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snowbellewells · 5 years ago

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The Case of the Heart in Armor: Part Four

{I apologize again that this story keeps taking longer than I anticipate to update. This particular segment keep growing, and my inspiration and ideas for how to end this one keep ebbing and flowing unpredictably. Anyway, I’ll let you get to it rather than continuing to ramble. Enjoy!}

{This fic was eventually begun as part of the first @csrolereversal event back in the fall, and inspired by this lovely fanart by @courtorderedcake.}

Summary: Killian “Holmes” Jones is rarely surprised or shocked anymore, but that all changes when he meets one very stubborn - and very beautiful - pickpocket, and trouble brews in the distance, hidden by the London fog…

Previous Chapters: Part One Part Two Part Three

“The Case of the Heart in Armor”

by: @snowbellewells

Part Four

It didn’t take long for Killian Jones and Emma Nolan to make their way back through the darkly clouded London streets to reach her home again. Not much was said, and Killian felt this perplexing young woman stealing glances over at him, anxious, ill at ease, and almost embarrassed, if he had to guess - though he couldn’t fathom why. True, they did not know each other well, but they were on the same side. If the older sibling whom she clearly looked up to trusted him, surely she knew she was safe with him, even on this strangely deserted nighttime street unchaperoned. For a second, Jones almost chuckled to himself at the mental image of how she might react to the idea of needing a chaperone at all.

Shaking his head, Killian refocused and stole a quick glance of his own. Though the still-obscuring fog made it hard to see clearly, Ms. Nolan was indeed blushing and fidgeting, wringing her hands together, even as she kept brisk pace with him easily. What had her so abashed? There was no need for her to feel foolish in the slightest; she had thought she was being pursued in a city where a violent killer was on the loose. That was enough to shake even the stoutest of constitutions. She was not made of stone - nor did he expect her to be.

“This is me,” Emma interrupted his inner musings abruptly. She had stopped at a set of steps up into a sturdy brick apartment building, gesturing to indicate they had reached her dwelling.

“Brilliant, Lass,” Jones nodded, acknowledging her words and turning to face her on the sidewalk.

As uncomfortable as she had appeared on their journey, he had fully expected her to blurt out a goodbye and flee up the stairs to the door, but instead Emma shuffled her feet as if reluctant to leave. As fractious as their previous encounters had been, sparking into fire that poked and prodded at his own hard exterior, mocking, infuriating, and then stirring his blood, Killian didn’t know what to expect from her hesitation, but found he wanted her to stay as well.

Finally, she raised those bright green eyes up to face him, piercing him with the strength of her gaze, and spoke seriously. “There was something out there - before I ran into you, Mr. Jones. I gather you didn’t see it, but I was not imagining things. Nor was it some silly, flighty little fancy or whatever you might be assuming.” She squared her shoulders as she drew a quick breath, but she jutted her chin out with determination and pressed on before he could speak in reply. “You wouldn’t be the first to try to dismiss me as some irrational female, but I am not backing down. S-something was out there, and I - “

There Killian had to break in, reaching out to catch her forearm gently as she began to wave her hands wildly with her emphatic speech. “Wait, wait… hold on a second,” he tried, pulling back his hand once again when he realized after stilling her swinging gesticulations that though her voice was fierce and her stance undaunted, he could feel her slight frame trembling when he touched her. She’d had quite a fright and been plowing ahead ever since, trying not to appear as shaken as she must have been. “I didn’t doubt you at all. True, I did not see anything, but the fog was dense and I was coming from another direction, for one thing. For another, one does not work in unraveling mysteries for as long I have without realizing that things are not always as they appear.”

Emma didn’t back down, didn’t blink, yet she seemed to relax somehow. A measure of the tension between them released as she seemed to exhale at last - the tiniest bit of her guard retreating. “You...you believe me?” she finally asked, her voice much softer, almost dazed by his assertion; a definite shift from the sharp antagonism in her voice not long ago.

He nodded slightly, holding her gaze in an effort to broadcast his sincerity. “I promise you, Miss Nolan. I am not trying to discredit you.”

She gave a brief, curt nod, her adorably pert little chin bobbing sharply as she accepted his word without further argument. A tiny part of him wanted to celebrate - even laugh aloud - at the measuring way her eyes sparked, even narrowed in concentration as they were, but he held his reaction in, knowing that would undo whatever truce he had managed to reach with her. “Fine. I’ll choose to take you at your word,” she managed, holding out a hand to shake his before turning to climb the first step up to the door of her building. Then she swung around to face him again abruptly. “Oh, and Jones?” she added, with much less force. “Thank you… for showing up when you did.”

At that, Killian did have to let one corner of his mouth tick up into a pleased half-smile. Simply and definitely, he replied, “Anytime, Lass. Anytime.”

Once up the stairs and at the door in her own apartment, Emma swiftly crossed her small living room to peer out the window and down into the London street below. She didn’t want to admit why she was doing so, but it was dark and no one was going to know about it, so she let a smile of her own stretch across her lips as she got one last quick look at Killian ‘Holmes’ Jones’ lean, graceful figure before he disappeared around a corner and out of her sight. Shaking her head, Emma continued to gaze down on the foggy grey landscape below, the streetlamp lights with hazy halos around them drawing her eye once the antagonistic but attractive detective had left her field of vision. It wasn’t something she was ready to admit out loud, or to anyone else, but she had misread the maddening man. Judging from their first encounter when - yes, admittedly, she had picked his pocket; he just wasn’t meant to notice it - and their second when he’d deliberately provoked and accused her in David’s office, she had been sure he would mock her for seeing things and jumping at shadows.

