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falseroar · 6 months

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Murder on the Warfstache Express

Part 10: A Ticket to Ride

((It's Big Dick Moneybags' turn to be interrogated, but as usual, all his thoughts are on himself. Afterwards, Abe has a few questions for Wilford as he tries to make sense of some things that aren't adding up.

Here's a link to the previous chapter, Part 9: Misplaced Motive. And here's one to navigate the whole series.))

Richard M. Bags, Esquire, barely looked around the darkened dining car before taking his seat at the small table with the air of a bored king taking his throne to hear the petty complaints of the little people, an image not helped when he leaned back with one arm resting on the seat of the chair and told Abe, “About time you pulled me out of there. I think I’ve had my fill of the riffraff for the rest of the night and then some, thank you very much.”

Abe didn’t take his seat on the opposite side of the table this time. Instead, he paced a loop around the scattered dining tables half-lit by the lantern sitting in front of Richard, making a wide detour to avoid where Wilford had retaken his vantage point and was lounging around and watching with all the delight of an under stimulated cat with nothing better to do.

“You said you didn’t know Happy when you two met at dinner,” Abe said, watching the rich idiot out of the corner of his eye even as he continued his pacing.

“Never seen him before in my life,” Richard answered, in turn studying his nails. “Couldn’t tell you the first thing about him.”

“And yet he seemed to know a lot about you,” Abe said.

Richard shrugged. “Lots of people do—it comes with the fame and fortune.”

“In fact, back at dinner you said you didn’t know anyone else in this car at the time, do you remember that?”

“No,” Richard said. “But I don’t doubt it. Why would I know any of those people back there? Look, detective, I know you have to do your bit here for the look of the thing, but you and I both know I didn’t have anything to do with whatever happened to that agent. Do I really seem like the kind of person who’d get my own hands dirty on such a vulgar task, especially for someone I barely even knew?”

“Here’s the funny thing about that: if I believed what everyone on this train has told me, then no one here knew Happy at all before he got on this train yesterday. Hell, most of them didn’t even know his name until after he kicked the bucket, much less care two cents about the guy.”

Abe stopped behind the chair he’d been sitting in for the last three interrogations and leaned on the back of it so that he was eye level with the rich man as he continued, “You though? Yeah, turns out you’re a different story there.”

“Oh, do tell me how they were singing my praises,” Richard said, chuckling to himself and missing the sharp intake from the other man sitting in the car as he eagerly waited for the detective to drop the shoe.

“Yeah, about that…”

“That man,” Dorene had said, straightening up at the mention of Bags, her soft, amiable demeanor immediately replaced by a harsh tone and a stern scowl, “is nothing but a cad and a scoundrel of the lowest order. I don’t think there isn’t a thing he wouldn’t do to make his pockets or his ego bigger, and I can assure you the latter is already inflated all out of proportion to any merit.”

“That’s, uh…” Abe admitted to being at a loss for a second before he recovered and admitted, “Probably accurate, but do you have a reason in particular to think that, or…?”

“I’ve had the unfortunate displeasure of spending some time in Richard Mayhew Bags’s company before,” Dorene answered, wrapping her burnoose tighter around her to ward off the chill in the train car. “At an auction, where we were both competing bidders for several rare items, and let me tell you, you can learn a lot about a person based on how they handle losing and winning. Do you know, before the bidding started, I shared with him some of the charity work I’m involved in to see if he might be interested, and do you know what he did?”

She looked over her glasses at the detective who waited for her to answer, the side of her mouth twitching with disgust at the memory. “He laughed. He laughed, and said…Well, better not to repeat those sentiments. Let’s just say, I wasn’t impressed, and I’ve done my best to avoid his company ever since.”

Benjamin tried a little harder to hide his disgust at first, starting with a weak, “I really shouldn’t say…”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re fine with the way he’s running this whole railway thing,” Abe said with a flippant gesture. “Guy’s practically a carbon copy for the actor, so you must feel right at home—”

“Excuse you,” Benjamin blurted out, nearly rising from his chair. “That fool is nothing like Mark!”

Abe shot a look around the car to make sure Wilford hadn’t returned, but the former butler was too angry to notice as he plunged on.

“Letting people go left and right without a care about how long they’d been with the company, zero concern for loyalty or hard work, every message we get is about how we need to cut costs here, there, everywhere, while he goes in front of the press and talks about how he ‘saved’ the railway, and from what? From people wanting to ever use it again?” Benjamin said, and Abe bit back any comparisons he could make about Mark dropping most of his staff just after the divorce or any of the much more damning things he said to the press on the regular.

“But when he’s riding the train, suddenly money is no object! Do you have any idea how much time we spent setting up that room of his, how much of our budget went into his personal wine stock for this one trip because he ‘can’t be seen frequenting the bar’ with the other passengers?! The man is a backstabbing disgrace only out for himself is what he is!”

The chef had less words to spill on the man, but then he had zero of Benjamin’s hesitation in sharing his opinion with the slightest prompting.

“Man’s an asshole, plain and simple. Worst thing that ever happened to the W.W. Railway, and that’s including what happened to that other train that got stuck in the blizzard of ’82 for three weeks.”

“What…?” Abe started, but the chef just shook his head.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to, man. Least we got heat and food to get us through until help comes and zero hungry bears in the back, I’ll say that much.”

“I still haven’t actually seen what’s in the back of this train,” Abe pointed out.

“Point is,” the chef pressed on, ignoring him as usual, “I’d still rather take my odds with that train than have to trust Bags or that toady that follows him around on anything. Both of them would throw any of us under the wheels of this train in a second if it meant saving their own skins. Hell, they’d probably do it if it meant adding an extra penny to their pockets.”

Not that Abe shared any of that with Richard. Instead, he just settled for saying, “…They’re not fans. In fact, I’m pretty sure everyone on this train hates your guts.”

“…Huh.” Richard thought about that for all of a second before shrugging it off. “Well, what can you do? I told you, you don’t get to where I am without stepping on a few toes along the way.”

“The kind of toes that turn around and kick your ass,” Abe muttered under his breath.

“Sorry, what was that, detective?”

“Just that you seem pretty blasé about that little fact for someone who’s received multiple anonymous death threats,” Abe said, pacing once again. “Why is that?”

“Well, I had been counting on Agent Apless to protect me,” Richard said. “But then he had to go and get himself killed—wait, you don’t think he was killed by someone trying to get to me, do you?”

Abe paused at that. “Do you really think this could all be about you?”

“Most things usually are,” Richard answered without a trace of irony or self-consciousness.

“While of this would make a whole lot more sense if you were the dead body, unfortunately that’s not the case,” Abe said.

“’Unfortunately’?”

“And why would someone stop at killing Happy if you were the target?” Abe continued without listening. “Or even need to go through him to get to you? What were you doing after dinner, while Mack was working in his room?”

“Sleeping like a baby,” Richard said. “Honestly, it was the best night of sleep I’d gotten since this whole death threat business started, at least until the train stopped and woke us all up. I’ll admit I may have been a little…spooked by our sudden stop and some noises in the dark, which is why I made Mack stay in the room with me. I’d have had the agent with me too, but Mack couldn’t get him to answer his door because, well, you know. We were fine until you dragged us out into the open to sit around in the lounge car like sitting ducks.”

“Exactly,” Abe said, getting a sputter out of the rich man before he continued, “You were asleep, alone, completely defenseless for hours—where does killing Happy come into that?”

Even if Happy had been keeping watch and caught someone breaking into Richard’s room, it wouldn’t explain the other evidence Abe found in the luggage car. What did that crate with the weird stone have to do with it, or the emptied weapons safe?

“Well, whatever this maniac’s reasoning may be, I’m sure you’ll handle it before they can finish the job,” Richard said, and once again Abe stopped his pacing to stare at the man.

“You just can’t imagine something bad actually happening to you, can you?” Abe asked. “Or, no, you panic and get scared, and then convince yourself that you can just buy your way out of the problem, is that it? Pay me or Happy or some other stooge to take care of the little wannabe murderer and continue on your way?”

“That’s your job, isn’t it?” Richard asked, shifting uneasily in his seat. “That’s why you’re here on this train, to protect me.”

Abe and Wilford shared a look of disbelief.

“Yeah, no, that’s not why I’m here. Trust me, I know that much,” Abe said. He approached the table again and fiddled with the lantern for something to do with his hands as he said, “No, I think it’s time you head back to the lounge car and sit back down with the ‘riffraff’ for a while.”

“But you said they all hate me, that one of them could be trying to kill me!”

“Then we’ll both have plenty to think about,” Abe said.

The rich man protested some more, but the detective shooed him off with a wave of his hand and, when that failed to work, pushed him out of the dining car and slammed the door behind him, leaving Richard to decide between standing in the cold connection point between the two cars or go on into the lounge car. Honestly, Abe didn’t care which he decided to do, so long as he had some time to himself to think.

Too bad there was a big, pink and yellow problem with that plan.

“You ever feel like you’ve forgotten something?” Wilford asked the dining car at large.

“…You’re joking, right?”

Wilford’s eyes creased with his smile. “Of course, of course, forget I said anything at all. Or, you know, don’t.”

Abe rubbed his face and turned his back on the other man, staring into the small window to the lounge car where Richard had fled freezing to take a seat far away from the others gathered around the bar.

“I’m missing something,” he muttered, and when Wilford made a noise at that, “I said missing, not forgetting. I know what they’ve all said, I have all of these pieces, but I know there’s something missing here, I just—”

He was pacing again without realizing it, and not for the first time wished he had something physical to put his ideas out there on, even just a notepad and pen so he could jot them all down and tear them apart, rearrange them until he could see the shape of the hole in the center of all of this.

“What do you normally do at this point in your little investigation?” Wilford asked. “When the corkboards and all the little photos and newspaper clippings and the string doesn’t fix it?”

“Like I know what normal is anymore,” Abe muttered, stopping at the window to look out into the darkness only to be met with a reflection of himself and the room behind him, the single lantern on the table glowing like a star but the rest of the room just vague silhouettes and shapes thrown up on the glass and merging with the drifts of snow outside until it was difficult to separate one from the other. Try as he might, he couldn’t find Wilford in the reflection, even though he heard the man’s voice clear as day behind him.

“Oh, yes, nice and moody answer, double points for that, but it doesn’t go and answer my question now does it?” Wilford sighed, and Abe heard the creak of the chair as the man tested how far back he could lean the chair before both went toppling over even if he couldn't see it. “You know, sometimes it just feels so obvious, like you’re looking at a man pointing a gun at you and, whoops, totally forgotten his name. Then other times it’s just…an itch in the back of your mind, a little something off, you know?”

“What are you talking about?” Abe asked, looking over his shoulder to find a bunch of empty tables and chairs, only the two he and the line of suspects had been using out of place.

“Forgetting things, of course,” Wilford said, now standing on Abe’s opposite side with a steaming mug of something in hand. He took a sip and stared out the long window, his mustache tilting as his mouth turned underneath it. “Or did you forget what we were talking about that? It’s okay, I get distracted sometimes too.”

Abe made a noise, a strangled combination of a frustrated growl and a yelp at the other man’s sudden appearance right beside him.

“Okay, more than sometimes,” Wilford admitted. He took a long, slow, slurping sip from his mug that filled Abe with a sudden desire to smack the thing out of his hands.

“Are you even real?” Abe asked, causing Wilford to pause mid-sip.

“That's an existential question that I am not prepared to answer at this juncture.”

“Warfstache!”

“Detective!” Wilford shrugged and took another long, slurping sip before answering. “What kind of question is that to go around asking people? Like being ‘real’ ever actually meant anything.”

“It means everything!”

“Does it though?”

Abe rubbed his face, turning away from Wilford so he could talk and think at the same time. “Nothing about this makes any sense, starting with you and how you—you’re constantly disappearing and reappearing, conveniently avoiding the only other people on this train who might recognize you, don't think I didn't notice that, just...being you in general and no one else so much as batting an eye!”

He couldn't see Wilford tilting his head, studying the detective's back with a thoughtful expression as he asked, “Be honest now, is there anything I could say to convince you one way or the other?”

“...No,” Abe admitted, glancing at the reflections in the window when he heard another long, irritating sip from that stupid pink mug with its words that wouldn't get out of his head. “But there is this.”

The detective spun around, and it was a split second after his fist connected with Wilford's cheek and sent that despicable mug crashing against the ground with a muffled thump that left it in several pieces that he realized it shouldn't have. Not when Wilford seemed to know exactly what he was thinking half the time, not when he had a habit of moving from one place to the other when eyes weren't on him.

Not unless he let it happen.

“Do you feel better now, detective?” Wilford asked, his voice slurring more than usual as he worked his jaw and touched his cheek with an exaggerated wince. “I'm a real boy! For a given value of ‘real,’ of course, but we'll take the win. One mystery solved.”

“Yeah, and about a dozen more to solve,” Abe muttered, wondering how he somehow felt worse now, and not just because of the pain in his split knuckles.

Wilford paused. “Those don't also involve hitting me, do they?”

Except even after that, Abe still felt like he was missing something obvious about Warfstache. Something not quite right, although with him it was hard to just point at one thing in particular. An aggravating irritant, on top of everything else.

“Would talking it out help?” Wilford suggested helpfully. “You said something about that before, right? Or was that later...?”

“Yeah, where do you want to start?” Abe asked. “How it seems like everyone on this train but the two of us has some kind of connection to Moneybags? How all signs point to a shootout in the baggage car but our dead man is found in his room poisoned, bludgeoned, and stabbed on top of the bullet in him? Why our dead man has a badge for an agency I’ve never heard of, or do you want to spend a few hours trying to decipher that letter he had on him from said agency? Or what the hell kind of agent runs around with a gun that looks like a kid’s toy?”

As if to accentuate his point, Abe pulled out Happy’s gun and dropped it on a nearby table, soon following it with the agent’s badge and the letter he’d had on him.

“There is one thing that’s been bothering me since the start of this whole rigamarole,” Wilford declared, and to Abe’s surprise he turned and pointed a finger at his chest, voice and expression both unusually serious as he asked, “Why did you get a double room, detective?”

“…What?”

“You heard me! Most suspicious thing around if you ask me,” Wilford said. “Mr. ‘I Work Alone’ with a side of hard-up detective who can’t even afford a decent outfit—”

“What’s wrong with my outfit?”

