#I didn’t know what to do with the background so blood splatter lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bluegarners · 3 years

Note

“I have your loved one” with Dick and Jason?

heyyy, it's finally here haha! i'm slowly getting to each request lol

here it is on ao3

I Have Your Loved One

It’s Thursday.

Time: 23:47, or 11:47 p.m.

Bludhaven has hit a rough patch in its weather, a vicious storm battering against thin windows and overflowing gutters and drains. It’s one of those storms that brings in the water but no lightning, dark clouds blanketing the entire sky, remorseless and relentless in its pursuit of smothering any light from escaping. The clouds don’t muffle anything though, perhaps amplifying instead the downpour that floods through Bludhaven’s streets and alleyways. Its citizens like to think this is a New Jersey hurricane, freshly mutated and traveled from the east coast into their humble, mildew covered city.

Dick likes the rain. Likes the way it pounds against his apartment, screaming to be let in but just barely warded off by seven inches of concrete and steel. The blinds are closed against the windows, and he has towels pushed up against the sills just in case the sealing lets up. Even if they were open, Dick is sure all he would see is another wall of gray and black, dozens of delicate raindrops splattered against his windows.

Because of the storm currently wreaking havoc in his city, Dick has elected to stay indoors for the time being. Eventually, the rain will let up, its pattern being close to about 05:00, and then he’ll suit up and do a quick patrol before work. For now, he’s content with sitting on his couch and listening to the water smack against the old building and run rivers down the sides. He’d like to sleep through it, a free white noise service at the ready, but his mind simply refuses to allow him to rest just yet. In a few hours, he’s sure he’ll come to hate himself for not taking NyQuil or some other drug to help him fall asleep, but for now… Well, it’s nice. The rain is nice. It’s also very loud.

He misses the first call.

His phone is face down on the kitchen table, about eight feet away from where he lays on the couch, mindlessly staring up at the ceiling. It vibrates, buzzing for thirty seconds, before falling silent.

He misses the second call too.

Thunder rumbles through the black sky, its force shaking the windows and only encouraging the downpour. His phone buzzes again during it, quieting after another thirty seconds.

Dick hears the third call. Hears the tail-end of the buzzing, getting up from his position on the couch and padding over to pick up his phone only to miss the last few seconds. He unlocks his phone, checking the number, and feels something cold settle into his gut when he sees no caller ID. It’s the same person though, all three times, but no voicemail.

He’s about to call the number back, just in case it’s someone he knows and they’re ringing from a payphone or something else, when the no caller ID flashes across his screen for the fourth time.

Dick answers on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Is this Richard Grayson?”

“Yes, that’s me. Who is this?”

The voice is feminine, a slight, western accent, longer o’s and a faint drawl. Somewhere from Arizona most likely. Lower register too. Older woman, mid-to-late fifties. Smoker.

“That’s good. I was starting to think I had the wrong number, Richard.”

“Yeah, sorry, I just didn’t have my phone on me. You didn’t say earlier, but who is this?”

“That doesn’t matter too much right now. What does matter, though, is this.”

She pauses. There’s shuffling he can hear on the other side. A faint, second voice in the background. No, three voices. At least two others in the room with the woman. He can hear the sounds of an air condition unit rattling.

“I think you might’ve cut off there. What were—”

“I have your loved one, Richard.”

Lightning cracks through Bludhaven.

His stomach falls onto the floor, pooling around his ankles. The storm outside grinds to a halt, the quiet louder than any thunder it’s ever managed to produce, and there’s a high pitched ringing reverberating inside his skull. Dick thinks he might be sick.

“What?” he chokes, the air in the room suffocating and weighing down his lungs. “What did you say?”

“I have your loved one,” the woman repeats, calm and slow. “Your brother, actually. Then again, he tells me you aren’t related by name nor blood, so we’ll settle for a loved one.”

“What do you want?” Dick demands, already scrambling to get to his computer, find where they’ve taken Jason. Find his brother.

“He did say you weren’t one for small talk,” the woman carries on, unhurried and unconcerned. “Your brother isn’t either, hardly said a word all this time.”

“Can I speak to him?”

There’s a small huff on the other end of the call, exhalation and a sigh leaving the woman’s mouth. A cigarette. She’s smoking during this conversation, blowing the smoke into the receiver.

“I don’t know,” she finally answers. There. Dick has his general location. Still in Gotham. He needs the tracker to be more precise though. It’s taking time though. Too much. “Your brother here was pretty convinced you wouldn’t answer after his daddy didn’t pick up. Cried pretty hard about it too.”

“What are you talking about?” Dick grounds out, fearing his phone will crack with how tightly he’s gripping it.

“Well, you weren’t our first choice to call, Richard. I’m sure you understand.”

Dick says nothing, focused on the computer screen in front of him. He should contact Barbara. This would be faster with her. Faster to find Jason.

“We called about seven times,” the woman continues, blowing another puff of smoke out into the phone. “Isn’t that right, boy? We called and called and called. His daddy didn’t pick up once, went straight to voicemail each time. A shame, really.”

There’s a sniffle on the other side of the call and Dick’s heart seizes when he realizes it’s probably Jason.

Batman was currently off-world, all communication with him being strictly between Justice League lines. Bruce Wayne was somewhere in the Bahamas, partying with Italian models and Spanish actresses.

Of course he wouldn’t pick up.

“Can I please talk to him?” Dick asks for the second time, fisting a hand into the couch cushions. “Please, I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

More smoke. “I’ll ask him.”

There’s a muffled thud, the phone most likely having been put down, and quiet voices filter through the line. He can’t hear much of what they’re saying, short bursts of comprehensible syllables before fading back to unintelligible noises. His computer dings with a response from Barbara. She’s going to use one of the J.L satellites to better pin-point Jason’s location. She’s also in communication with the police, reporting a child-abduction.

Keep them talking, she writes. Everything is going to be okay, Dick.

It feels like his heart is beating in his throat and his tongue has swollen to the size of a bowling ball. The storm outside is unrelenting. Lightning hasn’t struck again.

There’s more movement on the other side, clattering and scattered noises. The phone’s been picked up.

“Alright,” the woman says, raspy and uncaring. “The boy says he wants to talk to you, Richard.”

Dick holds his breath, waiting. There’s more noises, a transfer he thinks, and another sniffle interrupts it.

“Hello?” a shaky voice asks into the receiver. Dick feels like crying.

“Jason,” he breathes. “We’re going to get you out of there, alright? You’re going to be okay.”

“I’m sorry,” his brother rattles, a sob latching onto the end. “I’m so sorry, Dick. I-I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay,” Dick shushes, feeling himself get choked up at the fear in the younger boy’s voice. “I know you didn’t, bud. Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

“No, not really. I didn’t think you were gonna pick up,” he admits, voice cracking. “B-Bruce didn’t. He didn’t answer, Dick, and I-I thought you weren’t gonna either. I-I thought—”

“I’ll always answer, Jason, I promise. I’m coming for you, okay? I’m going to come get you and we’ll both go home together. Does that sound good, Jay? You’re going to be fine.”

“Okay,” the thirteen year old relents. “You promise though, right? You’re not gonna leave me here?”

“No, Jay, of course not. I’m not going to leave you there, I’m coming to get you. Right now. I promise, okay? Jason, I would never abandon you. You’re my kid-brother and I love you. I’m not going to-”

“As touching as this is,” the woman interrupts, “I think that’s enough.”

“Put Jason back on the phone,” Dick snarls. “I swear, if you lay a hand on him, if you even touch him, I will end you.”

“Sure, honey,” the woman drawls, puffing into the receiver. “Here’s what’s going to happen, so I want you to listen to me.”

His computer dings. It’s Barbara. She’s got the location. It’s close. Not even twenty minutes away. Border between Bludhaven and Gotham. Motel next to the gas station connecting the freeways. Room 13.

He’s out the door and revving up his motorcycle before the woman has even taken a second drag from her cigarette. The rain is beating against him, gloomy street lights flickering through the shrouded dark of the storm. Thank god for Bludhaven sewers, only slightly better than Gotham’s. The water level is only a few millimetres high.

“Now, I don’t want to keep this kid anymore than you want him to stay here with me,” the woman drones. The streets are empty. Dick blows through every red light he comes across. The tires are new, the grip is fine. “So, I think we can make this simple.”

“What do you want?” Dick growls, transferring the call into his helmet. He prays she can’t hear the rain battering against it. “Just tell me what you want already and I’ll give it to you.”

“Don’t rush me,” the woman snaps, and it is then that Dick realizes that this is all probably by chance. This isn’t some criminal mastermind who plotted to find and kidnap the son of a billionaire. This isn’t a case of a rogue villain piecing together vague details and figuring out Batman and company’s identities. It’s simply someone desperate. Someone who saw the opening and took it. The poor planning is evident, practically spelled out in bold print that these people have no real idea what they’re doing.

“Sorry,” Dick bites out, veering through a short-cut that says, in neon orange, Danger. Construction Zone. “Please continue.”

The woman on the line is vindictive though, choosing to remain quiet as the sound of a lighter clicking open tinnies through the call. She takes her time lighting a new cigarette, taking a long, slow drag and holding it in for a few seconds. Dick jerks his bike to the right, narrowly avoiding a large pothole. A passing car blares its horn at him. Finally, the woman exhales. He can hear Jason cough in the background.

“What I want,” she starts, a new color of intrigue hitting the back of her throat. He’s barely ten minutes away now. Could probably half it if he took more backstreets and increased his speed. “Is for my son to be released from prison.”

“Who is your son?” Dick asks, cursing silently as his back tire skids, hydro-planing for a moment. Thunder crashes above him and the rain continues to pelt at his body. It feels like getting hit with a paint-ball gun.

“Landon Jennings. I want you to get him released. I know you have the access to lawyers, probably have debts owed to you from people in high places. I want him released tonight.”

Time: 00:14.

01:14 a.m standard time.

“I can do that,” Dick says, heart beating faster as he sees the sign for the motel, dim in the gray, “but I’ll need a few hours. I need to contact my lawyers. Where is your son stationed?”

An icon appears in the front of his digitized visor. It’s Barbara. She sees him closing in. Police are on route. Seven minutes out. He has the option to wait on them and keep the kidnappers on the line.

“Same place they all go,” the woman barks. “Use that head of yours and figure it out. I want my son out by tonight, or you’re not going to see your brother again. And,” she rushes, “I don’t want the police involved. If you call them, I’ll know, you understand? I don’t want to hurt the kid, but I’m not scared to. My husband is here with me too, so if you try and—”

Okay, so waiting isn’t an option. He’s going in.

“No police,” Dick interrupts. “I understand. Please, don’t hurt him.”

“If you just do what you’re told, then I won’t have to.”

“Thank you,” Dick whispers, gently getting off of his bike and leaving it on the side of the road. He can’t chance them seeing him pulling into the motel lot. “You said your son’s name was Landon? If you don’t mind me asking, what is he charged with?”

“Why do you need to know?”

Dick jogs towards the motel, careful to stay out of direct light. The general office looks closed. Most of the windows facing the lot are shielded by salmon colored curtains. There’s only one floor, thankfully. Dick sees door 13. He’s shaking. His fingers are numb.

“My lawyers said they need to know in order to file for a judge to repeal his sentence.”

“Is that so?” the woman asks, suspicion tailing her voice. She takes a drag from her cigarette, contemplating. Dick’s clothes are soaking wet and he cringes every time his shoes squelch against the concrete. He decides crawling is best, ducking under windows and avoiding peepholes. “Fine then. Landon got falsely accused of statutory rape and breaking and entering. Is that what your damn lawyers are looking for?”

“Yes,” Dick breathes. He’s at door 10. He can see a faint glow coming from behind the curtains of room 13. He’s so close. “Thank you.”

He taps on the side of his helmet, sending a series of numbers that he’s sure Barbara will understand.

23-26-8-37

E-N-T-R

He can’t wait any longer.

While crawling, Dick made sure to get a good look at the motel’s doors and hinges. They’re standard, and though both Gotham and Bludhaven tend to have better locks than most other cities, Dick recognizes the model of the door and the wood it’s made out of. They’re thin enough for him to ram through. The hinges on the sides are rusted over as well, and Dick thinks they might just be weak enough to break. The windows however. The windows are his best bet. He doubts this kind of motel invests in bullet proof glass, and on some of the sills, he can see water damage. They leak. Poorly made. Meaning, if he ran at them, he could break through pretty easily.

But, if that doesn’t work. Or if he’s not fast enough to get on his feet once in. Or if the window is directly in front of Jason and the glass breaks all over him. Or if—

Stop. He can’t think about the what-ifs right now. Dick knows he can do this. Knows how to do this. There isn’t any more time to wait. He promised he would get Jason out of there, and goddamnit, he’s going to keep his promise.

“You’re being really quiet,” the woman mutters. “What’s going—”

Dick takes a deep breath and tenses. The light behind the curtain flickers. He needs to move. Now. Now.

Lightning splits across the sky and Dick can’t tell if it’s the glass shattering or the thunder that makes the other-worldly crack but it doesn’t matter because Dick lands feet first and is tucking and rolling before the occupants have a chance to react.

“Oh my god!” someone screams, but Dick isn’t paying attention to them because his gaze zeroes in on his brother, tiny, thirteen year old Jason, who’s tied up on one of the beds and staring right at him.

He can’t linger long though because he hears the words, “Get the gun!”, and he’s up on his feet again, rushing the closest person. It turns out to be the husband, a balding man with a patchy neck-beard, and Dick bunches up his fist and swings, socking the man in the stomach. He doubles over, wheezing, and Dick can see the small pistol in the man’s right hand, and Dick strikes down on his shoulder, kneeing him simultaneously. The pistol drops and so does the man, groaning, and Dick turns to the woman, who is staring at him like an animal cornered.

“Don’t come any closer!” she yells, pocket knife trembling in her grip as she shoves it in Jason’s face. “I’ll stab him, I will!”

Dick holds up his hands, sidestepping the groaning man. “Put the knife down.”

“No!” the woman argues, a strand of black hair falling into her mouth. “Now I told you- stay there! Don’t fucking move or I’ll kill this kid, you hear! I’ll fucking slice his throat open!”

With how scared the woman is, and how precarious she holds the pocket knife, which Dick can see is dull even from where he’s standing, he knows it’s not an idle threat. Scared people will do anything to get out of the situation they’re in. Scared people are unpredictable and dangerous.

But so is Dick.

So is Jason.

“I’m not going to move,” Dick reassures, eyes flickering towards his brother, “so, please, drop the knife. We can talk this out.”

“Talk?” the woman shrills, jerking the knife closer to Jason’s jawline. “You just killed my husband!”

“I didn’t kill him,” Dick corrects. “He’s just unconscious. Come on now. It’s just you and me. Let’s talk this over. I can still get Landon out if you give me back my brother. It’s as easy as that, alright? Just put down the knife, and we’ll talk. Does that sound okay?”

The woman looks like she’s considering it, the hand holding the knife still trembling, when the first sirens enter the lot. Red and blue light flash through the broken window as rain seeps into the curtains.

“You rat!” she screams, furious and terrified and desperate all at once. “You fucking called the cops! You broke—”

She doesn’t get a chance to finish before Jason snaps his head back, headbutting the woman directly in the nose. He falls to the side, getting out of range of the knife, and Dick takes his cue, leaping forwards and gripping the woman’s wrist and squeezing, weapon falling from her grasp. There’s blood spurting from her nose and Dick throws her to the floor, getting her on her stomach and hands behind her back. He sits on top of her, his weight overpowering any strength she has left, and in the next few seconds, police are banging on the door.

“This is the GCPD! Open up and put your weapons down!”

“You can come in!” Dick shouts, holding the squirming woman in place. “We’re unarmed!”

Things happen quickly after the door bangs open, several officers pouring in like the Bludhaven storm. As soon as an officer handcuffs the woman he’s on top of, Dick is rushing to Jason’s side, another officer cutting away his bindings. His younger brother turns to him, about to say something, but Dick cuts him off with a crushing hug, cradling the back of Jason’s head to rest against his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” Dick whispers, gathering his brother more fully into his arms. “I should’ve been there sooner. God, Jason, I’m so sorry.”

“I-I thought you weren’t going to come for me,” Jason confesses, hiccuping. “When Bruce didn’t pick up, I thought it was because he didn’t want me anymore. I-I told her that, I told her Bruce wasn’t coming but she wouldn’t listen and-and I—”

Dick wraps his arms more securely around the sobbing preteen in response, gently rocking back and forth as the mattress springs squealed under the pressure.

“I know I haven’t always been around,” he says, uncaring about the snot dribbling into his shirt, “and I’m sorry you thought you couldn’t rely on me to come and get you. You’re my brother, though, and I will always come running when you call. No matter what. I promise, Jay. Anywhere, anytime, I promise I’ll be there. Okay?”

“Okay,” Jason wheezes, the adrenaline from before slowly releasing its hold. “I trust you.”

Dick presses his face into his brother’s hair, relief washing over him as his heart slows. He’s never had a sibling before. Things were still tense with Bruce, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be a big brother. There isn’t a thing in the world he wouldn’t do for this kid in his arms right now.

“What’re brothers for, right?” he mumbles.

The rain doesn’t stop and pours and pours and pours. Dick just holds Jason tighter.

The real storm was over.

Five months later

It’s Thursday.

Time: 11:47 a.m.

The stone is nice. White marble. Shiny. Expensive.

There are fresh flowers. Roses and yellow daisies. The dirt is still new too. Evidence of freshly upturned earth. Dick reaches down and pulls out a weed that’s sprung up at the corner of the stone. Tosses it away.

He doesn’t have flowers. He has a newspaper in his left hand. Reads: Mourning billionaire sets off on trip to Europe.

Jason died a month before he got back from across the universe.

Anywhere, he had said. Anytime. I promise I’ll be there.

He crumples the newspaper into a tight ball and shoves it into his pocket. Stares at the stone. The sun is out. There are no clouds in the sky. It’s nice.

It’s a nice day.

“Fuck,” Dick mutters, a familiar burn in the back of his eyes. “Fuck.”

Anywhere, anytime.

Dick Grayson is an only child once again.

