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hurthermore · 2 months

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»»------► 𝙰 𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 (18+) - 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙵𝚒𝚟𝚎

Pairing: 𝙷𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗!𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚡 𝙵!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Summary: 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚕 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗. 𝚂𝚘 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚊 𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚘 𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚐𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚏𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚞𝚜𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘.

Word Count: 𝟻.𝟽𝚔

Warnings: 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝟷𝟾+ 𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚋𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚐𝚛𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚑𝚒𝚌 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚜, 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚢, 𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚝𝚢𝚙𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝. 𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜.

𝙰𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚗𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚢, 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚎, 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛, 𝙰𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝

A/N: 𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚕, 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚊𝚑. 𝙰 𝚕𝚘𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚜; 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚍𝚔 𝙸'𝚖 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚊 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛?? 𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚊𝚍 𝚕𝚖𝚊𝚘𝚠𝚗𝚘𝚍𝚒𝚘 𝙴𝙽𝙹𝙾𝚈 𝙰𝙽𝚈𝚆𝙰𝚈

𝚁𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚍𝚖𝚒𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗. 𝚁𝚎𝚍 𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚊 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚕𝚢 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎.

𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝, 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚓𝚘𝚒𝚗, 𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚖𝚎!

You contemplated Alastor’s question as you laid in your bed.

“Why are you wedded to a man you hate?”

His words seemed to swirl like a vortex within the constraints of your mind throughout the entirety of the night as your husband’s disgusting touch held tight against your skin. It plagued your brain; seeping the sensation of guilt throughout your veins as you kept replaying the events that happened after he had asked that ridiculous question.

“Don’t spout nonsense.” You had spat at him; a natural reflex to conceal the truth. “I love my husband; and I don’t need you falsifying information.” A lie that departed right through your teeth. But in that moment, you couldn’t stand how easily he had uncovered how you truly felt about your vile husband within two meetings. “It’s best if we part here.”

Bringing a hand to your forehead as you heavily regretted leaving him standing on the street as you continued shopping alone, you felt like vermin. It ached your heart how you barely remembered how distraught his tightened smile seemed; almost missing how he attempted to grab your wrist as you walked away.

Why did you do that?

How he had known about your distaste towards your husband, you didn’t know. Were you just that easy to read, or was he just really perceptive? Again, you weren’t sure, but one thing you did know was that you felt remorseful with how you reacted once you returned home. Yet regardless of your regrets, you couldn’t understand why it hurt your caged heart so much that his smile seemed to emit anxiety and dread as you had a go at him for just asking a question.

It was an invasive question, and a small part of yourself wanted to hate him for figuring it out, but the majority of your heart felt vile for even contemplating hating him.

You didn’t know how you could do that to him. How you could switch up on him in an instance and speak to him like dirt. He didn’t mean anything by asking that question, right?

He was the first person who had tried his best to bond with you since you were forced to wed your husband; in the short time you had known him, he had treated you so sweetly with a delicacy that had your heart racing, and you just had to treat him like that.

You could only compare yourself to your husband as you reflected on how quickly you had gone off on Alastor.

Why did you have to speak like that toward him?

You could only replay the same conversation in your mind as you got ready; for what, you couldn’t remember, Vincent had only demanded that you do as such. Looking at your vanity, you couldn’t seem to find the motivation to cover the now healing blemishes on your skin. You yearned to cry; a frequent occurrence for you. You wanted to see Alastor again, to apologise to him for your stupid tantrum over such a harmless question.

Why were you the way you were?

Ever since you had met Alastor; apart from the first sighting where he essentially stared you down on the street, you had wanted him to be your friend. Your first friend in a long time. You wanted to hear his charming voice again; to see his stupidly weird attractive face again.

Sinking your nails into your skin, you sighed. You needed to rid Alastor from your mind. You wouldn’t see him again until the broadcast, and until then, there was no need in fretting over the event; nor replay it like a mantra within the walls of your skull.

Sitting up from your vanity, instead of using your usual make-up to cover your blemished skin, you opted for a long sleeved ruffled dress that flowed low against your ankles to cover the damage in its stead. Placing some small heels on your feet, you carefully ambled down the stairs, only to slow your pace as you watched your husband reading the local newspaper whilst he sat in the parlour room; your grip on the bannister tightened in frustration as he looked your way.

“It’s about time you were ready; you could’ve made me late.” You flinched at his oppressive tone. “Fucking women.” The frown on your face only deepened. It was his fault you would be late to wherever he was taking you; he was the one who refused to let you leave the bed until thirty minutes ago. Mumbling an apology, he only walked past you as he made his way towards his car, almost slamming the entryway in your face as you paced behind him quickly.

Attempting to ignore his aggressive tone, you sat in the passenger seat before your husband began to drive you towards god knows where. It was rare for Vincent to take you out; and similarly to whenever guests came over, he only took you places when he knew it would benefit him or his business.

Like you were his accessory.

“You’d better start smiling, doll. Or else.” Vincent brought you away from your thoughts as you nodded silently. Plastering on a fake smile to appease him, he only rolled his eyes before continuing driving.

As you let your deceptive smile tilt down, you wondered if Alastor would treat you differently if he was your husband.

“You know, doll.” You flinched as your husband spoke up again, causing you to completely forget about your strange thought about Alastor before you could even question yourself about it. “You still haven’t given me a child yet.” Your entire body stiffened as those words left his mouth.

Not this again; anything but this.

“But that’s fine. We’ll just keep trying again; tonight, even.�� The top of your teeth bit into your bottom lip as the sensation of the salted water behind your eyes threatened to cascade down your face due to his dreaded promise. Not again. You had only just started to heal up.

Why couldn’t he just leave you alone?

Looking over at him, your whole face seemed to blink along with your eyes, almost appearing uncanny as all you could focus on was the steering wheel; your mind contemplating forcing the car to crash into something, anything. If you could only just touch the steering wheel, you could end both of your lives right now.

Then you wouldn’t have to deal with him anymore.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Vincent’s harsh voice brought you out of dissociation again as you saw your hand attempting to reach out toward the steering wheel. Quickly, you placed your hand on top of his, caressing his repulsive knuckles as you tried to cover up whatever just happened to you.

Your intrusive thoughts of murdering him were becoming worse.

“I… I’m still sore, Vincent. Can’t we wait..?” His eyes glanced at you as he took in your begging expression, your fingers rubbing against his hand as you pleaded non verbally for him to just not touch you for one night.

Just one night without his touch. That’s all you wanted.

Turning his focus back onto the road, he only scoffed. “You can take it, doll. Just like you always do.” Instantly, you removed your hand away from him and laid it into your lap. Of course he wouldn’t give the mercy of one night without his grubby hands all over you.

You were stupid to even of hoped for such a thing.

You didn’t want this; you never did. And him only stating what he was going to do to you embedded an all too familiar fear into you that would hover around like a parasite on your back until he finally finished what was to transpire later.

You dreaded it; dreaded the thoughts of him assaulting you again. It made you want to rip out your hair, tear the skin off your face, break every bone in your body.

Maybe then he would stop touching you.

Blinking rapidly as your husband's fingers began snapping in front of your face as if you were some type of dog, you turned your direction toward him with a blank expression. “We're here, get it together, doll.” He ordered before he left the car.

Glaring at him, you opened your own car door, stepping out as you took in the sight of the building you were parked in front of.

Oh no.

You stared at the corrugated steeled words that spelt out ‘Radio Station’ at the top of the large building, the same one that held a radio mast that towered over every other establishment around it.

Was today Friday?

You don’t remember it being Friday.

Why didn’t you remember today was Friday?

Trembling as you tried to accept that you’d be facing Alastor today, you panicked. You hadn’t thought of what to say to him; nor the best way to apologise. You didn’t even know if he still wanted you here to begin with.

He probably wouldn’t.

Not after how you stormed off on him.

He probably thought you were pathetic.

Yelping as your husband grabbed your arm, pulling you alongside him as he walked toward the two large entry doors, he whispered in your ear. “If you keep acting like theres nothing in that fucking skull of yours, then I’m going to make tonight that much harder for you.”

Slowly nodding your head, you began to walk with him instead of against him, forcing yourself to be on alert as you walked through the doors. You couldn’t help the anxiety that washed over you. Would Alastor act differently around you? Did he hate you? Would he tell your husband that you had spent time with him yesterday?

You hoped all the answers to those questions would be no.

Watching as Vincent spoke to the formally dressed woman who sat at the reception desk, you felt a shock of energy piercing through you; sending a pleasant and familiar sensation down your spine. Tearing your gaze to the left, you saw the man who you couldn’t stop thinking about. Standing deep within the well lit corridor, he smiled at you with a grin that you would’ve found absolutely terrifying if you hadn’t acquainted yourself with him already.

Alastor.

As you gazed at him, you couldn’t prevent your expression from softening as he stared at you with that stupid smile you knew only he could pull off. All the anxiety you had built up, all the thoughts of what Vincent was going to do to your body later only vanished as Alastor slowly approached you; holding a bouquet that weren’t filled with just one type of flower, but an assortment of red carnations, red gardenias, and red roses.

You didn’t like how your heart ached as you contemplated who those flowers were for.