“It’s monochrome as hell and so 2018, but my point is, how does a guy like that end up in a room twice as big as he needs?” Wilford asked, physically and verbally prodding Abe until the detective smacked his hand away.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Abe asked, but Wilford tilted his head with an inquiring noise that suggested he wasn’t about to let it go. “I don’t know, it’s just the room I was put in, I didn’t pick it.”

“Ah! Then who did?”

“It…I don’t know, it was just the room that was available at the time, anyone could have ended up in it. Not like it even matters, since Happy and I ended up—”

Abe stopped midsentence and found himself voicing the thought that interrupted it out loud.

“Why did Happy want it? I thought it was to get closer to Moneybags, but he never actually said he was taking the rich idiot up on his job offer. On the other hand, our rooms were right next to each other, so it wasn’t like he was moving from one end of the car to the other.”

Wilford shrugged. “Maybe he wanted the extra space? Since clearly you weren’t doing anything with it, right?”

“What, to store all of his nonexistent luggage?” Abe shook his head. “I thought back in the luggage car he had something to do with the professor’s crate getting broken into, especially when she said he was real keen on that math she was doing related to her work, but that rock in there would be just as easy to hide in one room as another after he stole it, if that was his goal. My room was a little closer to the professor’s room, but Dorene was still in between them so he couldn’t hope to listen in on any conversations from there. Just what was he hoping to get out of a trade?”

Abe turned back toward Happy’s belongings on the table and leaned over them, staring down at the badge, gun, and letter as though if he just looked at them hard enough, he would find something new there.

“I’m missing something,” he muttered again, and vaguely heard Wilford’s voice behind him. “The letter, the badge, everything Happy said made it sound like he was on this train for a reason. He was scoping the train out all afternoon, looking for something.”

He paused and then turned back on Wilford. “Wait, what did you just say?”

Wilford froze, eyes full of innocence that Abe wasn’t buying. “Who, me? Why, I haven’t said a thing all night—”

“No, I heard you, I said ‘I’m missing something’ and you said—”

Wilford rolled his eyes. “Okay, I might have said, ‘Or someone,’ but who can really tell?”

He paused and gave Abe a searching look. “Unless you’re suddenly having a burst of inspiration, in which case I take full credit.”

Abe stood stock still as the idea sank in, before he was a sudden frenzy of motion, pacing back and forth in a vain effort to keep up with the thoughts clicking away in his head.

“That’s it! Happy wasn’t looking for something, he was looking for someone. He was going from one end of the train to the other this afternoon questioning people! Everyone agrees he never said anything about himself if he could help it, but Dorene said he was a good listener. That, and he’d done his research on Moneybags and knew enough about the Professor’s work to spot a mistake in her math—bet you anything those weren’t the only two he did his background research on. He was listening to see who didn’t match up, who wasn’t supposed to be here.”

“Ah,” Wilford said, eyes lighting up with understanding. “Trying to find out who among us is sus. Just like Monopoly.”

“What kind of games do you…” Abe stopped himself with a shake of his head and pressed on. “But you’re right, sort of. Happy goes through the whole train, listening and observing the passengers and crew, looking for…Looking for…”

There it was again, that something off, and Abe found himself asking, “He never talked to you though, did he?”

“Mm, can't say he did,” Wilford admitted, before prudently taking a step backward. “You're not going to hit me again, are you?”

“Eh...” Abe shrugged, unable to go so far as to commit to that, but continued his thought. “But when I described you to him, he didn’t seem especially interested in learning anything more, even after I said you’ve killed people.”

“Rude. Clearly a terrible judge of character.”

“But if he was so keen on going around and checking everyone, how could he miss you?” Abe remembered exactly how hard a person Wilford could be to find without even trying and corrected himself. “Why wouldn’t he try to find you? Unless it’s because I apparently knew you well enough to know you’re not an impostor—"

“Although not well enough to tell if I'm real or not.”

“—And he knew I was who I said I was because both Benjamin and the chef recognized me,” Abe continued. “All four of us unintentionally provided alibis for each other being who we say we are. Same reason he barely interacted with Moneybags and Mack until he was forced to during dinner—two people traveling together, neither of them can be his man. The other three passengers are traveling alone, but Illinois introduced himself to Ms. Whitacre right in front of him, and they knew enough of each other from their letters that he could rule them out after a few minutes. The professor’s the odd one out there, but he came prepared, well enough to check her work, literally. Then there's the engineer/conductor...”

“Yes? What about him?” Wilford prompted when Abe trailed off, but the detective's thoughts were not on Peter but on something he had said.

Or rather, hadn’t said.

“Wilford, do you actually have a ticket?” Abe asked. Peter had mentioned sending Wilford away multiple times for not having one, but surely...

Wilford rolled his eyes and scoffed as he plopped down in one of the empty chairs dotted around the room. “You sound like that guy now, all ‘do you have a ticket to ride,’ and I kept telling him I’ve never even played the game before—”

Abe groaned and rubbed his face with both hands. “You’re a stowaway?!”

Wilford perked up. “Oh, that’s a fun way to put it! But yeah, probably.”

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding the other two?”

“I also perhaps owe someone $20, or they owe me the money, and I can’t really remember the details anymore so it’d kind of be awkward…”

Abe considered hitting Wilford again, harder this time. Of all the reasons to avoid Benjamin and the chef, those were the only ones he could come up with?

But his eyes landed on the letter found in Happy’s pocket once again and he whispered to himself, “Stowaway…”

“If you could speak up a little…” Wilford suggested, only to blink owlishly when Abe rounded on him.

“The postcard, you’re sure you found it in the baggage car? You didn’t pick it up anywhere else?”

“This old thing?” Wilford asked, the postcard appearing between his fingers like a card conjured up by a street magician. “Of course I found it in the baggage car, that’s where you told me to search and it was right there in the middle of the floor where anyone would have noticed.”

Except Abe hadn’t, and he knew full well that Wilford and the general senses of time, space, or even reality itself rarely applied to him except when he could be bothered to let them.

“And I know I didn’t see it because it was still dark in the car with only the lanterns to see by,” Abe said, not sure whether he was explaining himself to Wilford or reassuring himself. “But I know I would have noticed something lying on the ground when I went into the baggage car earlier yesterday afternoon, just like Happy would have. Especially when the thing is a postcard sent from and addressed to two people who are not on this train, meaning it’s supposed to be on the opposite end of the train, in a car no one should have had access to since the train started moving. Do you get where I’m going with this?”

Wilford considered the question for all of a half second before answering honestly, “Nope, not even a little bit.”

“I’m saying,” Abe said, pulling out the set of keys he’d borrowed from Benjamin, “I think it’s time we finally had a look in that mail car.”

A good line, but Abe found himself hesitating when he did reach the door connecting the dining car to the kitchen car.

He looked back over his shoulder at the distant circle of light barely visible through the glass windows on the other end of the car, just long enough to confirm that the silhouette of the chef wasn’t already on his way to stop him, and added under his breath, “Better make this quick.”

The detective did pause in the space between cars to check out both of the side windows, his breath nearly fogging up the glass in the few seconds it took to look and move on into the kitchen car.

The very dark kitchen, which lacked the huge windows of the dining and lounge cars to let in even the reflection of moonlight off of the snow outside. There was only a single skylight overhead, which did little to help illuminate things now. Anyone working in here would have little to distract them from the currently cold ovens and cookware lining the walls above long stretches of counterspace with an island in the middle taking up much of the room in the center of the car.

Abe turned up the light from his lantern and held it higher, where it reflected off of seemingly every surface, from the polished oven doors and excessively clean counters to the absolutely massive fridge that occupied one corner of the car, its not so quiet hum filling the otherwise silent car. The light of the small flame left everything with an orange, flickering hue as though they had stepped into hell itself.

“Hell itself?” Wilford asked, repeating the thought that hadn’t left Abe’s mind. “Bit chilly for that, isn’t it?”

“To be fair, the guy who works here could be the devil for all I know,” Abe muttered. “Certainly wouldn’t put it past him to skewer us if he finds us in here.”

“So you’re saying I shouldn’t pick up another midnight snack?”

“Or anything sharp and pointy,” Abe said, slapping Wilford’s hand away from the knife block in the same breath. “And midnight was hours ago, probably.”

Actually, he didn’t have a clue what time it was. It being the middle of the winter and in less than stellar conditions, there could still be hours more to go until dawn, if the sun even bothered to show up at all.

“Then a pre-breakfast appetizer,” Wilford said, opening the fridge door only for Abe to slam it shut again.

And then reopen it to look inside himself, getting an indignant sound from the other man.

“Just checking to make sure there’s nothing in here that shouldn’t be,” Abe said. “You know, another bottle of poison, some more booby traps, maybe a body or two…”

“Certainly looks big enough to hold a few,” Wilford said, nodding. “But I can’t help but notice that looks suspiciously like string cheese you have there.”

Abe silently passed him another stick and closed the door, only commenting, “Well, no harm in checking. Come on, the next and last car should be the one we’re looking for.”

The detective led the way through the next door, pausing once again and wincing when Wilford ran into him so hard he nearly dropped his lantern.

“Could you watch it?” Abe hissed.

“Could you not stop every two seconds to monologue to yourself?” Wilford shot back, taking a piece of his string cheese and carefully pulling it free to eat.

“I’m not monologuing, I’m looking for clues,” Abe protested, drawing Wilford’s attention to the windows on either side.

Or trying to, but the other man’s attention was riveted on the piece of cheese in Abe’s hand, and the end very obviously bit off without any preamble.

“You heathen,” Wilford said, one hand held to his chest in shock.

In answer, Abe took another large bite before holding his lantern up to the window and saying over Wilford’s affronted gasp, “See the snow? No footsteps, here or on the other side, and the doors are locked on the inside—same for every car from here to the front of the train, and these are the only places where you can get out. No one on this train has left it since we got stuck, except when I went around with Benjamin and the conductor to take a look at the heap of snow blocking the tracks. If someone fled whatever happened in the baggage car, they either went into the engine car or back through the passenger car, no going around.”

“And that means…” Wilford prompted.

“It means I missed something, and so did Happy,” Abe answered as he shuffled through the keys on the ring to try and find one that matched the lock on the door to the mail car. “And this is the one place no one’s been allowed to check since we started.”

“Sounds fascinating! So why are we hanging around out here?” Wilford asked, and without waiting for Abe to point out the obvious, he reached forward and pulled on the door.

The door that, despite everything Abe had been told, clearly wasn’t locked as it slid open easily to reveal a figure standing just inside, holding a gun.

His gun, the tip of which was currently pointed at the center of his chest.

((End of Part 10. Thanks for reading!

Is it too late to be adding another character to the story, when we're this close to the end? Probably! Am I doing it anyway? Yes, yes I am. Also thank you to Mark for dropping that existential question line in that Poppy Playtime let's play, absolutely knew I had to steal that when I heard it.

There were 100% other ways to go about checking to see if someone's real, but Abe maybe still isn't over the whole "shooting me and my partner" thing...

Tag list: @silver-owl413 @asteriuszenith @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @95fangirl @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-star-eyes @shyinspiredartist @avispate @autumnrambles @authorracheljoy @liafoxyfox @hidinginmybochard))

#markiplier #fanfiction #wkm detective #wilford warfstache #big dick moneybags #oh yeah #it's all coming together now #i think #getting close to the end either way

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rhetoricandlogic · 1 month

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“And Put Away Childish Things” by Adrian Tchaikovsky

June 11, 2023 ~ Nataliya

“I just wanted to be the promised prince and heir to a magical kingdom,” he told the walls of his cell. “Is that so much? Is that bad of me? I mean, what did I do to earn this clusterfuck, precisely?”

There are portal fantasies (hello, Narnia — for those like me who haven’t read Narnia books, that’s the association that the wardrobe on the cover is apparently supposed to evoke), and there are anti-portal fantasies where the world behind the magical door isn’t all that hunky-dory (Lev Grossman’s Fillory). And then there’s whatever Adrian Tchaikovsky does here, with his off-kilter take on the portal fantasy set during the early pandemic months — what remains of the fantasy once the titular childish things have been put away and a bit of horror undercurrent comes into the story, with an eventual science-fictional flavor.

“He had his own problems, not least of which was discovering that not only was Underhill real, it was a bloody nightmare of epic proportions.”

This novella is rather a delightful mix of dilapidated fantasy setting and snarky reality, set in the shadow of lives full of wasted potential. The world through the portal – Underhill – is not a happy shiny Narnia place (“… childish things they hadn’t put aside when they grew up”), but neither is it a dark gritty setting. It’s a world bubble in strange decay, with quite a bit of odd creepiness there, the vibe of an abandoned playground just before full dark. Tchaikovsky pokes a bit of fun at the good old portal fantasy tropes here, yes, but with a bit of a thoughtfulness, skillfully and sometimes sneakily cynically, and overall in a weirdly enjoyable but twee-less way with the cuteness mercilessly stripped away.

“They were the usual sort of post-war kids’ stuff, born out of a world of rationing so that the young protagonists’ rewards for fighting giants or recovering stolen jewellery was often no more than a decent meal, which they were glad to get. They were ’50s nostalgia that the Baby Boom generation had grown up on, about another world that was green and magical and nice and constantly under threat by monsters both buffoonish and genuinely monstrous.”

I liked that Tchaikovsky grounded this book is present day reality by using the early days of Covid pandemic as the background for the “real world” part of the story. I haven’t quite seen this in my reading so far — and like it or not, this recent shared experience is not something we can pretend never happened.

Great read as usual, and yet again Tchaikovsky doesn’t disappoint..

#Adrian Tchaikovsky #And Put Away Childish Things #mahreviews #long post

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chihoshisai · 5 months

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Days of Dash ch4

Goth Family (Zoro, Perona, Mihawk) and Straw Hats (Luffy, Nami, Usopp, Sanji)

Ch1, Ch2, Ch3

cw : east blue crew shenanigans, overprotective perona, luffy is HUNGRY, // wc : 1,9K as a PREVIEW, the full chapter is 3,386 words you can read directly on ao3 or find the link at the end of the preview for the full chapter // no yellow for Sanji

Recruiting Friends : A Mellorine Cook

“Let’s get food!” Luffy joyfully exclaimed!

“You’ve been wanting to go there since this morning,” Zoro stretched his back, feeling the weariness of sitting down inconvenience his back.