Instead, he had shown up in the very moment she’d been sure she was about to be caught by some monstrous creature, steadying her, seeing her safely home, and even professing to believe her. It was pleasantly unexpected, and she wasn’t used to people surprising her positively, exceeding her expectations and first impressions. The enigmatic, dark and clever gentleman had stirred something warm and unfamiliar loose in her chest, and she had to admit as she finally closed her blinds and turned to ready herself for bed, that it was more than a little bit thrilling.

The previous fear and unease had almost evaporated from her thoughts after their conversation - and now that she was home and had some distance from the chase and panic she’d experienced. Letting her hair down and shimmying out of her skirt and blouse into her more comfortable silky shift, Emma sat on her bed to remove her buttoned and high-heeled ankle boots, letting out a deep breath to be free of her constricting clothes and the pins jabbing her scalp as they held her updo in place. Running a hand through the loosened waves of her hair, she already felt her eyelids growing heavy; sleep tugging at her after all that had gone on that day and her adrenaline flagging.

She was sleepy enough that she failed see creeping wisps of that same threatening fog slipping beneath the doorframe and around the cracks of the windowpane. Soundless, unnoticed, and gathering without her knowledge as Emma lay down, eyes still closed and lights turned out, leaving her surrounded and yet completely unaware. The smoky fingers slid across the floor, up the bedposts and nearer to her unguarded form as if possessing human purpose. The strange fog silently covered her and slid into her mouth and nose, assuring that her sleep was preternaturally sound. And lost to whatever else might sneak into the room with her, sinister intentions unimpeded.

~~~~~~~~~~***

Not knowing what to do with himself after he left the plucky waif who equally consternated and beguiled him, Killian had been too unsettled to simply head back to his own home and bed. He was troubled by the fact that he hadn’t seen whatever horror had been after Emma Nolan, and he didn’t understand how that could be possible when he staked his name on seeing what most others missed. Yet, he didn’t make the mistake of thinking she had dreamed up some pretend monster in an attention-seeking imagination or a nervous temperament. Clearly, she had been dismissed more than enough times to assume that was what he would do, but he already had enough of an impression of her character to know that Miss Nolan was sharp, brassy, and largely undaunted - unless what she faced was a genuine cause for concern.

He had delved in the darker crevices and corners of the city long enough in his job to know that not all things which did happen could be rationally explained. He was far too logical to claim magic, witches and fairies ran wild in the streets of London; yet, he had seen enough to know that there was not a solution to every cause which suited the laws of science and nature for a proper understanding. People did dabble in the occult at the risk of their own souls and others’ safety, and perhaps not all spirits retired peaceably from this world to the beyond immediately upon their physical passing. Whatever the case, as the great Bard himself had once written, “there were more things in Heaven and Earth”, and at the moment, one of those lesser known entities seemed more probable than dismissing out of hand the determined pickpocket for whom he had gained a grudging admiration.

Why he didn’t know, but it seemed his mind had arrived at the resolution without his conscious consent. Therefore, perhaps it would be best to return to the Chief Inspector’s offices and make sure there was no hint of the more ethereal nature in any of those troubling crime scene photos or notes. If the older Nolan, or Graham, were still working at this hour, they might even have reports from the newest victim’s scene for him to study. Mind made up, he strode off in that direction, step brisk and swift. His conscience pricked that Miss Nolan’s brother could also well wish to know of the strange encounter she had weathered this evening, even as some other corner of his being shied away from revealing what he knew instinctively she would not wish to have shared, particularly with one as concerned and protective as an elder sibling. Shaking his head in a brief moment of amused understanding, he remembered Liam’s exasperation at many of his own scrapes and close calls as they were growing up. His elder brother had not meant to coddle him of course, but he had certainly hoped to instill more caution and decorum than a younger Killian had used on his own.

Of course, those thoughts led to the rash actions and wrenching loss that had taught him the deliberation, care, and control that he now had more than enough of to last him the rest of his days. If he had listened to Liam’s cautions to slow down, to think… If he had only taken a bit more time to learn who Milah had been and what she had been fleeing… she might still…

Thankfully, before that train of grim thought could derail much further, his steps led him to the imposing stone structure and tall surrounding fence of Scotland Yard. Without further adieu, Jones made his way across the front walk, through the cavernous entry hall, and back the rather dim hallway leading to the inspector’s office. Nolan wasn’t a man who stood on excessive ceremony, more concerned with doing his job and the necessary results than etiquette and protocol. He doubted the other man would begrudge his unexpected arrival to peruse any new findings and ensure his adopted sister’s safety and well-being.

Sure enough, upon nearing the correct door, Jones rapped on the wooden frame twice and was immediately welcomed forward with a curt “Come in!” in the inspector’s brusquely resonant voice. Entering, he found Nolan standing, leaning over his desk where stark photographs and notes were spread, hands braced on the edges of the sturdy surface - clearly still trying to make sense of the clues they possessed as well. The sleeves of his crisp dress shirt were rolled up nearly to his elbows, and his stumped frustration was clear in the way the muscles of his bared forearms flexed spasmodically. The furrow between his wide, usually clear and calm eyes was deep, his suit jacket discarded in the chair behind him, and Killian could tell he had been at this for hours - with nothing new to show for it.

“Ah, Holmes,” he greeted, a wry, half-smile gracing his face and making the man look much more his usual self. “Just the pair of fresh eyes I need! Come have a look at this.”