Yet as quick as the thought of him gifting another person some flowers pierced your heart, it mended almost instantaneously as he stood before you, pointing the bouquet directly toward you, causing you to fluster up; looking almost dumbstruck as you held eye contact with him. “For you, darling.”

Before you could even begin to wonder why on earth he was gifting you flowers after what had transpired yesterday, your husband's grating voice perked up, forcing your demeanour to flatten like a punctured tire. “There you are, Alastor!” Vincent essentially pushed you aside as he positioned himself in front of the radio host.

You watched as Alastor’s smile almost snarled. “Vincent. Lovely to see you, ol’ chap, but it's quite ill-mannered to interrupt, isn’t it?” Your body could only tense as you heard how furious Alastor sounded as he spoke through almost clenched teeth. It sent sensations through you that were the complete opposite to how Vincent’s agitated tone affected you. Whilst your husband’s aggravated tone always instilled fear into you, the tone that Alastor currently showcased made you feel protected and sheltered.

It sent a sense of warmth to places you didn’t want to acknowledge.

Feeling a sense of joy and vindication as Vincent’s expression tugged at the muscles beneath his hypodermis, you wanted to laugh; to relish in how easy it was for Alastor to make him act like a recreant. Even if you knew Vincent only cowered for the betterment of his business, it still felt so good watching him be the one forced into a position of obedience and submission.

As Vincent apologised with a knitted brow, Alastor turned to face you again, his expression penitent as he offered you the bouquet of flowers once more. You could feel your husband’s enraged aura flow through the air as your hands reached for the bouquet, brushing the skin of your fingertips against Alastor’s rough yet silked hands. You couldn’t help how your heart raced, how flushed you felt just from the gesture; yet at the same time, it doused you in guilt.

Why was he offering you flowers with his eyes filled with remorse?

Wasn’t it you who was to be the guilty one?

But you didn’t ask; wouldn’t ask. Not until Vincent left you alone with him. “They’re beautiful; thank you, Alastor.” You smiled, genuinely. Giving him a look of adoration without realising it.

“Well, I did pick them whilst thinking of you, my darling!” He laughed to himself, making you shift awkwardly as you felt your husband’s looming presence beside you.

You could sense he was fuming from this interaction.

“Lovely that you got my wife some flowers, Alastor.” Vincent spoke with a false jest; you could hear the subtle venom laced within his voice.

“Well someone has to!” As Alastor responded, you could swear that his canine teeth were one of the sharpest sets you’ve seen throughout your lifetime. “That house of yours needs some plantation in it to liven it up!”

Vincent only chuckled with an undertone of frustration before he looked toward you. “Yes, well… I think it best we put them in our room, right, doll?”

No. Is what you wanted to say; you didn’t want anything that Alastor had gifted you to enter that disgusting room where most of your husband’s abuse took place. Didn’t want to sully it’s purity with vile things. But you nodded reluctantly; agreeing with your husband's coercive demands.

“Well!” Alastor almost shouted, startling you from your thoughts. “How about we practise this promotion before we go live?” Vincent agreed with smugness as you trailed behind the two men in front of you. Zoning out from Vincent leading the conversation with the taller male, you awed at the well made framed posters that hung on the walls throughout the building; all of them unique, starring each individual radio host who had ever performed for the station you currently walked within.

You noticed how quite a few of them featured Alastor.

How had you never heard of him before? Sure, from the past year you knew it was due to Vincent not permitting you any media output to reach your eyes or ears; he very rarely allowed you to read the bloody newspaper. The only thing you had read from the local news was about the ongoing murders that had taken place by an unknown killer. But before Vincent, how had you never heard of Alastor? If the posters were anything to go by, he seemed rather popular.

You wondered what would've happened if you had met Alastor before Vincent was forced upon you.

Shaking your head slightly, you gazed up as Alastor stopped in front of a door that had unlit words above it that spelt out ‘On Air” before he opened it, holding it for you and your husband to enter. As you followed behind Vincent, Alastor closed the door behind you before resting his large hand against the small of your back. Away from your husband's gaze. You could only jolt with a strange sense of delight as you looked up at him.

Why was he always so touchy with you? Surely he knew how provocative it was, placing his hands all over you; a married woman.

Why did that make you feel heated?

Why was he touching you and gifting you flowers when you had treated him so poorly the day before?

He was acting as if it never happened.

Looking back at the flowers in your hands, you wanted to hide your face in them as Alastor gazed at you with tenderness wisped within his eyes. But as soon as his hand touched you, it left along with the moment as your husband turned around. You could only keep your flustered expression hidden from Vincent behind a blank expression and a tight smile.

As you subtly fanned yourself off as Alastor began explaining to Vincent what he was to do during the live broadcast, you took in the environment of the broadcasting studio. You could tell it was expensive just by the type of wood that held all the metalised equipment filled with buttons and dials alone. And as you stood there, you couldn’t stop twiddling your fingers into the bouquet whilst you contemplated what you were to do; there wasn’t anywhere else to sit but the two one seaters positioned next to the microphones, and they were being currently occupied by your husband and Alastor.

You didn’t know how much time had passed as you stood there, staring at different parts of the room, but it was long enough for you to take note of every slight damage within the ceiling. And as Vincent walked past you, you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion as you watched him leave the room.

Where was he going?

Should you follow him?

As if sensing your unease, Alastor spoke up. “He’s just going to the restroom darling. You can relax.” Looking back at the smiling handsome man who sat at the table filled with broadcasting equipment, he leaned his head against his hand before speaking again. “I apologise for leaving you standing there holding my gift, darling. Your husband wouldn’t shut up.” Offering him a soft chuckle, you made your way over to him as he proposed you set the flowers down on the table. Looking at him as you placed the bouquet down, Alastor grasped your hand within his before he pulled you closer toward him.

Indecent. Was your initial thought as Alastor guided you to stand between his legs whilst caressing your palm with his thumb. As he looked up at you from his sedentary position, your heart began to ache again. You still needed to apologise; perhaps this was the best moment for it.

“I’m sorry, darling.” You stilled as you heard Alastor’s voice be the one to say the words you wished to say to him.

“Don’t be ridiculous; I should be the one apologising.” You spoke softly, hiding the confusion that doused you. It didn’t make sense to you that Alastor had apologised to you. He had nothing to be sorry for; you were the one who acted pathetically over a simple question.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, my darling. I overstepped.” Why did it feel as though you were making up with a lover after a spat? You hardly knew this man; yet you allowed him to caress you and speak to you in such ways that would make any outsider believe you were having an affair with him.

“And I may have overreacted.” You whispered before you sat down in the empty seat behind you; Alastor’s hand still embracing yours.

“It wouldn’t have bothered me if you had screamed at me darling; just don’t ever walk away from me like that again.” His voice was dripped in adoration throughout his sentence until his last few words; they turned sour, almost possessive, angry in a way - yet somehow it made you want to obey him; to be owned by him.

Why did you oddly like the idea of Alastor owning you?

The heart within your rib cage began to thump far too fast for your liking as the thought entered your mind; your lips began to part as you tried to pant away the heat that ensued.

You watched as Alastor leaned toward you. “You still haven’t answered my question, darling. Not truthfully at least.”

“What question?” You tilted your head to the side.

“Why are you wedded to a man you hate?”

Your mouth gaped as your eyes downcast. “Because I have no choice.” You told him as truthfully as you could, stating how it was an arranged marriage; leaving out the fact that Vincent had out right bought you. And then you had lied, falsifying how it was easier to just stay with your husband, to be content with how life had turned out for you as divorce wasn’t something you could legally file for, being a woman in the 1920s and all. Mumbling your words as you asked him who would want you after you had been defiled by your husband if you did eventually leave him.

You said anything to prevent having to admit you only stayed due to the fear of your husband beating you into your own funeral.

Watching Alastor’s smile strain, you swore he said something underneath his breath, but before you could ask him to repeat himself, you heard the door rattle open; forcing you to snatch your hands away from the radio host before you got caught leaning into his touch more than you should have.

As Vincent walked in, he glared at you; looking at you as if you had fucked up. Instantly, you stood up from the chair a bit too frantically for your liking, missing how confused Alastor looked from how quickly you had left his side.

You felt overwhelmed in that moment; Alastor making your heart pump theatrically, Vincent almost catching you holding another man's hand, and having him be oppressively angry with you for sitting next to Alastor in the first place; it was too much.

“You sure are jumpy aren’t you darling?” Alastor spoke up. You felt yourself tense up as you pleaded for Alastor to shut up in your head.

What if he accidently spilled something that made Vincent even more angry?

Was Alastor just luring you into a sense of safety before he crumbled it down just as your husband frequently did to you?

Why was Vincent’s mouth moving?

Why couldn’t you hear anything?

Why could you only hear static ringing all around you?

“I was only showing this little darling how the dials work, chum! No need to be so invasive.” The ringing halted as you heard those words leave Alastor’s mouth.

Of course he would cover for you.

You were scum for doubting him in the first place, weren’t you?