#bad things happen bingo #i have your loved one #dick grayson #dick grayson is nightwing #nightwing #jason todd #jason todd is robin #robin #hurt/comfort #angst #kidnapping #well the hurt/comfort didn't really work out in the end but eh #my fic

59 notes · View notes

binniesthighs · 3 years

Text

call me babydoll | reader x chan

a/n: ahhhhh wow WOW cuties LOL i was not expecting this fic idea to keep me up in my sleep and occupy all my waking thoughts BUT thank you so so much for you words of support!! hehe well....here we goooo i hope that ya’ll are ready teehee--also tags will be added as they come! You can read part one here

Two

Pairing: self insert, female reader x bang chan

Genre: action, mystery and suspense, fluff, smut, angst

Tags: (of this part) bodyguard au, secret agent au, royal au, moderndayprince!chan, secretagent!reader, secretagent!jeongin, secretagent!jisung, skz side characters, adventure and mystery, action and peril, plot driven, running out of time, slow-ish burn, growing feelings, sexual tension, explicit language, jeongin in this fic is my bb and i will protect him, sexy and smart jeongin tho still hehe

CWs: mentions of death, people dying/killing, mentions of blood and wounds, mentions of getting drunk, hungover, and vomiting, a bombing.

Word count: 5.2k

Parts

ONE | TWO | THREE

The road was long and winding, pitch black, desolate, quiet and foreign. In the backseat of the car, Chan had slumped his head over on Jeongin’s shoulder and bobbed with the motions of the road. His nose would twitch in his sleep, and he would make little grunts of nonsense words. He had worked himself up after the banquet, and actually hadn’t stopped his “love confessions” until you told him to shut up or you would shut him up.

Your partner’s glasses were illuminated from the screen of his laptop which he tapped quietly away at. You too felt drowsy, but sleep would be for later once you had properly arrived at the safe house, or safe hotel, or safe hole in the ground...whatever it was.

“You hear anything from Carroll?” You slung your arm over the seat and lowered your voice.

“Nothing yet.” His eyes flicked around the screen. “It’s almost like it’s too quiet. I’ve already told her that we have the prince and that he’s safe, but..nothing.”

“You don’t think...they got targeted too?”

Chan snored lightly on his bodyguard’s shoulder, and he didn’t dare to move an inch.

“I sure as hell hope not. But...that would explain why things have been so quiet. If this was a larger scale attack...I don’t know what this could mean then.”

From the darkness of the outside world in the car windows, you passed a forest of pines and oher types of stoic trees making up the mountainside.

“Well, I think that we should be optimistic for the time being.”

Jeongin nodded. He looked to be a mess: blood had splattered at his white shirt collar and in specks on his neck. His cracked lenses however, didn’t keep him from his work. He had pulled his tie loosely around his neck, and had also provided his jacket as a pseudo-blanket of sorts for the prince. The prince, had offered his own jacket to you seeing as you only had your dress, but you had been managing just fine. You accepted it, but only because it could soothe his chivalrous ego. He had a hard night already, so you saw it best.

“Two, where are you taking us?” You called to the mysterious driver.

Ever since meeting him at the hotel, he had been nearly silent the whole ride.

The man cleared his throat, “As far away from here as I can. I don’t know of any safe houses so...I’m just trying to remove us.”

“I can find one for us if Carroll doesn’t get back to me....which she should...”

Jeongin was not one for speaking of his mother as anything other than his boss. Since he had been assigned to be your partner a few months ago, he had never referred to her as his mother, nor did he ever seem to harbor any emotion for the stern woman. Both of them had been a bit allusive to you, but that was simply how it was in this line of work. You didn’t know things about the people around you, and you didn’t need to ask. You had wondered if he had worried about her, or thought about her when you were on missions. The young man had trained rigorously, and had passed each exam from the academy with flying colors. After considering it for a while, you figured what immense pressure he must've been under: son of the woman in charge, a master at infiltration, espionage, manipulation, cybersecurity, and a million more things; he had to prove himself and more.

You couldn’t have asked for a better partner, but you almost did wish that you had known more.

Two fiddled with the radio, settling on a station that played some kind of country-western type music.

“What’s your specialty Two? How’d you end up a part of this shitshow?”

The driver laughed, then hummed along with the music for a moment. “This has been my gig for few years, but I’ve never been a part of this unit before. Carroll always saw it best for my services to be used in other places.”

“You have a specialty?” Jeongin asked while still typing furiously.

Two scratched the back of his head. “I do a little bit of everything. But...let’s just say that I’m good at making friends. That’s why Carroll likes me.”

“--You know her personally?” Your partner quipped, but the edge to his voice didn’t sound like judgement, but rather caution.

“We’ve had a few meetings.”

“Hm.”

You kicked off your heals to massage your aching toes. If only they had attacked at a time when you had the proper footwear.

“You said we could also call you J?” You sprawled over the back seat in an attempt to make yourself more comfortable. Still, the plastic seatbelt buckles poked into your back.

“Yes. You can call me J.”

And that was that. No “What’s J stand for”, or “where are you from”, “where’s your home base,” “how did you rank at the academy?” You added questions to the list of things that weren’t allowed as well.

Jeongin tore off his glasses with an exasperated sigh to rub at his tired eyes. Chan made a happy little noise, presumably because he had found a cozier spot on Jeongin’s shoulder. He had now gotten the chance to sleep off his drunken stupor that may or may not had contributed to his sudden confession, and the reason behind the two pitstops you had taken for him to retch on the side of the road.

If he was a prince, he might’ve also been one mess of a prince. In all of his grace and confidence, the pleasures that he partook in would often get the best of him at times too.

You gave up on trying to get some sleep, but rather sat up to watch that paradoxically handsome and misshapen prince. Just like this: sleeping, vulnerable, with some kind of lopsided smirk on his face, he was much less than the regal figure that you had painted him to be in your mind. For maintaining appearances the whole day long, you hadn’t ever really gotten the chance to see him like this before. His façade faded, and you surmised that maybe he really was different from the way that he let on.

“I’m so fucking tired.” Jeongin yawned.

“Get some sleep then. I’ll stay up to watch things.”

“That’s just it. I can’t sleep even if I tried.”

“What do you mean?”

“Can you pass me some hand sanitizer or something? There’s...blood on my hands.”

Your partner’s voice cracked slightly. It was then when you realized that this had been the first time that he had fired at real people.

“I’ve got a water bottle? Is that enough?”

“Yeah. It’s fine.”

He splashed the liquids around while wiping his hands away, then flicked the remnants of water away.

“Something about this doesn’t sit right with me.”

“How do you mean?”

Chan’s coat draped over your shoulders, and you pulled it in closer around your arms. The night had been cool, and the AC blasting in the car didn’t make it much better.

Jeongin licked his lips. “Nothing was supposed to happen tonight. We made sure of it. No one was suspicious, we ran background checks, we checked the whole area...”

“Hey,” You attempted to turn your tone softer, “We couldn’t have seen it coming. They just rolled up out of nowhere, there was no way that we could’ve stopped it--”

“--Innocent people died tonight. If they were out for the prince, or maybe they weren’t, why so much collateral damage?”

“Obviously they don’t care.”

“Bastards.” Jeongin took the last bits of water to slug. “We’re gonna fucking find out why they did all of this.”

Two shifted in his seat, “Any word? Hate to mention it, but I’m getting kinda tired. It’s past three already.”

“Fox?”

He clicked around, then shook his head. “Still nothing.”

Chan snorted a bit in his sleep: an action which woke him up.

“Wha-what? Where are we? Are the there yet? What time is it? Fuck...my head feels like it’s splitting...”

“We’re finding somewhere, your Highness. We’ll be there soon.” Your partner motioned for you to hand him another water to give to the disorientated prince.

Chan nodded while he rubbed his temples. “Shit. Please tell me that I just made this all up. That it’s some kind of fucked up nightmare...”

You threw Chan’s coat back to him. “Unfortunately, no. We’re trying to figure out everything that we can.”

“Who the hell were those guys?” Water dripped down his neck in a way that you pretended not to notice. “They were wearing crests. I couldn’t tell, but weren’t they red?”

“Very observant, your Highness. F?”

The younger man bit his lip, “I’ve already tried finding where the crest is from, but I can’t find anything that resembles it within our database. I was able to see one up close. It looked like a heart or something like that, and a diamond. I’m guessing that it could’ve been maybe a spade? Like the kind that you see on playing cards? Still, since we’ve never seen it before, we can only assume that they must be a new group.”

Chan nodded, but anyone could tell that the information had flown right over his head. He licked at his wet lips, then sighed.

“Bee, You okay? Fox? I suppose that I should ask you both.”

“I’m...fine.” His sudden concern came as a surprise, and your partner looked just as shocked.

“I-I’m fine too. No holes in me or anything.” Jeongin suppressed a laugh. “But you’re not, your Highness. How much did you have to drink?”

“Oh...enough. I guess that I lost track at some point. Those kind of things are boring anyway.”

“Fox? You’ve got that locale?” Two clicked the turn signal.

“Oh! Yeah, I’ve got one. Sorry, It’s about an hour from here.”

“Locale?” Chan cocked his head.

“A safe house. Or something like that. We need to lie low while we wait for instructions.”

“No one has said anything...? Not even...my father?”

Jeongin shook his head gravely. “No.”

The young prince fell silent, and you watched as worry fell over his clouded eyes that were lined with bags. Normally his expression was anything but strained, but in this moment, you saw doubt sweep over him like the darkness on the road ahead. You leaned the farthest you could from your seat to grab at his hand behind you.

“You’re safe with us. Nothing is going to happen to you.”

His hand was warm, maybe a little clammy, but it was soft, like that of a prince, naturally. Still, it was strong and veined. Chan’s thumb rubbed soft little circles into your own skin, muttering, “Thank you.” For once, his eyes which would normally devour you like some kind of rare dish held you earnestly. I trust you, they said.

“Two. Let’s switch.” Jeongin slammed his laptop closed. “I’ve got it from here.”

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

The safe house was quiet. As most of them where. It was even a bit stereotypical: a little cottage in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by woods on nearly all sides. It had a little overgrown garden, and a shed that looked like it held either all kinds of gardening equipment, or the real thing that sheds were meant for in your business: ammo. It had a white painted porch with cracking paint, as well as porch swing with rusting chains. In the early morning the windows were are black, but still faintly reflected the massive array of sparking stars above your heads. The only thing less antique about the home was the touch keypad on the front door. It beeped with a little tune, then flashed the insignia of the agency: a ticking clock.

“Two, can you find a generator or something? Get the electricity up and going?”

“Can do,” He said, then disappeared.

Two was mostly a quiet man, a feature that gave you both reasons to trust him and to be suspicious. Besides him being a bit smaller in stature with thin legs and characteristically round cheeks, there was something different about him that you couldn’t place; something unexpected. You wished once again that questions weren’t on the list of things that weren’t allowed.

“There should be clothes around here somewhere.” Jeongin padded his way through the dark rooms. “You shower first your Highness.”

Chan tripped over his feet as he spread out his arms to find his way. You giggled lightly at the action. A man really was stripped down of any and all sense of composure when his life had been threatened and he had to have his bodyguards pat his back while he had gotten sick after one too many royal drinks.

The lights flashed on, flickering at first with the sound of the lightbulbs waking up after a long sleep. The interior design of the place was exactly as you had expected: it was a family home with a fireplace and several chairs and couches covered in dust. Bookshelves were full with the strangest assortment of reading material and board games there held a thin layer of grey dust too. The kitchen was small and cozy: it had all the necessities. A stained glass chandelier hung over the wooden table for eight, and was decorated with glass hummingbirds and pink flowers. In odd corners of the house, children’s toys had been sitting untouched. A family must’ve been living there, and you wondered what must’ve become of them.

Two returned with spiderwebs caught on his dress coat. “Water should be hot in about thirty minutes or so I think.”

Your partner crossed the room, raking a hand through his snowy white hair. “I’m gonna try and make the calls again. See if I get anything. If not, we’ll have to...begin Operation Cheshire.”

It was the phrase that you had hoped neither you nor your partner would have to say.

Chan slumped down in one of the upholstered chairs, throwing dust into the air as he did. Compared to the rest of the room, him and his designer clothes seemed comically out of place. “Wha-what’s that?”

Two pinched between his eyes, and your chest shook with an unsure inhale.

“It means that we assume the worst. HQ got taken over and we’re all at risk. Information about us could be accessible to anyone. Essentially, we go into sleeper mode until we can reconvene with other agents...if there are any more. We dissapear. Next, we work on getting you back home, no matter what it takes.”

“HQ?” What are you talking about?” Chan toyed with his diamond set cufflinks. “HQ? Like whoever manages the bodyguards??”

“Your Highness...” You and your partner exchanged knowing glances. “We’re more than bodyguards.”

“What?!”

“We’re operatives. Agents. We work for an intelligence agency that specializes in a bunch of different things...protecting royalty if needed.”

“What the fuck?! Why didn’t anyone tell me? Chan slapped his leg. “Fuck! No one tells me anything!!! I get that I’m a fucking prince but I’m not fucking useless!”

The memory of the confidential file reemerged in your memory: the promise that you had made to His Majesty The King after he had requested a “special hire” to watch over his son. The file itself had contained a several thousand words or so that you hadn’t bothered to read, but rather skimmed till you got to the signature part. Carroll had simply nodded before you put your pen to the paper.

“It was for your saf--”

“--My father did this, didn’t he? Didn’t he? Some kind of sick way to keep tabs on me? See what I’m doing?? God! The man never trusts me. If the thinks that I’m that much of a disappointment...this is just--”

“Your Highness, it’s been a long day, you’ve been through a lot, just take a shower and get some rest. Alright? We’ll talk more about this in the morning.” Two stepped forward with his hands folded in front of him. His interjection was unlike his previously quiet presence.

The prince sighed, tapping his tragically expensive shoe on the hardwood.

“Fine. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

Chan’s eyes grew dark with an authoritative air that you had seen before. His façade had slipped over him like a cloak. He rose, buttoning his jacket, then tweaking his sliver brooches decorating his neck.

“Fox. Bee. Two. Thank you. Good evening.”

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

Chan knew that it was you at the door when you would knock two times, then pause, and knock twice more. In your hands, you held a cup of warm milk. For a prince, even he couldn’t reject the beverage to help him fall asleep at night. You had seen him order it at hotels on more than one occasion. Jeongin had found a nearby store to get food for the morning. The two of you had suddenly found yourselves as now both his bodyguards and his servants. While you waited, you hoped to God that Carroll would compensate you for the extra work.

The door creaked open, revealing your prince modestly dressed in plaid flannel, hair dripping slightly in wet strands. You had never seen him as simple as this before: no princely persona or cold exterior to upkeep. He looked...normal.

“What is it Bee?”

“I thought you might like some...well, this.” You provided him with the cup. “I know that it’s nearly morning, but you should still try to sleep in. We’ll take care of things.

He took the ceramic mug from your hands, fingers barely brushing against yours for mere moments.

“Thank you.” He hushed with a thankful smile. “Would you like to come in? We could...just kind of...sit for a minute.”

Behind him, sun peaked at the horizon, a splitting of red piercing the navy deep of the night. The colors muddled, blurred, a bit like the color of blood fading into the deep fabric of one’s formal wear. It was desolate, but still beautiful.

“To be honest,” His eyes fell, “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

You had saved the biggest room for him. It smelled of mothballs and other old things like sheets that had rested in a dark room for much too long. Still, there was a kind of familiarity to it all and the way that the matted rugs and brass vintage lamps lit the room with a soft yellow light. The full sized bed creaked once you had sat down. In his golden halo, Chan’s brown strands appeared to be softer, and not as prim and staged.

“I’m sorry for snapping earlier. I realized that there are things that are out of my control. You know more than I do, and I accept that. I trust you...a-and Fox.”

You rubbed your hands into the jeans you had found in the cupboard. They had dirt and grass stains from work in the garden you presumed.

“It’s okay. I understand that you would be scared. It’s okay to be. I...get scared sometimes too. I know that it might look like it, but I fear...for my life too. So does Jeong--Fox.”

Chan’s voice cracked. “Is someone out to kill me?”

You sighed, sensing his hesitation. “I don’t know. But we will know soon.”

The prince stared down at the white bubbles in his milk, then swirled around the liquid to watch the way that that it moved.

“I don’t think I’d like to die. Would be pretty unfortunate, don’t you think? I feel like I’ve got so many other things to do. A kingdom to manage, people to govern, much more bottles of Scotch to drink, parties to attend...”

His eyes met yours, and you could see the very fragility of the life that he spoke of right in them. He was right in that dumb speech of his. He really was just a person.

“...I like to think that I’ll get married someday to someone that I love. I actually would really like to do that.” He chuckled. “Lame, right? Someone like me who always bounces around. Wouldn’t take me for one?”

“Mm. No. I think that from what I’ve observed of you, and I’m trained to observe, I think that bouncing around...means you’re looking for the right thing. And, I guess that it’s fun too.”

Chan chuckled, “You’re good at observing.”

You paused, remembering Lee Minho from earlier.

“Were you looking when you were talking to that man at the banquet? He was very handsome.”

The prince placed the cup down. “He was. I don’t know. He just seemed kind of interesting. The kind of mystery that only a stranger has. I would’ve liked to have talked to him more now that I think about it. Maybe it would’ve been worth my time.” Chan twisted his back to crack it. “I don’t know if you saw but he had some really nice fucking thighs.”

“Ahhh. Nice thighs. Didn’t know that you cared for that.”

The two of you laughed together a bit like old friends. It felt nice.

“...Bee. I should also probably apologize for how I acted back before we got in the car. I was...drunk, scared. I said some things--”

“--That you were in love with me?”

“Yeah...that. I realized that...I’ve been...unfair to you. You don’t deserve the ridicule. You’ve only ever been helpful to me and--”

“--Don’t worry about it. It’s fine.” You shrugged. You had met hundreds of guys like him before, at least you thought.

Chan sighed as if he was gathering himself. “Bee. I did mean what I said.”

“What? Ch-your Highness, you don’t mean that.”

He laughed, “It’s alright. You can call me Chan. And...yes. I did. You’ve got a kind of mystery to you too. Frankly, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“This...this is inappropriate.” You shifted, the rising off the bed. Your cheeks warmed, but you couldn’t know why. Maybe he was just too damn charming. But, he was like that with everyone.

He rose too, hastily following you on your way to the door. “Bee, wait.”

“Chan, you can’t do this. It makes things...complicated.”

He advanced, slowly, closing the space between you. “It’s only complicated if you feel the same.”

“I-I don’t.”

The prince’s hand carefully rose to cup your face, a gesture so gentle that you shied from the feeling. Even this close still he smelled of white roses.

“Have you ever heard of conflict of interest?” Your breath hitched.

Chan grinned, “There you go making this complicated again.”

A wandering hand of yours acting on its own reached to tug hold of his shirt.