“Right, it’s about time we go or it’ll be awfully crowded,” Nami pointed out, her eyes surveying the almost empty classroom.

Having reached the hallway, Luffy was up front, exchanging pleasantries with Usopp while Nami dutifully directed their group towards the cafeteria that flaunted itself by occupying a major proportion of the ground floor. Upon making their way towards it, Zoro lagged behind the group, drudging his feet with a yawn while his body adapted to the vacant feeling of hunger at the obvious fact that it would take a while for him to eat.

With students heading towards a common area, making the scene look like an heterogenous horde of hungry animals, Zoro failed to notice the tricky arm that draped around his elbow, tugging him away from the crowd like an invitation towards malice. To his standard, little force had been put in the pulling, but his guard had been let down, or rather he became more complacent as the day went on due to how little attraction this new environment seemed to accord him, allowing for him to be trailed by the motion. The feelings that started boiling throughout his body — eyes showing surprise, mind panicking at the sight of the disappearing straw hat group, and fury through his veins caused the pristine emotions of delight he had felt throughout the day to melt as he reeled his head to fill his vision with the irrevocable smirk of his sister.

“Hanging in there?” Perona asked him, deliberately clutching the grip of her fingers against his jacket at the sight of her brother’s increasing irritation.

Her sister’s concern was rare and often misplaced in the intimacy of their shared home but transformed into an overbearing, suffocating one once the familiar walls were left behind. Despite her obnoxious, self interested behavior she knew when and how to care, leading Zoro to entertain the idea that if she had noticed him following behind Luffy’s group, she failed to link the dots of their friendship. It was true that Zoro had been unable to form proper connections following his entanglement with Kuina, but continually being perceived with that label for the first time got under his skin.

Zoro grunted his reply while harshly freeing his arm from the grip that served as a silent warning to his emotions. “Didn’t you make it sound like you wanted nothing to do with me this morning?”

“I’m not heartless! You should’ve seen the way you were walking!” Perona explained in an angry voice.

Crossing his arms now that they stood near the wall, the inviting hollow of the cafeteria entrance standing teasingly close, Zoro couldn’t help but glance towards it, hoping to catch a glimpse from inside of the foreign sight while he further uttered in an irked voice, “what do you want?”

“So ungrateful,” Perona muttered, eyeing the brother who disdainfully refused to return a look. “Let me give you a piece of advice since you had the fortune of running into me. Don’t go on the second floor of the cafeteria, it’s for us seniors and you might regret stepping foot up there,” she warned with a finger buried in Zoro’s shoulder, nudging him in an uncomfortable manner.

The feeling of a girl’s sharp nails would never fail to make Zoro’s skin crawl, with its stinging force, it was a lethal weapon that his sister had the malevolence to use one too many times due to its efficacy. “Fine I get it,” he reeled back to raise a protective hand towards the hurt shoulder while his eyebrow furrowed at her.

“No need to thank me,” she flashed him an angry pout before disappearing in the crowd, seamlessly blending in with the flow of her pigtails dancing on her back.

The anger that had been held in started to dissipate like the smokes of a dying fire, leaving behind the ringing heartbeat that came with the reality of having lost Luffy and the others. Following the diminishing crowd, Zoro entered the area, his eyes blinking at the sight of endless spotless ceramic tables and cushioned chairs that stretched before him, floor to ceiling windows filtering the golden ray of the sun to his right while an endless chain of food was being offered to his left, and stairs at the end of the room, leading to an open bistro area like a balcony upon the raise of his bewildered eyes, with the visibly older students consisting of its population, making truth to his sister’s words.

The sight had completely frozen him in place, to the point he stood immune to the curious glances of some students. With hallways and regular classrooms that wouldn’t arouse admiration, this room however had by far exceeded his expectations, and lived off the tell tale reputation of a building with an imposing exterior.

“Oh there he is,” the familiar light voice of Nami lifted the spell that suspended his body, leading Zoro’s glance to travel towards the origin of the words, and see the smiling figure of the tangerine girl with the others — all standing inside nearby the entrance.

“Zoro!”

The waving hand that accompanied Luffy’s words along with the considerate gesture of having waited for him eased the worry that had been sailing along Zoro’s heart as the group moved to blanket his side.

“Where have you been?” Nami asked, an eyebrow arching while her lips retained the glimmer of her smile.

“Maybe he got lost in the crowd or something?” Usopp pointed out with a chuckle, unaware of the truth behind his words.

“That might explain why you were out there on the grounds this morning,” Luffy laughed at the memory.

Feeling an embarrassed heat forming on his cheeks at the accuracy of everyone’s words, Zoro momentarily lost his composure as he exclaimed, “I was not lost! Plus you were clearly fooling around Luffy!”

“What exactly were you two doing this morning…?” Usopp asked, bewildered at the story, his mind racing with scenarios now aware of the straw hat’s carefreeness.

“If it’s these two, it must be such an absurd story,” Nami responded to Usopp, a smiling sigh escaping her lips.

A growling noise came to interrupt the conversation, much to Zoro’s relief, while everyone instinctively turned to see Luffy put a caring hand atop the instigator, his shoulders dropping making him seem like a slouching sunflower. “Forget that, let’s get food already,” he grumbled.

Seeing the energy sip out of the straw hat like so, prompted the group to start making their way towards the food court that stood on their left — mingling with a crowd of other hungry teenagers that gave false hope upon achieving their goal as an endless line stretched in the room.

“Why does there have to be so many people?” Luffy whimpered, his lack of vigor becoming more and more apparent.

“Because it’s lunch time and there’s only one cafeteria. Don’t you dare think of skipping the line,” Nami warned.

“Don’t worry, there’s plenty of food for everyone, so you’ll be able to eat!” The positive advice of Usopp tried to provide respite to the weary Luffy.

“Once we’re through it that is,” Zoro pointed out, feeling the dread of the line as they found themselves at the end — it was quite hard to see the end of the tunnel while it moved ever so slowly.

But because they stood so far away from the enticing food, that they collectively failed to notice the kitchen’s door that easily camouflaged itself next to them through the distraction offered by the courses. And only when a blond haired student came falling from said door did they take notice of it — the words of one of the staff angrily hushing, “no students allowed in the kitchen,” to avoid attracting attention before disappearing behind the painted doors.

The blonde, who pushed himself up dusting his pants, with a slender waist and broad shoulders exhibiting the perfectly put up uniform with the left side of his face hidden to reveal a curly eyebrow, filled Zoro’s vision — the word nuisance filling his mind upon the pitiful fall.

Failing to startle Luffy, who stood too famished to care for his surroundings, and Zoro as visibly as the others, Usopp let out an audible gasp, while Nami’s eyes grew with concern.

“Are you alright?” the darling voice of Nami asked, triggering a cascade of fieriness from the blonde.

“I am, thank you for worrying about me, mademoiselle!” The purr took everyone aback, with the exceptional Luffy far too gone battling with hunger — Nami scrunched her nose, visibly appalled, Usopp arched a confused eyebrow and Zoro slightly parted his downwards curved lips as though unbelieving of the behavior. “I’m Sanji, what about you? What is your name?” The overly interested blonde almost seemed to cause his eyes to shapeshift into hearts as he stood oblivious to the overall atmosphere.

“I’m Nami,” she responded with a courteous smile and slightly surprised eyes, “and what exactly were you doing in there Sanji?”

Taking on a more serious air while hiding his hands in his pockets, Sanji let his voice take on a more natural turn, “I’m a cook in training and wanted to ask for recipes, and considering the atrocious line, I figured it would be quicker to directly ask the kitchen.”

“What, you're a cook? That’s amazing!” Usopp exclaimed.

Though Zoro would never admit it aloud, he did find it quite admirable for a highschooler to be able to cook their own meal. Never in his life had he touched an appliance other than the refrigerator from the imposing land that were kitchens.

“Thank you,” Sanji replied with a smile.

“Then is there anything you’d recommend us?” Nami enthusiastically asked, “you see our friend here is quite starved and if there’s anything here that would make him last the rest of the day that’d be a real help!”

She pointed a finger to the slouching Luffy, that extended his neck so as to see how far he still stood from his salvation. “I’m hungry,” his words trailed.

“Stop complaining already,” Zoro grumbled, annoyed at having heard the same complaint for most of the day.

“We’re almost there,” Usopp encouraged despite the line that stretched before them.

Eyeing the straw hat, Sanji gave a complacent smile, “I’ll see what I can do.”

And so, the blonde had successfully managed to waltz his way in their group, mostly sticking to Nami’s side, visibly giving the polite shoulders to the three boys that surrounded her. Sharing the burden of standing in a file with the vocal lamentations of Luffy, the group steadily made progress towards their goal, a non awkward atmosphere dancing alongside them as if it wasn’t their first meeting .

“By the way, which class are you in?” Zoro asked, while his mind entertained the idea that Luffy would ask the blonde his usual question once he had recovered from his famine. Having acquaintances from another class was a step that required more mental preparation for Zoro, as he never considered the possibility to occur during his schooling, let alone on the first day.

“Class 1 like you guys,” Sanji simply stated, somehow not crossed by the question and shattering Zoro’s internal adjustment.

Slightly disappointed but glad that the blonde proved to not be from another class, Zoro arched his lips downwards while delivering a flat reply. “What? You’ve been in our class this whole time?”

Continue on ao3!

#one piece #one piece fanfiction #zoro fanfiction #perona fanfiction #ghost princess perona #nami fanfiction #usopp fanfiction #luffy fanfiction #straw hat fanfiction #straw hat crew #modern au #goth family fanfiction #roronoa zoro fanfiction #monkey d luffy imagine #zoro x sanji

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sallysavestheday · 2 years

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@undercat-overdog prompted me for a writing update, so here’s one last New Year’s exception to my principle of This Blog Is Mostly Other People’s Gorgeous Art:

Word count for the year: 42,712

Number of stories posted to Ao3: A robust 74 (shortest was 128 words, longest was 1,572 words; ficlets are my thing, folks). All are Silmarillion (or adjacent) or Lord of the Rings.

Most popular story: I don’t track hits (mental health recommendation!), but the most popular by kudos are my Legolas/Gimli fics, for sure. Light a Little Fire in Me and Deep in the Ancient Forests of the World are the top two there. In the Silm fandom, Sweet Falls the Rain (Maglor, Elrond, and the tender pains of parenting) and A Lightning Kindled (my Russingon-Glorthelion angst monster).

Fic I spent the most time on: Probably Settle Your Wild Heart (Celegorm/Aredhel, two ways), my first multi-chapter, 1,000+ word fic.

Fic I spent the least time on: Surprisingly, This Blood Will Tell (a Thranduil backstory with a twist) which I wrote in a mad overnight fugue state from a fabulous prompt by @gellalaer.

Favorite thing I wrote: Still my Glorthelion series, The Flower and the Fountain. I had a mad month of Glorthelion earlier this year, and have recently added a few new fics to that series. I love those guys!

Story I’m most proud of: Probably Fugue: Three Voices, Four Entries, about an arsonist Fëanorian Erestor and all the twins in his life, building off a character idea of @idrilsscribe‘s. It’s very dark, but with a sort of happy ending.

Funniest: Tough choice here; depends on your tastes. Avant Garde (Maglor premieres a new work) or the series The Importance of Peer Review (anthropologist Finrod wreaks havoc Arda-wide).

Saddest: Also tough, since I kill people off all the time in very canon ways. I think History Will Be Kind To Me, For I Intend to Write It (Pengolodh, Eöl, Aredhel, Turgon, ‘nuff said), or To This, He Had No Answer, in which I killed a child to introduce Finrod to mortal death.

Least Popular: Call Me Out of the Gloaming, by kudos. This is rarepair Egalmoth/Rog, and was very fun to write for @antares0606.

Favorite Opening Line(s): This is hard, because I write in so many different moods. But here’s a taste from My Bones Divide and Shake, the first fic in my series about Celegorm and Oromë:

Celegorm will never find words to tell the story. It is beyond speech – a tale better suited to the ecstatic shriek of the mouse as the owl stoops, or the hare beating a mad tattoo before the crouching fox. His mouth cannot shape the sounds his heart makes in the sudden silence of the clearing, or sing the surge of his blood behind his eyes as he is claimed and set apart.

Favorite Closing Line(s): Similarly challenging. Have a little miserable Maedhros at the Nirnaeth in The Quality of Mercy is Not Strained:

On his knees in the curdled mud at the edge of the field, Maedhros stares down the hollow years ahead and takes the lesson. Doom is not a matter of semantics. Pity and mercy have never been the same.

Top Scenes from Anywhere You Would Choose to Have Illustrated: Oh, anything! I am not a visual artist and greatly admire people who are (hence my general rule on this blog about the proportion of images vs. words). Maybe the Celegorm & Oromë stuff, or pregnant Melian in Blood of My Blood, Bone of My Bone, or Maglor playing silence in 4′33″.

New things I tried: Everything! This is my first year sharing anything I’ve written, and it’s been fun seeing what resonates with others.

Fic-writing goals for 2023: Keep doing it when I feel like it; don’t do it if I don’t.

Favorite Thing(s) I read: So many favorites are already in my pinned Masterlist post or my fic recs posts. Go read them all! Three recent delights towards the end of the year are:

Tell It Slant, by Kaz, What Joy We Might, by Cherepashka, and The Hopes and Fears of All the Years, by Verecunda. Not sure about tumblrs for those folks, but if you know them, tell them I love those works!

#my fic #fic recs

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junomore · 2 years

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i feel rage

in honor of the times we live in: i feel rage

I feel rage

I feel rage for my mother, who had an abortion when she was barely in her twenties. The Woman plagued by misogyny and mistrust from the start, a painful torture “gifted” to her by her father. Who’s mother said “if you weren’t such a slut, your father wouldn’t touch you”.

I feel rage against my father, who beat her and lied in another woman’s bed while I was in my mother’s womb. Who’s side the police took when my mother had enough, and brandished a golf club in self defense. “Do you want us to haul your ass to prison?” Was said to my mother, the bloodied, bruised, and battered Woman.

I feel rage

I feel rage for my sister, who never announced the sins and crimes done unto her body until I shared my own. “I’ll have to drive outside of the state to get a new IUD, they are shutting down the planned parenthoods here” she says with an annoyed sigh, she’s been fighting this too long, she can’t give another ounce of care, else she’ll break.