“Did the results come back from your most recent victim?” Killian asked as he moved around the desk to where Nolan already stood. Once at the Inspector’s side, he looked down at the scattered gathering strewn across the flat surface. Though they had already noted the troubling savagery and seeming needlessness of each previous murder, the scene now added to the collection seemed almost sedate. There was still more blood than anyone should be comfortable with, but there were far fewer slices and cuts, less outward carnage on display. In fact, the only truly large enough injury to account for the wash of blood beneath the body, the dark puddle in every crime scene photo, was the gaping hole in the chest cavity, open and empty with ripped and cut off valves and arteries - and only those - where the victim’s heart should have been. It looked as though someone - or some thing - had reached in and pulled the heart from the victim’s body.

Leaning in to squint at the image more closely, trying to understand the necessity of getting one’s hand quite so dirty, to commit that amount of overkill, Jones tried to look deeper. What were they missing? What could the killer need with an actual human heart?

“Have all of the bodies been missing the heart?” Killian asked, stunned that this hadn’t been obvious to him sooner. He had studied all the previous site information as carefully as always, but none had seemed so blatantly about obtaining the single, necessary organ.

David shook his head soberly, mouth a thin, compressed line across his weary face. Scrubbing a hand down his features before answering. “No. The first two were missing numerous major internal organs. Then, as the kills continued, the number of organs missing lessened. At first, I hoped that meant the killer was getting sloppy, careless, closer to our capturing him. Then, as no other leads were forthcoming, and this sick hunt continued...well…” He shrugged helplessly, reminding Killian with a sharp twinge of guilt and conscience that this was where he was meant to come in, with his ability to see and deduce things that mere dedication and simple, straightforward policing might miss. “I thought he’d possibly lost his lair, or been interrupted and had to hurry. It never struck me that this could be about a single organ in particular. And even if it is….our suspect must have several hearts by now. So why is he still butchering people right and left?”

Inspector Nolan’s frustration was palpable, and Jones couldn’t blame him for it in the slightest. It was baffling, and more than a bit depraved. The ‘why’ of this all suddenly seemed infinitely more important than the when, where and how - even if that was the way his factual, logical mind tended to process most cases. Letting out his own huff of thwarted tension, Holmes leaned over the pictures again, so close that the edges of the separate scenes began to blur together. Then, a detail struck him that had escaped notice until that moment. For the newest set of crime scene images, out of the gaping darkness of the victim’s empty chest, it seemed something even lighter than the grey hue of the broken skin surrounding the opening stood out. Yes! Maybe... he blinked, trying to sharpen his focus once again. There was an edge of something just peeking out from the wound.

With a sharp indrawn breath, Killian pointed the barest sliver of true white out to the inspector, hardly daring to hope that his eyes were not playing trick on him. “Do you see that, Nolan? Is that… paper?”

A touch of urgency in his voice, Nolan already in motion, confirmed that he did see it and gestured impatiently for Jones to follow him. Their quick footsteps were out of the office, across the hive of the bullpen, and down the dark stairwell to the morgue in short order. “I hadn’t noticed that until you pointed it out, but the body should still be down here. We need to see just what it is.”

They barrelled around the corner at a near jog, Nolan rapping loudly on the door into the medical examiner’s domain, and nearly charging forward before the faint offer of admittance sounded from within. Jones stood slightly back, letting the man with authority and credentials make their request of his colleague. In fact, he found himself offering a half-hearted look of apology to the startled man when Nolan practically snarled that they needed to see the newest body once more and commanded they be shown to the shelf where the corpse had been stored.

Jones cannot be terribly perturbed by the results Nolan’s abruptnes grants them however, when not five minutes later they are looking down at the same view they’d had in the photograph upstairs. And sure enough, barely visible because he knows where to look, is the white edge of what can only be a thick sheet of parchment. The M.E. is still hovering nervously nearby, and at the detective’s motion, moves in with gloved hand and proper instrument to extract the indicated item. In seconds, they have it, though much the worse for wear and thoroughly stained with dried blood. Still, once the parchment had been laid on the table surface, and he and Nolan had donned gloves as well, Holmes found he could unfold the crinkled note and discern the words written in cramped, intense handwriting.

David Nolan still sported a dark scowl as his eyes scanned the strange missive and unusual text upon it. “Another dead end?!” He slammed his large hands down on the surface with a force that made the table rattle. “Why would he plant a paper full of gibberish in the body? Just to taunt us?”

“Whoa, whoa,” Killian cautioned. “It’s not gibberish. It’s Latin.” He could just make out the message showing through the vermillion stain: ‘Not just any heart will do. The only one to use is the heart in armor.’

“You speak Latin, Holmes?” the inspector asked disbelievingly.

Killian couldn’t help but smirk at the other man, waggling his eyebrow at bit despite the somber situation. “You’d be surprised what they teach you in the Royal Navy, mate.”

The inspector’s brow furrowed, looking both piqued and confused at Killian’s statement. Jones meanwhile found himself glad for the other man’s distraction. As the cryptic message began to truly sink in, he was overwhelmed by self-blame. His playful deflection had worked, Nolan had taken his knowledge at face value, and was now moving away to smooth things over with the flustered medical examiner. Thankful for the small mercy that he wasn’t having to explain just why he had closed himself off, why he never mentioned his naval service, and indeed why his own hard heart had felt cold and inadequate for so long, Killian could merely try to steady himself after the disturbing conclusion thrust upon him. Though the how and why were still largely a mystery, he could not overlook the fact that this monster had seemingly butchered all too many people in search of a heart like his.