Looking back to Alastor, your mind fell silent as you saw his glared expression toward your husband switch to one of peace and content as his eyes fell back onto you.

Flinching as Vincent moved around you to sit in the now empty chair, you watched Alastor’s smile twitch in disgust.

Maybe you should have asked Alastor why he hated your husband too.

Gripping your own wrist, you began scratching at the skin above your ulna due to how awkward the air felt. “When do you go live?” You asked almost solemnly.

Alastor took in your expression before he picked a gold plated pocket watch out from the chest pocket on his waistcoat. “In about ten minutes darling.”

You didn’t know if you could handle being in this room for any longer.

“Doll, why don’t you go and wait in the reception area until we’re done; I dread you having to stand there during it.” Bullshit. You knew that vile thing would relish in watching you awkwardly stand there like some mannequin. But you did want to leave; so with a nod, you quickly left the room, making sure to give Alastor a wave before you disappeared from his and your husbands view.

Leaning against the door, you finally breathed; heaved, almost. You wanted to sleep. The desire to rest was becoming more prominent as the day only seemed to continue to grow more and more overwhelming for you.

Walking towards the reception area, you slowly slumped down onto the hard sofa as you closed your eyes. You felt a huge flickering of conflicting emotions and thoughts surrounding you. You were so tired, exhausted from your husband’s abuse; you always had been, but now it was as if all of his abuse was building up like a bad rash inside of you, and it was breaking you in more ways than even Vincent was intending.

At the same time, you felt so happy; happy that Alastor had gone out of his way to get you flowers, to apologise to you when you were almost positive he was putting unnecessary blame on himself, how he had held your hand as he listened to you lying about why you wouldn’t leave Vincent.

You didn’t deserve his friendship, did you?

“Are you okay?” You heard a feminine voice ask. Opening your eyes, you made eye contact with the blonde receptionist from earlier as she stood over you with a worried expression.

“Oh! Uhm,” You quickly sat up straight, feeling embarrassed. She probably thought you were sleeping. “I apologise, am I allowed to sit here?”

“Of course! Don’t worry; you came to meet Alastor, correct? How come you’re not with him now?" She asked as she sat down beside you. Your heart melted at the kind undertone that spoke throughout her words; words that were fast, rambling almost, like she had so much she wanted to say.

“He’s broadcasting with my husband, I thought it best to leave them be during.” You explained with a smile.

Her face contorted into confusion as she tilted her head with a bounce. “Huh, if anything, I would’ve thought you were his guest.” You only raised an eyebrow at her as you asked her why she thought as much. “I mean, look at those flowers he gave you! I never thought Alastor would be sweet on someone!” She laughed casually as your heart thumped from the suggestion that Alastor harboured feelings for you. Upturning your eyebrows, you brushed it off as you explained that he only gave them to you due to wanting to apologise, but it sounded as if you were trying to convince yourself more than the woman beside you.

It was impossible for Alastor to feel that way towards you; you were married after all. And who would be idiotic enough to fall for a taken woman?

Especially one who was as broken as you.

“You don’t know much about the meaning behind flowers, do you?” She smiled as if she knew something you didn’t. Shaking your head, she only smiled further at you; something told you she wanted to expand on her speech, but instead, she jumped as if she had forgotten something. “Oh!” You flinched ever so slightly. “I’m sorry, I forgot to ask; do you want a drink?”

Thinking about it, you did feel parched.

Nodding your head as you told her what drink you’d like, she walked off, promising to be back shortly.

Placing your hands over your heart, you attempted to slow the rapid beating of your heart. It had been so long since you had conversed like that with another woman; it was nice, refreshing, easy. You didn’t even know this woman's name, but you liked her. She seemed sweet; the type of gossip, but sweet.

As you turned your head to look through the window, you wondered why she believed that Alastor felt something for you. The meaning of flowers? You weren’t aware flowers had meanings to them.

Perhaps you could visit one of those florist shops when Vincent next allowed you to go out.

Hearing clicking of heels coming toward you, you turned your head back around as you gracefully took the drink the receptionist gave you; her face beaming with a smile before she sat back beside you.

Not that you didn’t enjoy her company, but didn’t she need to work?

As the both of you sat there in silence, sipping your drinks, you felt at peace. It was similar to the peace you experienced when you were by Alastors side; yet not quite as protective. “You know,” The woman beside you began, interrupting your thoughts. “Alastor’s show has never had promotional content on it before.” She spoke almost absent-mindedly before she took another sip of her beverage.

You looked toward her, not really understanding why she was telling you this. “Oh?”

She nudged you with a grin. “Yeah, we have a specific host that puts out all of our promotional content during the mornings and late afternoons; Alastor has no need to provide advertisement.”

That was the last thing you expected to hear.

If what she said was true, then why was Alastor so adamant on doing business with your husband? And why was he attempting to form a friendship with you in the process?

Before you could ask her to explain a bit more, you both jumped as you heard a door shut rather loudly; yet not quite a slam. Hearing the faded out voice of your husband coming closer and closer, you deflated. This would be the end of your conversation.

Turning around to say goodbye to the woman before your husband came over, you had to double take as she wasn’t there; she had moved to the receptionist desk. Narrowing your eyes with a raised eyebrow as she sat there, her face expressed sympathy as she gave you a small wave.

“Come on, doll, we’re leaving.” Vincent huffed as he made his way toward the entry doors.

You were leaving already?

You stood up before Alastor turned around the corner, carrying the flowers you had left in the broadcasting room. Smiling as you saw him, you padded your way towards him with a hop in your step. Approaching him, his smile widened, causing his eyes to crease upward along with it.

“I’d hate for you to leave without my gift, darling” He handed the bouquet back to you as he spoke. Looking into his eyes as his fingers brushed against yours yet again, the receptionist's words swarmed your mind.

Was Alastor sweet on you?

Before you could respond, Vincent called you out by your name; a warning sign not to disobey him.

Thanking him, you turned around, walking toward your husband with your gifted flowers in hand as Alastor closely walked beside you, brushing your arms against one another as you left the building. Yet a frown etched into your face as your husband's car entered your view.

The memory of Vincent’s earlier promise formed in your mind.

“I’d like to come over on Monday for lunch.” Alastor had stated out loud whilst looking down at you. But even if you wished to, Vincent would’ve heard his request, and therefore would not permit it.

“I’m busy on Monday, Alastor. Another day, perhaps.” Your husband spoke out in a grumble.

So he had thought Alastor was asking him.

Directing your attention onto Alastor, he rolled his eyes with a smile as he mocked your husband silently; you reciprocated his jabs with your own silent chuckle.

Gesturing for him to lean down to your height as your husband’s back turned toward the two of you whilst he unlocked the car, you placed a hand on his shoulder as he obeyed your silent request. Leaning on the tips of your toes, you whispered in his ear.

“I’ll see you Monday, Alastor.”

Quickly skipping away toward your side of the car so you didn’t get caught by your husband, you began waving at Alastor with your free hand before you entered the vehicle. But you weren’t expecting to see Alastor standing there with his hand covering the lower half of his face as his other hand waved back at you.

Why was Alastor covering his face?

Before you could think any further and inevitably piss your husband off, you sat in your seat; only smiling at Alastor until he left your vision as your husband began driving.

It was an oddly silent drive. One that had you trembling slightly.

Sometimes the silence was worse.

As the roads became more familiar, all you could think about was what Vincent was going to do once you got home. As you glanced at the flowers in your lap, you had hoped it would take your mind off your current thoughts; but it was futile.

Suddenly, you gasped as the flowers were ripped from your hands. Shocked, you turned toward Vincent, who slammed the car door as he stormed inside your home.

You hadn’t even realised you had arrived home.

Fumbling to open the car door, you ran after your husband. “Give them back!” You screamed at Vincent; something you had never accomplished before; but it filled you with a rage you had never felt before as Vincent stole your gift.

A gift from Alastor.

“Excuse me?” Vincent said in a challenging tone. His face looked blown out with rage as he dared you to speak up to him again.

“Give them back.” It wasn’t as harsh as the first time you said it, but your tone stayed stern.

Without thinking you reached for the flowers, grasping onto them as you tried to take them from your husband’s dirty filthy hands.

He didn’t deserve to touch Alastor’s flowers.

Falling back as Vincent pushed you away, he threw them on the floor before stomping all over them; killing every single stem that bloomed an assortment of red petals.

“You’re never seeing that prick again.” Vincent ordered once he had finished desecrating Alastors gift. “I was stupid to believe you when you told me you didn’t want to fuck him; it’s all over your whoreish face that you want him.”

Even as he spoke, all you could look at; all you could think of was the beautiful flowers that had been crushed before you.

You couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

As Vincent grabbed your wrist with a bone crushing grip, spitting words in your face about how he was going to hurt you, you surprised him and even yourself as you slapped him across the face with a harshness you hadn’t known you harnessed.

Your breath began to heave as he looked at you with an expression that was more vile and disturbing than anything you had witnessed before.

Before you could apologise to him, you blacked out.

The last thing you saw was Vincent hitting you back.