I feel rage

I feel rage for the grandmother I never got to meet. Who’s history isn’t spoken too much about. But the story of a glacial storm in Wisconsin, her slippers in the snow while her heart iced over as she stared at her eldest son. “You will not come into this house” she speaks, knowing the woman he shared a bed with was not his wife. I wonder if she knew that his sick-ridden relationship with infidelity only began there

I feel rage

I feel rage for my younger self. Who was fresh into high school and hoping for acceptance. Who involved herself into an unrequited love with a boyfriend. “Crazy”,“you’re blowing this out of proportion”, “if you bring this up again, we’re done”, he spat at her, while she sobbed in the passenger seat after finding out his unfaithfulness and hatred towards her. She didn’t know that she deserved better, she believed every word she says.

I feel rage against that boy. Who still speaks ill of me after years of my absence. “She was abusive”, he states, insistent on his innocence and dedication to her. “She was crazy”, his audience nods, unbeknownst of me.

I feel rage that I fell into the trap that my mother fell into. I feel rage that I’m pushed to be ashamed for falling into the trap made for my mother and I. Boys will be boys. Blood-stained teeth behind sickly sweet smiles. Hands made to hold and caress, now bruised and cracked against smooth cheeks and weeping eyes. Hands that split thighs with no care, no delight, only pure greed and hunger. I feel rage that the Woman must feel this dishonor.

I feel rage that he can still run with innocence, knocking teeth together in bars and shout to young girls down the street. He can take away the Woman’s rights and claim purity. “It’s for God”, he claims, but the hypocrisy lies in the crimson children lying in schools, the children violated in foster homes, and the children who are still lacking their formula.

“Children are a gift from the Lord; they are a reward from him.” But dare they be a daughter or get in the way of their wealth, they shall be sent for slaughter.

I feel a rage that is so deep and innate. This gift is mistaken for no Goddess but a God. She carried and groomed, sobbed and ached, loved with blood and insides. Disgustingly ravishing in the aftermath, she lies, knowing her effort will be rewarded to God. Is this what Mary felt?

I feel a rage that is thrashing, a gnashing of teeth. A sight so vulgar and unclean, God would turn away. I want to maim and slaughter for my daughter, who I don’t wish to carry into this world. I don’t want her to feel this rage, a caged animal. I want to ruin, my velvet gloves around their iron throats. I want to look before Lilith and pray for her honor. I want to fight for victory, so I can sit at the throne and sit with peace. I want to vomit up this rage and place it on the mantle, settled in newer times, my rage a distant memory.

I no longer want to feel this rage, but I must recognize my weapon in this battle for peace

#roe v wade #roe vs. wade #womens rights #reproductive health #reproductive rights #reproductive justice #feminism #inequality #democracy #politics

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psychewritesbs · 1 year

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my favorite psycho, i came here with a jjk confession but i changed my mind and decided to ask if you have a jjk confession that you want to share? maybe something you're loving or not about the manga, especially the latest events? or maybe something from the anime - have you seen Season2? or even a complaint to Gege (because God knows there are times when I'm really upset with that man and everything!)

omg bahaha! HOLA!

Is this how I go from "mental gymnastics anime girl" to "mental gymnastics psycho chick"? 🐥

jjk confessions you ask?!!!! hmmm... let's see.

I feel like my biggest grievances against Gege have got to be ch 208 because what the hell happened? there was just so much potential there, the "gathering of allies" from ch 220 felt a bit abrupt, Tsumiki getting fridged, and not understanding or feeling engaged with what is only the most anticipated battle in jjk, Sukuna vs. Gojo.

I also have to admit that when he announced "jjk's end", I was very worried because it felt like there was a lot of story left to tell and not a lot of time to tell it. So, my perception of the manga was affected by this and it felt even more rushed than usual. But knowing there is still story left to tell even though the end is in sight, helped me realize that I have to be patient and let the cat cook.

i.e. even if what I'm reading right now doesn't make much sense or I don't like it, I know he'll tie loose ends soon enough and that will change my perception of events. I just have to wait for the payoff.

Which is not easy because for those of us who've been reading jjk for a while, it's not a fast process between the weekly release and break weeks.

As for what I'm loving I just really enjoy Gege's writing in general. I love the themes he's explored so far. Soulmates, existentialism, love (is the greatest curse), the space between dreams and reality, how he's incorporated comparative mythology/religion and Depth Psychology into the story, and getting to know what Sukuna stands for on a philosophical level has been a delight (morepleasekthanksbye). That is not to mention that his character work in general is fantastic.

Of course, there's Megumi.

I think that even if I have grievances about how Gege has handled certain aspects of jjk, the way I see it, I am mostly in awe at what he can create under a tight schedule and the foresight he's had to have to plan for twists, etc.

To me, even if jjk is a bit rough around the edges, Gege's writing is very intelligent and intentional, and he is only going to get better as a mangaka, so I'm looking forward to seeing what else he comes up with in the future.

As for the anime.

MAN.

MAPPA has just NAILED IT.

This anime is nothing short of beautiful and even though I prefer the manga (sort of like how the book is almost always better than the movie), the anime elevates the manga to epic proportions. Music, cinematography, action, animation, you can tell the jjk animation team both has a lot of love for jjk AND they GET jjk.

MAPPA understood the assignment.

What about you anon? Do share your grievances. Like I've said before, I may not always agree and I will always try to present a different perspective if there is one except when it comes to not liking Megumi, there is NO OTHER PERSPECTIVE THAT IS VALID ASIDE FROM HE'S AMAZING but as another anon has said before, sharing these ideas makes for a richer discussion about jjk.

Thanks for stopping by and for asking me about jjk :)

#ask the mental gymnastics anime girl #psycho chick? 🐥

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hazbincalifornia · 4 months

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Sometimes I have ideas for things that I don't particularly feel like sharing or making into a Full Thing, mostly because it's so self-indulgent and caters solely to myself. Well, I'm sharing this one. The long story short is that Blitz was sold to be trained as a personal 'pet' for Stolas once he (Blitz) came of age. This was all I wrote of it.

Really, he was lucky. Most of the other 'students' in his position had no idea who they were going to be snapped up and use as cocksleeves for. Even though he was fully aware that Stolas was going to be pretty big, (which, y'know… he liked tall, at least) he had a leg up. He knew it would be Stolas- the Ars Goetia had enough power to lock ownership of Blitz down as early as they'd wanted instead of having to wait until now. There were worse things than being a royal's personal fuckpet, after all. (Mostly being tossed out on the street until you could pay your dues. Blitz had seen the street kids. This was better. Usually.)

Still. Still, a few years of letters that had to be kept brief didn't quell the queasy bubbling in his gut as he traced the eyeliner with a practiced hand. Today, of all days, it had to be perfect. (They'd given him a picture of Stolas's face, to pick him out as quickly as possible. He seemed… stern. Serious. There was a hint of lingering teenage baby-fat awkwardness in the slightly-off proportions that reminded him that the man was only a year or two older than himself, but… he didn't know how much of the sweet boy had remained to adulthood, how much curiosity and wonder and desire to bow to an imp in greeting hadn't been squeezed out of his squishy little body like a sour orange.)

"Number twelve!"

"Coming!" Blitz's hands shook as he stared into the mirror for just a second longer- makeup looked good, the dip over his cheekbones looked good, the soft lingerie he'd been given was good. Black. A good color. Reliable. The lace and beads dripped from the bra like blood, and he spun, swaying his hips as he walked and tried to fall into the right mindset. Pretend until you're not pretending anymore.

"And you're sure that you want this one, your highness? It has been some time since you've seen him…" The trainer was talking to…

Wow.

He got… tall.

He'd seen pictures of other Goetia, and they were big, but pictures were nothing compared to being mere feet away and realizing he could stand on his own shoulders and still only barely keep up.

Blitz's eyes widened and he barely managed to keep his jaw closed as he took in the prince. He was clad in classy leather that matched Blitz's meager 'clothes', and he had one eyebrow raised.

"I just want to see him. I know that I- oh!" The owl turned, and positively lit up when he saw Blitz, all four eyes darting up and down as he took him in. A smile cracked at his beak, and he bounced slightly in place. "That- is him, correct?"

"Mmm?" The trainer turned around. "Ah, yes! He was a bit of a feisty one, but he's very good at what he does." At that, Blitz bent low into a bow, and Stolas stepped closer.

"He looks… wonderful. I'm happy to uphold the deal. He's already been paid for, I believe?"

"Yes, it was simply a matter of you deciding to keep that deal. He's yours. Enjoy, and if you have any trouble, let me know. We can always re-accept him for short re-training sessions."

Stolas set the tip of his index finger underneath Blitz's chin, tilting his face back up until their eyes met before he scooped him up like a blushing bride, leading Blitz to only barely muffle a surprised squeak as the prince pressed his bare skin up against the leather of his jacket. "I think we'll be just fine."

___

The second they left the building, Stolas let out a hoot of delight and spun like a ballerina in a music box combined with a frantic top, so excitable Blitz was pretty sure he was going to be sick.

"Oh, this is going to be wonderful! You look lovely, darling, and I have a room made up just for you."

"…Mhm." Blitz isn't sure how much he's supposed to say to that, so he defaulted to a sort of noncommittal sound of 'sure, that sounds fine'. Stolas, for his part, barely seemed to notice.

"I've been so eager to get a chance to talk with you properly again, having to edit down the letters to the point where they were considered acceptable was exhausting. Do you still like pirates and horses? I still like books, I'll have to show you around the palace so you can visit the library and the gardens if you like, although you'll have to be careful of Stella…"

Blitz watched him as he rattled on, eyes bright and expression eager as the image of a serious prince who would use him solely for servicing started to melt away in favor of a taller version of the boy he'd met so briefly.

"And- you can still talk, can't you?" Stolas stuttered to a stop. "I'm afraid I don't know terribly much about what training is like for you, so-"

"I can talk." His voice is a bit rough- he hadn't slept well last night. "Really, they said the problem was making me stop."

Stolas smiled. "I can assure you, that won't be a problem with me." He tilted his head. "I like your voice."

Blitz blinked at that. "Oh, er- thank you, sir."

"Please, just call me Stolas." He nuzzled his cheek against Blitz's, and the curling feathers against his faceplate were the softest thing Blitz had felt in years.

#shadow writes stuff

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haru-natsuka · 2 years

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Consolation (Riddle Rosehearts x Reader)

Genre: Romance

Your husband, Riddle consoling you due to your insecurity with your body

(As per usual, the photo is not mine. It belongs to its rightful owner. If anyone knows who is the person, feel free to let me know)

You had turned around several times in front of the big rectangle mirror and looked at the proportion of your body. Everything small about you, the wide of your shoulder, your hand, your leg and even your chest look kind of normal and yet why you could not seem to make his cloth look baggy like the women did. Did you eat that much?

"Darling, you know in the queen of heart rule we must eat breakfast by 8- Could I ask what are you doing dear?" He stopped in his mid-sentence about the rule he still kind of implemented after both of your marriage upon noticing the trail of tears at the corners of your eyes.

You tried to act as normal as possible and claimed that it was due to you yawning before. However, your attentive husband did not buy it at all.

He tilted your head upwards, straight to meet your eyes. His warm, gentle thumb wiped away your tears away and caressed your cheeks in hope of comforting you from any of your unspoken worries. His eyes reflected nothing but love which was enough to remind you of the reason you married this man and no one else as you stare at it back.

"Would you like to share your problem? I know we can sort it out together." He tried to master the most soothing voice he could so he could persuade you from being reluctant with him.

"I.....-" Searching for the right word, you averted your eyes to everywhere but him still doubting to let out the true embarrassment you tried so hard to hide but he effort of waiting patiently for your answer and the way his attention only focusing on you, kind of opened up your heart to let him knew your problem.

"Riddle darling am I cute for you?" You hide your face in the crook of his neck and snuggle closer to him as you were nervous about the upcoming answer waiting for you.

"Dear Y/N, do you remember what I said when I propose to you?" You nodded slightly as the scene seemed to be happening yesterday although it actually took place years ago.

"You are the only perfect girl for me. My existence is for you and does your existence is for me too?"

"In the rule of the queen of heart no.730 stated only said when you are meant it to be and I can swear to you I meant everything, dear. All of these years you are clearly fine. What occurs to increase this self-doubt hmm?" His finger gingerly combed through your silky hair although deep down inside he was the one who actually had a hard breath. He might be doing a bad job as your husband for these past years to make yourself for worrying for nothing

"Yesterday, I saw our neighbour's wife wearing baggy cloth and I ask if it is her new style and she said she wear her husband's cloth. It looks very cute Riddle, so I tried to wear yours but it kind of stuck at my butt and I'm sorry to not do the same for you..."

"Is, is that really what disturbing you, dear. All of these because of that?" You shyly nodded to admit his words. Riddle first, was in disbelief at first before he silently chuckled to himself. How could you called yourself not being cute when every of your action literally flattered his poor heart most of the time. Let teased you to lessen the tension, should he?

"Last night, did I fail to show you how cute your butt is or you would like me to do it now" He crept his hand to your butt before he squeezed it with delight and you let a sound that like a melody to his ear.

"It nice, round and squishable or this is not a good proof for you. We can take further steps than this" You hit him on the chest with your fist as he smugly smirks at you, knowing how he had a great effect on you and the flush on your face just make a concrete proof for him.

"What your answer, darling?" You brought yourself closer and higher until the tip of your nose brushed slightly with each other and the teasing atmosphere still continue.

"Isn't you are the cute one. You are small and tiny after all"

"I don't like to be called cute but if that makes you happier then go ahead"

"Really? my cutie Riddle"

"Only for today, alright darling"

#twised wonderland #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle rosehearts x you #riddle rosehearts x mc #twisted wonderland x reader #riddle x reader #riddle twisted wonderland #twst x you #twst riddle #twst #twst fluff #twst wonderland #twst mc #heartslabyul #heartslaybul x reader #romance

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banqdanfnfic · 4 years

Text

which, as they kiss, consume | jjk

you just wanted to get a tattoo from your boyfriend

pairing: tattoo artist!jk x reader

genre: established relationships au, tattoo artist au, smut

word count: 4k

warnings: unprotected sex, biting, making out, grinding, licking, nipple play, jk has a lip ring, oral (f receiving), fingering, shy jk and oc, sexual tension, slight choking, slight aftercare

♫ : Streets by Doja Cat, Candy by Doja Cat

♡ Aesthetics: Playlist | Moodboard

He visibly chokes on his glass of beer as he almost snaps his neck to meet your gaze. He could say that you were awfully drunk and hence the sudden confession out of the blue, but behind your heavy lidded eyes, Jungkook could sense that you were serious.