The prince leaned in closer, nearly close enough to breech the gap between his plush lips and yours.

“What if I don’t mind making things...” He whispered the word, grazing his mouth over yours, “...complicated?”

“Ch--”

He pressed his weight fully into you, a smashing of lips met with incessant heat and your back shoved into the door. His tongue easily twisted around yours, and his soft gasps filled up your mouth. It had taken you a couple seconds to realize what had happened, and to decide what to do with yourself. His mouth was blazing, it was as if he was weaving a spell, or perhaps you had made it up for yourself. He kissed you with vitality; like he had never tasted anything like you before and was starving for you. You realized, perhaps you had wondered what it would’ve felt like. One hand squeezed tighter to his shirt, and you kissed back, meeting his heat.

Jeongin’s voice called down the hall, “Bee? Bee, are you there?” The sound of your bedroom door shut.

You pushed Chan off you with flat hands on his chest and an amazed smile on his face.

“This...this doesn’t mean anything.” You gasped, reaching for the knob after a moments pause.

Chan snickered, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Goodnight your Highness.”

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

For a man so young Jeongin liked his coffee black, and drank it like an old man too with his nose buried in a newspaper while it fogged up his glasses--or what was left of them.

“I finally got correspondence from Carroll this morning. She said that HQ experienced some kind of blackout and all the systems went offline. It wasn’t safe for her to contact us on a regular line. They got everything back up and running and everything seems fine, or so they think.”

Your partner had already made himself comfortable in a pair of sweatpants and a cotton tee with slippers. You never would’ve guessed that he was a trained assassin on the side.

Two returned huffing in the door from his morning run. He was one of those people.

“Any word?” He rubbed his face off with a dishtowel.

“Disgusting.” You sneered at the crude action.

“Well, we’ve got thousands of miles between us and the kingdom and what seems like a hell of a lot of guys on our tail, but, after I sent Carroll the info about the red crest, she wants us to do some digging.

“With the prince in tow?” You lowered your voice lest the sleeping royal heard you. “I don’t think so.”

“It sounds like she’s convinced that the person behind all of this could be someone who attended the charity ball. And, I don’t really disagree. They must be good at keeping secrets if they evaded us.”

“Hm. You’re right. A high profile event like that, even though its for a good cause it’s always a competition with those snobs. I just don’t know who could order something so cruel...all those people in the same place...”

“Since it’s a new group, they must still be underground. So, to see who lives underground, you’ve got to go there yourself to find out. Or, in our case, find someone who knows the rabbit hole.”

Two grabbed a chair, ruffling his deep brown soaked hair. “What does that mean?”

Jeongin flipped his laptop around. “This is the man that we need to go see. Codename White Rabbit. Or as he calls himself--”

“--Bun.” You cut in. “Yeah, I know him.”

Both of the men chimed, “You do?”

“Yeah, he’s undercover ops for the agency. He’s sort of a jack of all trades. He owns some kind of front out in Egypt. It’s called The Tea Party. Bar up front, but in the back he provides all kinds of information--for both sides. His cut is that for any information he gives to the agency he gets cash compensation. If anyone would know about anything underground, it would be him. As I’m sure Carroll told you, he’s a stickler for meeting in person. He’s one of us. I think.”

“You think?”

“He also does...other deviant things. I heard that these days he’s had a couple dealings in some...substances. Black market stuff. Carroll also provides safety for his business in return for his information.”

“That...sounds illegal. Immoral even.” Jeongin’s eyes widened upon hearing the news about his mother.

“You’ve got to pay to play you know.”

“So Egypt then?” Two wiped off the back of his neck with the dishtowel, stretching out one of his toned arms. “I’ve always wanted to go there.”

“Oh--one more thing.” Jeongin took a rather long sip from his cup. “The King’s counsel reached out to me too this morning. They asked me if the Prince was safe and where we were. I have them loose details of both. They seemed somewhat relieved.”

Chan sauntered down the steps with a massive yawn, stretching up his arms and shirt to reveal an inkling of his abs. You also pretended not to notice it.

“Gooood morning everyone. Fox. Two.” He dished out a wink. “Bee.”

“Morning your Highness.” Jeongin nodded, and crossed his legs. “Feeling well?”

“Ahhh much better.” He poured himself a cup of coffee in the kitchen, staring out the little window over the sink, then took an indulgent sip. “It’s peaceful here. I kind of like that.”

“Your Highness, we’ve received word--”

Chan rose his hand to shush your partner, then languidly took another sip. “I’m still enjoying my drink F.”

A light buzzing resonated somewhere in the house, a bit like the sound of a dryer, and the home started vibrating. Your water glass on the table rippled.

“Two, did you notice if there was anything strange about the house?”

The buzzing grew nearer.

Two looked puzzled, “No, why?”

The vibrating grew more violent, and your glass shuddered off the wooden table, shattering on the ground upon impact.

Chan squinted out the window, “Is that a--”

“CHAN GET DOWN!” You shrieked.

Within milliseconds the whistling of a bomb screeched through the air, then crashed into the rickety ceiling, splintering wood everywhere and demolishing the furniture.

You had seconds to act while the matte black bomb hissed with a steam releasing from some seam and ticked. You sprinted to grab Chan’s arm as hard as you possibly good, all in a blur, pummeling your bodies against one of the shattered windows, and hurling yourself out to the morning dew. You had no time to see if Jeongin or Two had made their exit, but looked out, towing the prince so hard you must’ve done some damage to his shoulder. You stumbled to your feet, tripping, and grunting until the bomb diffused, and exploded the cottage altogether. You covered Chan’s head and most of his body with your own as a shield and the shards of wood, metal, and brick came flying.

“Ar-are you okay?” You patted the prince down in his shock, who stared blankly with empty eyes.

The prince’s flannel had been torn to shreds with glass, and blood oozed onto the fabric on his arms.

“Yeah...yeah...I’m...fine.”

“BEE! Y/N!” Jeongin screamed over the flames to find you.

“OVER HERE!” You bellowed back, and your partner came running with Two behind him with terrible cuts on his face.

“They knew. They FUCKING knew.” He panted after reaching you.

“We have to get out of here.” Two gasped, and blood ran down his face, nearly into his eye. “If they know where we are now, they’ll come to check to see if the damage is done. We have to move.”

The sky filled with an angry smoke, and the once peaceful forest filled with the colors of orange and red.

“The car?”

“Broken windows from the blast but I should be able to get it going. There’s spare parts in the shed. And ammo. A fuck ton of it.”

“We’ll need it.”

You pulled the prince to his feet as he blinked wildly at you and your team.

“Fuck.” Was all the could manage.

In your complete surprise, Chan’s bloodied and cracked hands pulled your face into his, kissing you with lips that tasted of the salt of blood.

“I fucking love you Bee. I’ve decided.”

Jeongin’s jaw dropped in the corner of your eye, so you promptly slapped the prince upside the face.

“You’re in shock. We need to get out of here.”

A wrinkled smile danced on the royal’s face, and you might’ve thought that it was a bit charming.

“Admit it. You love me too Bee.”

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses!

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @eunaeiekim @julesinthesoop

163 notes · View notes

slightlymore · 4 years

Text

Snail

Disclaimer: I do not consider Jaehyun a fuckboy in the derogatory sense of the term, he’s just very flirty and cocky in this piece for entertaining purposes okay lol alright let’s go; also, no, the snail title has nothing to do with the sexy situation lol dw, it’s a cursed one but not that cursed Words: 5K Warnings: mention of blood (regarding a little cut on the hand, nothing serious) related to the plot not the sexy bits | manhandling and rough | oral (both) + swallowing + face fucking

As the floor trembled and your escargot went flying all the way until meeting the handsome face of a stranger, you promised yourself to learn how to say no more often. You had no idea why you accepted to be on a cruise in the middle of the Pacific. Wasn't the Pacific supposed to be, you know, pacific? Or were you just that clumsy?

Your mouth was open and it continued to grow ever wider at the look of one escargot sliding slowly on the man's eyes. He was standing there, with hands wide open in front of him as if someone splashed a bucket of cold water on his whole body. "I am-" you got closer with the first napkin you could find, "-mortified" you added, trying hard to build up courage and wipe the garlic off his nose. But you didn't manage to as he preferred to wipe his whole face with his palm instead. You watched him with a sorry and disgusted face, while awkwardly holding the fabric with both of your hands. Then he suddenly opened his eyes and gave you the most assassin of looks. His wet eyelashes accentuated the growing redness and his furrowed eyebrows created a deep, scary shadow. You gulped loudly and jolted as he slid the napkin from your fingers with a violent movement. "I apologize, I didn't-" you tried to speak again but as the man finished to wipe his face he turned his back to you and walked away throwing the napkin at your feet. "-mean to…" you whispered without completing the phrase as no one was there to listen to it anymore.

Your sister laughed loudly for a solid minute into the phone. You sighed but you felt the chuckle warm up your chest and you found yourself grinning as well. "I can imagine his face even if I don't know what he looks like-" she spoke again but choking on the words as another laughing fit interrupted her. You shook your head as if pretending to be disappointed by her behavior. "It was terrible. I've been here for 20 minutes and I've already made a fool out of myself," you commented. "Y/N, I know you don't like stuff like this, but that fundraising party is vital for the image of my company," your sister finally was able to catch her breath. You rested your elbows on the iron rails and looked down at the shining water. "Yes, don't worry, I can deal with all of this". "Just smile and shake hands and tell people who is giving the money you're giving," you listened to your sister's voice through the phone. The sun was so bright that it was almost difficult for you to keep your eyes open. You suddenly started to feel hot and tired, already socially exhausted after interacting with only one person. Turning around, you stared at the colorful clothes people were wearing, yellow, red, green, white, pink, bright blue and your head started to hurt. Everyone was chatting loudly, holding drinks, telling each other about their last investments, yachts, airplanes, jewelry, celebrity parties, vacation plans. What in the world would you talk with them about when your dress was $15 and your earrings probably plastic? You sighed again. "-and remember to talk to the fundraiser. He's a pain in the ass but rather charming if you know what buttons to press," you listened to your sister's last words while wondering what she said before that. "Alright, get well soon," you replied, eager to sit somewhere in the shade with a nice refreshing lemonade or something. You walked around the deck, thinking about how nice it would be to put your hot feet inside the cool water of the pool. But no, the fundraiser wanted a chic, semi-formal look for the party. As if anyone cares. You rolled your eyes, having a full-on conversation with yourself inside your mind, hovering over the refreshments. You poured yourself whatever looked fresh and not too sweet and downed it all. It was only when you turned around, hearing the mic being hit as if someone was trying to grab everyone’s attention that you realized you just had a big ass glass of alcohol. “Thank you for being here,” said the man. He was on top of the small stage from where the live band was providing people with background noise. People clapped and you imitated them, trying to walk at the front and see the fundraiser’s face. Finally, he was speaking. Afterwards, it wouldn’t be that weird to just go inside your cabin and chill for the rest of the day until dinner, would it? You “sorry, uhm, excuse me, haha, mind if I just-, thank you” ed you way until being able to see the man’s feet. First thing: boat shoes. Okay, you were on a boat, kind of, but, honestly? Come on. Then you raised your eyes to see his cream shorts and sighed. In the end you eyed his red shirt with black palms on it. What a rollercoaster. But it wasn’t until you saw his face that you felt like falling down. “Snail man!” you gasped covering your mouth with your hand. Curious eyes looked at you from left and right and the man himself stopped from talking and looked down at you. You didn’t yell that just now, did you? Now you were definitely going to be thrown off the ship. Snail man’s eyes were firing but his lips smiled when he cleared his throat and just continued the monologue as if you were a little fly not worth his attention. You pressed your lips together, hoping that your warm cheeks would be mistaken for sunburns instead of killing mortification. After everything was finished and the band started playing their music again, you debated whether talking to the fundraiser or not. He didn’t look very pleased to see you and you were afraid you were going to embarrass yourself even further, but your conscience didn’t let you just run away. You didn’t apologize properly and your sister would be upset that you didn’t talk to him at all. “Uhm, excuse me,” you spoke to him, rising your hand a little as when you’re too shy to call the waitress to ask for more breadsticks. He turned his head to look at you, one hand in his pocket and the other one holding a glass of champagne. His eyebrows got furrowed very quickly and you sensed that he was doing everything in his power to not roll his eyes. “Ah, snail woman herself,” he commented with a dry voice. You walked towards him hurriedly as if glad he gave you a chance to talk to him. “I wanted to properly apologize for the incident. I didn’t do it on purpose… uh…” you knew his name was Jung Jaehyun but he was too young for you to use honorifics with him. At the same time, he definitely looked like someone wanting to be called Sir. He sighed. “Call me Mr. Jung,” he told you. Yep. “Mr. Jung,” you repeated. He sipped on his drink again. You stared. Uhm?? He should tell you that he’s forgiving you now, right? That’s how human interactions work. I’m sorry. Oh no, it’s alright. “Is there something else you wanted to tell me?” he spoke after the awkward pause. Was there something else you had to tell him? You were kind of panicking. How do rich people talk? “I am Y/N?” you question, hoping it was what he wanted to hear. Nice to meet you Y/N, let’s just pretend that we didn’t have an abrupt first contact and let me help you feel less embarrassed. But no. He laughed at you. Yeah. Just like that. He laughed loudly for everyone to hear while your whole face got even more flushed than before. The people that were close enough to you to hear your conversation, chuckled secretly, giving you weird stares. You stared at his face. If you didn’t feel a slow-boiling rage inside your chest, you might have considered his laugh charming, with those white teeth and deep dimples of his. But you were indeed starting to feel rather irritated. You did splatter him in buttery escargots and called him a snail, but you apologized and he definitely saw how mortified you were. Was this a way to make you pay? You looked around and felt the urge to hug yourself but you didn’t want to look more vulnerable that you actually were. “Okay, I’m sorry,” he talked again and you locked eyes with him again. He was still amused but a softer light adorned his eyes. “I’m messing with you. It’s fine. We’re cool, don’t worry about the snails,” he added, walking towards the refreshments table and looking around, unsure. You tailed him to be able to hear what he was saying. He was probably those types of people that were used to just walk around a company while six people surrounded him taking notes and helping him to take off his jacket. “Escargot,” you whispered. The man shrugged. “Snails that you eat. Besides, you called me snail man, not escargot man”. You took a glass of orange juice while he smelled some pastries. “Unless you wanted to say that I look like a snail,” he considered. “Oh no, you don’t look like one at all,” you assured him. “And how do I look?”. “Very handsome-” you sputtered before being able to stop yourself. Okay, what the actual fuck? There were legit thousands of different ways to say it. You look fine. You look nice. You look good. Nonchalantly Y/N. More casual. As if you don’t care. No. You look very handsome. God. To the snail man that embarrassed you just 1 minute ago. Mr. Jung looked at you with the corner of his eye and smiled. Who knows how many times he has heard that before. “Honestly, you caught my eyes as you entered the cruise. I was there when you tripped because I was coming to talk to you,” he confessed. His tone was flat though as if he was talking about the weather. Your head jerked into his direction. How does one reply to that? Thanks? Should you feel flattered? Okay, he was a very handsome man but if he needed only a piece of garlic thrown to his face to change his mind about you (when it was an accident) then you didn't want it. “I see,” you talked awkwardly while your hand tried to put down your empty glass. “Hey, caref-” Mr. Jung warned you but it was too late. Your nerves were so thin that you didn’t realize how fragile crystal glasses actually were. “Oh, shit-” you stared at the shattered pieces in your hand. One of your fingers was quick to bleed little beads of blood. “I am so sorry,” you apologized for what you felt was the 20th time that day. For no reason. “Let me see,” Mr. Jung ordered, carefully cleaning the skin of any remaining fragments after you opened your hand. “I have a first aid kit in my suite. Let’s go,” he spoke again and taking your other hand he just walked away, as if completely sure you'd follow him. You tugged a little trying to convince him that you were fine. “It’s alright. I have a band-aid in my purse”. Mr. Jung just stared at you without saying a word as if his eyes were powerful enough to command you to do what he wanted. Not negotiable, they were saying. You softened your grip and let yourself be dragged away with a sigh.

His cabin didn’t look like yours at all. It was much more spacious and elegant. His bed was round and luxurious. It looked so sensual with its red and black bedding that you had to look away. Your heels got buried in the soft and thick rug placed in the middle of the floor. Mr. Jung’s perfume impregnated the whole room and you felt a little light-headed. He took you to the desk in front of the big windows that were showing the lazy waves underneath the cruise. Leaving you there to rest your hips on the wooden furniture, he opened a cabinet and retrieved what he needed to disinfect your cut. When he turned around and got closer you could see how his expression was serious and stern, no trace of the flirty light from before. Maybe he didn't want you to sue him for hurting yourself on his cruise? You breathed sharply through your teeth when he placed the cold and wet cotton on your finger and he raised his eyes to look at you. You returned the glare. “It’s alright,” you whispered, inciting him to go on. You had no idea why you kept your voice so low. Maybe because he was standing so close to you, almost touching your knees with his thighs, or maybe because he looked so concentrated, his plump lips slightly open and a little line between his eyebrows. As he was looking down on your hand, you looked at his face for the first time without feeling shy. You didn’t like to see blood or maybe it was the sun hitting your head but you suddenly felt all your limbs very weak. When he was done and looked up, you swallowed and made sure to be caught gazing at the surroundings instead of the nude collarbones his unbuttoned shirt revealed. But maybe he wasn’t that stupid. “You look very pale,” he commented while raising a hand and brushing his thumb on your lower lip. “You also look a little shocked,” he added more amused when you jolted at his touch. Yeah, because you’re touching me, not because of the cut. What was he doing? Do rich people think that they own people as well? You tried to express that with your eyes but he looked unfazed as if doing that was as easy and normal as to shake someone’s hand. You knew you had to move away, tell him that you just need to get some rest, maybe lay down for a bit. But your limbs wouldn’t move. You cleared your throat. “Thank you,” you murmured moving your hand as to indicate what you were referring to. Mr. Jung was just staring, apparently not used to reply to gratitude, eyes slightly narrowed as if analyzing you, then they went down and openly looked at your breasts.