Tagging a few who have been interested before: @courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @tiganasummertree @hollyethecurious @cocohook38 @resident-of-storybrooke @laschatzi @drowned-dreamer @thislassishooked @therooksshiningknight @thisonesatellite @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @darkcolinodonorgasm @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @winterbaby89 @gingerchangeling @searchingwardrobes @whimsicallyenchantedrose

#cs ff #cs Victorian au #cs role reversal #cs fanfic for fanart #The Case of the Heart in Armor #part four #Killian 'Holmes' Jones

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rantheon · 4 years ago

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hypmic: thoughts

as of 25/3/2020 (i have not updated this since then but my feelings are roughly still the same)

might as well get this out of the way since matenrou’s album is out. half to prepare for the 2nd drb, half to organize my thoughts from 1.5 years in the making

that said, i talk about everything that comes to mind so this is just gonna be a dump of random thoughts :>

no it’s really long

aight so

the main part of hypmic is the music, which is pretty good, all things considering. each division has their own style of music, and each character, their style of rapping. this makes for some really fun and sick combos during the rap battles

i’m really floored by the seiyuus, they’re really trying hard and doing a great job

it’s also really nice that they bring in different composers? and no two songs sound too much alike or similar? it’s just a lot of effort put into the music and i’m all for it

hoodstar is my fav all-stars song. it’s so funky and fun? i could listen to it forever

ngl survival of the illest is a close second. i was not expecting to like it so much

plot… exists. that’s really all i can say about it-

listen. i’ll give them A for effort. i appreciate what they’re trying to do, continuing a linear storyline through the drama tracks and revealing bits of backstory in the manga. TDD era was lit af and the whole chuuoku endgoal + all the character interactions and revelations is pretty interesting

it’s just… predictable? like, very predictable? so much that it gets boring and old really quick? at least throw us a curveball, kr

there’s also the issue about how canon stuff are in exclusive (limited) drama tracks that can be difficult to get but that’s just Marketing so whatever, let’s move on

maybe they’ll drop some extra lore in the arb game, we’ll see

oh right, alternate rap battle

pretty cool game i guess? i was really only interested to try out the rhythm game, which i did, and it kinda... sucks. or well, it’s not bad but it’s not a contender against games like cytus, lanota, voez, etc. the beatmap’s a bit off and weird? i’ll just SS each song before i quit ahaha

but if you’re interested in more hypmic boys.png & a more casual rhythm game then go for it

here’s a (kind of) hot take: there’s so much content released that it all feels. saturated

i do love and appreciate the new content! but it’s just... a lot

i mean, you got new albums, manga, hypmic radio, stage plays, the arb game, the anime that’s supposedly out this year- and all of this within the span of about a year? it kinda feels like they’re riding on the popularity to just. try everything

good for them though, more Marketing strategies

mad respect to anyone who managed to stay sane for the past 6 months

i mean it’s not necessary to keep up with everything but with how active the fandom is, it can feel pressuring. especially when everyone’s screaming or yelling about angst or whatever

on that note, hot take #2: the fandom is intense. but not so much in a bad bad? it really depends which circle you step into and most of the ones i’ve seen have people that are super kind and lovely!

but it’s mainly intense and loud, it’s a slight tinge of entitlement going around in some circles, most if not all are very vocal about crying and everyone’s just screaming

but hey, the amount (and quality) of fanart and translation content etc is amazing & i always give my appreciation and love to them

with that stuff out of the way, hmm i’ll just ramble about something

like divisions

buster bros!!! is cute. good bro vibes. it’s also really lovely to read about how jiro and saburo didn’t like ichiro in the beginning, and now they’re willing to do anything for him? good stuff. they also have really good songs and i have equal love for all of them, but ‘ore ga ichiro’ remains forever undefeated with ‘requiem’ right behind. saburo’s probably my fav bc i can’t say no to smartass lil shits :’D

i will give my everything to mad trigger crew. the angry yakuza sison, the megane cop in leather and the military dork who loves to cook can have my soul right now. they fit my ideal types so well :’D not a big fan of their songs except ‘dead pools’ but i love listening to them on the drama tracks

hard to describe into words how i feel about fling posse. i love them very much, their character tropes are up my alley (i have a soft spot for gremlins, liars and gamblers) and nothing can ever top stella. but it’s kinda difficult to root for them? kinda? they’re the mystery division, you know? tied together with secrets and hidden pasts. even when i first got into hypmic, i wondered how they even got together lol. they do have cute moments though! and i’m eagerly waiting for them to open up to each other.

...ramuda ;;;;;

matenrou was my first. i got into hypmic bc of division battle anthem and the group with a gray wolf as their insignia. despite everything, they’re so… chill. jakurai has such a calming voice, doppo and hifumi yelling in the background of songs is so iconic, and they just want to have a good time. being giddy over assassin jakurai is just a perk, i swear-

dotsuitare hompo has nice songs. osaka dreamin’ night was catchy and tragic transistor was buckets of fun. but as a group, i don’t really… feel anything for them. they give me vibes of a plot device to progress the story along (sasara for samatoki, rei for BB/chuuoku) and there’s not much for me to get attached to. maybe in time! roshio having stage fright is really endearing, and sasara has the prettiest fanart ngl

i love bad ass temple!! if i wasn’t already into hypmic, this is the division that would make me dive in. i love love funky sounds, i’m really into their solos, and their dynamic? the “tired exasperated uncle taking care of two brats” vibes? kukou’s fangs? jyushi’s extra-ness? hitoya’s weird outfit? their entire drama track?? amanda?? i just love them

these next ones probably doesn’t count lol but i’ll say it anyway: i love the dirty dawg. ‘TDD legend’ remains to be one of my my go-to comfort songs. the drama between the four is both funny and sad, though it makes sense why they split up. at least they have their own groups now

not really into mad comic dialogue but i think they’re neat! they have nice fanart too