“You what?”, he gulps abruptly, moving closer to your face, doe eyes pleading to repeat yourself.

“Yes Kook. I want that tattoo on my breasts. I’ve decided”.

It’s not that Jungkook didn’t have experience in his career with inking on different parts of a human body. He just had never given a tattoo to someone who is romantically associated with him and the thought of seeing you half naked made him chuck down the rest of his drink in one go.

The most physical he had ever gotten with you was a kiss shared occasionally since it’s only been over two weeks you had started dating. Okay maybe you made out once in his car but that’s it. It never got to the point of shedding clothes or anything intense.

“Are you sure?”

You giggle at the sudden hoarseness in his voice and nod positive. Ironic how his aura never matched his personality. His inked skin, athletic body proportions covered in black monochrome bad boy outfits gave out default energy that he is a local heartthrob with multiple chicks wrapped around his finger each night and a heavy demeanor to carry in his smirk.

You were one of those believers until Jungkook asked you out in the most hopeless romantic way possible after constantly visiting the café you work in, a few shops besides his parlor. He was a gentleman with respectful boundaries, warm hands to hold yours and sweet sensual kisses though you are pretty sure he probably has a good game.

For any outsider it looked like those cliché bad boy and shy girl love stories, but for real both of you were a good percentage of introverts.

Jungkook runs his tongue around his lip ring while he is stressfully ruffling his dark locks into a mess. He is trying to explain his reasons to postpone your decision considering how shy he got at this point. But then that’s exactly why you were requesting him with soft eyes, it would be so uncomfortable to be shirtless in front of anybody else. Or maybe it’s your way of saying the relationship is open for higher levels of physical affection.

After debating around in vain, he finally hums and clears one of his slots for his beloved client.

Friday approaches way quicker than you assumed and now your heart is beating in your throat. Right after you are done cleaning the tables, you have to make it to Jungkook’s parlor for your appointment.

Running on three hours of sleep, black under eyes even after a decent amount of makeup, you groan as you check yourself out in the mirror. You opted for a simple shirt and skirt (also known as the outfit you bought for occasions with Jungkook), light beach waves resting on your shoulders. Hoping that a few cups of coffee will save you, you stride across the street to stop before the infamous parlor he worked in. Hopefully the full body shave and chocolate body butter has kept its excellence on your skin below the clothing.

The door chimes as it opens with a dragged creak on the musky wooden flooring. It felt like an otherworld where air smelled like men’s perfume and faint tint of cigarettes. In other words, intoxicating.

You ask the first person you meet at the reception, one of Jungkook’s companions at the shop and he assists you to his cabin located at a comfortably remote location.

His space is hidden with a simple black curtain. You are met with Jungkook’s back facing you, working determinately on a client’s arm and cares to spare a glance only when the guy with you is informing him about your presence.

“This will be over in a few”, he grins to your face and goes back to focusing his coil on the skin of a woman in her late twenties laying down his chair. The vibration from his inking machine fills in the silence and you excuse yourself to sit on a small black couch beside them.

This was the first time watching him at work and now you can understand why people rumored so much about his attitude because damn it is intimidating.

Brows knit together and inked muscles flex as he drags the needles around for finishing touches. Meanwhile you can pretty much smell the drool from the woman who is shamelessly checking out your boyfriend. Though you are pretty sure Jungkook gets such glances more than he can count every day, you can’t help but feel jealous. Partly because of the childish possessiveness and partly because you want to be the reason behind his dark eyes and intricate concentration, in profession or not.

To stop from mentally throwing daggers on the client’s way, you grab a random fashion magazine from the side table and flip through pages, though other four senses are inclined on your man. With a close attention to his low sigh you conclude that he is done.

The customer with now a fresh tattoo on her arm is discussing random useless topics to get him to talk, a very vain job realizing how Jungkook doesn’t bat a friendly lash at anybody, especially to those who hit on him. To be honest a large part of the ink business was linked with the obsession to attractive people who worked here, even if it meant trading an area of your skin. You grip the edges of the magazine a bit hard, not able to contain the sanity particularly at the high pitch voice she mumbles in before finally leaving his cabin.

A little excited and a lot nervous, you stand up as Jungkook bids goodbye to the third person.

He is quick to notice your discomfort, though not sure if it was the woman or the thought of finally getting the tattoo, he knew you were nervous and surviving in several cups of espresso by the dark circles slowly showing through the faded layers of your concealer. But nothing pulls down the opinion he has about you, beautiful and simple, no dramatics attached.

“Hey are you okay?”

You nod as soon as you sit down on the black tattoo chair, shifting a little to find a comfortable position. He is taking out a box full of equipment and fine needles, already making you break a sweat at the side of your forehead.

But more than that, it’s the way he is sharp and professional that catches your attention more.

You have never seen Jungkook this serious before. The choice of his vetiver perfume digging through your nostrils was driving you insane. If he doesn’t smile soon, you are going to melt into a puddle at his gaze.

“Are you nervous?”, he smirks this time, a newfound reason for your worsening gut health.

It’s mostly going in cycles at this point. Every bit of his skilled motion causes a vigorous hormonal reaction which initiates his next set of effortless teasing.

“I’m a little nervous”, you say, fiddling with your freshly painted nude nails.

“Me too”

It’s something you least expect to come out of his mouth observing how confident he looks right now. He basically has you cornered with his gaze. But whenever he had been truthful about his emotions it felt like a hug.

“I can take off my shirt too, so that we are even. Is that okay?”

He said it so softly like he is handling a child and the duality of the situation had your mind fogged and limbs frozen for a few minutes.

“Yeah it’s okay” It’s far beyond than okay. It’s great actually.

Jeon Jungkook is ripped, a Greek God sculptured masterpiece covered in self designed artwork you are more than happy to wake up to every morning. He hears you gulp at the feast before your eyes while he discards his black t-shirt to a nearby chair.

Now you don’t know if this whole thing is supposed to warm your heart or make you play several erotic fantasies like a movie before your eyes.

Both of you share a small smile while his long fingers are tugging at the hem of your shirt and pulling it up over your head.

He almost wishes you don’t opt to wear a bra but he is met with lacy black, a-bit-over your-usual-budget fabric hugging the roundness of your breasts.

It seemed like you were way too competitive about today. Anything less than complete awe from Jungkook for you was straight disappointment, you don't want anything less.

Well it seems like it did from how blown his pupils were at this point. He peels his gaze off your chest with a sharp gulp to look at your eyes suddenly devoid of any fear and staring back at him with all ease. He is filled with an exapnse of warmth and he isn't sure why does spending just a little amount of time with you had such a grip on him. He can’t wait to propose the idea of getting a couple tattoo together soon and as far as you know how Jungkook is, he is very serious with his body art so apparently he does trust you a lot already.

“Where exactly are you trying to get it?”, his voice is a lot deeper suddenly as he waits for your fingers to guide to his canvas.

You softly trace the spot at the upper circumference of your right boob, “Here”.

You suck a breath through your nose as his own fingers are mimicking your gesture, lightly pulling down the lace to inspect the fitting of the design at hand.

These violent delights have violent ends

And in their triumph die, like fire and powder

Jungkook traces each word on your burning skin, now leaning dangerously close which was questioning your control to put your palms flat on his pecs. He doesn’t notice that though, his mind is busy creating his own fantasies about the women under him.

After two minutes and twenty four second long of inspection and mutual thirst, Jungkook is selecting a bunch of needles to set into the rotary machine. Five fine sharp like a painter's brush moves in and out at a set regularity as Jungkook tests it out.

The next of his actions had you flushed into a pool of crimson. He gently lifts up your resting torso with one hand while the other is unclasping the hook of your bra, making you half naked for the sake of the tattoo.

"I'm going to start", he says shyly.

You still have time to save yourself from the growing phobia for the object, but another unlogical part of your brain says it's a piece of cake considering you have a whole distracting full course meal in front of you.

It stings at first. Well, okay it hurts like hell but your face is devoid of any indication, except your right hand is gripping on the rim of the chair for dear life.

Jungkook on the other hand had never felt this much diversion of mind during his work. He knows that you are probably hurting very badly, especially for a first timer. He is biting into his lip ring, trying to get this over with for the well-being of your pain and his hormones.

After he had scribed one word into your dermis, you are no longer able to contain the ache so you give out a small squeak out of your glossed lips and the vibration of the machine at his hands stops as he looks at you.

"You want me to stop? ", he is relaxing his face as he cups yours with one hand. You don't want to answer that question, but the drumroll of the current situation is making your heart flutter and everything about the little burn on your chest is forgotten.

"No. It does hurt but I'll be fine I guess", you whisper. His breath is mixing with yours slowly as he is leaning more towards your face. If it isn't for a kiss then you are likely to be disappointed.

"It'll be over before you know it. I'll make it quick", and then he kisses you, a small act to get off the pressure of sexual tension between your bare upper bodies.

Before you think of any tongue in the act, he is breaking off the contact and returns to his position on your chest. He misses the pout that forms on your mouth but right now both of your heads are in cloud nine.

The pain starts again, only this time you are busy reliving how his lips felt in yours; soft, firm and controlled.

You gasp when you feel one of his hands cupping your right breast to further his design but it's lowkey an act empowered by lust which is straining behind the so called professional eyes.

You just sit there flustered out of your mind and then Jungkook is suddenly squeezing, full palm hiding your breasts like it's a protected treasure, but he isn't showing the slightest facial expression other than determined eyes and his lower lip caught between his teeth.

Fuck you can't take it anymore. Jungkook can feel your nipples harden against his hand and his brain isn't helping much to concentrate on the design. But by the grace of some positive karma left on his side, he makes it through the long text and when he is letting go of your chest and standing tall, your skin is popping out with redness on the places the text lays embedded.

He fishes out a mirror for you to look.

"It looks beautiful thank you Jungkook", you smile.

"Can I give you one more tattoo on your left one?", he asks while you are contemplating whether going through the pain is worth it, not to mention you really want to get back at a private space with Jungkook as soon as possible.

"It won't hurt I promise", and then he is kissing you a lot filthier than before; all tongue and teeth, while his hands are grazing on the skin of your waist, pressing a little firmer than before.

The coldness of his lip ring rivaled around your mouth, and you try sucking on it to which Jungkook responds with a growl and pushes his body adamantly against yours.

Skin to skin, you are lost in euphoria of everything happening and finally, you roam your eager hands around his body, to his pecs and the definition of abs.

As your fingers scraped against his scalp, Jungkook is biting eagerly down your jawline to your collarbone and continues his ministrations at a particular spot which is bringing out melodic moan variation from you.

He is going down your skin, licking on your left boob before he starts planting violet tattoos as he had promised. As if it couldn't get better, he is massaging the right breast, in a way to soothe pain.

He loses it when you stutter his name, but he is just a fucking tease when it comes to making love and doing anything in a public space is the last thing he wants to do. There isn't much room for all that he wants right now.

"Why did you choose this particular tattoo Y/n?", he rasps while he is planting small pecks on his artwork, and you reply when he is finally eye level with you

"I just felt like it's a good one", your breaths are uneven and mostly caught in your neck. He pecks your lips before speaking, "Those are lines from Romeo and Juliet".

He takes your hands to trace over a line of text among the many designs on his chest.

which, as they kiss, consume

"We pretty much have a couple tattoo now Y/n", his breath is matched with your pace and you are not very sure how to respond to this new knowledge.

"That's… hot"

You break into giggles along with him, he just can't stop dragging his lips around your skin, but he isn't able to word his feelings right now either.

"I have some aftercare healing ointment for the tattoo at my place, wanna come over?" Now that may be a little lame of an excuse to get his little friend out of his pants but you are too unfazed to analyse any of that.

His hands find place on your ass under the skirt as soon as the door to his apartment closes, and before you know it, you are in his bedroom, sitting on the soft mattress and tongue lost devouring each other.

While eagerly getting rid of every article of clothing, Jungkook notices that you don't have your bra on beneath the shirt, so it's probably back at the parlour, but none of you have the slightest care for it, might as well make an excuse with it later to fuck you in his cabin.

He is pushing you farther towards the headboard, him on top, grinding sensenslesy while your lips mould with his. Though he has his whole body pressed against you, you can't seem to feel his weight at the slightest, every one of his actions were just balanced and perfect.

As Jungkook goes down on you, his smile is evident against your skin, finally able to find out how every one of those scenarios in his head will come to look like. He lets out a satisfied hum being finally able to suck on your tits, your fingers finding place on his hair, twisting it out of stimulation.

His pelvis is flushed harshly against yours, grinding and rubbing against your pussy for as long as he is rejoicing the feeling of moving his tongue around both the nipples.

He stops rubbing after some point and you whimper at the loss but his fingers are soon to meet your core as a quick apology. All your later moans are muffled on his mouth once again.

Feeling the controlled movements of his fingers on your clit, you dig your nails down on his toned shoulders. It's becoming impossible to reciprocate his lewd movements of tongue on your lips at this point as the excitement between your thighs is growing every passing second.

Your mouth remains slightly parted as he removes his face to watch you squirm underneath, lips swollen, deep red and glossy from all the saliva.

He pecks at the shell of your ear before going down past your navel.

You haven't had much heads in the twenty years of your life, most of the guys being completely against the idea which made you feel insecure to bring up the topic in bed, but Jungkook does it like his life depends on it.

He growls at the sight of you dripping into his sheets and he seems to enjoy the idea of being the influence behind it. But none is going through your head at the moment, not the metal on his lips grazing against your folds, or the fact that Jungkook is grinning each time you cry his name, it feels unreal to feel something like this.

His mouth is wrapping against your entrance and he is balancing your lower body on his palms to help him reach the right depths inside you. While all you can muster up is the strength to grope the bedsheets in your fist and close your eyes at the pleasure.

Jungkook brings his head higher to give some attention to the throbbing clit, catching it between his teeth and triggering the bundle of nerves just the perfect dose to have your hips jolting up to his face.