← 𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 ✦ 𝙽𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 →

✦ 𝙰𝙾𝟹 ✦

@cherry-cola-100 @hana-en @undrgroundtheme @roxxie-wolf @mutifandomkid @gentle-aesthetic-bby @itsmskeisha @k1y0yo @d34dl0ve @reikamasama @taygirl24 @alastorssimp @ieatcocoa @tremendoushearttaco @spottypug @bishiglomper @marcysbear @zazamagicaldonut @little-slyvixen @wendigonamecaller

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yourstardarling · 5 months

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Scorpio Through The Houses: Part 2

Scorpio 7th house: You are married to death. This is the literal embodiment of corpse bride. You love relationship connections with people that transform you. There’s a deep need to want a partner that feels secure and powerful enough to defend you. While others may fear your partner, you find a deep sense of safety around them. There’s definitely an air of mystery surrounding your love life and relationships. People think you are closed off when it comes to speaking about your love life and you like to keep it that way. However, there may be a tendency to be very possessive and protective of your partner. Likewise you may want a partner that is obsessive over you. While this can be seen as negative, the truth is you just desire someone that you can share the chaos in your life with. You want your relationships secure because you want to feel like you can fully express the deepest parts of your emotions and share your secrets. A desire to be consumed by your connections with other people and be transformed to a whole new being. You want to be changed through the relationships you have. Other people may fear you because you can be seen as someone who is very picky about who you hang around. The truth is you value loyalty, so you’re very skeptical about who you want to lean on.

Scorpio 8th house: This one was a little hard for me to describe as the themes of the 8th house and Scorpio somewhat merge into one another. However, what separates Scorpio in the 8th versus other houses is that these individuals will strive for death. There is an innate understanding of the cycles of death and rebirth. They charge fearlessly into danger and deadly situations in order to become renewed. It’s probably because they have inherited a lot of trauma and dealing with difficult challenges growing up. Once they get down to uncovering the shadows that have plagued their past, they become very skilled at dealing with things that others are scared of. Unafraid at diving head first into the void and coming out transformed. Reckless behavior can be an issue though because of the idea that you’ve dealt with death before so you can do it again. Other people fear your ability to still remain unscathed and brave even through the darkest times. Scorpio here is really a reservoir of personal power and endurance. It’s a placement of building tough skin to deal with the pains of life.

Scorpio 9th house: Death is seen as something worthy to be revered. Scorpio on the 9th depicts how you deal with themes of faith and belief. These individuals believe that death is a part of life that we all must go through. Death is seen through a philosophical lens for them. Whatever belief system they have can help cope with the inevitability of death. They pursue and try to learn more about the darker themes of life. Higher education and travel are very important for you, as it transforms your understanding about the world around you. These are the people that come back after a trip and are a completely different human being. A deep desire to understand the pain and emotional complexities of humanity in a wider lens. This might lead you to pursuing psychology, diving into the occult and learning about things considered taboo. Some will fear your beliefs and the amount of knowledge you may have. Knowledge especially about things that aren’t usually spoken about. Others will think you are psychic for being able to point out the shadows in their own lives. Many will rally behind your beliefs and support as they believe you have valuable information to offer. The issue is when you manipulate the information you know and using knowledge for your own personal benefit.

Scorpio 10th house: Scorpio here shows that you meet death within the public eye. The way you have changed and grown over the years is put on full display for others to see. They are oftentimes viewed as someone who is deadly and can face a lot of demonizing scrutiny. I’ve noticed a lot of people can be obsessed with the transformations these people have made. You will probably have to deal with authority figures being threatened by you. Tendency to be called a liar and receive hate for not being the same person others believed you to be. When it comes to your career, you may face a workplace where your coworkers and bosses are afraid of you. So you will have to deal with these people alienating and trying to diminish you. The reason being is because they see the amount of potential you have. There is an innate ability to become someone that transforms the way things are done. Being able to change how the industry you are in functions and having radical ideas to push things further. The public view of you can be filled with people that are obsessed and protective over your business accomplishments. As well as, people that will try to not give you credit for all the hard work you have done. Whatever field of career you choose can involve you looking into the darker themes of that field.

Scorpio 11th house: Death is your best friend with Scorpio in the 11th. You have dealt with constant changes and challenges when it comes to your network of friends. A lot of your friend groups have significantly shifted over time. There is a tendency to keep company with people that have faced significant hardships in their lives. It’s because you like to make friends with people that will transform you. You learn a lot from them and become anew through them. Stagnant friendships and connections don’t sit right with you. There has to be an evolution involved in order to be your friend. This might make you secretive about the people you hang around. That’s cause others may view your friends as intimidating and scary. You personally have built deep emotional bonds with your friends that others can’t see. So you become protective and hide your friendships from facing scrutiny. Some of your friends though, can be shady people. You may have dealt with a lot of backstabbing in the past so you are very picky on who you like to keep company. A negative aspect of this would be not trusting the people in your community. Feeling like you don’t need friends or anyone to support your needs. This lack of trust can cause you to even become slightly manipulative and controlling over your friends. So be careful and remember that you will find friends that demonstrate loyalty.

Scorpio 12th house: In the 12th house, Scorpio symbolizes meeting death when you are alone. These people face death on their own. The constant internal battles and transformation they face are kept hidden behind the scenes. These are the type of people to have a fun and optimistic exterior, but once alone can become pessimistic. The reason being is when you are alone, that is when you can see your own shadow. All the deepest parts of yourself, traumatic events and wounds are brought up to the surface. It can be terrifying to some as it is parts of your psyche that has been kept hidden away. You can sometimes have random flashbacks of events that have been painful to you that you believed you outgrew. The issue lies when these people are afraid of being by themselves. Don’t be afraid as this is a great source of your power. You gain a lot of insight and knowledge when you are alone. Isolation is extremely transformative in order to help you become a better version of yourself. Treat your alone time with a lot of love and care. Learning to be a nurturing figure when no one is around is key for your self development. This is why others may fear your ability to withstand being by yourself and still retaining your personal power.

The End

#scorpio astrology #Scorpio through the houses #scorpio moodboard #scorpio sun #scorpio #astro community #astrology #astrology observations #astro notes #scorpio moon

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birdiewriteslit · 5 months

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“on the down low”

harry james potter x f!weasley!reader

no voldemort au

summary: you and harry have been hiding your relationship from your family for four months, but when he stays over for the holidays, they start to uncover the truth, one by one.

warnings: idk how long this is but it feels long, kissing, fluff, CHRISTMAS

me pretending voldemort doesn’t exist again for the sake of plot convenience and my own happiness

Godric, you hadn’t realized how hard it would be to pretend over the holiday. At first, it seemed like a dream come true. Harry staying at the burrow for Christmas meant you’d be able see him whenever you wanted, but you couldn’t exactly do what you wanted.

During the day, you and Harry had to act indifferent to each other, like you hadn’t been together since the end of the summer.

It was different than it was at Hogwarts, where nobody suspected a seventh year to go for her brother’s best friend, who was a year younger. That excluded Hermione, of course, who was just too damn smart to not figure you out.

You hadn’t realized how easy it was to sneak around in a giant castle with a multitude of empty classrooms and an invisibility cloak at your disposal compared to your house of nine other people where the walls were thin and the furniture was old, regardless of proximity between you.

You kicked Harry’s foot under the dinner table. He looked up from his plate and stared at you, bewildered. You nodded to your mother who had just asked him a question he clearly hadn’t heard.

She looked at him expectantly, waiting for his response. “Sorry?” He took his gaze away from you and onto Molly.

“Harry, I asked you if you’ve gotten yourself a girlfriend this year?” she clarified.

Harry spluttered, glancing at you quickly before looking back at her. He cleared his throat. “No, I haven’t.”

Your mother tutted. “A shame, really. Let’s hope you don’t end up like Charlie. Such a handsome boy, and yet, he can’t find a nice woman to settle down with,” she sighed and turned her attention to your older brother, who was rolling his eyes.

Harry looked relieved that he was no longer the one being questioned. “Mum, stop it. I’m only 22. I’m too young to settle down. Bill’s older and he’s not married.”

Bill stopped mid bite to gesture violently at Charlie to cut it out, but Molly paid him no mind.

“Spend your whole life with dragons, see if I care,” she responded vehemently. “Let’s hope your sister doesn’t go off with you to Romania when she graduates.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes as you became your mother’s new subject of torture. It was true, you were looking into a career with dragons, but it was unlikely you’d end up on the same reserve as your brother.

“You know, darling, you ought to find a nice boy. It would do you well.”

You grimaced. “And here we are, back to your favorite topic.”

“Not mine,” Fred interjected.

“Certainly not,” George added. “She’s not allowed to date.”

“Oh, she’s not, is she?” Ginny said, giving you a seemingly knowing look. Merlin, you could only hope she knew nothing.

“No, and neither are you, Gin,” Fred said swiftly.

“We’ll that’s unfortunate,” Ginny looked at you smugly. “Because I think our sister has had her eye on someone.”

Harry turned paler than normal, looking at you in alarm, his face saying, ‘Did you tell her?’ Hermione, to his side, gave you a similar look.