everyone hates chuuoku for ruining lives and that’s valid but. i want to know more about them? they’re obviously the Big Bad but seeing things from their perspective would be really interesting. and i’m genuinely curious about how chuuoku works: the inner workings of the district, how they handle giving out permits, the standard of living beyond the wall & for the women who chose not to, the clone factory

putting aside the music and plot, hypmic has the weirdest merch?? in what other fandom can you get a hypmic-themed bathtub, toothbrush, underwear, face masks and hotel rooms?

✧:･ﾟ*~ only in hypmic ~*:･ﾟ✧

#hypmic #x #this is probably a mess but whatever #drafts cleanup

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daydreamindollie · 5 years ago

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𝟘𝟞.𝟘𝟞.𝟚𝟘 ⏤𝙠𝙤𝙛𝙞 + 𝙥𝙬𝙩𝙪𝙝 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬

Alright, so...I'm going to be leaving home to survive out in the big world later this year and will be entering university as an undergraduate for Biomedical Sciences.

I'm also not going to be openly looking for work seeing as my parents want me to focus on my studies and, to be honest, I feel the same way. But one thing's for sure, I want to continue writing even though my brother, who is already in university, told me I won't be able to write or, at least, plan chapters/oneshots as much as I'm able to now.

Umm...this is really uncomfortable for me to say because I really do love writing and going through the planning process of it all so I don't want it to seem as if I'll be doing it for money. However, I still want to be able to fund myself in some way that I can avoid being anxious or stressed about my funds as much as possible in the future whilst I'm in further education.

The main reason I'm bringing this up now is because this is the only time I'm feeling confident enough to bring the topic up of me making a kofi account. If I don't do it now then maybe I never will. Either that or I may already be stressing out from my debt due to university loans.

If any of you are willing to buy me a kofi, here's the page I just created but please bear in mind that you are not obligated to buy me anything in any way if you are not in a position to, also if you're not 16-18, please ask permission from your parents or don't at all! - really! You don't have to! Only if you're able to and want to.

✚ ✚ ✚

Anyway! Moving on! I have a little preview for PWTUH chapter 12 for you and a little peep into the written plans I've written up already :3

Just quickly! Please note that the preview may or may not make it into the final, revised, and edited chapter 12 that I will be posting officially for pwtuh as it will be edited and possibly changed by then. Still! Please enjoy it for what it is!

↓ also, know that these are just random, unedited scenes and may be shuffled up in the final, edited version of chapter 12 ↓

Unexpectedly, news of the war didn't daunt the people of Seoul. Even in your village, small and suburban, had little worries over the matter. In one ear, they were fully aware of their king's illness, and in the other, they were the victims of propaganda. Word of the victory at --- seemed to have blinded them to the sovereign's frail state, a condition that leaves him incapable of leading the kingdom on the backs of the first and second commanders' achievements and potential losses on the battlefield. That would be the only thing he would have been able to do had his illness not taken a turn for the worse. If his highness was in a better state of health, he would have bravely taken himself to the field and fought alongside the people of his country. Alas, the world forbid him from doing so in the cruelest way possible. You can still remember the breakable appearance of his majesty when embellishing his quarters with the most brilliant of blossoms and it made your heart thump heavily with trepidation.

If only the prince returns, then you're certain you'd be able to feel an ounce of reassurance.

"Is everything alright, (Y/N)?" Jeong whispers from beside you, his close proximity, if it were any other day, would have flustered you beyond belief but it had no such effect when your mind was racing the way it was.

"I...I'm just..-worried..." you hummed fretfully, leaning into his chest as you stared on at Taehyung and Jimin chattering the day away and neglecting their duties at the assembly station of your shop. You dare not break their lighthearted banter in spite of the blatant negligence of their tasks, seeing as this could one day be a rare sight for you.

"About...?"

With a sigh, you close your eyes for several beats of silence before you tilt your head to face Jeong and voice your worries, "well...uhh," despite your prodigious anxiety, the heat of embarrassment rushing to your cheeks was overwhelming and you had to push yourself away from the male who you had been so so close - once again - to touching lips with. For a moment, you regain your senses and calm your reddened cheeks, however, the amount of time it had taken you to achieve that, Jeong was, once again, staring off into space.

Eyes distant and mind unreachable, your eyes furrow in additional concern. He's been like this since this morning. Was he just as worried as you were about the war? You smile softly at his potential sentiment, at the very least, you're glad that he isn't one to be indifferent to pressing matters. Certainly, you needed a man like that around Taehyung.

A man. Your cheeks blossom a soft pink once more. Jeong has certainly grown into himself as a man over the months that you've been by his side, there was no denying that. You're eager to see if he sees you as a woman as well.

✚ ✚ ✚

Wanting nothing more than to rid yourself of the horrible, pressing feeling that had suddenly swept over you, you make the woeful excuse of visiting Jin at the bakery in order to purchase something for lunch. If you stay a moment longer, you're deathly afraid of sinking deeper into that frightful feeling.

"But…" Jungkook pauses to ensure his reasoning was true, "you already prepared lunch for us home at home,"

You're quick to correct your grave mistake, "I mean, for desert after lunch…yeah!" you bite your inner cheek at the thought of the adverse effects of the sugar in Jin's baked goodies, "I’ve been craving something sweet and I think" unconsciously, in spite of your distaste for sugar, your gaze wanders outside to where the boys are pretending to be knights. The way they valiantly swing their floral swords was so admirable and charming, you had to hold back a giggle, "…I think the boys will want something to cheer them up because of all this conflict - they’re brilliant liars but I can see right through them," with a sigh and smiles directed at Jeong you make your request, "please look after the shop while I’m gone,"

"You’re right," he smiles and nods, "I’ll do that,"

For a moment, you marvel at his sweet smile before snapping out of it - had his smile always been that captivating? - and bashfully heading out, "Boys, I’ll be going out for a bit! I’ll be back as soon as I can okay?"