He can't take it himself when you are now whining and chasing for your release, so he is slightly humping against the bed to get some friction.

He licks a slow stripe up till your abdomen and slowly raises to your face, already fucked out and dishevelled to keep up with his dominant orbs.

He swears he had never felt so much warmth and care for sex with any of his previous partners, in relationship or not, all he could think is how good can he treat the pleading eyes underneath him.

"Is there something you like that you want me to do?", he says, fingers grazing once again to your crotch to not deny you from his contact. Only this time he is exploring the tightness of your pretty cunt with two skillful fingers.

Is there? You are not sure. Or in other words you are too caught up at the sense of him fingering you. It's not like you had enough experience or people who cared enough to ask that question. It astounds you that never in this entire foreplay he asked for any favor for himself.

"I'm not sure…", you whisper and then maybe you have something on your mind " um I guess I would like to be choked" Okay this felt embarrassing.

He smiles before sliding his free hand from your lips to your neck, and applies slight force, careful to not hurt you in the slightest bit.

"Is that fine?"

"Yeah", you muffle through the decreasing course of air.

He pulls up your face by the throat to attach lips once more. He just can't seem to get enough of kissing you senseless. Then, the tip of his long ignored cock is teasing the length of your pussy twice before it's stretching you out to the brim.

Bodies flushed and hot, his pace is deep and slow, making sure to kiss the cervix every time he is inside.

He watches as your eyes close shut and flutters around whenever he is grazing against your sweet spot. Both of your ears lost and eager for the moans looming out of each other, his more like what he sounds at the gym. Nice observation Y/n.

In this span of sexual energy you shared, you can make some obvious conclusions. Sex with him was surreal, both in terms of domination and the care he had. Rocking against him and keeping up with his hips was attainable— Compared to the intense eye contact he tries to hold, or the way he cups the side of your face and rubs the pad of his thumb on your cheeks while he kisses you during sinking back in, or the way his eyes glow at the beauty of your body open for him. It makes you feel special and it's difficult to respond to these gestures when you never felt this way before.

Jungkook could tell that from your face, but he hopes he lasts with you enough to help you know the worth you hold. You couldn't think too much about anything when you are busy squeezing around his length and coming twice in the first ten minutes.

By the third orgasm Jungkook is nearing his own and he pulls out to pump a few times before coming on your stomach.

"Was it okay?", his voice is all over the place, still balancing his body on his arms while you are amazed by his strength.

"It was amazing Jungkook", you smile. You have known a lot about Jungkook over the few dates you spent with him. That he likes literature, classics and philosophy, designs tattoos as a subconscious thing, that his game is A-1, and he likes working out almost three hours a day. Good for you. But it wasn't until now you know him to be gentle, like he is afraid to crush you under a feather touch. You don't know him as someone who is staring deep into your face after a good fuck, speaks nothing, smiles widely, and plants a peck on your forehead before getting off the bed.

He does the honors of cleaning both of your bodies with a towel, it's not like you have any strength left in you anyway. And then pulls out an ointment from the bedside table and plops next to your body.

"There. You need this to protect the tattoo", he takes off the nozzle and applies a required amount against the words on your chest and massages against them.

"Now go to sleep Juliet", he mocks, pulling up the sheets over you both "good night".

You snuggle against his hard chest, kissing his pecs before resting on it, "Good night Romeo".

thank you so much for reading!! please leave a feedback!!

★ taglist: @pjmochii (dm, ask or comment to enter the tl!)

★ credits: @/rainbeary on spotify : songs that'll make you feel everything's in slow motion playlist

★ banner & boards: by me :)

a/n: this is my first time writing smut and i basically died of second hand embarrassment during the process. pardon for my untalented ass, i tried this wip continuously for a week and i seriously don't think it could get anything better though it's probably not much.

1K notes · View notes

fishstyx · 4 years

Text

curious.

featuring. mahito x fem!reader

wc. 1.5k

genre. smut, dark/taboo

tw. 18+ nsfw, noncon, stalking, somnophilia, alcohol, thigh fucking, penetration, size kink, stomach bulge

synopsis. there’s just one thing mahito has yet to learn about human anatomy... and when you hobble out of a bar at daybreak, you’re about as good as volunteering your body.

What a poor, lost little thing you are, trudging through the back alleyways of Tokyo with little to go on under the twinkling twilight. You stumble around in the darkness as if trying to outrun the first rays of sunlight, fingers fumbling to find purchase on the sides of buildings unfamiliar to you. You must’ve been drinking all night long to require wall support to keep you upright now, hiccuping as you drag your hands along the concrete. Truly the lowest of the low, a runt in a world teeming with lesser beings. Human swine would do well to know their limits, but apparently you don’t.

And what an easy target you make; a little too easy, even. You wouldn’t have a clue what was happening if Mahito cornered you now, idle transfiguration descending upon you with a single touch of the hand.

But what a waste that would be, disfiguring a remarkable specimen like you, so utterly out of it that you can’t even tell that he’s right behind you—so dangerously close that he’s practically breathing down your neck as you make your way home.

Sure, Mahito has his pick of the city’s stragglers at all times of the day, but what suddenly draws him to you lies in how disheveled you look, the little bit of makeup you have on smeared across your face, that low cut shirt of yours riding even lower than it was made to.

Not to mention that he’s absolutely dying to get more acquainted with human “anatomy”—but he hates how his victims squirm and squeal when he takes his time, as if they have any chance of actually escaping him. It’s an insult, really, so he figures he’ll go after someone on the more... susceptible side. Someone who’s not only wandering around alone, but also on the brink of collapse, unable to call for help. Someone who makes no attempt to fight back, someone who will let him have his way with them, someone who doesn’t mind the intrusion simply because there is no alternative.

Someone exactly like you.

You’re making this way too simple, not a single look behind you as you stagger your way home. You even have the courtesy to leave the front door of your house ajar, the stupid little thing that you are, not an ounce of energy left to spare as you pass out into the bed.

He’s on top of you immediately, ripping your clothes off to ogle their contained contents. So this is the female body, he thinks, half mesmerized, half disgusted by the way your taut tits spill out from underneath your already revealing shirt. He studies every inch of your exposed skin carefully before rolling your sensitive nubs between his fingers, finding that they stiffen on command. Even when you’re out cold you react to his touch; he was right not to kill you immediately.

His personal playground, exactly the way he wanted it.

Proportions aside, he finds that there are few differences between his male body and your own. But there’s something that piqued his interest at a movie showing once and he wants it to try for himself today. He palms at his erection, intrigued by his natural reaction to the sight of you all sprawled out. Is there really something so special about it? He can’t say he sees the appeal, but apparently his body can, his bulge pressing harder against the cloth the longer he looks at you.

His pants come undone when he feels his damp excitement through the fabric, glint of his precum illuminated by the kiss of the rising sun, satisfying heaviness of his dick bared to the ticklish air. He marvels at the way his hand fits perfectly around his length, fisting it as he stares at the rise and fall of your chest. This is the part that he didn’t get to see on screen, the part where he ruts against your lower half with his own.

It’s not like he knows what he’s doing yet, bucking his hips into the first thing he can fit his dick into: the space between your thighs. Mahito squeezes them together and slips his shaft between the plushy flesh, reveling in the chills that run up his stomach. It’s a nice visual, the way his cock disappears for a moment before resurfacing atop of your barren legs, and an even nicer sensation. But it doesn’t quite feel half as good as he thought it would be. His mind races with the flickering images of o-shaped mouths and curled up fingers. Humans are so… dramatic, he thinks to himself, pulling his meat out of the cushy canal of his creation.

But then his eyes wander to your silken panties, the one place he hasn’t ventured yet; how annoying that humans wear more clothes under their clothes. He laughs to himself when he pushes them aside to reveal a wet, pulsating mound. Now that’s more like it. A finger inches inside you, followed by another, as he tries to determine if it’s a good fit or not.

Well, he won’t know until he tries.

Burying himself inside your leaking cunt, he gasps at the way you hug him flawlessly. It’s warmer, so much warmer than your thighs, and suddenly it feels like he’s alive for the first time in his life. Your breathing changes as he starts to move, pushing your ragdoll figure into the mattress. Tingly pleasure envelops him entirely when little whimpers and moans begin to tumble from your lips.

Mahito bends over to meet your mouth, taste of hard liquor encircling his tongue as he forces it inside, exploring your wetness in its entirety. You share a soft groan when he adjusts his angle, hilt of his cock pushing against a spot so spongy and so textured that his sensitive head shivers in pleasure.

Fistfuls of flesh gathered in his hands, he continues to move by instinct, chasing after the milky cream that foams around the base of his cock. The slip and slide motion of each and every stroke seems to register even while you sleep, your hips rocking ever so slightly into his own, mouth moving open and shut but never quite overflowing with distinguishable words.

The lewd noises of your dripping pussy fill the room, second only to the clapping of skin on skin as his tender balls pound against you. Reckless abandon takes over and the snapping movement is driven by so much force that you begin to stir, eyes twitching.

But you’re not awake yet—responsive, but otherwise subdued. He knows because the things that spill from your lips next can only come from a person who can’t even tell that they’re being raped.

“It feels… so…” you whisper, and he pauses for a moment to listen to what you have to say.

“Feels so… full…”

He throbs at the words, instantly feeling himself grow harder, deciding that it’s time to try out one of his little “experiments.”

“Feels full, huh?” he says into the curve of your neck, crooked smile dancing on his lips. “Good thing I can make you feel even fuller.”

Reshaping himself is almost second nature at this point. Mahito stretches you out with the deft fattening of his cock, your walls drawing taut around him in turn. Snug, you become impossibly snug around him as you throw your head back, convulsing from the pressure. It’s an inhuman size, so monstrous that when he pistons his pelvis forward, he finds it substantially harder to bottom out.

The clear outline of his cock stares him in the face now, a delicious belly bulge shifting up and down with every slam. You struggle to catch your breath, the stimulation forcing you to release your hot, sticky fluids. Entire body shaking, you keen your satisfaction, stilling only when his thrusts run shallow.

A jittery feeling takes the human curse over, the buildup of all the sweet sensations bubbling over and bursting from his fully stimulated cockhead. He pulls it out to get a better look and ends up squirting all over you, shooting his seed onto your thighs and teats. How delightful, he thinks to himself, overjoyed by how it glistens in the full heat of the sun. The perfect present for you to wake up to.

It’s quiet now, only a soft pant—yours—audible in the spring of day.

He ponders his options. You could take hours to come to your senses. But as much as he’d love to take off now, to leave you in total confusion and bewilderment, his desire to see the absolute horror cross your face as you take in the spatters of dried-up cum is even stronger. And eventually, he gets just that.

You don’t disappoint, bleary eyes fluttering open in your half-conscious state, locking with the curse crouched beside you, then darting wildly from the mess he’s made to the stitches on his face. How fortunate, or rather unfortunate; you were born with enough latent talent to be able to perceive him. You’d scream, but he’s already ahead of you, covering your mouth before you can produce a single squeal.

“Morning, dollface.” Tears prickle your eyes as you look on in fright, too afraid to move a muscle.

“I had a lot of fun in bed, didn’t you?”

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #mahito smut #mahito x reader #tw. dark.#tw. noncon.#tw. stalking.#tw. somnophilia.#tw. influence.#tw. penetration.#tw. size.#🍣.food #fishstyx.jjk

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enhyupn · 4 years

Text

start of it!

pairing: jungwon x fem!read (ft a little sunghoon)

disclaimer: there might be a few mistakes here and there since it’s not fully proof read. swear words are mentioned too!

word count: 7.1k+

genre: fluff, angst if you squint, best friends to lovers!au, rich kids!au, slow burn kinda?

a/n this took a while to write but i like how it came out :) i think i got a little carried away but it’s fine i suppose!! i hope you enjoy this longer than necessary fic :]

jungwon and you were always together, then and now. maybe being the children of two most influential families korea helped that, the constant underlying jealousy between the two families made for some interesting dinners. you two were the stereotypical rich kids, top of the class, class president and extremely involved in school. your image was the type other chaebol families would use to compare their children to. maybe that’s why every time you stand at the top of your class to make announcements, all you get are sneers from your classmates as they not so subtly laugh at you. it was inventible nonetheless, if you were in their situation you’d do exactly the same. it didn’t help that you were strict and blunt with your classmates, staying true to the cold and distant chaebol child stereotype.

jungwon the next class over however, was incredibly popular with the people in his class and even yours. you didn’t know how he did it, balancing his studies, taekwondo and still maintaining a good relationship with his class? you looked up to him immensely, even with your parents constantly reminding you that jungwon wasn’t your friend but a pawn from his family to get information on the company. obviously you never believed them, how could jungwon get information from you when all you talk about normal things. normal things like tv shows, books and his taekowndo matches. you wouldn’t know what to do with jungwon, he was your other half and you’d never be able to function properly without him.

dinner was never comfortable at your house, the silence only being broken up by the clattering of utensils and chewing didn’t even help the gloomy and dark aura your father always seemed to radiate. you were the only child and the heir in training to take over the family company. everyone around you had high expectations for you, being number one in everything you ever did allowed people to believe that you were going to skyrocket your family’s company to the number one spot.

“y/n, how was school” your mother always tried so hard to make conversation with you and your father every day. as much as you wished to be close to her, you couldn’t help but feel forced and awkward whenever you replied to her.

“it was good, we got our ranks today” you slowly chewed on the piece of duck you were served, not having the heart or energy to tell anyone that you never really liked the taste of it.

“i’m assuming it’s first place” your father butts in, the serious look in his face never fails to make you flinch in your seat.

“yes father, first place in my class and in school” you couldn’t help but gulp at the mood of the dinner table.

it was always like this after exam season, tension so tight that it was suffocating to be around. even the maids and butlers around the place hated being around your family every time results were announced, the thought of what would happened if you ever got anything lower than first place was terrifying.

“wonderful” a nod from your father was enough for your maids to stop holding in their breaths.

not even a good job? you had grown to learn that your father wasn’t someone that praised others easily. sadly, you had to learn it the hard way. countless memories from your past of you desperately wanting your father’s attention and praise flashed through your eyes. even so, it still hurt every time he wouldn’t acknowledge your achievements.

the ice rink was your special place, second to jungwon undoubtedly. still, you loved being there. it made you feel so free and happy, like all your worries had disappeared whenever you skated. you weren’t the only one that loved the rink, jungwon adored the moments when you would show off a new move you had finally nailed. the look of you being so carefree made him feel overjoyed, knowing he was the only one that could see you like this.