Your face heated under the eyes of your entire family. You shot Ginny a glare before deciding to get her back. “That’s what you think, but I know you bloody well fancy Dean Thomas.”

The focus shifted from you to Ginny. “Dean Thomas?” said Ron, staring at your sister in astonishment.

“Who’s Dean Thomas?” your mother asked cheekily.

Ginny groaned, hiding her red face in her hands. “I’m excusing myself. Goodnight, family.”

She stood up from the crowded table and basically threw her plate into the sink before running upstairs.

“Seriously, who’s Dean Thomas?” your mum asked for the second time.

“A boy in Ron’s year,” you explained briefly. “He’s perfectly decent,” you elaborated further, once you realized your family’s eyes were unrelenting.

“Well, who does she think you fancy?” Bill said, grinning. Why did the first thing he contributed during this conversation have to target you? Why couldn’t it have been revenge on Charlie?

“How should I know? I haven’t told her anything that would make her think I was interested in anyone.” That was a lie. You did tell her something.

“Are you?” Bill followed up.

“That’s really none of your business,” you said, standing up from the table and clearing your plate.

“As long as it’s not someone in our year, that’s what I say.” Ron nudged Harry, looking at his friend who nodded weakly.

You began to walk up the stairs, but not before shooting Harry a look that pleaded him to come upstairs when he could get away. Because of your circumstances, you’d gotten very good at giving each other wordless glances like these.

A little while later, a pajama clad Harry entered your room, checking the hall for anyone before closing the door behind him.

“Ron thinks I’m in the bathroom. Did you tell Ginny about us?” he said hurriedly.

“Of course not,” you denied. “I may have given her a hint though.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “What?”

“I didn’t mean to! She was talking about Dean, and asked me if I liked anybody, and who am I to lie, so I said yes.”

“Um,” Harry interjected. “One problem with that is that we lie about our relationship every day. You are a liar.”

“Don’t interrupt me, Harry. Anyway, she asked me who and I wouldn’t tell her, so she started listing names. She asked me what I thought of you, and I let it slip that I thought you were cute,” you said sheepishly, toying with a button on his shirt. “I think I scared her off with the Dean thing, we should be in the clear.”

Harry only grinned. “You think I’m cute?”

“Oh shut up, would you?” you said, pushing his chest away from yours.

“Sure.” He pulled you back by the waist, his hands resting on your hips as he ducked down to kiss you. He tasted like toothpaste, but you really didn’t mind it.

He was about to pull away after a moment, but you tangled your fingers in his hair, keeping his mouth attached to yours.

“I’ve missed you all day,” Harry murmured against your lips.

“Godric, me too.” You clung onto him like you knew it wouldn’t last, and it didn’t. Ron called out to Harry from somewhere in the hallway, and Harry pulled away from you. His glasses were fogged up and he was cursing Ron.

When the lenses cleared, he leaned down to press another chaste kiss to your lips. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he whispered, exiting the room quietly.

You slumped onto your bed, staring at the open door with a forlorn look on your face. Ginny suddenly appeared in the doorway, her mouth hanging open and her hand pointing to the end of the hall, then to where you sat.

“What- what have I just witnessed? Why? This changes life as we know it. You! And Harry! You-“

You hurried to cut her off, standing from the bed and practically sprinting to the door to cover her mouth. “You be quiet now,” you warned, looking both ways in the hall and shoving Ginny inside your room.

“Why did I see Harry leaving this room looking like he’s got something to hide?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Listen, lady, you didn’t see anything, because nothing happened,” you said, pointing a finger at her.

“I never said anything happened, I just said he had something to hide. And guess what? I know he has something to hide, because I know you like him,” she retaliated, pointing her finger right back.

“Who? Me? Like Harry? Psssshhh… you’ve got the wrong girl. That doesn’t sound anything like me.”

Ginny folded her arms over her chest. “Oh really? Well, does this sound like you? Oh, Ginny, Harry’s just so cute! I wish he would like me back because, well, I just love him so much!” She batted her eyelashes, imitating a version of you that didn’t exist.

“Actually, Gin, that sounds nothing like me, so you can just forget anything that you think you saw,” you retorted.

“I don’t think I will forget. I think I’ll just tell everyone that you’re sneaking around with Harry. I didn’t miss the look he gave you at dinner either! So I can tell everyone, or you can quit lying and just give me all the details.”

She did have a way of getting you to cave. Really, it was just tactful manipulation.

“Alright fine, but if you tell anyone, you’re dead. Well, you can tell Hermione. She already knows.”

Ginny gasped, very offended. “You told her before your own sister?”

“I did not! She’s too smart for her own good. Anyways, sit down.”

Then, you told Ginny everything. It felt actually good to be able to talk about your relationship to someone other than Hermione, especially to your only sister, who you were honestly very grateful for.

You told her about how he kissed you a week before you left for school, solidifying the relationship you were having throughout the summer holiday. You told her about how he was funny and such a gentlemen. You even told her about how you’d been sneaking off since school started, and what you’d been doing.

Once Ginny was fully satisfied with the information and you were relatively sure she wouldn’t squawk to any of your brothers, she bid you goodnight and went to bed.

The following morning, Christmas Eve morning, you had risen later than usual. “Good morning, family,” you greeted, entering the kitchen and heading straight for the kettle.

“Morning,” Ginny said from the table. “I trust you slept well. I expect you feel loads lighter now.”

“Oh yeah, much lighter,” you grinned back.

“What are you two on about?” Bill said from his seat across from Ginny.

“Oh, nothing. Our sister just shared some interesting things with me last night,” she hummed.

You saw Harry’s head perk up from the couch, where he was laying. Ron was sprawled on the floor below.

“Gin, shut up,” you warned quietly.

“I’m not even sure I want to know,” Bill said.

“Oh, you’d be delighted, I’m sure. But, alas, I’ve been sworn to secrecy,” Ginny sighed.

“Then why even bring it up, you idiot?” you said as you sat down next to her, carefully eyeing a nervous looking Harry.

Bill followed your gaze and whistled lowly. You almost had a heart attack. “I see. That is very interesting.”

You turned to face your sister. “Look what you’ve done now. Why not just shout it from the rooftops?” you scolded.

“I didn’t say anything!” she defended.

“She’s right, you gave yourself away,” Bill confirmed, leaning in to whisper, “You’re lucky Ron’s pretty clueless on the floor over there.”

Your face burned. “Just don’t tell anybody.”

“Now why would I do that? It’s a whole lot more fun if you do it yourself.” Bill grinned, leaving you and Ginny at the table.

You dropped your head into your arms.

Later, you and Harry sat in the yard, leaning against a tree. You were on the side that couldn’t be seen from your siblings’ makeshift quidditch game across the yard.

It was the nicest day of break so far, not too cold, but not necessarily warm either. There was a dusting of snow on the ground, which delighted you.

You were lying in Harry’s lap, gazing up at him as he mindlessly played with your hair. “I can’t believe you told Ginny,” he said for the tenth time since breakfast.

You rolled your eyes and sat up. “I already told you, she was nagging me. Plus, I can’t really talk to Hermione about this sort of thing. She’s hung up on Ron. I keep telling her Lavender was just a phase because of some stupid love potion infused chocolate, but she usually just goes glum and ignores me.”

“You could just stop talking about us,” he suggested, shrugging his shoulders.

“You wouldn’t understand,” you said, reaching forward to fiddle with the zipper on his jacket.

“Why? Am I too charming and handsome for you to shut up about?” He grinned, taking hold of your hand and pressing it to his chest.

“Something like that.” You smiled, but quickly stopped when you saw the smug look on his face. “Don’t let that get to your head, Potter.”

“I won’t,” he said, leaning in to kiss your lips. His free hand came up to frame your face, and you placed yours on his thigh. You had half a mind to pull away, but only enough to see his face.

“Harry, we can’t do this out here. My siblings are right over there. Someone could see us,” you said softly, staring up at his bright green eyes.

“Honey, if you keep looking at me like that, I’m not gonna care,” he said, breath heavy as he looked at you adoringly. Your stomach did flips and you instantly forgot about reasons to hold yourself back.

You surged forward, kissing him hard on the mouth. You knew you wouldn’t get the chance to do so until well after dinner, so you took advantage of your siblings being distracted. He responded enthusiastically, wrapping an arm around your waist, tugging you closer.

“Woah, looks like I’ve caught more than just the snitch!”

You sprang apart, wiping your mouth as you looked up to see one of your grinning brothers, hovering above the tree on a broomstick holding a little golden sphere.

“Charlie! This isn’t what it looks like,” you managed, pushing yourself as far away from Harry as possible.

“Really, because it looks like you’ve been snogging his face off,” Charlie said, looking pleased with himself.

Harry burned bright red, refusing to make eye contact with either of you.

“Charlie, what’s taking you so long?” you heard Ron call from the other side of the yard.

“I’ll keep this a secret, but only because I love you, little sister. And because it’s funnier this way.” Charlie grinned again and turned on his broom to speed back to the group.