"Okay, Noona! Take care!" Taehyung and Jimin raise their hands to wave you goodbye before they quickly make a split-second demand "Hugs and Kisses" their toothy, adorable grins are too much for you to resist so you happily oblige with a grin of your own, unaware of the smiling male staring on from within your flower shop. His smile, however, slowly but quickly falls into a frown as his head fills with overriding thoughts once more.

From the precious smiles and pure scene he had witnessed, Jungkook is now faced with even more dread, knowing that he needs to return in order to protect you fully and take charge of the operations. He knows that growth should never be rushed - another lesson taught to him by his father - yet he wishes that he could return to being prince Jungkook as soon as possible even if it meant leaving you. He needs to protect your smile and the dearest memories he was able to make here thanks to you and Taehyung.

He has to. He needs to. No matter the cost.

✚ ✚ ✚

here is a pic of my written plans, you may get a little hint of what’s to come if you squint annnddddd...I also drew fanart! (it’s from one of the last scene in chapter 12 - wink wonk ;3) I am not an artist! and I used some pre-existing art to trace over, I made some changes but I’ll still credit the artists when I find the artworks again bc I. FORGOT. TO. SAVE. THEM!!!!

Anyway, I’ll be unblurring unpixelating the art in the official post of pwtuh chapter 12 as well as crediting the artists + putting in the artwork beside the little manga strip I made using them. HAVE FUNNNN!

#.diary entry #pwtuh chapter 12 preview #pwtuh teaser #kofi #fan art by me but also not by me?

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vanillerosegold · 6 years ago

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Flame | Yandere!Yata x Reader | K-Project

“...Care to fucking explain this?”

If there was one thing that Yata was sorely lacking in, it was tact. Not only was he bad with women, he was just bad with people in general. His temper was such a short wick that often every second word would be a vulgar swear.

It was something you'd found quite cute about him in the old days. But three months into dating him, you'd started to realize how damning his attitude could be. Especially the paranoid part of it.

He was sitting at the bar, clutching your phone, which he had of course taken without asking permission. Displayed on the screen was a series of messages, sent between you and a male friend from high school. They were purely innocent, but that didn't matter to Yata. You were chatting with another man, and even if all you were talking about was the latest development in your mutually favorite TV show, he didn't like it.

“Yata, I was only chatting with him!” you insisted, before breaking off into a yawn that you were unable to hold back. “It's late...I think we should both go to sleep like the others...” “Oh, I'm sorry-” Yata suddenly stood up from Izumo's precious bar and took a threatening step towards you. His head tilted while he spoke in a mocking tone, “-Am I boring you? Am I making you sleepy?”

“Y-Yata...don't get mad okay...” you quickly cowered back, but he was in your face in seconds. This had been happening more and more frequently lately. It was like he couldn't control himself. “You really expect me not to get mad at you!? You're off texting yet another asshole I don't know, and shrugging it off like you always do! Don't you give a shit about how I feel!?”

You couldn't do this. A line had to be drawn somewhere, and frankly, you just couldn't handle it anymore. “...I...I'm going to bed...” Turning, you intended to do just that. Instantly, you heard a crack that made you stop right in your tracks. Daring to look back, your heart dropped ten feet as you saw your phone being compressed like a coke can in his grip.

He stared at you eerily, eyes like the last glowing embers on a blackened piece of wood. “...If there was nothing for me to worry about...why would you be avoiding all my questions? I think I should just pay this friend of yours a nice little visit, hm? Would you like that, [Y/N]? How would you like him cooked, [Y/N]? Charred or grilled?”

Instantly, your eyes welled with tears. You didn't care about the phone, you only cared that Yata didn't do anything to hurt the other people you cared for in your life. Rushing forth towards him you reached up and clutched his white shirt desperately, gazing up at the messy haired boy who was pretty much always wearing that beanie he liked. His appearance was how you'd always known it to be, but this monster he had become...

“N-no Yata wait! L-let's just slow down, alright!? I-I made a mistake, talking with him, and I'm sorry! But really, I...I swear there's nothing going on between us! P...please, Y-Yata...you have to believe me!” You were tugging on his shirt, begging him with all those tears in your eyes. And he loved it.

Yata dropped the phone that was now broken beyond repair, and suddenly grappled you with both hands, swinging you over on top of the beloved bar and thrusting you down against it. “Ah-! Y-Yata wait!” you quickly squeaked, but one hand clamped down against your mouth, and he leaned over you closely, climbing on top of you in the process while he spoke ominously: “Prove your love to me then, and maybe I'll think twice about what I was planning. But if you can't do that then I guess I'll just have to kill all your little boy toys...and maybe, for good measure-”

To your fright, Yata suddenly summoned a flame in his hand, holding it dangerously close to the wooden surface of the bar top. “That's right. Funny that they let a firestarter like me live in a building with such expensive furniture, but fuck it. If I burn this whole place to the ground too then I won't have to worry at all.”

Instantly you were shaking your head, breathing shakily. “N-no...you can't...why would you!? M-Mikoto...Izumo...none of the others would ever try to-” “Can you guarantee it?”

His question threw you for a loop, and Yata took advantage of your stunned silence, lowering himself right over you. His chest pressed firmly to yours, one hand holding the flame threateningly close to your cheek, his head on the other side, whispering in your ear: “You can't get inside any of their heads, [Y/N]. You don't know what they're thinking...but based on my own thoughts...I can guess...”

The other hand started to stroke down your side and you gasped desperately, shaking all the more as he deftly caressed your curves. The look in his eyes was almost dirty. “They'll imagine you in all sorts of ways...” he murmured, “Is that really what you want? Guys biting their lips around you all the time, barely holding themselves back? I know I don't want that...”