“jungwon did you see that?” a radiant smile appearing on your face after you landed an axel. the sound of your slightly hitting the rink’s barrier slightly scared you before looking up again at the boy.

“yes, and i’ve also seen the other five times you’ve done it” the pout formed on your face from his teasing only brought a larger smile on his face. jungwon’s face suddenly twisted into a confused look as he suddenly remembered a conversation you two had the previous week. “weren’t you struggling on that last week? i remember you telling me that”.

“oh i was!” the pink tinge from your cheeks due to the cold temperature in the air added to your cheerful chatter. “but sunghoon helped me with it”.

“sunghoon?” the name sending an unsettling feeling throughout jungwon’s body. the boy shook it off when he had made eye contact with you once again, your eyes wide with spirit. it was a shame that your classmates couldn’t see this side of you, the cold and scary y/n unironically melting when on the ice.

“sunghoon’s a really talented figure skater in my class!” the admiration in your voice and eyes churned things in jungwon’s stomach. “his triple axel is the most beautiful thing jungwon, you should really see him in action. he gave me some tips and they really worked!”.

“that’s great” jungwon couldn’t understand why he couldn’t feel as elated as you were. shouldn’t he be happy? his best friend perfectly landed something they were working on for a while and he couldn’t even be sincere with his praise? no, it was that boy sunghoon. that’s what was getting him annoyed and bothered, was it jealousy?

“look there he is!” you showed jungwon. the boy had proportions that were perfect, he towered over you and had undeniably incredible looks. jungwon watched as sunghoon’s eyes shined in delight when noticing you. the boy skated over quickly to you in excitement, anyone could tell that he was over the moon to see you.

the jealous feeling jungwon had in him only grew more watching you two. when sunghoon’s skates accidentally took him at a too fast of a pace, you lightly bumped into you. the countless apologies he spit out while you laughed loud and glowing at his ridiculous accident only made jungwon chew his cheek in spite. the unnecessary skin ship you two made didn’t help too, you were holding onto sunghoon’s shoulders in an attempt to stop him from falling again. that’s when jungwon had enough.

“y/n” he called out, catching the attention of the both of you. you turned around holding the same smile you gave sunghoon.

“jungwon?”

“i’ll get going now, dad wants me back home” a pretend smile placed nicely on his lips for you to not suspect something was wrong with him.

“sure!” the corner of your eyes crinkled, you lifted up your hand to wave him off. he was incredibly thankful that you weren’t observant enough to catch his cheerful facade. “tell him my father wants to have dinner with him again too!”.

“i promise”

standing from his seat he lifted his hand to wave you off. the disappointment in his eyes becoming more visible when he realised that you had already turned around. the dejected frown on his face showing up when he caught a glimpse of the boy beside you, laughing and chatting with you with a wide grin. you too having the exact same grin.

you were always the same at school, a blank face while in class and during after school activities. your parents always told you that school was never the time to make friends or have fun, it was for preparing yourself in the future. they drilled into you that everything you did in school would only add to you in the future. if you were to ever fail or do anything that was the opposite of what you were meant to be doing, you would inevitably ruin your future. the unimaginable amount of pressure your parents had given you slowly turned you from crying silently at night in your room to dealing with it with a blank stare on your face.

the only thing that made everything the slightest bit bearable was jungwon, you met him during breaks and lunch and even walked with him to your after school programmes. the feeling of being isolated by your class could only be ignored when you were with him.

“i don’t get how you do it” you stared at him in admiration. jungwon was practicing his taekwondo as you watched him, it was a routine you had every morning before school started. the boy chuckled as he continues doing his warm up.

“says you, you’re number one in our school plus you skate pretty too. everyone would love to be you”.

“no! that’s different” a growing blush tinted your cheeks, the small compliment makes you shy due to the fact jungwon never compliments you. “i don’t get how you balance taekwondo, your social life and still get good grades? plus have a good relationship with your family”.

“oh” jungwon’s smile faltered at the mention your parents. he always has felt guilty knowing the fact he can’t do anything to help you besides distract you from your parent’s extreme expectations. “i don’t know, maybe i’m just lucky” he tries a joke to keep the mood up.

“so it’s luck?” your laugh giving enough confirmation to jungwon that you weren’t affected by his comment.

your phone ringing distracts you from the conversation you and jungwon were having, even scaring you a little in the process. the bright expression coming from your face made jungwon notice that it definitely wasn’t a call from any of your family members. letting himself breathe again with the positive mood in the air, he decides that he needs to stretch before testing out any moves.

“sunghoon!” suddenly maybe the mood wasn’t so positive for jungwon. you turned to jungwon mouthing it’s sunghoon! happily as he tried to share the same excitement you had. “no i’m not busy”, you looked over at jungwon sending him an apologetic look as you stood up from your seat. “i’ll just be outside jungwon!” you covered the microphone as you told him before quickly walking outside.

what was that about? jealousy was creeping up behind him even if he didn’t notice. he never wanted to feel possessive when it came to you. truthfully, he was waiting for this day. the day that someone saw past your shy personality disguised with a cold and blunt front and saw you. he couldn’t stop the lingering feeling in his stomach, he hated it. but who was he to think about your relationships with other people?

that’s when he remembered the smile on your face when you mentioned him, the glee in your voice and expression when you were around him. you two were even close enough to call each other out of nowhere? maybe that’s when it clicked in jungwon’s head, did you like sunghoon? you were entitled to like anyone you wanted to, it shouldn’t be jungwon’s problem if that person just so happened to be sunghoon.

but why did the thought bother jungwon so much?

from the way you were dressed people would think that you were attending some special dinner with the president. however, your prettily styled hair and your best outfit and shoes seemed to only be reserved for the yang family. there always seemed to be an unwritten rule between the two families that you had to go all out when visiting each other, however you and jungwon just suspected if it was just a way to show off all the newest jewellery and clothes subtly.

there you two were, standing by the side of your parents in the hallways of your house. the size of it was unimaginable, maybe even being the length of an average apartment in a middle class area. the hallways was adorned with expensive paintings and sculptures being used to write off taxes, a large rug that might of costed more than your high school tuition placed right in the middle of it all. it was visible proof that your family was disgustingly rich, just how your parents wanted it to look.

there wasn’t an answer to why the two families stood in the hallways to speak when you had an equally, if not larger living room a door away, the room also being adorned with expensive paintings with a large tv nobody in the house used. jungwon and you always had trouble staying serious while your parents spoke to one another. you two would usually mouth things to each other, not even understanding what was being said. the small grins you two held were enough that if one of you let out a laugh, the two of you would be on the ground laughing your heads off.

“the food’s ready” your cook interrupted your father’s reply to jungwon’s parents. your father sent him a small grin and a nod as he signalled everyone with a extended arm to the dining room.

the dining room gave a view to the kitchen, it was like a performance for everyone in the kitchen whenever you had guests over. your favourite activity to not bore yourself besides talking to jungwon, was watching your cook plate everything while your parents conversed about business or what type of wine they were having that night.

“steak again” jungwon joked quietly at your side. you two always sat beside each other, while the parents talked the whole night you two would try and not cause a huge mess. it usually ended up a mess, remembering the time you two dropped roast potatoes all over the ground in an attempt to entertain to each other. now when you two are finished eating you are excused to go back to your room where you two can actually talk.

“be thankful it isn’t salmon” you giggled quietly. the memory of jungwon’s parents scolding him at the dinner table for not eating his salmon reappears back into your heads, the thought of it making you laugh a little louder than you were. “sorry” you politely said, noticing the silent glare your father had sent you for making a ruckus at the dinner table.

“i would of answered properly if you weren’t laughing silently about it in the corner of my eye” the main reason why the memory was so funny for the two of you was the fact that the reason he was scolded was due to the fact he couldn’t even attempt to pick up the piece of fish without you two laughing. you two were incredibly easy to make laugh as there is nothing more entertaining than your best friend doing absolutely nothing.

in the corner of your eye you noticed your father staring at you and jungwon, while at the same time participating in the conversation the adults were having. it was unsettling, knowing that in the next five or so minutes he’d ask you a question regarding anything to seem like his family is better than anything the yangs do.

“y/n” an automatic faux smile was placed on your lips when you heard his voice. placing down your cutlery before turning to him you captured the sickly sweet smile on your parents smiles, a sign they were trying to milk your achievements out one by one.

“yes father” the pitch in your voice going a little higher than what jungwon usually hears, but was used to it due to the many times he’s heard you talk to your parents.

“we were just talking about the fact that you’re starting out figure skating!” the tone in your fathers sudden cheery voice was so obviously fake to you, he never liked the fact you took precious time off to practice figure skating rather than studying to get into a seoul university.

“i am” you turned to the yang parents with the innocent well put child facade. “i started six months ago, my trainer told me that i was improving at a great speed!”.

“how beautiful” jungwon’s mom commented, “i’m sure jungwon’s watched you skate before, right sweetheart?”.

“they’re very graceful on the ice mom” the flattery turned your cheeks a soft rose colour. you turned to him to give a thankful smile, not noticing the growing red on the boy’s ears.

you turned around to glance back once again at your father, the look of his smug grin made you want to get up and leave. you hated feeling like just a trophy to show off to others, you longed for the feeling of being praised for the person you were.

“i’m sure jungwon’s doing excellent in school” your mother continued, looks like they’re about to hit them where it hurts.

“not as well as your daughter i’m afraid” a bitter smile was obviously placed on his father’s face, teeth gritting as he let it out. “jungwon’s told us quite a lot about y/n’s rank in school, number one right? a terrific achievement”.

“yes, it’s a shame that jungwon can’t seem to reach the same” jungwon’s mother continued. your father took a sip from his glass of wine. what was it and using your children as weapons to bring down one another? in the corner of your eye you could tell jungwon didn’t feel comfortable with any of this at all, he stiffened his body as you chewed slowly on his steak.

“he’ll get there some day” your mother was simply just adding fuel to the fire, it made you feel terrible for your best friend. you looked over to see the boy’s blank stare, the small frown on his face made it seem that it was almost begging you to go comfort him.

“can jungwon and i be excused?” you knew that you two needed to get out of there immediately, you weren’t going to let your parents excuse any of this. “i feel a bit queasy from the steak, jungwon can keep me company”.

“do what you wish dear” your father let out quite bitterly. you bowed in response before standing up, placing your hand on jungwon’s hand. you shook it a little as a way to signal him that you two were about to leave.

the oh he let out was all you needed to know that jungwon was going to follow you up to your room. you watched as he bowed for everyone in the room, before silently following you as you gripped onto his hand. the mood you two were letting out was unreadable, was he thankful for you? or was he completely and utterly embarrassed at the fact you did that.

“thank you” he whispered behind you, the warmth in his hand was all you needed to feel the comfort you were longing for at the dinner table.

“don’t sweat it jungwon” a smile forming on your face as you turned towards him. “it was suffocating being in there anyways”. he laughed to himself, understanding what you were saying as you dragged him forwards once you reached your room.

your room was unnecessary big, like every other room in your house. your bed was double the size you actually needed and you had a chandelier hanging from the ceiling. your ceiling also had hand painted flowers decorating it, simply adding to the beautiful chandelier. there wasn’t any expensive paintings or rugs in your room however, just a large vanity as well as a desk and a huge bookshelf with every book imaginable. you also had framed pictures of you and jungwon as children dotted around your room.

“look” jungwon picked up a picture of you two when you were in first grade. you were crying while jungwon was right beside you laughing, beneath you two was a broken sandcastle who you could distinctly tell who it belonged to. “i was so evil as a kid”.

“tell me about it” you looked at the picture in admiration. “i swore to myself that day i would hate you for a million million trillion hundred years” a chuckle left your mouth at the loving memory. memories with jungwon always left you happy, even the ones that weren’t as nice to experience firsthand.

“and this one” he picked up another picture. this time it was you and him maybe around three years ago at your family’s lake house. “you ignored me for the rest of the trip after i did this”. the two of you were on the balcony as he lifted you from the legs up, the scared look in your eyes made it obvious that the whole thing was a surprise. you were fond of that memory, you realised something that day about jungwon you never realised before. the thought of dating your best friend popped up in your head for the first time when that picture was taken. the thought horrified you so much that you ignored him for days on end after, making up the excuse that you were mad at him for scaring you that.

“look at my face oh god” the pink tint coming back to your cheeks remembering the story behind that picture. “that day i started—”. you shut yourself up quicker than expected.

“started what?” jungwon looked at you confused. you start curse yourself in your head for your mistake.

never in your many years of friendship could of prepared you for this. the you three years ago was exactly the same, except the fact that three years ago you found out you had feelings for jungwon and now you were about to accidentally spill the beans about those exact same feelings.

“it’s nothing” you shook your head dismissively . trying to distract yourself, you looked at the corner of your eye and noticed a picture of you two at your middle school graduation. your features softened at the happy grins on your faces, both holding a pretty bouquet of flowers the two of you gave each other. “i love this day so much, look we’re so happy”.

“our graduation?” jungwon moved closer to you to get a good look of the photo. “we look so cute”.

turning around to jungwon with a grin of being reminded of the special, you stopped abruptly. noticing how close he was you stepped back quickly, in a quite panicked manner. his eyes widened noticing your frantic moves, unsure why his stomach was churning at your panicked face.

“sorry” you play with the hem of your sleeve, embarrassed at the fact you were so close to him. you feel you face heating up and you weren’t so sure if you were blushing at the fact his face was almost touching yours or embarrassed by the way you staggered away from him. “you were really close to me”.

“sorry did it make you uncomfortable?” jungwon asked you with a concern expression on his face. you couldn’t tell him the reason you were so panicked was because your crush was so close to you. “i’ll be more careful next time”.

“no! you’re fine” a reassuring smile spread across your face in an attempt to calm him down.

the awkwardness following that incident was undeniable. you sat on your bed unsure what to say to make conversation with him, the problem was that you two usually had a lot to say. the situation right now was not how the two of you usually acted, the voices in your head silently yelling at you for being dramatic at the fact jungwon was so close to you.

jungwon on the other hand couldn’t stop replaying the image of you being so close to him. an unfamiliar feeling kept reappearing in his stomach, he’s never looked at you in this way ever. maybe the feeling sunghoon gave him was similar but at the same, it was far different.