Okay. Alright. You didn’t wear any bra because it would have ruined the dress silhouette and you were already anxious out of your mind wondering if your nipples would show or not, so you definetly didn’t expect people to just staring at it. You gulped and let out a little nervous laugh while shifting your body, trying to do something that would distract him from staring at your boobs, not because you hated it, but because you suddenly felt exposed, shy and, God save us, maybe a little turned on. You shouldn’t have drunk that glass of alcohol. “Your suite is very nice. The color scheme is intense but charming-” you started to cary the conversation but felt your breath hitch as he got suddenly even closer as if not listening nor caring about what you were trying to discuss. “Please, don’t stop talking,” he purred. “I love your voice,” he added distracted. “You’re not even listening to me,” you replied with a tiny sound. “Mm, you’re right, I’m focusing on other things right now,” he smiled finally lifting his gaze on your face. “Your dress has a blood spot right here,” he pointed to one of your nipples, touching it, definitely feeling how it got hard because of it. You quickly dropped your head to your chest to see. Damn it!, that was a big ass spot on your fucking bright yellow dress. “Why did you wait so long to tell me that?” you jerked your head up again. He shrugged. “I got distracted”. And you knew what he meant with that. You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms on your chest and puffing your cheeks. He found that very funny and just laughed at you. Again. “I think I should go now,” you nodded to yourself as if building up the courage to get up. “Yeah”, Mr. Jung agreed. But you didn’t move nor did he. So, he tilted his head on the side and wetted his lips with the tip of his tongue, getting as close as to whisper on your lips. “Or maybe you’re waiting for me to help you get undressed?” he asked teasingly. His hands were pressed on the desk around your body, his arms feeling like a cage and his presence so intense that you physically shivered. “You- you should let me go,” you stuttered, even if you both already understood that you had no intention to go away. Mr. Jung let his dimples appear in a shiny smile. "What if I want to do something else?" he asked without breaking eye contact. You kept in a whimper, not used to hear people talking to you like that. "You'd have to at least buy me dinner first," you tried to joke and keep up with his vibe. "I'll fill you up so well that you won't want to eat anything else," he whispered and you've never felt your guts do what they just did ever before. Fuck. "I-" you blinked unable to look at his eyes. What was happening? Why was the fundraiser flirting with you? Why weren't you already on your feet walking towards your cabin? Why were your fingers moving slowly to touch his wrist? Why did you were feeling the urge to let it brush his skin and follow the vein on his forearm until reaching the bicep then upon his shoulder, caressing it when it reached the soft part of the neck trying to understand if his pulse was beating as fast as yours or not. He let you do that as your eyes followed your hand and when it was close to his face you saw his jaw clench. You stopped. "Go on," he ordered but you couldn't bring yourself to, feeling your cheeks suddenly burn. So he took your hand and forced it down on his chest, slowly, letting you feel his muscles underneath the thin shirt fabric, going down on his abdomen, making your breath hitch as he flexed his abs on your fingertips, not stopping, letting it slide on his cold belt until your palm was all the way on his turgid length. He pressed his hand on yours even harder, letting you understand what you were dealing with, not looking away from your face, loving your reactions. Oh, you were wet, fuck you were so wet. "Okay," you breathed out, "okay, okay, you won Mr. Jung". "But there is no game," he explained with a sly smile. "If you're trying to make me pay or embarrass me because of the incident, then I'm sorry again Mr. Jung-” you spoke trying to keep your composure that was holding itself on the thinnest thread ever. He chuckled. “I’m trying to tell you that I want to fuck you, miss Y/N,” he whispered against your ear, articulating every word, slowly, as if he was touching you already with his voice alone. You let out a tiny moan that became suddenly bigger as his tongue lightly traced the curve of your neck, making you stretch it to the side. Then he just bit down, hard, with no warning, sucking on the skin, grabbing your thighs, digging his fingers into your flesh and lifting you into his arms. You yelped and tightened your arms around his neck not expecting the movement and not expecting his throwing you on the bed either. You exhaled sharply as it knocked all of the air out of your lungs and he didn’t even give you a single second to breathe in again, that he was already on the bed, on his knees, between your legs. Oh, God. It’s about to happen. But he didn’t do what you thought he would do. His smile never flattered and his eyes never let you go while his palms caressed your legs slowly, from your calves, going underneath your knees, tickling your sensitive skin, then upon your thigh where the dress split started. You looked down at his hands and just gasped loudly when he held the fabric and just tore it apart. “It was ruined anyway, baby girl,” he assured you seeing your shocked expression. You jolted again when he touched your stomach and ripped your dress again, this time until the tear reached your chest and you felt the material sliding off your skin to the sides. Naked in one second, you shivered certain that your cheeks were burning. You wanted to say something, but you had no idea what should one say in these types of situations. “Would you help me take this off as well, babe?” Mr. Jung smiled. “I can’t possibly tear that apart,” you sat up shocked. Jaehyun’s deep laugh tickled your ears. “Just unbutton it, love, it’s enough,” he suggested and you obeyed lifting your hands to rest on his chest for a moment then slowly tackling the task. You felt Mr. Jung’s gaze on your body just as present as his fingers drawing little circles on your bare thighs. “You are so beautiful, miss Y/N,” he suddenly said making your hands tremble on the last button. His compliment didn’t linger in your mind too much though as the image in front of you knocked your thoughts out of your mind. You touched him, starting from the bottom, pressing your hands hard then going up scratching his skin with your nails. He breathed out as your fingers spread on his chest and you expected him to finally kiss you but he just raised one hand and cupped your face, feeling your cheek with his thumb then letting it descend on your neck, massaging your throat, applying some pressure, enough for you to open your lips in an attempt to breath better. Your legs squirmed around him, trying hard to get together, indicating him that something between them needed attention. But he just smiled and didn’t budge. His hand continued to go down on your body until reaching your soft breasts, cupping them, feeling the smoothness of your skin and the plumpness of your hard nipples. You whined at the touch and your eyes implored him to go faster. “Be a good girl for me, or I will stop,” he warned you softly. “You want me to stop?” You shook your head quickly, so easy to submit yourself to him. He smiled as if pleased and let your breasts go to unbuckle his belt. His pace was so calm and slow, so different from just a minute ago when he literally ripped your clothes off your body. He was a surprise and your core felt even wetter at the thought of what he might do next. When he let his thick cock out, pumping it slowly, licking his lips teasingly, you thought he wanted you to go down on him, and oh, you were so eager to do it, letting your tongue feel his veins and taste his flavour. But he clicked his tongue with a dimpled smile as if reading your mind and directed his length on your breasts, hitting your nipples with the tip of his cock, little drops of precum smearing on them, making both of your breaths hitch. You looked down at how it moved and promptly grabbed your chest, tightening it around him, opening your mouth and letting a trail of saliva fall on it. Jaehyun hummed appreciatively and moved his hips between our breasts, loving the way your skin felt on his hot cock, grunting every now and then and biting his lower lip. You, on the other hand, were panting loudly, soon shut up by his fingers shoved inside your mouth to suck on them. Your tongue wet them well while looking up at him with lusty eyes as if asking if you were being a good girl or not. The answer was that you were so good that he had to feel that tongue on his cock as well. So he just grabbed your head by the nape and filled your mouth all in one go, hitting the back of your throat with the hottest groan you’ve heard a man do before. “Oh- oh fuck, fuck-” he managed to say as his adam apple went up and down, swallowing hard. He was so hot, rolling himself on your tongue, chocking you, thrusting fast, holding your face with both of his hands, staring down at how his cock disappeared between your lips. You whined at his size and you would have let him know that it was too much if he didn’t release right at that moment with a shudder of his hips. His expression was pained from pleasure and he tried to pull out but you grabbed his sides to keep him in place and he cursed again, feeling his cum slide down your throat as you swallowed around him, adding to the euphoria. A little trail of it came out your lips and down your chin that you promptly collected with your finger and licked off, slowly, not breaking eye contact. “You are driving me fucking crazy,” his voice came out deep and dangerous just like the look in his dark eyes and just like his manners. He grabbed your shoulders and pushed you down on your back but not giving you a second to catch your breath as you were already turned around on your stomach with a dull thud, his hands forcing you to get on all fours in front of him. Your panties were quickly dragged down your legs but your needy core wasn’t left bare too long as his tongue replaced the fabric, hugging your form tightly, vibrating restlessly on your bundle of nerves, smacking it by tugging it with his lip, caressing it with his thumb, stretching you out to fuck you with his fingers. Previously upright on your hands you just had to let yourself fall on the mattress, not having a single ounce of force in your arms anymore, pressing your face on the covers, mumbling nonsense as Jaehyun was sending you into pure bliss. His teeth followed his tongue on your thigh, biting the soft flesh and sucking on it hard, adding to the sensation his fingers provided so deep inside of you. “S-sir,” you whimpered breathlessly, “don’t stop, please,” you begged. And he didn’t. “Does it feel good, princess?” he asked before going back to tease your clit. “Y-yes, yes, please, I want-” you whispered. He knew what you wanted. He kept on pumping your core fast even when you let out a high pitched sound, gripping the sheets underneath you and squirming restlessly. Your legs were still shaking in spasms when he rolled your over on your back again digging his fingers into your skin, not worried about leaving marks. You looked at him and whined seeing his cocky smile, knowing that nothing good would come out of it. Sprawled like that in front of him, letting him look at every inch of your body in broad sunlight, with your head clearer thanks to the explosive orgasm you’ve just had, you let your hands cover your breasts as if helping to cover you a little. A little tingle of shame caressed your spine and you couldn’t bear to look at Jaehyun in the eyes. He smiled placing his hands on your waist and dragging your body towards him, opening your legs around his hips with a rough movement. “Are you getting embarrassed for behaving like a little slut just now, angel?” he teased you, caressing your thighs. “Let me see everything, put your hands away,” he ordered. You looked at his face for a brief moment and gulped, nervous, still very turned on but so shy at the same time. “I said,” he lowered his voice by a few notes, making your breath quicken, “put your hands away,” he added, intimidating as never before. His expression was lusty but dangerous and you were about to obey, but he didn’t have much patience. He came closer as lighting and grabbing your wrists, he pinned them above your head, keeping them down in an iron grip. His chest was almost touching your breasts and his cock was laying between your wet folds. Jaehyun started to slowly roll his hips and you felt him harden at every movement, twitching on your raw clit, making you jolt. You breathed on his lips, thin moans forming on your tongue, mind starting to get foggy again, your everything telling you to just let yourself go. “Please- please I want-” you mumbled choking on your breath while his other hand traveled south, kneading your hip and pressing your leg against himself even harder. “Yes, darling?” he whispered back, pelvis moving at a slow pace, driving you crazy. “Please- I want to feel you inside,” you confessed with a tiny voice before suddenly losing all air in your lungs as he penetrated you in one go, burying himself deep inside, thrusting hard as to make your body shift on the bed sheets back and forth. “Like this, baby?” he asked with a broken voice. “You wanted this? To feel my cock stretch your sweet little pussy like this, huh?”. You tried to hum back but only high moans escaped your mouth as he was pressing so hard into you, isolating his pelvis movements as if hammering, making your toes curl and legs tighten, all of your muscles tensioned and twitching underneath his weight. “My little disobedient princess had the courage to ask for my cock? Now, you’re going to get it” he got up on his knees again, caressing your stomach then sliding down and rubbing your clit with his thumb. You arched your back, eyes rolling back in your head, hands shifting while trying something to hold onto. When you lifted your hips so close to coming undone yet again, he descended again, stopping with a deep thrust. Remaining still inside and holding you tight, he wrapped your body with his, squishing your breasts with his hard chest. You whined, clenching around him, so so close, please, you were so close. Against your neck, you heard him breathing heavily and chuckle before leaving wet kissed on your skin. Reaching your lips he thrust in again, pushing you into the mattress, repeating the same movement as before, knocking the air out of your lungs, making you moan as never before. You wanted him to move, you wanted him to continue to hit that sweet spot again and again until you would lose your fucking mind. But you had no force to articulate any words so you just wrapped his neck with your arms and dragged him down in your first kiss, letting your tongue communicate what you couldn’t say, whining and wincing, making him growl as you clenched around his throbbing cock while he let his hips move again until they lost rhythm.

#havent written a jaehyun one in a hot minute #jaehyun #jaehyun smut #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun scenarios #nct smut #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct 127 smut #nct #nct 127

478 notes · View notes

pangtasias-atelier · 4 years

Text

The Desolate Winds

Lewyn isn't necessarily my all time favorite from Genealogy, but he's at least probably one of my more preferred for kink stuff at least. Writing kink stuff about Jugdral is still extremely hard with how fucked up the setting is without just overhauling key components. So this definitely took a long time but I just want to write for the older games so I forced myself. And didn't take the easy way out with just using FEH

Also, gen 2 Lewyn is a bit of a mystery since his actual self is left to interpretation. But I think this kinda fit him? Even though it's very headcanony. It's also based on the way FGO does pseudo servants, where the servant is a mixture of the Divine being and also the person their possessing. Cause otherwise, it's very bitter and pissed off and cynical gen2 Lewyn which doesn't necessarily lend well to weight gain stuff.

This is way too nonkink, but oh well, it's at least a change of pace for everyone lol. Also, I love repetition cause I'm basic and a low level writer who shoves it in your face.

And, this is an absolute trainwreck ajshenks. But it's at least a trainweck I can enjoy. If you like it, great! If not, oh well. I just straight up have so much trouble writing about Jugdral in a non au sense. Plus, I got kinda tired of kink so it's literally just a couple of lines ajsnekss

I also forgot a title when I first published this ajsnsks was originally "idk title" and I still dislike coming up with titles and being all fake deep

_____

Spotting the town on the horizon once more, Lewyn sets his sight on it. Snow crunching under his boots, he tugs at his clothes as he wipes the smears of blood on his face. The outfit now snug where once it nearly felt as if would swallow him whole, he had taken up once more the act of traveling.

Having broken their tribe's pact of non-interference, it was best to try and enjoy it as much as he could. And with no more war on the horizon, Naga's power and foresight overcoming Loptous's, that meant he was free to do just that. Forseti having resurrected the Sillesian prince known as Lewyn, the two had become one; their personalities clashing at several times, their mannerisms had left many confused. Impassive and anger would wash away to tears or outbursts, the revelation of their death and nearly everyone else they knew too much for the person known as Lewyn to handle. Too much for any human being to handle. The problems with knowing another being resided in him offered no solace despite them being his savior. How much could he ascertain were his own memories? His own beliefs? His own thoughts? His own life? Everything felt sharper yet duller. Warmer yet colder. Better yet worse.

So he had done the only thing that he knew to do. The one thing that came naturally despite the clouds fogging up his every sense of self.

Run away.

Run away from it all once again. No more shock from different borders. No more shock from finding one more war buddy alive. No more shock from another recognizing him when he could barely recognize himself. "Was this how I acted? Was this how I talked? Was this how I looked?" He would question. Anything he could wonder, he did. And so he fulfilled the duty he felt he owed. He helped fix what Arvis had wronged, the only thing he knew to do upon his revival. And that was that. That was enough for his fill of Jugdral.

On a boat the very next day, he found himself unable to leave fast enough, the home once known to his a lone speck on the horizon as he went wherever the boat took him, Lewyn not even asking.

And as the distance and time grew, life worked its magic on him. It numbed the pain, the confusion, the anger. Self reflection led to self discovery. Memories of a world on the brink and memories of a snowy country organized themselves into different bins. One of Forseti's memories; the other of his own. Memories of traveling, of discovering the world and the plight of its citizens, of recounting stories, of his country, of Silesse. All his own.

And yet, he found himself too weak to return. For Jugdral has no use of him anymore. His own holy blood and weapon passed down and with Loptous gone, there was no place for him. No reason to pick up the thousands of shards that remained, to prick himself and bleed with each one he attempted to repair.

With such a life behind him, no one is going to miss him, for he had lived without a father, surely his offspring could do the same. They could at least thank their grandmother for having only one child, no conniving uncles for them to deal with like he had all his life.

The act of leading indeed far too much, it was simply best for him to leave. No need for an inept prince who had been murdered before he even had the chance. Not with the bitterness and cruelty of the world he had experienced. Jugdral was far better off with idealistic runts. All of them far to reminiscent of their parents. Before they had marched to Belhalla. Nearly all of them burned, skewered or impaled. The memory one he wished he could claim as Forseti's. The memory etched into his mind, having the misfortune to survive and witness it all. Only to be killed despite his pathetic struggling. Perhaps he'd have been better off with the Valkyrie Staff being broken on him. But that was impossible, Claud had been one of the very first. Arvis ensuring Bragi's descendant had been silenced, the power of resurrection and divination too fearful despite his false status as a traitor, political gain the most powerful tool of all.

But none of that was reversible. What had happened, happened. What he had rediscovered was his burden to once more deal with. So he continued to run away. And run even more, all of it merging into one large indistinguishable place. And yet, his sense of concern followed him wherever he ran.

He had first resumed his job as a bard, the ability to recount a multitude of stories with the mess of his memories actually aiding him. But even then that had grown dull. An impassive bystander once more, he grew distasteful of it too. Despite the small growth from his younger self, it mattered not when everything else had felt like it had taken twenty steps back.

With no responsibilities to speak of, he had partaken in eating to at least rid some of his free time despite no longer requiring such sustenance.

Next, he had been a mercenary. Forseti or not, his magic was deadly, a fact he wished he was able to demonstrate to Manfroy. Bandits were simple, far simpler than trained soldiers with clean equipment.

The pay better and lodging and food thrown in, the constant meals in his honor were soon adding up, his thin wiry frame dissapearing under an extra layer of pudge.

But handling bandits was ultimately fruitless. Strike one down, ten more took their place. Soon, lords were next. But even that was the same. Each all too eager to rise to power one step quicker. And those inept to lead would only remain as such with those who wished to take advantage of them.

Begrudgingly, he had decided to reclaim his role as an advisor. Unwilling to divulge his past, as if any would believe his claim to aiding the current king of Grannvale, he simply started small. Some backwater lord forgotten by her King, the area infested with bandits from subpar crop yields. Lucky in finally finding one who wished to better the people's lives, Lewyn's offer was happily accepted, only those on the brink of collapse willing to obtain help from a stranger.

Like he himself had been, and still is from his rubbing, a truth he can't deny, she had been ignorant of all her lackeys's personal agendas. Embezzlement here and there, purposeful destruction of farms for higher positions in other houses, Lewyn had quickly discovered them, all who wished to rise up on the social ladder the same. So he simply treated them how they treated those they felt beneath them.

He disposed of them.

A task he still relishes in. His first taste of it from murdering his uncles.

Despite his unsavory tactics, she had been impressed. And with the territory indeed improving with his actions and recommendations, a letter in his favor had been made to others.

With scheming usurpers in all corners of the world, his aid was in desperate need.

