response. Instead, his fingers rub slow circles on your shoulders and you think maybe he knows something is up with you. You know it's not that big of a deal, truly. You've told him how much you love him by your actions every day since the day the two of you got together but it still feels oddly different trying to get the words out because you feel like they'll come out wrong.

It's not till you reach the big coffeehouse, the one Jae adores, that he finally stops to ask you:

"Babe, what's wrong?"

And before you can stop yourself or even think through your next actions, you throw your arms around his neck and flush your lips against his. For a moment, he's stunned into stupidity but soon enough he's clasping one of his hands around your back and threading the other one through your hair and you're sighing into you him. "I love you." He laughs into your neck because it's so obvious.

"I know."

"No, no," he doesn't. Not in the way you're trying to say it. You break away, dazed. "I love you. I love you no matter what. I love your stupid bets to get me out of bed in the evening to go running with you, I love your writings and the little post-it notes you have stuck everywhere in my apartment. I love how you don't make me feel weak for crying when I get so frustrated, I love you for attempting to sing a lullaby for my niece that one time but instead made her cry the whole night.

"I love you for always knowing what you want to do but never trying to force it on me. You don't understand, Jae. I love you. And I hate that you think I deserve someone else because you're the best possible thing that's happened to me. You're my best moment and fuck, I hate seeing you doubt yourself so much and—"

"I know," he says again and this time you think, he really does. "I know and you don't have to force yourself to say it when you're not ready. I know you love me and I'm sorry for making you think that I didn't believe in it otherwise."

Without much words, he laces his fingers through yours and rests his forehead against your own. You think you finally understand why your step-mother went/goes through so much trouble to remind you that the moments you make in life are beyond important. They make you. They teach you about love. Not the love you thought you had or knew about but real love. The kind that fills you up and makes you a better person. The kind of love that's just waiting to consume you.

With his breath fanning against your skin, you feel everything at once. The connection you have with Jaebum, the guy that you were blessed to have as a neighbor. You suppose you should be thanking Ara for the two of you being where you are today. But then again if fate really wanted the two of you together, it would have happened with or without Ara's help anyway.

You can hear your heart pounding ridiculously loud but you take a deep breath and say it again.

"I love you."

And this time he doesn't say he knows, he says it back. "I love you too, y/n."

You wonder what passersby are thinking about the two of you. Two grown adults professing their love for each other on the street like they've run mad.

He raises his head and looks at you, eyes so intense and burning, like he'd been waiting for you to say it in this way. Not in a rush to get all the words out because you and he have all the time in the world, but slow and understandable. You squeeze his hand tighter.

Regardless of the moments that led up to the two of you being here together and the circumstances that surrounded it, you're thankful. So, fucking thankful, because it means more to you than you'd ever thought possible.

"So, I was thinking," Jae's lips tilt up after several moments. "Do you want to move in?"

A/N: hey! it would be super cool if people gave me feedback on this :) i hope you liked it! thanks so much for reading !!

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