You and Harry left for the house before anyone else did, completely ignoring Hermione on the couch, her nose deep in a thick book, as you rushed upstairs.

Once you were sure you were alone, you stopped Harry in the middle of the hallway. “Okay, that was the last time. No more doing that in the open.”

“Sorry, got carried away. At least it wasn’t Ron who saw us.” Harry shuttered, not even wanting to think about what his reaction would be.

“Shake it off, Harry. Just three, only three of them know. There’s like a bajillion others that don’t,” you rationalized. “Look, we just need to get through this holiday without anyone else finding out that we’re together. I think we can do that.”

“You lied to mother?” A stiff voice came from down the hallway. Shit. You forgot Percy was still in the house, holed up in his room doing his Ministry work.

Harry’s eyes widened as he shook his head at you, refusing to turn around.

“You’re seeing someone and you lied about it?” Percy frowned. “Well, I’ll have to tell her.”

“No, you won’t have to tell her. Don’t tell her. Please,” you practically begged.

Percy didn’t look convinced. His steely gaze wouldn’t let up. “I won’t if you promise me to tell her.”

“I promise, Perce, just let me do it when I’m ready,” you said, less of a real promise and more of a strategy to get him to go back into his room. You were thanking God when he nodded curtly and did just that.

“Well, would you look at the impeccable timing on that,” Harry said sarcastically.

You grimaced. “Dinner’ll be a real treat tonight.”

Dinner was not a treat. It was delicious, of course, courtesy of your mother. But it was quite tense, at least for you and Harry.

Bill kept shooting you knowing glances from across the table, looking back and forth between you and Harry, who made the seemingly unconscious choice to sit beside you.

Charlie couldn’t even look at you without snickering to himself, prompting your mum to start questioning him on his odd behavior.

Percy was silently urging you to say something about it, pulling at his collar uncomfortably and staring at you, unrelenting.

Ginny was, thankfully, docile for the time being.

“Charlie, would you stop laughing at your sister? I don’t see what’s so funny about her,” Molly scolded, finally having quite enough of your brother’s behavior.

“Nothing’s funny,” he said with a hint of a smile.

Bill was looking at him with his eyes narrowed slightly. “What do you know?” he asked suspiciously.

“What do you know?” Charlie replied, just as skeptical.

“I think the better question is, what does dad know about muggles?” You laughed nervously, getting weird looks from Ron and the twins. “Come on, dad. Why don’t you tell us about your latest case?”

Your father looked up from his meal, looking surprised, for he had hardly been acknowledged since the start of dinner. “Oh, well, we had an odd couple in the other day. They were the sort who didn’t really look like they belonged together. So, anywho, they-“

“Hold on,” Ginny interjected. “How do you know they didn’t belong together? There are loads of couples who you might not think belong together, but actually do, so it’s best not to judge before you know the whole story.”

Your dad looked confused. “Um, I guess they just didn’t seem compatible, but I’m sure they belong together just fine, Gin, no need to worry about that.”

As he continued with his story about this couple and their illegally enchanted carpet, you turned to glare at Ginny.

She gave you a rather obvious look of annoyance, which gained the attention of Fred and George.

“Something’s going on here, Freddie,” said George, leaning to his right.

“Agreed,” said George, looking around the table.

You actually heard Harry gulp beside you. You put a hand on his knee, attempting to comfort him. This action made him choke on the sip of water he had taken.

“All right there, Harry?” Ron asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Harry coughed. “Just fine.”

Percy cleared his throat. “Maybe he has something to say.”

“Percy, don’t be rude,” your mother scolded. “The boy’s just choked.”

“Yeah, Percy, don’t know why you’d think he wants to say something,” Ginny said. “So, keep your mouth shut.”

None of the siblings who knew had known that others at the table were also aware, but they were each starting to connect the dots.

“Can I just have a nice Christmas Eve dinner with my family?” Molly slammed one hand on the table. “Enough of the fighting and the strange comments. Please, just be normal.”

Fred grinned. “I can’t imagine what’s abnormal about us.”

“Oh, me neither. But you, Freddie, are abnormal looking,” George followed.

The rest of the night after dinner was just as stressful. You and your siblings were sitting around the living room, with the exception of Percy, who, to your immense relief, had gone back to his room for work.

Fred and George decided it would be a good idea to play a game of truth or dare with the assistance of some veritaserum they nicked from Snape’s stores the day before holiday began.

Needless to say, you and Harry were not excited.

“Hermione,” Fred said. “Truth or dare?”

Hermione rolled her eyes as George made a gesture that suggested she should choose truth. “Dare,” she said.

“I dare you to go outside and kiss one of the gnomes.”

“A gnome, Fred? Really?” Ron scoffed.

“You’d rather she kissed you, would you?” George teased.

Ronsaid nothing, but his ears turned red, giving him away.

Hermione’s face turned a similar shade as she stood up from the armchair. “Fine, then.”

You all collectively gathered around the window and watched Hermione stalk outside and grab one of the ugly gnomes by its bald head. She made a disgusted face and gave the gnome a peck so fast that you barely saw it.

She came back inside and washed her mouth out in the sink before returning to the chair. “George,” she said coolly. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth, of course!” George said happily. “We’ve got to put our stolen goods to good use.”

“It was very wrong of you to take Professor Snape’s materials,” Hermione said, frowning. “Is it true that you were the ones who gave Ron amortentia spiked chocolates last month?”

“Yes,” George said easily.

Ron scoffed loudly. “You told me that wasn’t you! You said it was her! I was following Lavender Brown around for weeks because of those!”

“Well, we hadn’t meant for you to go for her. It was supposed to be someone else.” George winked at Hermione.

“We messed up the potion,” explained Fred.

George looked to you. “Truth or dare?” he asked.

“Truth,” you said mindlessly, thinking about Hermione and the gnome. You noticed the alarmed look Harry was giving you and realized your mistake. Damn gnome.

George grinned mischievously. “Do you really have a boyfriend?”

“Yes,” you said unwillingly.

A gasp from Ron could be heard from the other side of the room. Ginny and Hermione were looking rather nervous for you. On the contrary, Bill and Charlie were quite amused.

“Tell us, who is he?” Fred continued off of George.

“Harry Potter,” you admitted before slapping a hand across your mouth.

An even louder gasp could be heard from Ron that caused Charlie to burst out laughing. Fred and George were looking rather pleased with themselves. You supposed that was better than them pranking the life out of Harry for dating their sister, which you had expected to happen.

Harry sat on the couch with his hands clenched at his sides, looking at the floor as his whole face turned red.

“My sister, Harry? Really?” Ron said, his voice carrying a mixture of anger and betrayal.

“Yeah, well, I love her,” Harry said, fully dropping his head into his palms. He definitely hadn’t meant to say that to everyone in the room. “I hate this damn potion.”

“The heart wants what it wants, Freddie,” said George.

“It sure does, Georgie,” Fred said, clasping his hands together over his chest.

“Honestly, this is a Christmas miracle,” Hermione burst out. “I’ve been covering for you for months. Four, horrible, long months.”

“Four months?” Ron said, bewildered. “Hermione, you knew and you never told me?”

“Oh, please, Ronald. If you opened your eyes you would’ve seen what was going on,” Hermione said.

“Easy for you to say, you’re bloody brilliant. You could spot anything off. I love that about you,” Ron confessed.

Bill and Charlie were wheezing on the floor at this point.

“This is the gift that keeps on giving!” Fred exclaimed.

“I’m so happy we played this game,” George said through laughs.

Hermione stood, cheeks burning. “We should all go to bed. It’s Christmas tomorrow.” She went up the stairs quickly. Ron seemed to have forgotten all about you and Harry and followed her.

Your other four brothers slowly made their way upstairs, practically dying from laughter at your expense.

Ginny stood awkwardly, bidding you and Harry goodnight and leaving you alone in the room.

“That could’ve gone worse,” you said, finally making eye contact with Harry, who was still looking a little red.

“I, for one, didn’t fancy confessing my love for you to your whole family,” Harry said, scooting over to your spot on the couch.

“I did.” You grinned, leaning towards him. He rolled his eyes, but indulged you anyways, letting his lips touch yours.

“Merry Christmas, Harry,” you whispered against him. “I love you, too.”

#birdiewriteslit #birdiewritesfics #harry james potter x reader #harry potter x reader #harry potter #weasley!reader #harry james potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #brothers best friend

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writingwithfolklore · 6 months

Text

Following a Trail of Clues

Lots of plots have at least some aspect of figuring out a mystery or uncovering some hidden truth. While it may not be a traditional murder mystery, writing a plot that revolves around the gathering of information and uncovering of clues can be written using a lot of the same techniques.

1. You should probably plan it

If you’re strictly a pantser, give it a shot, but I have never been able to pants mysteries like this. I would recommend planning it from the beginning and saving yourself a lot of time and headaches trying to piece it together later.

2. Start with the beginning and end

When planning a mystery, I start with the beginning, and then skip to the point that they uncover the truth or figure it out and work backwards to fill out the middle. What is the last hint they need to uncover the full truth, then, what leads to that hint, rinse and repeat until we get back to that beginning you created.