Walking past the town gates, neither of the guards pay attention to the small splatters of blood lining his clothes. Appearance's unimportant to him anymore, the tight white outfit yells his crime to all who see. But with the aid of the night's darkness, his deed's yell is inaudible, no one around to see him. Sneaking through the back of the castle, the layout with least servants or guards well known, he quickly escapes to his room.

Common sense aiding him, he at least disrobes. Placing them in his fireplace, he stands in his underclothes as he watches them turn to ash.

No pleasure found in drinking his woes away, he found the sense of comfort through food. A soft pale little bump on top of his stomach as his shirt lifts to reveal a bit of his lower pudge, Lewyn's extra snacks were now apparent with now being able to stay in one are for some time. His thighs a bit wider, his shorts stretch over the growing area. Arms a smidgen thicker, the extra bit of fat slightly creases by his biceps. Face barely rounder, his no nonsense attitude doesn't make him appear any friendlier.

Placing on the warm robes offered to him as part of his job, they too rest snugly on him. Fabric resting over his tum, the added flesh is apparent.

As soon as he places them on, he wastes no further time. Writing a note about his departure to his current employer, a Countess, he leaves it by his bedside. Signing it under his pseudonym, Daccar, his uncle's name, Lewyn can at least take pleasure in reducing his name in any sense of importance. Even being a footnote in the annals of history is too great for his uncle.

Money and food secure, Lewyn sets out once more. Light on his feet, he carries his trusty elwind in his other hand, no one spotting him.

Preferring the background, he simply follows the winds to whatever his next destination may be. Everyone else left behind constantly.

#fat emblem #fat!lewyn #i guess??#my writing

12 notes · View notes

spooky-scary-imagines · 5 years

Note

What about some head cannons/short story(?) where Brahms’ s/o is his new ‘nanny’ (by that I mean they stumbled upon the ‘abandoned’ manor and decided to live there) and said s/o is mute. Like hums in response to conversations and just gives a nod or head shake to questions.

((Why not a little of both! Also, let’s pretend the Heelshires payed forward a bunch of bills so the house still has water and electricity. Also, pretend that I have a bare-minimum understanding of the layout of the mansion cause there are so many inconsistencies in this about where things are. God, the whole imagine feels so Wattpad 2010 Creepypasta fanfic but I hope you like it lol.

Brahms Heelshire with a mute s/o:

The manor wasn’t the easiest place to live at times. It was huge, imposing, and a little drafty. The strange noises not uncommon in old houses seemed to permeate every room. To top it all off, you could swear the house had rats or something because everytime you bought or made food, some of it would go missing, as well as various other objects. But you can’t beat the price of rent when you’re house-squatting. The weirdest thing though was the little cracked doll of a little boy. While you didn’t follow all the rules on that list it came with, you did keep it with you a lot when you were doing things around the house. It was nice to have something to keep you company that didn’t always expect you to hold a conversation. There was nothing in the air that morning of that would indicate that soon your life was going to completely change. You went about your day as always, reading one of the books from the previous owners small library, making lunch, and doing the minor, but needed work to maintain the mansion. At the end of the day, you tucked the doll into bed and left to get ready yourself, not realizing that there were people waiting outside the house, and that the doors had been left unlocked. They had been scoping out the house for awhile, but had no clue anyone was currently squatting in it. Everyone knew that the Heelshires had disappeared, and left a large amount of wealth behind, but rumors of ghosts and the dark history of the house had kept anyone from going after the house. Until now…You awoke to the sounds of slamming doors and the clattering of plates. It instantly clicked that there were intruders in the house. What could you do? From the sounds of things, there’s too many of them to handle on your own. You couldn’t call for help and even if you could, you were too far away from any real help. As much as you hated the idea of just letting these intruders do whatever they wanted to the place you now thought of as your home, you didn’t seem to have another option. You crept across the hall, grabbed a letter opener, and went to the room where you always tucked in the doll. In a desperate attempt at comfort, you held the doll to you, curled against the far wall. While you never spoke anyway, you tried to stay extra quiet as the noises downstairs continued. After awhile, you realized the noises had changed from muffled speaking voices to loud bangs and yelling…then to silence. After a long period of hearing no further noise, you slowly began to head downstairs and investigate. You were horrified to discover the corpses of the burglars scattered around the home, apparently bludgeoned or strangled to death. Oh God…how were you going to get this across to the police? That train of thought was interrupted by a noise from behind you. You turned to see a tall, gangly man standing in the doorway to the dining room. He looked filthy, stained clothes, and a mop of curly black hair and a scruffy beard sprouting from the dingy mask the man wore, all of which now splattered with light sprays of what appeared to be… blood.The man approached slowly, murmuring in a childlike falsetto, “I’m sorry…They-They deserved it…Please don’t be angry with me…” You didn’t respond and only looked at him as the pieces of the puzzle began to click into place. This wasn’t just some squatter, if you were right, this was THE Brahms Heelshire. The dead boy everyone insisted haunted the mansion. First you had to confirm your suspicions, you motioned for the man to follow you and walked to the large portrait of the Heelshires on the wall. You pointed from the little boy in the picture to the man and he nodded. Alright, so that’s certainly something, but what are you going to do with your new “roommate?” He cocked his head curiously, “And who are you?”You signed your name but he just looked more confused than before.“Do…you not talk?” he asked. You nodded. “Oh…” you both stood there in silence for awhile before he piped up again, “Will you tuck me in now? It’s time for bed.” Whether you know this or not, how you respond will set your fate in stone.

Okay, headcanon time! So while the above story gives one possibility, there are naturally many ways for you to meet. Brahms is actually more likely to reveal himself sooner if you don’t speak. If you don’t talk to the doll, it’s harder for him to pretend he’s there with you, and he’ll grow more lonely. He doesn’t know you’re mute at first, he just figures you aren’t the type to talk to yourself. So when you first “meet” he’ll at first be disappointed when you won’t even talk to the real him, and then relieved that you weren’t just ignoring him when you didn’t respond to his phone calls.

While there’s a part of him that wishes you could do things like read to or talk with him, but he’s perfectly happy just the way things are. He’s happy to do more of the talking, or just sit in silence with you, enjoying each others’ company wordlessly or with some old record playing for background noise. Does this mean he gets to read to you?

He likes how you show you care without having to say it. On a practical level with how you help him take care of himself and make sure he’s happy, healthy, and clean (even when he doesn’t want to be.) On a more sentimental level, he’s super touch-starved, so he adores all your hugs, hang-holding, and kisses

#brahms heelshire #the boy #slasher imagines #slasher headcanons #slasher

80 notes · View notes

mnemememory · 5 years

Text

[video description: a Bengal cat is sitting in the middle of the frame, eyes fixed on something just above the camera’s lens. He stays there for almost five minutes, not moving.

A door slams just off to the side, and the cat flinches.

“HA! I WIN! I WIN!”

A pair of battered boots comes into the scene. “What is –?”

“I WIN!”

Text scrolls across the suddenly blank video: [Triumph is mine!]

STARING CONTEST WITH ROOMMATE’S CAT – part 12

NottTheBrave

[subscribe] 9,409 views

Posted 23/02/2018

Another Staring Contest With The Devil – Nott 3 | Frumpkin 9…SHOW MORE

[video description: A woman is standing in front of a tall wall, dressed in blue sweatpants and a black tank top. She has a long stick held loosely in her hands. Every few seconds, she spins it around so she can better show off her muscles.

Next to her is a tall man with dark skin and a long scar running up from his top lip and across his cheek. He is dressed very thoroughly in padded armour and is side-eyeing the woman and her big stick with what would appear to be a healthy dose of concern.

The woman waves her arms around. The man narrowly dodges underneath the stick.

“Hello, my lovely viewers,” the woman says, grinning. “Today, we’re going to film a man getting hit in the dick with my staff.”

“Beau,” the man says, genuine alarm settling across his classically handsome features. “I didn’t agree to that –”

The scene cuts ahead. The sun is well up in the sky by now. The man is even more thoroughly padded across every inch of his body, so much so that he can barely waddle around without falling over. He attempts to do so, shuffling to the side so he can stare balefully at the camera. Beau is nowhere to be seen.

“Hi,” he says. “My name is Fjord, over at CaptainTusktooth on YouTube, Twitter and Instagram” – links flash across the page, along with the words ‘lol go and tweet him GIF’s from The Ring’ – “And today, I’m going to be acting as a crash-dummy for –”

“Stop boring my viewers!” Beau yells off-screen.

Fjord gives the camera a long stare. It zooms in a little bit to capture how dead inside he looks, the ambient upbeat music momentarily replaced with the sound of violins.

“This is what happens,” he says. “When you lose a bet with your girlfriend. Learn from my mistakes. Don’t make bets with your girlfriend. You will lose.”

Beau cackles off-screen. The tip of her staff whips along the edge of the frame as she warms up. Fjord looks at her, then back at the camera.

“Jester,” he says. “If I die, I want you to know that this is entirely your fault and –”

“Here I come!”

The scene cuts to Fjord giving a loud, high shriek as he stumbles back. The moment replays once in slow motion, the colour saturated out and violins playing in the background, and then cuts to them both standing in side-by-side.

“Okay, so here’s how to actually hit someone –”

Beau continues to demonstrate how to hit someone without actually hurting them, and then how to hit someone and absolutely hurt them. Fjord remains stoic throughout, though ever so often he’ll make a pained face to the camera whenever Beau lands too-hard a hit. The video ends with a montage of Fjord’s uncomfortable faces overlaid with his initial scream].

I Hit A Man So Hard He Screams | ft. CaptainTusktooth

boBeauboBeaubo1

[subscribe] 16,754 views

Posted 03/02/2018

Join me and my crash-dummy and fellow YouTuber CaptainTusktooth (yes, that’s his real name) as I hit him a lot with my staff…SHOW MORE

[video description: A woman with short blue-dyed hair and glitter-dusted freckles is standing in front of an expensive-looking kitchen. Her apron has the words ‘My Cooking Is So Good Even The Smoke Alarm Cheers Me On’ stitched in pink thread across her chest. The intro theme – which consists of tiny bubble unicorns stampeding across the screen dragging the words ‘Jester Fancypants McGee!’ behind them – pops with a burst of sparkly animation.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” Jester says, waving her arms around.

From behind the camera, a quiet voice says something. Words appear at the bottom of the screen:

[Yasha: Your right hand is out of frame]

Jester beams, shifting a little more to the right.

[Yasha: No, you have to go the other way]

Jester shuffles to her left. She seems to receive some kind of non-verbal confirmation that she is corrected positioned, because she starts back up again with no less enthusiasm.

“In honour of Valentines Day, we’re going to do be doing something very special. Do you know what my favourite kind of cake is?”

There is a moment’s silence.

[Yasha: Wait, do you want me to answer that?]

“Red Velvet Cake!” Jester yells at the same time, flinging her arms into the air. “And do you know what that reminds me of?”

Another moment of silence.

[Yasha: …blood?]

“Blood!” Jester yells at the same time. “Oh, you got it right Yasha! Good for you.”

There is a small sigh.

“Here’s what you’re going to need to make this very wonderfully bloody Valentine’s Day Red Velvet Cake,” Jester says. She points at the white granite tabletop and snaps her fingers. Through the magic of jump-cut editing, it soon becomes littered with messily measured bowels of ingredients. Text appears to the side in curly lettering: For ingredients and full recipe, check link to Jester’s blog in the description!!!

The cake that takes form is less anatomically correct than artistically creative, complete with googly-eyes and a dramatically screaming mouth. Jester stands back from her work with a proud smile. She wipes her stained fingers down the length of her apron, which now resembles something out of a particularly gruesome horror movie. Her face is splattered with red food colouring, her nose tipped with a puffy smear of cream cheese icing.

“And there you have it!” she says proudly. “My Valentine’s Day –”

Someone stumbles into the scene. Fjord is very obviously tired, limbs dragging with lethargy, dark bruises visible along his arms. He takes one look at the destroyed kitchen, horror-movie girlfriend, and camera-setup, and then turns around and leaves. An edited frowny face follows him out of frame].

the coolest and most fun valentine’s day cake in the history of ever

Jester Fancypants McGee

[subscribe] 27,490 views

Posted 12/02/2018

Prepare for Vonderful Vampire Valentine’s Day with this one-of-a-kind Red Velvet heart – cake...SHOW MORE

[video description: Fjord is sitting on a comfortable-looking couch that is covered in all kinds of animal rug-skins. The person sitting next to him has shoulder-length blond hair and is almost comically well-dressed compared to Fjord’s own jeans and cowboy boots.

Fjord stares dead at the camera.

“Welcome,” he drawls. “To Fjord’s Yee-Haw Game Ranch.”

Fjord’s Yee-Haw Game Ranch: Red Dead 2 ft. Bryce

CaptainTusktooth

[subscribe] 15,783 views

Posted 26/02/2018

Well howdy there, partners! Welcome to Fjord’s Yee-haw Game Ranch, where I – Captain Tusktooth, AKA Fjord – and Bryce….SHOW MORE

[video description: a tall, skinny man is sitting calmly in the middle of a graveyard. The stones are warped and faded enough that the names are completely unrecognisable, the camera focused in a way that the shadowed trees are a black silhouette against his back.

“Hello, children,” the man says. He is dressed in bright pastels, his hair dyed a fluorescent pink. “Today we are going to make the perfect cup of tea.”

He calmly sets up a tripod with a large, antique black kettle hooked over the top. He sets a small fire underneath it and sits and stares at the camera.

After five minutes of waiting, he checks the kettle and is apparently satisfied with the results, because he goes over to one of the graves and begin to pick some flowers. There is no sound other than the crackle of the fire and the distant, creak of tree branches pushed about by the breeze.

The man returns to his spot and begins to grind up some purple flowers in a mortar and pestle, gently brushing the contents the clay cup when he is done. He sits back with a low, contented sigh and stares at something behind the camera for a little while.

When the kettle begins to make some noise, the man gets to his feet and takes the kettle off the tripod, pouring it into the cup. He stirs it for a little bit with a small stick, and then blows gently over the top. Steam curls up from the cup towards the sky in delicate, smoky tendrils.

The man waits for a few minutes, and then takes a long, generous sip of the tea.

“Aaah,” he says. “Thank you for experiencing this with me, children. This is a very good cup of tea.”

making the perfect cup of tea

Mr. Clay

[subscribe] 20,001 views

Posted 02/02/2018

Making tea…SHOW MORE

[video description: the camera is focused downward at a table full of buttons. There is no apparent uniformity to the size, design or colour – some of them have the paint chipped away, while others sparkle in the dim lighting. There isn’t any room in the frame for the rest of the room. There is no background music.

“Good morning, everyone. Today I welcome you to my button collection.”

A pair of green-gloved hands reach out from both sides of the frame to shift around the buttons. More buttons are revealed.

“This is one of my favourites,” the disembodied voice says. The gloved hand grabs onto a small, clear glass button to hold it up to the lens. It swims in and out of focus for a few seconds. “There was a lovely tailor shop that I lived behind for a while which just threw these away, can you believe –”

“Nott? Have you seen my cat?”

“I’m filming –”

The scene cuts again. The lighting has changed and become much brighter. The buttons on the table have obviously been messed around with. The green-gloved hand is holding up another button up for the camera to inspect, this one bronze-looking and intricately designed.

“I found this one on the coat of a dead person washed up next to the sewer I was hiding behind. I had to polish it a lot to get the bloodstains out of the cracks, but I think it came out okay.”

The rest of the video continues in a similar vein, with the green-gloved hand choosing buttons from the table seemingly at random and relaying stories about each of them. At one point, a cat jumps up onto the table and starts pawing through the buttons, but the green-gloved hand shoos it away before it can eat any of them].

EPIC BUTTON COLLECTION

NottTheBrave

[subscribe] 2,354 views

Posted 11/03/2018

I share my button collection....SHOW MORE

BONUS

[video description: a tall, androgynous-looking man who has perfect purple-and-gold eyeshadow and is covered in tattoos stares fixedly at the camera. He is sitting cross-legged on a bed covered in throw-pillows that do not match. He is slowly tapping his nails – which are painted a lime green with glitter accents – along his knee.

“Well, well, well,” he says, lazily stretching out his shoulders. “I bet you thought I had died.”

Someone clears their voice offscreen.

“Well, I didn’t!” he continues hastily, voice bright and cheerful. “Which is the important thing to remember here. No one is dead. I continue to grace you with my presence through your computer screens. Less Mollymauk Tealeaf is still better than none!”

Another throat-clear, this time louder and more pointed.

Mollymauk rolls his eyes. “Since my last foundation tutorial seemed to go over well, I thought I should demonstrate some more advanced –”

Someone barges into screen, shoving Mollymauk off to the side and glaring at the camera. Her shirt if cobalt blue. Her arms are crossed in front of her chest. Her makeup is smudgy and old.

“Hey, Molly,” she says. “Why don’t you tell your lovely viewers why you’ve been so radio silent these past few weeks.”

“I said you could watch so long as you didn’t interfere! This is going to be a mess trying to edit out –”

“No one wants to watch your foundation, they want to know about –”

“I am a very private person, Beau, and I don’t appreciate –”

Someone comes into frame. She is very tall, with heavy dark makeup and frost-pale skin. Her eyes narrow at the bickering duo, and then she turns her back onto them.

“He got hit by a car,” she says.

“Yasha! Get back behind the camera!”

Yasha shrugs and goes out of frame. Mollymauk is currently in a headlock.

“Wait, on second thought, come and save me –!”

The scene cuts into the future, with Mollymauk and Beau sitting on opposite ends of the bed glaring at each other. They are both noticeably more dishevelled than earlier. Mollymauk’s makeup does, however, remain impeccable.

Words appear at the bottom of the screen:

[We put it to a vote. Molly was outvoted 2 to 1. You’re welcome]

“Fine,” Mollymauk finally says, sulkily uncrossing his arms and sitting up a little straighter. “This can be my impromptu Q&A! I haven’t done one of those in a while, anyway. To make a long story short –

“Very short,” mutters Beau.

“– I was run over by one of my exes.”

“One of your asshole exes,” Beau says. “You always forget to mention that.”

“Well, I thought the fact that he ran me over with his car made that fairly self-explanatory.”

“People are stupid. They need things spelled out for them.”

“Well, maybe you’re not –”

There is another jump cut. There are noticeably less pillows on the bed, and the ones that remain have been moved around. Beau is gazing sulkily off into the corner.