Yata suddenly pulled up, looking down into your desperately glistening eyes and cracking a smirk. He made sure you were still very much caged between his legs as he pretty much stayed sitting on top of you. At the very least he let the flame dissipate just so he could take your cheeks in both hands and squeeze them slightly.

“Other men will want you just as badly as I do, that's how it is. But you only belong to me...so if you don't want me to fry them all to a crisp then you need to find some way of keeping yourself away from them all...” You knew where this was going. You knew what he wanted to hear. If only you had known so many months earlier though, that things would pan out this way. You would have never even let HOMRA take you under their wing in the first place.

At first you had truly loved Yata, and in many ways you still did. He was often sweet and almost shy, blushing and a little stiff with romance. He was capable of love even if in a slightly awkward manner, and that was all very endearing. Certainly, he'd fiercely protect you too, especially from those who tried to hurt you (namely Scepter 4 members).

Yet he also had this awful side to him too. At times it would suddenly flicker to life, triggered by the smallest thing, and you'd have to deal with a monster. Someone who was actually more of a threat to you than anyone else.

There was a burn mark on your arm from the first time you'd crossed him, back when you'd still foolishly thought it was okay to openly meet up with a male friend for coffee. Needless to say, instead of a bitter drink you'd only suffered a bitter scar. It was no one-off either. You knew that if you pushed him he'd happily do it again.

It was all for the sake of a twisted love he held. This love had caught onto you, and you had no way of putting it out now. You just had to suffer. But you weren't going to drag anyone else into it if you could help it.

Even if it still caused some pain, especially for you, you were willing. “...I...I won't talk to anyone else at school, from now on. I-I promise, I'll never do this again...”

Your words were like a cooling medicine. Yata instantly seemed to calm a little, and his creepy expression softened into something that was simply delirious and needy. “See? How simple was that, [Y/N]?”

He sealed that tragic promise of yours with a kiss right there on the counter top. His hands still gripped you closely, but you knew you weren't going anywhere. He bit your tongue like some sort of miniature punishment, but you took it.

You accepted it. Because the alternative...was so much worse.

Commission me and check out my other fics here: https://www.deviantart.com/vanillametal If you like my work you can support me on Patreon too! www.patreon.com/vanillametal Thanks everyone for your support~! DISCLAIMER (in regards to my fanart/fanfiction/commissions): I do not own these properties, I am simply producing fan-made work based on or inspired by them. Unless stated I do not own accompanying images etc. Credit goes to the original creators in all these cases. Please PM me if you have any questions or issues This is purely fiction and is not intended to affect or reflect upon real life persons/organisations/etc.You may not upload, share, use, create a piece inspired by etc. any of my work without asking for permission first. Appropriate actions will be taken otherwise. Thank you for reading~!

#k project #yata misaki #x reader #yandere #fanfic

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turnthepaige90 · 5 years ago

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“It was just a colour out of space—a frightful messenger from unformed realms of infinity beyond all Nature as we know it; from realms whose mere existence stuns the brain and numbs us with the black extra-cosmic gulfs it throws open before our frenzied eyes.” 27/366 #artistsoninstagram #artists #art #artoftheday #procreate #procreateart #procreateillustration #digitalart #digitalillustration #illustratorsoninstagram #illustration #fanart #coloroutofspace #colouroutofspace #hplovecraft #hplovecraftart #hplovecraftfan #horrorart #horrorfanatic #lovecraftian https://www.instagram.com/p/B72RFoHHljo/?igshid=b099hcz3yxc1

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mwolf0epsilon · 8 years ago

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League of Legends - Rakan’s Big Day

Summary: Vastaya magic and Fae magic do not mix well, as Xayah and Rakan soon find out when the charmer is hit by one of Lulu’s most powerful spells during a match.

[Inspired by @tinypancakes super amazing and cute Giant Rakan fanart! I’ve always had a thing for making my favourite characters BIG so having one of the best champs of all time turn into a giant lovebird? That’s right up my alley!]

---

Xayah had trouble understanding Yordles. A simple enough concept right? She didn't get gist of then, their overly friendly and sociable nature, their quirky personalities, their overall nauseating cuteness.

It made no sense to her how this species had not died out while the Vastaya were under threat.

Human favoritism was just...Beyond reasonable comprehension.

Regardless of all this, they still beat faeries. Nothing was more annoying than the Fair Folk.

As it turned out, the world had a very very bad sense of humor when it came down to it, so Xayah was met with her worst nightmare in terms of complete and utter annoyance.

A Yordle that associated herself with faeries.

Lulu was perhaps the biggest pest Xayah had ever met.

Her bubbly happy-go-lucky personality.

Her love of small furry creatures and cupcakes.

Her love for turning people into small furry creatures and cupcakes...It was endless, how sickeningly cheery she was! But nothing was worse than how Rakan saw the little misfit…

For, unlike Xayah, Rakan had no problem with Yordles. Found them entertaining even! And Lulu? He was actually friends with Lulu!

Which meant Xayah was forced to deal with her on a regular basis!

It was torture!

Of course Rakan didn't get that.

Yordles, faeries...Gods above! Xayah hated them all! Especially their brand of magic!

Yordles were far too simplistic, incapable of seeing true potential like human mages, while faeries were too wild, too unpredictable. Unstable.

She wouldn't trust them as far as she could throw them…

So when she and Rakan were assigned to go on a match with Lulu and two other bland misfits, Xayah didn't think much other than about how glad she was that the Yordle wouldn't be in her peripherals for more than ten minutes.

And then, just as things usually tended to go sour, during a team fight to push the Middle Lane, Lulu had cast her Ultimate, intent on boosting their Top Laner, when Rakan got in the way unexpectedly…

Xayah was currently standing under the shade that her now gigantic mate cast upon her and the Elder Summoner that had come to figure out a way to reverse the damage done. Even with the hood covering most of his face he seemed stumped.