“i don’t think— be careful” in rich kids fashion, jungwon was playing tennis with his equally as rich friend ni-ki, a transfer student in his class studying in korea until he graduates from a seoul university. a big emphasis on seoul due to the fact every rich child in korea have parents almost begging them to get into a seoul university or an ivy league.

the ball accidentally almost hitting jungwon rolls behind the boy, he could feel the exhaustion finally catching up on him from the non-stop moving he had done. he holds a hand up with a drained expression signalling his friend that he was done for maybe another thirty minutes or so.

“as i was saying...” ni-ki walked towards the tired boy holding out a water bottle. he quickly grabbed the drink from him before taking a large gulp, wiping off the excess water from the sides of his mouth. “hey! don’t drink all of that”.

“sorry” an exasperated gasp escaped jungwon’s mouth as he tried to catch up with his breathing. “carry on”.

“i don’t think you have the right to be jealous on who y/n likes” ni-ki takes a sip from the water bottle he took back. “isn’t kinda weird too? that you’re jealous about all of this”.

“i’m not jealous” he corrected him. “i don’t know, that sunghoon guy gives me a bad feeling”.

“that’s definitely jealousy” ni-ki let out a laugh looking at him. jungwon sent him a scowl before taking back the bottle from him. “anyways i thought you always had a thing for them” he starts to say as jungwon takes yet another sip, the boy looks at him in a confused way before pulling the bottle away from his lips.

“what are you trying to say ni-ki?”

“what i’m saying is that you can never go a day without mentioning y/n” he raised his eyebrow to try and convince him further. “plus you look at them with hearts in your eyes, and the fact you’re so bummed out about this sunghoon thing just confirms my suspicions”.

“i’m not following” jungwon looks back at ni-ki with a blank stare. the younger rolls his eyes before lightly hitting him on the shoulder. “no, seriously”. the boy sent him a glare before sighing.

“are you genuinely this oblivious or you just don’t want to tell me you like y/n?”.

“what do you mean like?” the word like seemed so unfamiliar to him at that moment. of course he liked you, you were his best friend. although from how ni-ki was speaking, he understood that he wasn’t talking about the best friend sort of like.

“you romantically like them” ni-ki said it casually, “here, i’ll ask you a question and you, silently, in your mind answer it. i want you to do it silently so you can have a realisation of some sort”.

“what do we need questions for—” he was quickly shut off by ni-ki’s shhhh as he continued his conversation. rolling his eyes at his friends antics, he quickly shuts up before listening to what he was trying to say.

“do you think about y/n when they aren’t around?”

yes? isn’t this normal though

“do you miss them when you aren’t with them?”

yes? again, isn’t this a normal thing?

“do you get happy when they achieve things? like you want to hug them or like... that thing people do why they lift someone up and spin them around”

yes?

“do you get jealous when other people get more attention than you?”

yes...?

“when you see them do you get butterflies?”

sometimes, i do definitely get nervous though

“i feel like all of those should more or less answer your question on if you like y/n or not” ni-ki finished off his short quiz. jungwon gave him a puzzled look, he thought everything he had mentioned was a normal thing that every feels with their best friend.

“aren’t these just normal things?”

“i mean they’re just the basics jungwon” he started out saying, “everyone’s different when they have a crush”.

“so that could mean i have a crush on you?” the joking smile placed on jungwon’s lips only made ni-ki roll his eyes at the corny joke.

“i’m flattered honestly but i’m sadly not y/n”

the sunset was a pretty shade of pink and orange, it made you feel light and at a sense of peace watching it. the thought of taking a picture suddenly appeared in your head, quickly reaching for your phone in a frantic action before the sky changes in colour. you felt embarrassed at the fact you were standing at the end of the sidewalk patting the sides of your coat in an attempt to find your phone, a confused expression spread across your face.

“aha!” you felt a familiar shape in the back pocket of your jeans. lifting up the object, you felt it slipping slightly. your eyes widened noticing a small thud behind you on the ground. turning around to reach your phone in hopes it wasn’t broken in any way, you noticed a familiar figure hovering above you holding out your phone in his hands.

“you dropped this” a playful tone rolled off sunghoon’s tongue. you happily take it off his hands before looking back up at him.

“sunghoon!” you beamed gleefully at him, “i thought you went home already?”.

“no” he rubbed the back of his neck, “i missed my bus so i had to wait here for a while. turns out there was an accident twenty minutes away so everything’s delayed”.

“oh no” you frowned at his words. your brain scanned through all the possibilities you could do to help the boy, your eyes lit up having the realisation on the perfect solution. “do you wanna walk with me? where do you live? i can just tell my friend that he doesn’t need to pick me up”.

“no no it’s fine y/n” sunghoon waves his hands dismissively. “you don’t have to do that, plus i bet you’d rather walk with your friend”.

“don’t be silly” you chuckle as you unlocked your phone, pressing jungwon’s contact you typed in many apologies telling him that you can’t walk with him since you’re walking with sunghoon. “i already told him”. your phone lights up again, a notification showing a reply from jungwon saying a simple okay.

“he doesn’t seem very happy” sunghoon stares at the notification. he looks back at you with seriousness in his eyes, “isn’t this the jungwon you and i were talking about?”.

“well yeah” you avoided eye contact with him, embarrassed that you were probably about to get scolded. not only does sunghoon help you with training but he also helps you in your love life. you two have probably talked more about jungwon than actual figure skating, sunghoon always sighing at you for once again not being able to tell him your feelings. “he’s been like that ever since last week, i thought this was normal. don’t boys also have puberty mood swings?”.

“what happened last week?” you two started to walk towards your destinations. sunghoon luckily lived quite near your house, well if you count just twenty minutes away from the gate of your gated community. you two have walked home together before, the action usually having a romantic undertone but you two never felt that way. you always have seen sunghoon as a friend, understanding that he’s never really given you the same feeling jungwon does. it goes the same for him, he sees you more as a younger sibling than anything.

“well, he started acting a little weird when you called me that morning”

“the morning i asked you how you and jungwon were doing?” sunghoon raises an eyebrow.

“yeah” you nod, confirming his guess. you let out a sigh before moving on to your next point, “and you know when i told you about that thing that happened when his face was really close to mine?”.

“the one where it was really awkward?”

“you didn’t need to mention it was awkward” you shiver in embarrassment remembering that night. “and yeah, after that he wasn’t really the same. plus do you know the weirdest part?”.

“what happened” sunghoon chuckled at your embarrassed pout silently to himself. you turned to him with your eyes wide and hands in the air about to animate your following words.

“his friend messaged me, his friend! the transfer student nishimura riki” your nose scrunched in confusion and frustration. your arms too also expressing your frustration. “his message was so weird too!”.

“what did it say?”

“i know who likes you” your frustrated expression was even more prominent. “it was so childish! i even replied with a question mark and he just sent me a sticker of a cartoon animal giggling!”.

“maybe he does know who likes you” sunghoon raises an eyebrow.

“he wouldn’t, nobody likes me” you frown at your own words. “he’s probably just messing with me like everyone else at school”. sunghoon stops in his tracks when he realised your miserable mood.

“hey—” sunghoon bent down a little to get a look at your face. “what’s wrong?”.

“it’s— it’s silly” you wipe your tears away. you weren’t expecting yourself to cry on an evening like this, especially not on the day you were walking home with sunghoon on.

“no y/n it’s okay” sunghoon looked around the area to see if there was anywhere to sit down at. noticing a bench near the two of you, he held onto your wrist bringing you to sit on it. “you can tell me anything y/n, i hope you know this”.

“i know” you sniffled, sadly smiling at the situation at that moment. “it’s just that i’m so tired of everything. jungwon acting weird with me was just the tip of the iceberg. i can’t help but think if i did anything to make him act like this”. sunghoon listened in silence, nodding at your words as he watched you in pity while tears streamed down your face.

“the fact that my classmates still ostracise me even though i try so hard to get to know them hurts so much. even though my parents tell me school isn’t for making friends, i desperately want to. i mean jungwon was there to help but like what i said before, he’s being really distant” the pace of your tears slowing down. “plus what his friend said didn’t help, it just felt like i was just the pit of a joke i wasn’t even aware of”.

“y/n i don’t know if i should say this but i think jungwon really—”

“y/n?” a familiar voice cut off sunghoon’s words. “are you okay? why are you crying?” you look behind sunghoon and realised it was jungwon saying all those things. you watched as his concerned expression warped into a furious one, his focus on sunghoon’s hand still on your wrist. you felt your eyes widen as you quickly shook off his grasp, standing up from the bench as you wipe the excess tears on your face.

“what did he do to you?” his words directed at you but his glaring eyes didn’t leave sunghoon. the realisation that jungwon misunderstood the whole situation dawned over you. taking a step forward you tried to open your mouth in an attempt to calm him down, only to be stopped by sunghoon who had his arm extended out, blocking your path to jungwon.

“i didn’t do anything” sunghoon explained calmly. he turned to you before looking back at the enraged boy. “i understand why would think that but honestly, it’s you two who need to have a talk, a long talk” he chuckles silently to himself before standing up.

“i wasn’t done talking to you—”

sunghoon gave him a smile before patting his shoulder, “just listen to what they have to say”. you watched as he waved you two off as made his way home. you stared at sunghoon’s walking figure in shock, not sure if you were entirely thankful he left you with an angry jungwon.

“did he do something to you y/n?” he made his way to you in a panic, his eyes scanning you to see if there was anything wrong with you. “i swear to god, i knew there was something wrong with him” he tried to look at your face, your head facing the ground blocking his view. “hey, look at me” his voice softening as he tried once again to get your attention.

“i’m sorry” tears welled up in your eyes again as you made eye contact with him. you couldn’t understand why you were crying, maybe it was all the emotions building up to this moment. even so, you were incredibly happy that jungwon was so concerned and even came to look for you. “sunghoon didn’t do anything, i was just venting to him”.

“y/n... did something happen?” his worried eyes looking hard into yours.

you played with you fingers as you tried to think hard on what to say next, is this the right time? i mean, in all honesty you had nothing to lose. in fact it was the perfect moment to confess your feelings, well after you explain everything to him.

“no” you sniffled, wiping away more tears you turned to him with a small smile. “let’s get home, shall we?”. he looked at you with bothered feeling, noticing it you frowned. “maybe i should tell you” you quietly let out, a silent chuckle following it.

“please tell me why you were crying y/n” his soft voice had hints of distressed tones in it, he was so visibly concerned about you. it’s possible that’s when you were reminded why you love jungwon, he cared about you so much that it felt like he could do anything for you. you gulp before opening your mouth, instantly closing it when words couldn’t come out. “hey... y/n?”.

“i can’t explain” that’s when you opted out of telling him how you felt. you thought that he already cared about you as a best friend, if he didn’t like you back. it was break down everything you had. you sigh before facing him once again. “we should really get going—”

“when— when you sent me that message, telling me you didn’t need me to walk you home because of sunghoon, it made me so upset and mad” he laughed to himself, the stutter in his words making him realise how nervous he was. you jump a little in shock when you realised his hand found its way to yours. the warmth of it soothed you, a pink tinge finding its way to your cheeks, an occurrence that always seems to happen whenever you were with jungwon.

“i stayed home sulking about it, messaged ni-ki about it and he was so mad at me” his eyes looked sincere, the pink tinge suddenly growing into a red one. “he told me if i didn’t, and i quote, get my ass there and walk you myself, he’d tackle me onto the ground”.

“i don’t get why you’re telling me this—”

“so i did” he continued, not stopping to explain anything to you but his own story. “i got up from bed and started travelling on the street you usually walked home on. i don’t know what i was expecting, but seeing you cry on that bench with that sunghoon guy beside you made me incredibly upset. i thought he did something to you! i can tell that i misread that completely”.

“jungwon” you speak up. you had no idea why he was reciting any of this, what was this even leading up to? a grin lights up on his face, the feeling his hand squeeze yours lovingly confusing you even more. “please tell me what your telling me-”

“i like you y/n” a sudden serious tone appearing. “not even like, i’m probably in love with you”. the shocked look on your face made him laugh endearingly, he pulled your hand lightly to bring you closer to him. “i mean it, honestly. it took three days of me thinking about what ni-ki had told me to even realise it”.

“so he wasn’t lying” you let out, still not recovering from the shock. you slowly move your head up to catch a glimpse of jungwon’s face, who quite literally snapped you back into reality. “wait, you like me really?”.

“yes!” he laughed as he pulled you into a hug, sending butterflies to your stomach. “why? do you not like me back?”.

“no!” you look at him in surprise. “wait! i do like you, it might be love too. i figured it out three years ago, when we were at my lake house”.

“three years ago?” the surprised look on his face slowly morphed into an endeared one once he caught you looking up at him with a cheesy smile. “you win with that one i guess”. the smiles on you both of your faces didn’t seem to falter while looking into each other’s eyes, the warm-cold breeze and the lightly tinted pink on both your cheeks adding to the scene.

“are we dating now?” he jokes as he takes out leaf from your hair.

“when did that get there” you place your hand on the spot the leaf was on. laughing it off, you look back up at him. the feeling of you in his arms still made your stomach flip, in a good way of course. “and yes, i suppose so?”.

“so now i can tell my parents i’m dating the smartest person in the country, as well as the prettiest?” he squeezes you tighter in a loving hug.

“so you’re just with me for my brains and looks?” sarcasm dripping from your words as you let out a loud laugh. “i’m kidding jungwon, yes you can tell them if you want to”.

“what are you gonna tell your parents?” a curious grin placed on his face.

“i’m dating my three year long crush”.

“as if they’d believe i’d be their precious child’s crush” he laughed as he loosened the grip on you. holding out his hand, you realised quickly that he wants you to hold it. “let’s get you back home before your parents send the police to look for you”.

“sure” you take his hand as you two walked down the street. both your sides looking as if you two were glued together from how the space was closed between the two of you, leaving no gap in between.

you always dreamt about your high school love story, even with your hectic schedule crushing you down everyday.

what you never expected was that your best friend was the start of it all.

#enhypen angst #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #kpop angst #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop fluff #kpop x reader

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