“I basically broke up with him because he started being a creep to some friends of mine,” Mollymauk says, glancing down at his nails. “And when they told me some of the things he said – well, it wasn’t exactly the most heartbreaking decision I’ve ever made. It was rather cathartic, actually.”

“And then he ran you over with a car.”

“I’m getting to that, calm down. Since Lorenzo wouldn’t stop harassing me, I decided to – well, you know what, that’s not a very internet-friendly story. Needless to say, he made the decision to cut off all contact.”

“With you,” Beau mutters. Mollymauk ignores her.

“Unfortunately, he isn’t exactly – the hamster’s dead, but the wheel’s still turning, if you know what I mean. Since I’m rather publicly affiliated with this simply charming young woman –”

“Fuck you, Molly.”

“– he decided to be rather unpleasant.”

Beau scowls. “This idiot pushed me out of the way of that car and was in a coma for a good week. Thanks, dickhead.”

“I’m so sorry for saving your life, it won’t happen next time.”

[I just cut out the next part because I had to bleep everything out, and it wasn’t worth it]

The scene cuts again. Molly is sitting in centre frame, back straight and grin wide. Beau is nowhere to be seen. The bed is a mess, with most of the pillows shoved into the corner.

“Since this devolved a little, I guess my next video will have to be the foundation one! So sorry for that, my lovely viewers, but really what you need to know is that I’m back and will once again be uploading on schedule. So long, farewell, and I’ll see you next time.”

Molly blows a kiss to the camera, and the scene ends.

My Ex Ran Me Over With His Car | Impromptu Q&A With boBeauboBeaubo1

Mollymauk Tealeaf

[subscribe] 2,097,364 views

Posted 12/07/2018

While I think the title is fairly self-explanatory, I do want to assure people that I’m all better now with only a few scars…SHOW MORE

#critical role #critical role campaign 2 #the mighty nein #youtuber AU #fjorester #light romance #beau & fjord bromance #everyone lives and is happy #dead molly what dead molly #modern au #i think i'm funny #fanfic #my writing #edit: why does tumblr keep fucking up my formatting???

33 notes · View notes

inkspottie · 6 years

Text

Siren’s Serenade

Another drabbly by yours truly! Background for this, since its a bit hard to read three henry’s we gave every Henry a little nickname so it’ll be easier for you all. And us as well lol when reading this @doberart‘s Henry will be Ross, @trashboatprince‘s Henry is Delta and mine is just Henry. Just a little clarification for ya’ll

Shall we?

Alice Angel was something else, the woman had spoken to them through the audio system with a deep suave voice. They needed to get through a door, since Ross’ wife was somewhere deeper in Rapture Studio and the only way was through this damn door. Which was conveniently locked.

But this Alice had a key, and all they needed to do was gather things for her. Simple. Easy. They made a good team, Ross, Henry and Delta. All conveniently named Henry but they decided to give each other nicknames so it was easier to deal with things.

They were just about finished with the final part, she wanted ink collected. Must be one of the druggies, but if it meant getting the damn door open then so be it. Bendy was a good locator for the said ink, calling them angels. Alice had given them a syringe to use instead of Bendy’s own.

Simple task, if it not were for the searchers and splicers coming out when the blood was in the water. Crawling like a moth to the flame, enemies from all around swarmed them.

Three of them with plasmids and weapons in their hands was good odds, since most of them were very weak since the Ink made them mad and completely insane. A simple smack or thrust of lightning would knock them out cold.

The final searcher fell to the ground and Henry panted, wiping his brow. The others seemed just as winded.

“Where’s Bendy?” Delta asks and Henry lifts his head turning around to search for the Little Devil.

“I thought he was with you?” Ross states and starts to search as well, seeing if the little creature was hiding. Bendy was a little trickster and loved to play hide and seek, but this was not exactly the time to play.

“Bendy? Bendy?” Delta shouted lifting up tables and searching vents. Henry could tell he was anxious, Delta was very protective of the little one. The taller man’s black eye was flickering from green to yellow in his anxiety.

“We’ll find him. He’s gotta be some—“ Henry stops when Ross makes a noise and he turns to see inky footprints, boot prints.

Delta bends down and reaches to touch the substance rubbing it in between his fingers. “Bendy.” He confirms. He must’ve wandered off as they were fighting. Delta immediately gets up and rushes out of the room, with Henry and Ross in tow.

The larger man usually was much slower, the diving suit no doubt was extremely heavy and he wasn’t exactly the fastest of the group. But the worry on his face and the large strides meant business.

They stopped when realizing that this was Alice’s lair, she said that she would meet them there. Had Bendy already walked through here? The footprints stopped here and Delta slammed the door open.

“Bendy!” Delta shouts looking around. The room was grand and elegant, broken chandeliers and torn plush seats scattered the room. It looked like some sort of lounge where the rich came to party and mingle. Halos and wings were crudely drawn across the peeling wallpaper, the faint light of the chandeliers made the atmosphere very tense.

“Welcome to my parlor, said the spider to the fly.” A familiar voice crooned as a faint light shone above a balcony. Silhouetted in the light was a woman, her face covered in what looked like a cartoon mask, her hair tangled and ratty on one side, while the other was shaved close to her head. She wore a strange outfit, with leather belts and metal plates across her shoulders.

“Hello boys, your guardian angel has graced you.” She replies as she lifts something up in her hands. “Had I known you had this little treasure, I would of lead you here quicker.” In her clawed hand was a whimpering Bendy, quaking in fear.

“Bendy!” Delta roars his eye glowing red.

Alice chuckles deeply holding Bendy close to her hip, “Oh please you don’t scare me. After all, I know you all too well. A big hulking idiot that looks after these precious things. I used to believe they were sacred, until their ink granted me the life I needed. Perfect beautiful angel.” She breathes in sharply pulling her mask to the side.

“And with this,” she gestures to Bendy with a large grin, half of her face melted from the overexposure of Ink. “I’ll be perfect!” As she said that she stood on the railing, large wings unfurling before them. They were broken, battered. Bits of feathers flying, matted and burnt. Like a fallen angel. Her skeletal wings fluttered for a moment before they curled around her sides.

“Give him back you bitch.” Delta snarls and Alice continues to laugh.

“Empty threats, silly men. I know a little secret of yours. It’s very interesting, funny how words can take over a mind of someone. Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words? Words cut you up and make you something else entirely. Isn’t that right, Henry?”

Henry swallows thickly, looking at the two of him, his axe slightly shaking. Sometimes he would black out, not remember something and find himself sore or being hit by Delta. It’s happened before but he didn’t know how or why.

“What does she mean.” Ross asks as he raises his pistol at her.

Alice makes a look of shock, “Why you don’t know? Allow me to demonstrate. Henry, my dear. would you kindly destroy them?”

Like a flick of the switch Henry looks at her, his body trembling for a moment before turning his attention to them. His eyes a pure yellow, slightly pulsating as he clenched his hand the Angel’s Grace plasmid brightens.

“Henry, Henry no. You can fight it! Damn it!” Delta shouts as Henry takes a swing at Delta, missing by a mere inch. “Snap out of it!”

“What’s happening?!” Ross asks as he rolls out of the way of Henry’s large beam of light, burning a complete hole in the couch behind them.

Delta turns to Ross and then back to Henry seeing the pure look of malice on the man’s face. “He’s being controlled by that bitch!” He decides to throw a couple splatters of his plasmid Ink Spots, causing the little ink demons to attach themselves to Henry’s legs to try and stop him. “We can’t kill him!”

“I know that!” Ross snaps, “There a way to stop this?”

“Yes yes fight amongst yourselves!” She reaches for the cage that was hanging beside her and throws Bendy. “What’s better than a dinner and a show.”

“Stop it please!” Bendy cries and Alice laughs loudly shaking the cage.

“Don’t worry, one of them is bound to die anyways. You’ll have two dads instead of three. Not too bad of a deal, that is until I drain you dry.” She croons curling her clawed fingers under his chin.

“Knock him out!” Delta shouts as Henry uses his fire plasmid to burn the ink off him, his arm burning as he tosses a fireball at them. Delta blows it away with his wind plasmid snuffing it out before it hit him.

Henry is coming at them with unbridled rage, his eyes glowing bright as the fire burns up his arm, not catching on his clothes. He chucks another fireball at Delta who ducks, feeling the heat of the flame pass him by.

“At least he’s not using his weapon with his plasmid!” Ross shouts as Henry burns the side of a couch trying to hit him.

The sweater clad man stops for a second a with a swift motion the axe catches a flame and Delta lets out a string of curses.

“You just had to say that!” He shouts to Ross as he attempts to kick the enraged Henry away watching out for the burning blade of the axe. “By this rate we’re gonna have this place catch fire!”

Ross pauses as Henry focuses on Delta, “Okay I got an idea. Since Ink Spots won’t hold you don’t how about a little gravity!” He clenches his free hand activating the plasmid. Bright copper armor quickly attaches to Ross like a make-shift gauntlet, steam rising from the metal. He makes a motion and the air changes as gravity starts to fluctuate. Henry is suddenly lifted into the air floating a bit so he wouldn’t be swinging that axe.

“Okay I got him!” Ross shouts as he holds Henry steady with his plasmid. “Now what?!”

“Hold him there! I think I got an idea.” Delta watches the squirming Henry, the fire extinguishing from the axe. His hand is still lit but it suddenly changes, ice begins to crawl up his hand, icicles forming as it does so. Henry turns his gaze to Ross and fires a blast.

The man had to stay still to keep Henry up in the air, so the ice hits him right in the chest. Ross stumbles and ice begins to crawl up his chest and freeze him on the spot.

“That’s it Henry finish them!” Alice calls out as Henry lands on his feet coming for Delta.

Delta sees the frozen body of Ross and snarls his eye turning a deep red. “That’s it, c’mere you!” He shouts running at Henry with such speed the man isn’t able to dodge it. Delta picks up the smaller Henry and holds him tightly, using his bulky suit to choke him out.

“I didn’t want to do this but you leave me no choice! It’s time for a little nap!” Henry struggles under the grip, snarling like a wild animal but Delta is stronger gripping and crushing Henry. In a few moments Henry’s actions get sluggish and slower until Henry finally drops, passing out in Delta’s arms.

“There.” Delta says placing the man down on the ground. The ice begins to crack and Ross breaks through giving out a shudder.

“Christ that’s cold!” He mutters rubbing his arms as he wipes away a bit of snow on him. “You got him?” He looks to Delta and then to the fallen Henry.

“Down for the count. Now it’s the bitch’s turn.” Delta spits as he looks up to the balcony to find that she wasn’t there. Bendy was trapped in a cage shaking like a leaf his tail curled against his body as he watched it all happen.

“How dare you?! Come in here and ruin my fun! You want to take my perfection away? Fine, we can play.” Alice swoops down to the floor, a sword in hand, withered wings flapping in her frustration. Her face is melting away, the yellow eye clouded with insanity while the other dripped with ink.

“I’M ALICE ANGEL AND YOU WILL DI-“ She doesn’t finish her sentence as a figure fast as lightning appears before her, stabbing her straight through the middle. She chokes in surprise, looking down at the sword and then to her killer. “I always knew you were a bitch.” She sputters as ink falls from her mouth, the sword pulling out of her and she falls to the floor motionless.

“The same for you.” The killer states, it’s a woman, her hair tied up in a tight ponytail and covered in leather much like Alice was. On her back was a sort of metal basket of sorts, and inside was Bendy.

“As for you, I have some words for you. Leaving him up there like that, how dare you.” The woman says coming up to Delta and gave him a very hard slap to the cheek.

Delta pulls back in surprise blinking rapidly, “Woah! Who even are you?” He asks narrowing his eyes.

“I’m Allison, Bendy’s Sister Angel.”

#boom there you go #i did try to find all the mistakes #but if theyre is some forgive me #but yeah!#Alice Angel is definitely batshit insane #and here come's allison to the rescue #poor henry #all of them tbh #henry batim #BioShock crossover #spottie writes

72 notes · View notes

obiwan824 · 6 years

Text

Break-In- Vampire! Anatole x Reader

requested by: anon

request: are you doing spooky requests for halloween? what about vampire!anatole x reader?

a/n: this is more of a scary vampire story as opposed to sexy lol but there’s more coming!

The night was quiet, almost eerily so, and somehow you had found yourself in the middle of the woods lining your home.

You hadn’t meant for it to happen. You had heard a noise while the sun was still bright and had gone after it, without really thinking, but hours had passed and suddenly, you were enveloped in the thick, suffocating darkness of the night.

The moon was a far-off crescent in the sky, the beams of light barely visible through the thick canopy of leaves above you, but still you squinted up at where you remembered it being, hoping for a bit more light.

Your phone was shaky in your hand, making the flashlight flicker across your path, and you took careful steps, trying to ignore the thumping of your heart.

Suddenly, you heard a sharp noise, a rustle of leaves to the side.

“Hello?” you murmured, almost too afraid to speak. Your throat was raw and your teeth chattered with the cold, making you curl into the warmth of your jacket more.

There was only silence, accompanied by the feeling of being watched.

It wasn’t bad, exactly, only unsettling- you had been alone for so long, now, that any company felt almost warm, a relief. But the uneasiness in your heart hadn’t lifted from the moment you’d heard the noise, only making your fear greater.

You took a hesitant step forward, then another, and then you were pressing forward again, sure, now, that you were headed in the right direction. You thought of home, of making a warm cup of cocoa and climbing into your warm bed and staying there until the morning.

Instead of your nice little home that you’d been saving for since college, you came across a tiny cabin, cozy-looking despite the cracked windows and plethora of cobwebs hanging from the rafters.

Another noise, this time to your other side, and you glanced with wide eyes, but nothing was there, even when you thought to shine the flashlight on it.

You turned the light onto the cabin, much less spooky-looking when it was in the flashlight’s beam, and you made a move to step towards it before your flashlight sputtered, flickered, and turned to black.

You turned over your phone- dead.

Shit.

Before you could overthink it, you stepped up to the cabin and knocked on the door. You wouldn’t make it five minutes in the forest without a phone.

You waited for what felt like hours, knowing the looming darkness went on for miles behind you, knowing that something could be right behind you, lurking, waiting-

You whipped around, feeling eyes boring into your back, but nothing was there.

When you glanced back at the door, it had creeped open just the tiniest bit. You took it as a welcome to come in and close the door behind you.

You could barely make out anything in the dark.

“Hello?” you called out softly, filled with fear.

At no reply, you began to walk around, finally making out an object in the darkness, an old-fashioned trunk. You ran your hands over the textured leather, the ornate decorations on it, and hooked your finger under the golden clasp as if to open it, until the items on top distracted you.

A various collection of knickknacks, each of them perfectly useless and important all the same. A beautiful, hand-painted music box caught your eye.

Golden details contrasted the light blue colored background, a beach scene painted on top. You smiled, intrigued by why such a beautiful item was residing in such an unpleasant place.

You picked the music box up, but promptly dropped it when something tapped you on the shoulder.

With a scream you turned around and two arms came out on either side of you, pinning your hands to the trunk. In the shadows, you couldn’t make out the figure, but two glowing eyes, tinted red, and sharp white teeth snarled at you.

“Do not touch my things,” the figure growled, teeth glinting. You jumped when you noticed the teeth weren’t teeth- fangs.

“I-” you choked out, unable to form words. “I-”

The figure cocked its head to the side. “What do you say when you break someone’s things?” you could have sworn its lips were pulled up into a smirk.

“S-sorry?”

It laughed, something high-pitched, shrill, terrible- you resisted the urge to cover your ears. “That’s right. That’s right.”

“Who are you?”

The figure paused, tilting its head to the other side. “You break into my home, break my music box, and then ask who I am?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, heart beating. “I- my name’s- my name is Y/N.”

It smiled again, grip on your hands loosening. “Anatole.”

“I’m lost.”

“I can tell.” the redness in its- his?- eyes had given way to brown, a deep hazel that still glowed in the darkness and the bitter venom in his face grew into something softer, almost gentle, that soothed your fear. “Pretty thing, aren’t you?”

He was silent for a long, pulsing moment before he drew his arms back and let you free, adjusting his sleeves in the darkness.

“Can I stay here?” you blurted out before you lost the courage. “Just for tonight, I mean- I don’t know how to get back home, and my phone is dead-” you silently berated yourself- how much information were you going to give to this man, who just a moment ago, had had red eyes and fangs and was growling at you?

You watched his form retreat silently, walking over to the door, and flicking on the light switch.

You blinked a few times at the sudden intrusion of light before finding him, turning around to face you.

He was completely normal, even handsome- bright blond hair, blue eyes (you didn’t even think to question the anomaly of his color-changing eyes), sharp jawline- except for the blood on his white, pressed dress shirt.

He followed your gaze down to it, then smiled. “Sorry about that.”

He didn’t offer an explanation, but his easy tone of voice relaxed you.

You were still frozen into place, hands on table, shattered music box a few inches to your right.

“Tea?” he held up a kettle, eyes pressing into you in a nearly-terrifying way. “You look freezing, dear.”

You bit your lip slightly, letting your hands slip of off the trunk. “Uh, yeah- yeah, sure. Tea would be great. Thanks.”

Anatole shrugged slightly and filled it with water, then set it on the stove to boil. He moved to the sink and, almost as an afterthought, began to scrub the blood off of his shirt.

You took the moment to study the space- it was smaller than it had seemed from the outside, cozy but almost too small for anyone to live in. There was a tiny kitchen area, a couch in front of a tv, and then another door that must have led to his bedroom.

“Why do you live here?” you asked quietly, voice dripping with fear.

If Anatole noticed, he didn’t say anything. “It’s secluded.”

“I’ll say.” you turned around once more, but Anatole was gone. When you turned back, he was suddenly in front of you, on the couch with two cups of tea in front of him.

You jumped as Anatole smirked, gesturing to the space behind him. You gingerly took the seat, holding the tea in your shaking hands with a quiet ‘thanks’.

“Why the woods, though?” you asked in between greedy sips. Your raw throat slowly gave way.

Anatole hesitated for a long moment before speaking slowly, carefully, as if choosing his every word before he spoke it. “It’s- dark.”

“You like the dark?”

He didn’t answer.

Time stretched by, silent and filled with tension. You sensed that you’d somehow upset him, although you had no idea what you’d done. You opted to stay silent until the cup of tea was finished.

“It’s getting late.”

Anatole glanced at the clock hanging above the couch, eyes narrowing slightly at it. “It is.”

You waited for more, but when he remained silence, you awkwardly spoke. “Do you have a bathroom?”

Anatole started, paling slightly at the question. Without a word, he jutted his thumb over his shoulder at the door you’d thought was his bedroom.