For example, say the MC is trying to find their missing friend. The last point would be ‘they find their friend’, so that’s where we begin. Maybe right before that, they’re told the location, to get their location, they’ve kidnapped one of the bad guys who knows it, to get to him, they need to break into the evil lair, to find the lair, they need to spy on the organization, and so on.

3. Diversify the hints

I talk about this a bit in my post about written elements (here), but essentially, you’ll want to diversify how your characters get their hints. It will seem cheap if they find everything they need to know on conveniently spaced notes or journal entries (unless you can really justify that), or it’s all told to them by someone who happens to know it all (such as the ‘wise man’ trope).

Maybe they find the last clue written down, but the one before was told to them from a key character, and the one before was puzzled out through a riddle, etc. etc. Here are some places to find clues:

Someone else knows something

This could be either an ally or an enemy. Family members, friends they weren’t aware of, a hidden partner, seemingly a stranger who knows more than they’re letting on. If they are an ally, there should be a reason they haven’t come forward yet, or justification for why their testimony is where it is in a story. Maybe they are somewhat accidentally guilty in the mystery, maybe they are afraid to be involved, maybe they aren’t aware anything has happened at all.

If they’re an enemy, maybe your protagonists need to corner them, best them in a battle, talk to them away from their boss, kidnap them, etc. Consider why this person would betray their ‘side’ to provide a clue to the protagonists.

Journal entries, notes, letters, ledgers, or otherwise written down

Physical evidence—footprints, pieces of clothing left behind, an object, photos, drawings

Biological evidence--fingerprints, DNA, hair, etc. If your character already has access to the equipment for this, great! If not, consider how they could find this out.

A prophetic dream or vision (use in cases in which it would make sense for your character to have this, obviously)

A riddle, poem, or song, if you can justify it.

An educated guess (for small jumps)

Timing—if they can figure out a timeline, they may be able to figure out something else

Something is missing or off place. That’s odd, character always leaves their book on the bedside table, so why isn’t it there?

Any other ways to get hints or clues to your characters?

#writing #creative writing #writers #screenwriting #writing community #writing inspiration #books #filmmaking #writing advice #hints #clues #following a trail of clues #writing mystery #mystery #detective

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mo0nfairy · 1 year

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I gotta see a part of yandere Leon where reader remembers him as they get through los Iluminados maybe some yandere in action lol (at least only if you want to!)

part 1. part 3. part 4.

tw :: obsessive!leon, yandere!leon, mention of drugs, framing, handcuffs, stalking, trauma, guns, wounds, heights, being locked up.

⸺ ooooooo !!! i've been meaning to make a part 2 of my last ask, but had zero idea where to go from where i ended. i also had played a bit of RE2 before the remake came out recently, so a piece of my brain has been kept up in raccoon city for a little while. i would love to express my thoughts and mesh these two games together !!

let's start with where we left off in los iluminados.

upon having your handcuffs taken off by the stranger who is far too close for comfort, you pace backwards, far away as you can get from this insanity of a man. his attitude abruptly shifts into something softer, a major contrast to the emotional breakdown he had just seconds prior. he realizes you're afraid — afraid of him. and as much as the mere thought destroys him to the point of breaking down again, he shoves a sob back down his throat and keeps his distance, despite how desperately he wishes to close it.

6 years. 6 years. he has been waiting over 2,190 miserable days for this single moment. all the sleepless nights spent searching the world for you; all the hopeless nights spent clinging to pillows, praying by some miracle it will somehow become you. every second of these past 6 years has been spent dreaming of this single moment. and even though your reunion wasn't the teary-eyed, passionate kiss in the rain he had hoped for, you are still here with him nonetheless.

and like hell will he let you slip from his grasp again.

with as much time as his needy self would grant him being physically away from you, he is soon at your side. leon then wraps you in his jacket and you swear you hear a harsh gasp escape from him when his finger accidentally makes contact with the skin of your neck. despite your negligence and more-than-obvious discomfort, you do appreciate the new warm embrace after a week of cold rain and damp clothes. it smells exactly like him, as well.

and with that, he's got a gentle hand hovering over your lower back as he guides you through the depths of this hellhole. and piece by piece, memories that had been buried in your brain begin to disinter themselves.

for example, you got a staring problem bro?? for the entirety of the time you spend with leon in los iluminados, there is literally never a single moment where this mans eyes are not on you. half of the time it is to ensure you are unharmed, but the other half consists of him staring in complete and utter awe. it's kind of hard to focus on surviving when leon is constantly staring into your soul. but it has just been so fucking long since he has been able to see you in all of your glory, so please excuse him for any inappropriate behavior on his end.

also, you knew you have lived in raccoon city for a short period of time before the events of RE2 happened, but like everything else that relates to that damned place, you couldn't remember a thing.

except now. leon's gaze uncovers a memory you have of yourself being held in one of the RPD holding cells. the atrocious scent, the uncomfortable bench, the paint peeling from the walls. you try and scrutinize what on earth you could have been arrested for, but your attempts are merely futile. but unbeknownst to you, your arrest was nothing but bullshit. and to say leon has had a crush on you from the second you moved into RC would be nothing short of the truth. so, by pulling some strings, the rookie had managed to lock you up for what he calls 'bonding time'. he'll place a chair backwards in front of your cell, prop his arms on the backrest and admire you with your full attention finally on him (instead of just stalking you around town).

two things you now remember about this man: he was so adorably baby-faced back then and my god, was he awkward. he still cannot talk for shit and i mean this with my whole heart. his sweet, innocent eyes gaze at you while he tries to play it cool, pulling cards like "yeah, i workout" and "you come here often?". all as if he hadn't personally arrested you for possession of illegal substances he planted himself. (nothing will happen to you, obvi. he just desperately needed a second alone with you to show off how charismatic he can be. or try to be, at least).

and for the short second of seeing him after 6 years, his eyes were just devoid of any life. you had assumed the trauma inflicted from that night had caused such a contrast in his physical appearance, and you would be right to assume that. but the soulless eyes, monotone voice, and lackluster personality was entirely due to your disappearance. days upon days of the lonely, eternal torment destroyed his sanity. however, that illustrious boy you can barely remember seems to have returned with your presence.

another thing you can't believe you had forgotten was how intense his stare is. the way he stares is illegible and sometimes overwhelming. he shivers in his stance, whimpers at your every move, and his mind runs rampant with all sorts of obsessive declarations of love. although it may seem creepy to others and especially yourself, do not fret. he has no ill intent towards you, god he could never! this puppy-dog of a man is simply marveling at your sheer existence.

you are able to retrieve another lost memory when you have to jump from a window and into his arms (for those who say he won't be able to catch you, stfu. have ya'll seen how beefy his arms are??? anyways....). the secret agent you have grown to like during your stay in los iluminados jumps down marvelously (most def showing off his james-bond-esque agilities to you). he now watches from below as you stare at the distance beneath you in trepidation. this distrust you have — he is going to travel to the ends of the universe to fix it. no matter what.

you begin to ponder, he has savagely brutalized all threats in your path and held your hand as if he were holding the world all in the same breath. you should trust him, especially after witnessing the pure display of loyalty he has for you.

"don't be afraid, y/n. i'll catch you, i promise!" there is 10000% a way to walk through the house and down the stairs to get to him, but ofc he's not gonna tell you. why would he willingly throw away the opportunity to be your knight in shining armor?

"you will?" your voice is full of apprehension. his stare on you feels like the same bullets he's forced upon your attackers.

"always."

with that, you rip the bandaid off and jump from the ledge. and leon was most certainly not lying. you land safely in his embrace and he wraps his arms tightly around your form. and to finally have you so close, after so, so long of devastatingly praying he could feel you once more.......... if he had a tail, it would for sure be wagging so fast it would morph into a blur. and the way he holds you is different, as if his gentle nature is reserved for you and you only (which it is. this is literally him in a nutshell).

and when you had instinctively buried your face into his neck upon landing, clinging to him out of fear of hitting the ground, he literally melts. i'm serious, he literally just 🫠🫠🫠🫠. the faint hum of laughter and adoration that escapes his throat breaks you out of your state of shock. you made it safely to the ground without breaking every bone in your body, hooray! (as if there is a single reality in existence where leon would ever allow that to happen, but i digress).

you meet his gaze and there is that all-too familiar stare he gives you. leon's arms holding onto you like a lifeline uncovers a memory you have of yourself being held like this all those years ago. you can't recall exactly where in raccoon city you were, but you can remember how humiliated you were when you tripped over a crack in the pavement and ate shit. there was the fairest of scrapes against your shin, but the mortification hurt far more than any wound. while you dust yourself off and attempt to ignore the burning stares of pedestrians, a shout of your name sparks your attention.

the RPD gear and besotted eyes you're met with could be no other than that baby-faced rookie. you ponder of what he was doing on this side of town. was it a simple coincidence you had run into each other? or perhaps, had he followed you? just when you think you can't feel more embarrassed, leon gets down on one knee and dramatically inspects your wound. and my god, he acts like you were shot or something. he visibly shudders from the sight of your leg; people begin to gather around the commotion. with pure ease, he then scoops you into his arms to bring you to safety. you can feel his heart pound like a machine gun beneath the palm of your hand.

despite the humiliation deprived from this event, you fortunately are free from anything mortifying in los iluminados. however, leon doesn't seem to understand when to take a hint.