“I’m sorry you two, but there really isn’t anything I can do here.” he said, one hand resting idly at his hip while the other rubbed under his fuzzy chin. “Fae magic is a tricky type of sorcery.”

“That would be because fae are malevolent tricksters.” the female Vastayan retorted sourly. Humans were so clueless sometimes...Of course fae magic would be hard for them to comprehend!

“Well, I’m not really complaining. I’m really digging the view!” Xayah had to crane her neck upwards to look at Rakan’s face. His expression was one of complete glee, not at all bothered by his current predicament. “Not to mention how cute you’re looking babe.”

The rebel glared up at her counterpart, ears lowering as a sign of great displeasure at the choice of words.

Cute?

Her?

Never!

If anything she was a badass, badasses were not cute!

“Aaaand there’s that pout I like. Looks waaaay more adorable now that you’re so tiny~” Rakan was enjoying this far too much, she did not like it at all.

“I’m not the one who’s small Rakan.” she reminded bitterly as the male vastayan leaned in to get a better look at her. She could feel her feathers standing slightly when his face got close enough that his breathing was actually noticeable.

Hard not to take something of the sort into account when you were being blasted by warmth. “Urgh! Your breath smells horrible!”

Her partner raised an eyebrow at her, before backing off a bit to check. He apologized when he realized he smelled faintly of Honeyfruits.

They tasted amazingly but they smelled fairly bad to be honest.

“Well, I see you have this under control miss Xayah.” the Elder Summoner said as he turned to leave “I’ll leave you in charge of keeping Rakan under your care until this issue resolves itself.”

“What? No! You can’t just leave! You’re supposed to know how to fix this!” the rebel exclaimed, trying to follow the man only to pause when he raised a hand to stop her.

“I really am sorry Xayah, but Fae magic is just...unpredictable. Wild Growth isn’t a permanent spell, I do assure you...But as you know, the Vastaya produce their own natural magic. Rakan’s body is simply boosting the spell on its own. Eventually the effects will just fade.” and with that said the summoner walked away without another word.

Xayah was alone in dealing with this mess.

How she despised Lulu and her rotten trickery!

“Is this...Really bothering you that much?”

Xayah turned around at the sound of Rakan’s uncertainty. She was met with a furrowed brow and lowered ears.

Rakan looked to be a bit less relaxed now, his eyes full of worry and a little sadness.

It occurred to the female vastayan that perhaps she’d given her mate the wrong impression.

“Oh honey...No it’s not. It’s not that it’s...Yes.” she sighed, looking down at her feet before scratching the back of her neck. “But it’s not because of you.”

“Then...What is it about?” Rakan asked, once again leaning closer so as to make proper eye contact. It looked a bit weird when he had to practically lay down to do it.

Without hesitation, Xayah walked closer so as to touch his cheek, feeling a little bit of surprise at how warm he felt. She chalked it up as a side effect of being a giant.

“I just don’t trust fae magic. I don’t want you to get hurt because that little yordle witch wasn’t careful with her stupid stick.” she confessed.

“Awww you worry about me! That’s so sweet!” It was odd how she could feel his muscles move as he spoke, as well as the reverberating of his voice against her hand, but it didn’t feel too bad.

She shook her head at her mate and suppressed a smile.

“Of course I care. You always get yourself into trouble.” Most of which she helps getting him into, which to be honest Rakan never really seems to mind. Some of his acts of mischief however, she has nothing to do with. Like when he tried to steal chocolate on that ridiculous human festival, the one with the cards full of poems and heart shapes.

Needless to say that day had not gone well for him. Yordles could apparently be vicious if you tried to steal sweets from them.

“I live on the wild side. Keeping out of harm's way is just so dull!” He was grinning, she could count each individual slightly sharp tooth from her position.

Anyone else would have found that intimidating.

Xayah did not. She trusted Rakan to not go too overboard with his current condition.

“Very true.” she agreed, sitting down besides his face. “However I wouldn’t really recommend dancing or running around in your current size. You’d probably cause a bit of trouble.”

“Ah...But that means I have to sit around all day until I’m normal sized again!” Rakan looked absolutely horrified at the thought of this.

“I’m sorry baby, but I don’t want you getting kicked out for destroying the Institute of War. I’d miss you if that happened.” She patted him on the nose which, in hindsight, she should have realised was a mistake.

Rakan seemed to have a reply ready but he paused, eyes widening and ears falling flat against his skull before he scrunched up his face. The female rebel looked up in alarm, worried for a second that something was wrong before realising what was coming.

She backed up quickly but failed to give herself and Rakan space before he loudly sneezed, the burst of air sending her flying through the garden towards the path that lead back towards the main buildings.

Xayah let out an undignifying screech as she felt her body flip about in the air, before she collided with a much softer surface than the cobbled steps she’d been headed for.

After taking a few breaths and sitting up, she found herself sitting on the palm of her mate’s hand.

In the charmer’s defense, he looked adorably sheepish.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Xayah realized he must have thrown himself abruptly to catch her “Sensitive nose.”

She blinked owlishly at him, feathers all standing on edge as she recovered from the rush of adrenaline. That could have ended poorly had Rakan not reacted immediately.

“Note to self, no booping your nose…”

The abnormally larger male smiled before laughing, raising her up so that he could hold her close to his face.

He seemed to be inspecting her before slowly nuzzling his face against her body in a display of affection.

The relief in Rakan’s eyes was evident, she imagined the sight of her ragdolling through the air might have been quite a bit of a fright for him.

“Lets not go for any more improvised flying lessons.” she leaned into the warmness of his face. His feathers felt very fluffy, more so than usual.

“Yeah...Unless I’m there to catch you.” The charmer agreed, content with nuzzling his mate. He definitely enjoyed being able to hold her it seemed.

“You’d catch me every time I fell wouldn’t you?”

“Always.”

#Eps Writes:#League of Legends #Rakan and Xayah #Giant Rakan #GT League

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