You got up, thanked him, and walked in. Just before you could enter, however, he had caught your wrist.

“Don’t. Touch. Anything.” his voice was dangerously close to a growl again. Not wanting to anger him, you swallowed hard and nodded.

You took the moment away from Anatole to catch your breath. You then walked over to the sink, washed your hands, splashed your face with water, and adjusted yourself in the mirror.

You noticed the sink was splattered with blood, and your eyes widened. Just one night, you reminded yourself. Just one night, and then you’ll never have to think about this again.

You studied your reflection, making sure you looked presentable after your walk through the woods.

You turned to leave and Anatole was behind you.

You looked back at the mirror, then at him, eyebrows furrowing, and then suddenly, your mind was full of panic.

He didn’t have a reflection.

His hands came out to your shoulders and locked you in place before you could make a run for it, his breaths long, ragged, shuddering.

“Listen closely.” his voice was low, eyes tinged with red once more. “Follow my every instruction, and you won’t get hurt.”

You swallowed hard.

“Stay still.” one hand held your wrists behind your back so that they pressing uncomfortably against the counter, the other came up to your neck, brushing aside any stray hairs.

He leaned forward and his lips brushed against first your ear, then your neck, slowly, painfully finding the perfect spot.

“What are you doing?”

He looked up with a start, as if forgetting that you were even there.

Your palms were sweating and your heart was clambering to get out of its cage. Your mind was repeating one word, over and over, panic-laced and full of hope- run.

“Stay. Still.” he snarled, and his fangs were glinting again. You wished you’d never knocked on his door.

His lips found your neck again and then, without the gentleness of before, he was cutting into your neck. A sharp sting, then the uncomfortable sensation of your blood leaving your neck.

You cried out but a piercing look from him made you fall silent, chewing your lip and squeezing the counter behind you to try and take out the frustration.

A minute passed, then another, until Anatole finally seemed satisfied. His mouth was replaced by his free hand, the pressure of it making you squeak but kept the blood in.

“Sorry about that, love,” he said easily, the paleness of his skin replaced by flushing life and the redness of his eyes replaced with that pretty hazel. He would have looked completely human, completely normal if it weren’t for the redness of his lips and the drops of blood falling onto his collar.

You looked him up and down with wide, fearful eyes, mouth gaping open. “What- what are you?”

His eyes flashed red for just a split second and he cocked his head to the side, raising his eyebrows. “Darling- I think you know exactly what I am.”

He smiled once more before his hand tightened around your neck and everything faded to black.

#anatole queueagin #nick writes #anatole x reader #gn reader #spooky day

12 notes · View notes

hazelnatcoffee · 6 years

Note

hi I love your writing!! do you take prompts? because I have a mighty need for protective!Keith, if you wanted to??

aaah thanks anon! Prompts are always open (if you want to risk it lol) so yep, if it tickles my fancy xD I had this WIP going in a different direction at first but this ask… changed everything… so, featuring wingman!Pidge, mutual pining, yeah. this is just bad crack tbh

“Uh…” Keith blinks, trying to adjust to the dimmer lighting. “Where are we?”

He glances to the right, and discovers that Pidge is nowhere to be found- but she was right beside him, wasn’t she?

“Pidge?” He wanders around a few boxes, quickly realizing that the bunker-esque room is empty, save for him.

Oh.

Great.

The phone (he assumes, Pidge had called it something else) in his pocket starts ringing, after a minute, so he wastes no time in digging it out- maybe there was a malfunction? Those happen.

“Hey, Keith!” Pidge’s chirp comes through a bit staticky. “Sorry about that, but it looks like your Galra blood isn’t showing up in the layout readings and- well, you’re a little stuck.”

“A little?”

“Okay, a lot stuck,” Pidge amends. There’s more beeping and computer noises behind her. “See, we forgot that the transporter hasn’t really been tested on Galra before-”

Keith’s mouth falls open. “What? You let me get on that thing without trying it out first?”

“To be fair, I wasn’t here when the Olkari designed it, so-”

She’s cut off by a high-pitched laugh in the background, and then a deeper, stern, Lance that Keith rolls his eyes at.

“-yeah, okay? It’s hilarious, whatever.” Pidge sighs, and her voice becomes clearer like she’d held the phone away from her face for the last bit. “Sorry. Apparently this is the highlight of everyone’s day.”

Keith sinks down onto a sturdier-looking wooden crate, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Alright. So what now?”

“Um,” Pidge pauses long enough for him to hear another laugh and more clicking of a keyboard, and then continues, “Take a nap? We’ll have you out in an hour or so.”

He groans quietly and rubs the bridge of his nose. An hour or so is nothing. It’s fine. He’s waited longer in lines to flight simulators.

Pidge suggests, “If it helps, I can send someone else down? To keep you company, I mean.”

“I’ll go!” Someone shouts in the background, and Keith almost groans again.

“Not Lance,” He insists.

Someone else mumbles something too low to make out, and Pidge relays, “Hunk says he’s claustrophobic. And also queasy from the first jump.”

“It’s okay, Hunk.”

“Alright then,” Pidge types some more, and a bit more noise comes through the line before she finishes, “I’m staying up here to figure this out.” There’s a pause where Keith thinks she’s cut the line, but then she speaks again and her shit-eating grin is visible.

“I’m sure Shiro can keep you company.”

Keith has a second to process, and his blood runs cold.

“Pidge,” He warns. “I want you to think very carefully about what you’re doing.”

“Oh, I have,” She answers smoothly. “This is the opportunity of a lifetime, Keith. Maybe you two just need a little push.”

“Pidge,” He says again, more concerned. “You’re the only one that knows- I can’t- not yet-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Pidge says suavely, and hangs up.

Keith thunks his head against the nearest shelf, just as he’s blinded by a transport beam for the third time that day.

“Keith.”

“What?” He finally answers, focused on trying to get every bit of dirt from under his nails as he paces, decidedly not looking at Shiro.

Shiro, who reaches out to halt his movement with one large hand to Keith’s arm. A hand that could easily close all the way around his elbow. The thought is quite unwelcome at Keith’s current state.

“Can you sit down?” Shiro asks, eyes flickering with worry. “You’re making me nervous.”

And that- that is the last thing they need; two nervous Paladins trapped in a bunker. One of them currently plotting all sorts of revenge for the actions of a certain, bespectacled techie.

“Sorry,” Keith apologizes, and sits down. Shiro’s hand is still on his arm. “Uh. Shiro?”

He doesn’t seem to notice. “Yes?”

It occurs to Keith that he doesn’t need to point out the point of contact between them- could just leave it, and revel in the feeling for a minute- but no. Shiro’s bound to notice at some point.

It’s almost a shock when he tries to pull his arm away, and Shiro’s grip tightens.

“You said you’d sit.”

He’d never confirmed anything of the sort, nor was he attempting to stand back up, so his curiosity is genuine when he wonders aloud, “Shiro, are you-” The idea seems almost ridiculous. “Are you scared of the dark?”

“No!” He denies, but it’s weak.

“You are!” Keith persists, then more confused, “Why didn’t you just stay up there with the others?”

Shiro’s face is tinged with pink (or at least, Keith thinks) when he answers, flustered, “It’s not that dark in here, Keith. And I wasn’t about to leave you alone, was I? It’s fine.” But his grip isn’t letting up any.

“Oh,” Keith says.

And he glances back down at Shiro’s hold, thinking, what the hell, I’ve got an excuse, and extracting it again. Shiro looks vaguely nervous, once more, until Keith replaces his elbow with his hand.

“Better?” He asks, aware that he’s flushing at a steady pace.

Shiro closes his mouth, squeezes his hand and smiles. “Much better.”

Pidge is on Keith as soon as he has a minute to walk away from the group- as soon as they’re all at the intended destination, all limbs intact.

“So,” She begins, eyebrows lowered to scrunch her face, along with the scheming grin. “How’d it go?”

Her interest is… disconcerting, but Keith’s devised at least twelve different methods of revenge at this point, so he answers simply, “Fine.” Because it was. It was fine.

“Just fine?” She frowns then. “Wait, did Shiro not hold your hand?” She hits her fist over her other palm, seeming too frustrated to notice Keith’s dawning realization. “I told him that he could get away with it if-”

“You put him up to that?” Keith all but demands, advancing on her like she’ll bolt and- she looks like she might, now. “Pidge!”

Her grin is sheepish but unconcerned as she shrugs. “Hey, I said you two needed a little push. Think of this as a favor. No- no need to look so angry. Hey Shiro, maybe you should- Shiro!!”

The others steer clear, after she ends up with a dozen Olkari spores splattered along her back, and a disgruntled expression that could only convey one emotion; betrayal.

#anonymous #sheith #drabble? ish #I'm tryin scoob

40 notes · View notes

empty-dream · 7 years

Text

Me watching Fate/Apocrypha ep 10

Sieg: *trembling while holding the sword* “Fight me!” Mordred: “Learn to hold a goddamn sword first”

Astolfo: “Dude I did not suffer for this!’ Sieg: “Really sorry about that!” Mordred: *send them both away with one blow* “gET A ROOM”

I’m choking Mordred is definitely pulling a “Are you serious? Right in front of my salad sword?”

Wow Sieg’s glare is pretty chilling. Finally some depth on his on screen appearance.

In addition, it’s when he declares his new name and his existence, so good job.

Caules and Fran getting on the hit-them-when-they-talk bandwagon.

You thought regular looting is bad? Try heart looting.

Hello to the people who come here thinking Jack is hot innocent loli, behold she is actually blood-splattered lunatic scavenging dead hearts from dead people.

The idea of the most famous serial killer being an apparition shaped as little girl dressed in futuristic stripper outfit bathed in blood and corpses while fiddling with a Nokia 6000 series is WAY BEYOND WHAT I COULD EVER COME UP IN MY ENTIRE LIFE

“Our new room” more like “room we literally kill people for”

Jack: “Okay mom, bye bye!” *Naruto runs*

How is that walking metal armor not electrocuted by Fran’s lightning that’s some EX magic shit going on here

Caules hon that’s not what I’d call acting with discretion.

‘Third-rates’ wow Mordred your trash-talking actually hurts huh who did you learn from? Gawain?

I just realized that since Clarent is powered by Mordred’s hatred for Artoria, then it basically runs on the power of emo LOLOLOLOL

Well all is funny until she blows everybody several yards away with it.

Yo Mordred do yo always go and see people and be like “this one is homunculus, this one is not”??

On the other hand, good job A-1 at showing explicitly that Fran is indeed not a homunculus nor a human but a true artificial creation.

I don’t like saying this but Mordred, if you want an enemy real dead, go for the head.

I think she was all about decapitating people before so why suddenly just stabbed?

Um nice try Sieg but don’t you see that metal armor is like this thick and Mordred is like Terminator?

The sword looks like a toothpick jammed lightly it’s awkward now

Mordred angrily turns red, literally.

Remember that Astolfo saved Sieg just because he could? Now Sieg saved Astolfo simply because he saved him.

Ugh getting stabbed by that huge-ass sword should hurt A LOT huh

It’s been like two days out of the castle and Sieg experiences death. AGAIN.

Sieg you need to stop dying this is not Supernatural.

I guess Mordred’s characterization is definitely aimed to be jarring between the savagery she displays in battle and the chivalrous nature she harbours as a knight.

Astolfo: “HOW DARE YOU KILL THEM?! ARE YOU SERIOUS?! RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY SALAD LANCE?!”

That’s some chilling scream Astolfo

Kairi: “Did you make sure she’s dead?” Mordred: “Dude I stabbed her with giant sword like in the torso” Kairi: “Shit boi did you forget this is a magic war? People sparkles when they die!”

Fran’s mace: *standing up ominously* Mordred: “Weird” Me: Maybe you should be called “The Knight of Obviousness” instead of “The Knight of Treachery”

Fran: SURPRISE BITCH THOUGHT YOU’D SEEN THE LAST OF ME

Fran taking strangling with bare hands to a whole new level

Wow the mace suddenly floats, does some clicking, whirling, becomes green, and now it looks like green thunder chupa chups

Uh as much as I hate Celenike, I can’t disagree with her saying ‘stand back and don’t get roped into a suicide bomb’

But I guess if she doesn’t force Astolfo he’d definitely bolt to the ground zero trying to get a better ending that’s just like him

At this point, it’s pretty clear that none of Fran Al-Qaeda-ing her way is Caules’ command.

But instead he just understands her and gives the last command spell to boost her, no matter how painful of a decision it is :(

Wow does using the last command spell always induce flashy tron lines and sharp lightning?? Is this the Apocrypha style? Last time I see people do that, it’s just dramatic wind.

Caules’ glasses breaks and cheek gets slashed only adds the dramatic tension. And it looks cool in gif.

hOLY CRAP THE BLOOD TURNS INTO FLOWER PETALSSTOP IT STOP THE FLASHBACK IT FUCKING HURTSSSS

It’s bad enough if a dying person’s life flashes before their eyes bUT IT’S ENTIRELY ON DIFFERENT LEVEL IF IT FLASHES BEFORE THEIR CLOSE PARTNER’S EYES

Fran gets super pissed at Mordred she decides to talkIt’s actually a bit funy that everybody from the author to the animators making sure people notice Fran’s lightning pierces Sieg like ‘yo reader it’s important clue for our protagonist’s powers!’

Wait I just notice the role of the Berserkers from both faction is literally the same: to become servant bomb

At least Fran goes out in a beautiful electric explosion tree........

Astolfo: “Please be dead please be dead” Mordred: “...Yo...Hhh... Surprise....hh...bitch-” Astolfo: “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!?”

Caules babe :’’’(((((((

He’s such a good master he honestly thought he screwed up and let Fran die in vain and he couldn’t do anything for her even until the end

In the novels, from this point on, everything about Caules and Fran will just hurt like a bitch.

Okay let’s cut the sadness and LOOK SIEG’S HEART BEATING

Siegfried appears!!!!!

I kinda forget that bathing in dragon blood means he’s actually covered in blood from head to toe that’s pretty disgusting if given more thought.

So Siegfried’s previous life was literally on the range of ‘national hero’ to ‘professional killer’ to ‘matchmaker’

Sieg: “You lived your life as a wish-granting machine but do you ever have a wish yourself?” Siegfried: “Dude you’re like born months ago don’t throw existential crisis on me right now”

Siegfried: “Now let’s get back on you. Do you have a wish?” Sieg: “....Uhm..” Siegfried: “See existential crisis doesn’t feel good.”

Siegfried takes Sieg from aurora field to dragon dungeon so Sieg’s ego grows like wow that’s hardcore

What is this? A King Arthur play? Sword in the stone??

It’s mandatory to have a fate anime with somebody dramatically decides on a life purpose and dramatically pulls out a sword.

You know, I’ve always liked Balmung’s design. It screams ‘WILD HERO’ and it’s got this badass design and color and sheath. In fact, it’s the third place in my heart after Durandal and maybe-not-suprisingly La Pucelle

That’s why I’m THIS close to be angry that it appears like a cannon fodder sword but thank God it transforms

Mordred: “Wew that was close!” Kairi: “Don’t ‘wew that was close’ me that servant you called third rate just nearly deep fried you if I didn’t bail you out and now I’m tired”

Astolfo be like “My friend is dead, my other friend is dead too, my other other friend is also dead, and now I’m facing a terminator why God”

Sieg!Fried: *standing ominously under the moon* Mordred: “Master, he’s dead right?” Kairi: “Yeah I heard so” Mordred: “Well now we have The Walking Dead”

I think I just squealed hearing Sieg!Fried’s asking “Are you okay?” that sounds so gentle and so hot at the same time?????

Sieg!Fried: “Are you okay?” Astolfo: *blush* “Baka” Mordred: “GET A FUCKING ROOOMMMMMM”

I love how chill Kairi is when facing this anomaly he’s like “Dude, it’s magic war, anything can happen”

Mordred you don’t get to call Balmung a cosplay sword when Clarent also looks like a gigantic cosplay sword

And cut to Shakespeare giving comments as usual. Do Semiramis and Shirou have to watch every battle while listening to his narration?

HAHA Semiramis has to place her hand palms up because of the spikes WHY IS THAT SO FUNNY?

Hm I kinda don’t know what to make out from Shirou’s words but I presume it’s about Sieg should just live like a pure baby he is instead of letting that purity dyed in everything good and bad in being human?

If that’s so, it’s a big hint of Shirou’s goal, no?

Shirou’s practicing if-looks-could-kill without even trying

Semiramis and Shakespeares are such good friends to Shirou they notice him look evil in a matter of seconds

Shirou be like “I thought my feelings are all secret but guess not I should perfect my poker face” just like his servant. Truly a match of heaven.

Lol guys that boy you just declare worthless will be the final man standing against you lololololol

Indeed Shakespeare is the Genre Savvy™ as expected of THE playwright

Mordred: “Master what’s his weakness?” Kairi: “His weakness is ‘Do your best and find out yourself’” Kairi is such a lil shit I love him

And there you have it the first battle scene in the first episode

Y’know, the novel describes Balmung as emanating orange light like the twilight when activated but the very same novel also illustrates it with vivid blue light and it’s making me having the existential crisis since forever

Balmung vs Clarent Blood Arthur more like Let’s nuke each other

Aw they skip the calling the name of the noble phantasms if you ask me I prefer if they include it in this episode too

Oh now it’s Sieg’s command spell on the closing title and with completely different background and SCATTERED FLOWER IS THE TITLE OF THIS EPISODE THANKS FOR REMINDING ME AGAIN THAT IT HURTS ):

Fran’s dead, Caules cries, my heart really hurts

Trust me, the novel version is far worse than the animation. The narration from the moment Caules notices what he has to do to his reaction after her death is just painful. All the root cause of it all? It’s because they care for each other. Even he acknowledges that.

Oh yeah and also Fran dies with a little smile while speaking those words in the novel, kinda different vibe with the anime version

In the novel, the Siegfried’s flashback also reveals his one wish: To become an ally of justice a.k.a. the same dream possessed by the Kiritsugu and Shirou Emiya. Now it may differs from each person but for me personally, while it serves as a driving force to Siegfried’s character, it’s also yet another a form of homage (or maybe long running serious gag?) to both Fate/Zero and Fate/Stay Night. Whether it is good or not to omit that from the anime, I can’t really say....

NEXT: I think we need some Jeanne now. Hopefully not Naruto running again.

#fate apocrypha #random saying #fate apocomment

21 notes · View notes

courage-a-word-of-justice · 7 years

Text

Princess Principal 3 | Saiyuki Reload Blast 4 | Boku no Hero Academia 30 | Katsugeki 5 | Reflection 2

I’ve been kinda busy lately and there’s been minimal Boueibu news as we gear up for the OVA, but the “Chesarka watches ________” tags are now on this post and should be rolled out to other posts.

Princess Principal 3

Gah? Is this a yuri? Or is it just two girls talking as spies?

I thought we didn’t need this commentary. We had it in ep 1.

Nuwara Eliya appears to be a Sri Lankan tea type.

Okay, there’s a dude dressed like a sailor but wearing goggles. What is this, a flying fishmobile??? (reference to Galilei Donna, which I’ve never seen but I’ve heard of the fish airship)

I’m…not sure what Kalinga tea is. It could be some made-up name for a tea brand or something.

I bet Beatrice’s mechanism will save her…Nope, turns out I was wrong…

Saiyuki 4

The OP blood splatter effect is still fairly tasteless…

The “salmon” joke does kind of work in both English and Japanese, as “salmon” in Japanese is sake.

I think the kon bit of Konzen’s name has something to do with gold, or else his hair colour is an aesthetic choice by Minekura. (Oh? You’re asking me why I know Kazuya Minekura’s name? Well, for one, it’s in the OP, and the second thing is I found an old manga magazine preserved online that talked about her (Animefringe), dated about 2004 at last issue. That’s why it’s interesting to take on Saiyuki Reload Blast from a rookie perspective.)

Well, at least now we understand why Goku can deal with Gojyo and Genzo so much.

I’m not sure if Nataku has been mentioned previously in this series, but hey. Diamond head is probably him.

Well, I guessed right. It really was Nataku.

Can’t throw around the name Son Goku (Sun Wukong) lightly now, kiddo. Saiyuki is based off Journey to the West, and of course Son Goku is the monkey king in that. I’m not completely up to scratch on my Journey to the West mythology though, so here…a link which should detail Goku’s history roughly as it should be. *sighs exasperatedly* I thought I was done with my Chinese studies…

Is it just me, or is this pan starting and stopping?

I’m always one for the bishie fests with a small teasing of yaoi, but no real yaoi. Of course, Saiyuki is perfect for me, ain’t it?

“I’m rowdy down there too.” – Hehehe, LOL.

Otayori? The word these days is tegami, or otegami if you want to be polite, so otayori must be an old term.

…yeah, I don’t get the Urasai.

Boku no Hero Academia 30

Ah, having to live up to expectations. Now there’s something I know well.

Interesting to note Iida’s now taken on a more Midoriya approach to things, including and up to “throwing away his arm”.

Hey wait, the Iida/Stain eyecatch combo happened last ep too. Dangit, recycling.

Shouto’s outfit looks a lot like Endeavour’s. maybe someday I should analyse how Shouto’s becoming more comfortable with being in his father’s shadow…but I guess someone’s already done it, eh?

I guess I should say Endeavour’s blue flame was a type of “boom, headshot!” thing, but…yeah, it doesn’t quite qualify.

Deku talking to Native is just so adorable! It completely sets off my version of the moe radar!

“…if he gets too high…”

So…wow. The hero killer gets done in by his own bones. That’s kinda anticlimactic…

Katsugeki 5

Nobunaga no Shinobi said oodachis can be about 2 metres long…eesh. I’d hate to be on the end of an enemy oodachi…

Ufotable’s visuals look really lifelike, it’s crazy…

Oh…my gosh. Tonbokiri!

Okay, okay. Seriously, are there any Mutsu/Kane-san shippers out there? I thought Horikawa/Kane-san shippers were more common.

Eyyyyyyy! It’s Jiji (Mikazuki)! Jiji’s any Touken Ranbu player’s dream sword, in regards to sword rarity. Dangit, Saniwa, you’re making me jealous.

I’m so worried for Tonbokiri…

Reflection 2

Well, they do call New York “the city that never sleeps”…

Masda (sic) is on one of the boards...chyrons…oh whatever. I don’t really know what to call the electronic screens, aside from that very name.

That cop looks kinda sleepy…(sarcastic->) not.

Okay, if I got this straight…Stan Lee is a psychic bad guy! Hahaha, that’s great!

Uh, hey. This guy with the power of Itsuka Kendou (BnHA)? Isn’t he basically a racist stereotype, if not a cliche? Stan Lee, what are you doing to my anime?

Stan Lee does kabedons. Never thought I’d see the day where that happened.

Here’s Spider-X-on again, LOL. Spider-dude, spider-dude, does whatever a spider-dude can…haha.

I think I saw I-Guy pass a Hard Rock Café as he flew. Stan Lee, please stop infringing on other people’s copyrights.

O-Oh, I never thought this, but if you can get air sickness from planes, why can’t you get it from mechanised suits too? I guess that’s what Stan Lee wants us to think.

So basically Tiger and Bunny: Stan Lee version? Hmph. I’ve read 6 volumes of the T & B manga, so I know most of the drift, but actually getting to see even a cheap version of it feels great.

Ah, I didn’t think they’d control the screens from LA. No wonder I-Guy had the perfect backgrounds.

Seriously, Ian? What’s your power???

Of course the Reflected become criminals. If you had a power you didn’t understand and people didn’t understand you, you’d turn evil too.

I never saw what was so good about tomato juice. Then again, I dislike tomatoes for absolutely no reason at all, so…yeah.

Seriously, what was so good about that little old blob, Eleanor? The footage was taken too far to discern whether that was Wraith or not.

#simulcast commentary #saiyuki reload blast #princess principal #the reflection #katsugeki touken ranbu #boku no hero academia #chesarka watches boku no hero academia #Chesarka watches PriPri #Chesarka watches Katsugeki #Chesarka watches Saiyuki RB #Chesarka watches Reflection

1 note · View note

artsyarchangel-blog · 7 years

Text

Gunbreaker

So i read a lot of light novels these days and so i decided to write something in a similar style. It's mostly meant to be a learning experience, purely for fun. Try to see it as that, or don't, not that it matters. The plan is to publish something every month, gradually it will become bigger and bigger. This is the idea at least. I won't really talk about the subject of this Web-Novel, see for yourself. It contains some mature content though and will gradually ramp up in that regard.

But enough of that, just enjoy the little something i’ve written up here.

Chapter 1: Days of Justice 1 Life can be so terribly dull, so very uneventful. Going through the motions, following the daily grind it's easy to just shut off your mind and do whatever you are told. A chosen few will come to detest this truth, but only the smallest number will successfully rebel against it, without being crushed into submission. But some events make you appreciate just how easy life actually is. Events like a sudden shootout, when you find yourself surrounded by maimed corpses, blood splattered all over you in merely a second. Yes, an event like this might cure these childish thoughts of rebellion,of changing the world, but for me, they were awakened. All i felt was uncontrollable rage, like a wild beast unleashed on this world. Not that it mattered, i was only lucky to survive the first barrage and the next one would surely extinguish my life. If it wasn't for the girl, that is. I don't think i ever thanked her for that... The faint blue color of the screen was the only light source in my small room, as i chugged down another can of my valuable energy-drink. Well listen, my allowance was really small at the time and those stupid cans were expensive as hell, it's not like i had an addiction. Anyway, it was another all-nighter for me, watching my favourite shows or playing games together with a few slackers called my friends. I had school tomorrow, but what of it, this useless educational system could go straight to hell for all I cared. Still gonna go in the morning, of course, otherwise my mom would yell at me. Didn't matter, I just slept in class, you could say I mastered this technique over time. No one ever noticed. Because the teachers are stupid, completely retarded. I spent many a night like this, wasting away, basically doing nothing but diminish the energy to actually achieve something in my life. I was 15 though, gimme a break, okay? Now this night, though, this night was special and in many ways it shaped my whole future. As I browsed through meaningless videos, funny threads filled with smart people (who always seemed so much more clever than my dumb teachers) and, of course, I left my own comments, receiving praise in the thousands, by my fellow internet brethren. What joy, I felt elevated, but this happened regularly, so that is not what I am talking about. No, the night was made special the moment I opened another video titled “The truth of the wastelands”. The footage showed a small village, utterly ruined, smoke rose from the roofs while armored vehicles moved into the frame, spilling heavily-armed soldiers out of their guts. Now mind you, this is the first time I laid eyes on supposedly real firearms and it was also the first time I saw a human being die. They rushed into a hut, one of the few unscathed by what could only be an artillery-strike and dragged out a few people, bearing all the qualifications of a family. And then they just shot them, one after the other. There wasn't any sound and the footage wasn't of the highest quality, but the way the bodies, former humans, jerked after having a gun put to their head, made me sick to my stomach. Just then, the screen faded to black, showing only my reflection and my disgusted face. A message spread across the screen:”This video was taken in one of the rural areas surrounding our walled cities. This world is not safe, this world is not peaceful and we do not live in prosperity. They are lying to you. They keep you safe in your cages while they do as they please.” The message was signed by a group named “Hermes”, their logo a pair of red winged sandals on a black background. I never heard of them before, yet I felt like they were right, like they had something to say that needed to be said. Outside of the cities, such horrific crimes took place? Could it be? How was I unaware of that, how was everyone unaware of that? As I read through the comments, I slowly started to understand: “This looks fake.” “lol, take off your tinfoil-hats!” “who are these guys anyway?” “wow, nasty, they just popped her head, lmfao” “Is this real? Then someone should change this! Actually, screw that, I want to change this, I am so mad right now!!” The last message belonged to me, my true feelings, written down by a 15-year-old highschooler. Even today it makes me chuckle and before I could receive any reaction on my comment, the video was gone. I refreshed the page, there was nothing, just the error message. Now I could have just forgotten about it, there were a million reasons why this video got deleted. Maybe it violated the guide-lines of this website, maybe the contents were stolen from someone else, maybe it actually was fake and the administrator tried to prevent the spreading of such bullshit. Or maybe it was all a grand conspiracy and the government themselves deleted the video, to cover up their crimes! You are free to guess what was most plausible in my mind there. Now let me say something to my defense though, it wasn't actually that outlandish. It was like an open secret that you can not leave our five major cities. If you were born in one, you were going to die in this same metropolis. It was commonly known, obviously, nobody could cover up the fact, that the mainland of our planet was a hellish landscape, unfit to any human life. Yet people lived there, apparently and maybe seeing that triggered this anger in me, this self-righteous justice. Everyone else was just lying to themselves, because they weren't the one on gunpoint, they were safe and only later, I understood them. That it was easier this way. You were simply happier and fighting it was futile, you tried to climb a mountain without any limbs. But back then, I didn't see it that way in my youthful recklessness. Ultimately, it really didn't matter anyway. I was helpless, there was nothing I could do to help those poor people living outside the safe zones. There was nothing to be found online, I searched every nook and cranny, stumbling over baseless rumors. One suggested that Hermes was actually the government themselves, luring in stupid teenagers and offing them once they got their personal information. I also met at least a dozen people claiming to be Hermes, but that soon proved to be just trolling. There was nothing left and it depressed me a little, I became distant to my friends, I never replied to their requests to play some games, I was obsessed with that video. How their bodies went limb, how they were meaninglessly slaughtered. Now that was my own interpretation of the scenes, for all I know this family could have been a band of mass murderers and the armed forces only exacted revenge, but in my conviction, I had to save innocent lives. Me, a failure of a student, with no exceptional intelligence to speak of. Really, if Hermes had any sense, they'd tell me to leave as soon as I made contact. Instead, after a week of frantic searches, asking around online, I received a message: “We witnessed your resolve, brother. If you still want to bring the deserved peace to this world, then join us.” 2 Embedded in this simple message was a link. The logical assumption would be that this would either lead me to some fucked up porn or a virus, ready to just disintegrate my entire system. Naturally, I clicked it without a moments hesitation. Nothing bad happened against all odds, instead I found myself in some chat room. They really were serious with me! There was no members-list, no previous message, radio-silence. I felt like I stepped into a hall of heroes, onto the round table itself, only virtually of course. My real scrawny body was still hunched over the keyboard, not knowing what to say, what message I could write. Really, I blacked out completely, I didn't even know a simple online-chat room could feel so awkward, yet here I was, frozen stiff. I typed a simple “hello” and deleted it before I could send it. Then I wrote some eight-grader nonsense of justice and prophecies and thankfully deleted that too. I have enough cringy memories, I didn't need that one...on further thought, does one more on the huge pile really matter? Only then, he finally broke the silence: HERMES: So you want to change our fate, breaking free, destroying the influence of the five Warlords? Tell me, brother, what motivates your actions? Why do you want to join our justice? Yeah, turns out this guy was as much of a child as I was. Of course I replied enthusiastically, but at this point I had no screen-name yet. I thought long and hard about my answer, actually only a minute, I didn't want them to think I just left. ANON: I saw the video you guys published a few days ago and since then, I simply cannot stand by while innocent lives are erased. Please let my join in your noble cause, my brothers, in your pursuit of liberation! I don't know what to say here... I could practically feel how the people on the other side of the screen laughed their asses off...is what I want to say, but in reality, I felt pretty damn proud after my convincing answer. HERMES: Very well. A good answer. Yet we see that you are still unrefined, without a strict direction. Without a plan to actually achieve our ends. Fret not, we are here to guide you in your path, but you have to take action yourself, just as you did before we found you. HERMES: Are you capable of doing that? This is your trial, identify who is responsible for these crimes, we will contact you in another week. And just like that, I was back on my homepage, unsure of what to do. The culprit? The person who is responsible? Or was this about an idea, the motive behind these actions? Come to think of it, why would they turn our planet into an unruly land, where only the strongest survive and the laws are made at the muzzle of a gun? What could be the meaning of this? I had to mull it over and most importantly I could not disappoint these internet-warriors. For all I knew they were just kids, maybe not even a group, some teenager who knew a little more about computers and managed to abuse a security-leak. There was absolutely no guarantee that Hermes was the real thing. It's just that it didn't even matter to me. I was just happy to escape my boring life, to have a sense of purpose so many teenagers are missing. A feeling of superiority filled my very being, I was better than all these blind idiots, lying to themselves just to preserve their peaceful lives. This would all change, I'd fight to birth a new world. Or at least I was about to. 3 The following days I did nothing but research, I even skipped school, coming up with an excuse how terribly sick I am. Maybe I laid it on a little thick, my mother almost send me to the hospital, but the end-result was me sitting in front of my computer-screen, looking up everything I could think of. Some things I looked into were common knowledge, that every one of our five cities were independent states, governed by a prime minister and that there was a big conference every four years. This already struck me as odd, were they allowed to leave the cities? And wasn't it a little to convenient, five cities for five warlords? Surely there must be some sort of conspiracy on a government-level so I dug deeper, I needed to know everything of our administration down to the districtional plane. Needless to say, I found nothing and that in itself was weird. You'd expect a bunch of theories online, some baseless rumors, some insane people dedicating everything to bring some shocking truths to light, even if there is no proof. Hermes wasn't much different, after all. However, I found nothing, like the entire network was curated by some unknown source. It was scary, I seriously considered giving up, who knows what they would do to me... if they could track me. Well, I had a lot of countermeasures against that, at least I thought I did. Hacking or cracking, these were never skills I acquired, so I just relied on some tutorials to set up an impregnable barrier. Feeling safe like that, I naturally continued, but I couldn't shake this bad feeling. The only information I could gather out of direct conversations, groups similar to Hermes, just not as influential or effective. Cause when I mentioned the group, everyone held their breath, metaphorically of course. For the first time, I heard of their reputation, how they brought down the website of the government, putting their logo across the entire screen whenever you tried to access it or how their leader escaped multiple raids on his home-base, injuring the special forces in the process. I never even knew our police had a special force! It was awe-inspiring to me and more than ever, I wanted to be a part of this organization. Again, there was no proof for any of this, only my faith. Surely nobody would do such a terrible thing, just telling lies on the internet. So while I did acquire some information, true or false, no matter, I didn't really feel like inching closer to my goal. What was the reason, how could I find out? In the end I even pinned everything I found on a board in my room, feeling like some kind of TV-Detective. If my parents caught me, they might have send me to the therapist, but luckily they never entered my room without knocking first...for both our sakes. I put down all kind of names, organizations, looking for a link that shouldn't be there, evidence for some sketchy business. The video flared back into my mind, how all life left the body of this innocent woman, but it wasn't just about that, not just a reminder for the injustice I vowed to destroy. No, I looked for something, an emblem, a badge on the soldiers, maybe a number on their weapons, anything I could use. Hermes gave me nothing, our exchange took maybe five minutes, then they send me on my way, to prove myself, but what did they expect? How could a student figure this out, if no one else could? Nobody knew why we lived confined in these cities, nor when it even began. It was lost to history, maybe all accounts of a time before the metropolis were deleted, maybe destroyed in some kind of catastrophe. This was the most likely scenario, that nobody meant for this to happen, just some natural disaster scorching the earth. But if that was the case, Hermes wouldn't fight against...against someone. Who was it, I had to know! The five Warlords, yes, I remembered, but who are they? The deadline was drawing near, tomorrow, at night most likely, they would expect my answer. No sleep was found this night, not until I could come up with something, anything. The most embarrassing thing would happen if I just had no answer at all, if I'd just stay silent. Or spout some generic shit, like “The government” or “the Banks, they are responsible for our misery”. I could not let it end here! So I stayed up all night thinking about it, I continued to rack my brain in the morning, eventually, I couldn't go on any longer and just fell asleep on my desk. The sound of a notification woke me up and there it was, another message. It didn't say anything, which did nothing to ease my nervousness, only provided a link again. The sender was clear though, so there was no doubt, Hermes contacted me just like they said they would. But I still had no answer. Regardless, I had to dive in, of course, always thinking about this video. It was the only definite hint that I had, so the answer had to be in there. Who is behind all of it, what is the reason for the sorry state of our planet? The reason...wait, it could be so simple! HERMES: Now then, Initiate. Did you find the solution to our query? I hesitated, I wasn't sure, it might be too simple, it might even be idiotic. It was all I had, however. With trembling fingers, I hammered my answer into the keys. ANON: The reason these crimes are possible, the true culprit...is the weaponry used by men. This was my answer, this was my solution. I had to wait a while for a response and every second served only to make me more anxious. HERMES:...Weaponry. Very well! This is the first time we heard this answer, yet it strikes closest to the truth, well done! Now let us show you the true works behind our government, our true leaders. Let us talk about the five Warlords.

#creative writing #light novel #web novel #learning #gunbreaker #chapter1 #part1

0 notes