"uh... you can put me down now." you come out of your memory to thrash in his grasp and avoid his intense gaze, but your prince charming seems to still be caught in his y/n-filled daze.

after a few long seconds, your comment seems to finally reach his brain. "huh?" his response is faint and you almost don't hear it.

you repeat yourself and begrudgingly, leon then slowly puts you back onto your feet, savoring the last few seconds spent with you in his arms. exactly where you belong. you can only fear how much more suffocating affection you'll have to endure before you can finally remember what happened that night.

i think someone legit needs to slap me across the face and bring me back into reality cause holy shit...... i went WAYY too far with this. my brain is a mess thank u for reading.

i have more thoughts about this........ just incase u were curious........ ;)

#resident evil 4 #re4 #re4 remake #resident evil #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagine #yandere leon kennedy #yandere resident evil #yandere #gn reader #gender neutral reader #venus’ brain #moonfairy

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forever-rogue · 10 months

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Hi, love! So i’m not sure if your taking requests but i have a prompt for joel and you’re currently my favorite joel writer so 🥰 i can’t get this idea out of my head of reader being joel’s neighbor and being extremely nice and kind to everyone (especially to him and ellie cause she has feelings for him duh) and he’s kinda in love with her too but won’t admit it (ellie knows and nags him about it) but he also kinda judges her and thinks she’s “weak” cause she’s “too soft”, and then one day for whatever reason he ends up snapping at her and saying that “you have no idea what it is to lose a child” only to later find out from tommy that reader actually lost a baby under pretty awful circumstances and then he’s mortified but she’s super mad at him? I have no idea where this came from i guess i just like pain 🤷‍♀️ totally understand if you don’t feel like it though! Tks babe

AN | Please, this is so cute but sad, but there’s also a happy ending 💕

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language, Mentions of child death

Word Count | 2.6k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The pie in your hands smelled delicious, still warm and fresh, as you waited on Joel's porch. You rocked back and forth on your heels as you listened for his familiar footsteps to come to the door. Just when you were about to give up and save it for later, the door slowly opened.

"Hey," there was Joel, leaning against the doorway with a lazy little smile on his face, "what a pleasant surprise."

"Me or the pie?" You always managed to fall into an easy rapport with him. Your back and forth always seemed to turn from teasing to flirting, honestly? You loved it.

"Oh, you brought pie? I didn't even notice," your cheeks warmed up at his response. You shook your head and sighed playfully at him. He stepped aside and motioned for you to follow him, "do you want to come in?"

"I suppose I can spare you a few minutes of my precious time," you flashed him a pretty smile as you flounced past him. Making your way into the kitchen, you set the pie down before uncovering it to show him, "I even made your favorite."

"You spoil me," he practically groaned at the sight of the delicious treat. He immediately turned to the cabinets to grab some plates, "what's the occasion?"

"There's none," you grabbed some forks and knives, "the trees produced so many apples we couldn't use them fast enough. I figured pie was a good solution and I know you love it. So here we are."

"Here we are," he agreed softly, "thank you, darlin'."

"No need to thank me," you sat down and cut into the pie, "you just owe me now."

"I am forever in your debt," he down across from you, a knowing little look in his pretty brown eyes. You made a small sound of agreement as you passed him a slice, "whatever you want, just name it."

"I'll take you up on that offer."

"Good."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You should tell her you know,” Ellie broke the silence over dinner as she looked over at Joel from across the table. He froze with his fork about halfway to his mouth. He stuffed the bite into his mouth and took his sweet time swallowing it before sighing and raising an eyebrow at her, “don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“I do,” he admitted, figuring it was better to admit to the truth rather than lie to her. She looked so pleased with herself as she leaned back in her seat, “but I ain’t doing anything about anything. Get that into your head, kiddo.”

“Why not?” she huffed, waving her hand dismissively at him, “you’re so lame. Ugh.”

“Maybe I am,” he agreed with a nod of his head, “but your opinion isn’t going to change anything. I am okay with how things are right now. There’s no need to go and change things up.”

“But she feels the same way!” and it really was obvious; everyone knew. You also knew that everyone knew. It was like the worst kept secret in Jackson, “one of you has to make a move eventually.”

“Ellie-”

“Joel,” she looked at him seriously, her small face taking on a dire expression, “you’re being stupid.”

“Ellie.”

“You’re denying yourself potential happiness,” Joel had to admit that she had a point, regardless of whether or not he would act on it. He was so happy around you, you made him feel so alive and carefree and loved. You were like his very own ray of sunshine. He could only imagine what it would be like if the two of you added romance to the equation. It wasn’t hard to imagine what it would be like to kiss you and touch you and make love to you. It really would have been like a dream, “and her. Plus you’d be so cute together!”

“With that logic, she’s also denying herself happiness,” he wondered if you thought about him the way he thought about you. He’d be lucky if you even spared him more than a passing thought, “so, have you given her this speech?”

“Not yet,” she admitted with a shrug of her shoulders, “I was going to try you first. She’s usually the more logical one…so.”

“So,” Joel mirrored Ellie’s position and crossed his arms over his broad chest, “you’ll leave her alone and drop this.”

“Not a chance!”

“I didn’t think so,” the girl shoved the last mouthful of food into her mouth, “I’m going to her.”

“I know,” Joel drummed his fingers along the table and let out a resigned sigh, “I know.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Despite Ellie's insistence that he tell you how he feels, he didn't do anything about it. Namely, he couldn't manage to work up the courage to do so. To him, admitting that he had feelings for you was akin to admitting he was weak. Feelings made people soft and made things harder when, inevitably, the relationship would end one way or another. Why would he willing put himself through that again? It had almost killed him when he'd lost Sarah and later when the same happened with Tess. If it hadn't been for Ellie, he wasn't sure he'd have made it. But Ellie was going to be around forever either.

It was a complicated tangle of emotions, and the best solution for him had to been to keep a few people, currently Tommy and Ellie, close while others remained behind a wall.

You, meanwhile, loved and cared for people so openly. It was easy to see that in everything you said and did. You had a giant heart, but you were just setting yourself for failure. One day something bad would happen and you'd fall apart. Joel wasn't sure he could handle that.

He didn't want to lose you; he loved you, he really did, but he also didn't want his heart to break.

Ellie had come to you as well and pushed you to profess your feelings. While not as in denial about everything as Joel, you weren't about to make that first leap. What if you overstepped and pushed him away? You didn't want that; you'd rather keep him as a friend than lose him entirely.

You'd noticed over the last couple of weeks that something had been nagging at Joel. You didn't push the issue, but hoped he'd trust you enough to confide in you at some point.

It turned out that some point didn't come as you expected.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel had come over to your house, and the two of you were making dinner together. It was a routine you'd often fall into and it felt so blissfully domestic. You'd never really made a comment about it before, but something caused you to feel a certain amount of bravado and led you to actually pointing it out.

"You know, this is so much like playing house," you teased softly as you nudged his side with your elbow.

"It does," he agreed with a small smile. He liked the idea of living with you permanently. If he was being honest, the thought of sleeping with you and waking up to you in his arms, of spending lazy evenings in a tangle of limbs was something that crossed his mind more than he cared to admit. In another life, he'd have made those moves already and might have even called you this wife, "kinda nice."

"Mhmm," you continued chopping away at the fresh vegetables that you'd picked for dinner, "all that's missing now is a couple of kids running around."

He stiffened for a moment, his mind first going to the image of you round and pregnant with his child and then to sheer terror. Kids were all well and good, but something just told him they would be a bad idea. He remained silent and kept his gaze on the stove.

"You ever think about having kids in the future?" you had hesitated for a moment before asking but, how did that old saying go? Curiosity killed the cat?

"No," he said without a second thought. It was a lie, of course it was. He'd thought about it a lot, especially since he'd met you.

"Oh," your breath hitched in your throat at the sudden shift in emotion. You focused on what was in front of you rather than anything else. Something was off and you could immediately sense that you might have said the wrong thing. It was still hard for you too sometimes, "I'm sure that it's still…hard. Losing your daughter….I'm sure it was the hardest thing ever. I l-"

“Don’t,” there was a furious look on his face and you couldn’t help the way you recoiled away from him. He’d gone through such a shift in emotions that it was a little scary - you’d never seen him like this before, “don’t fucking talk about my daughter.”

“Joel, I didn’t mean anything by it,” you felt a few hot, salty tears run down your cheeks. You took a step back to create a distance between yourself, wiping the tears away with the sleeve of your sweater, “I was just saying-”

“You don’t know shit,” he stormed towards the door and threw it open harshly. You were surprised that it didn’t fall off the hinges, “you have no clue what it’s like to lose a child.”

With that, he stormed off, leaving you there staring in shock. Your mind was still trying to process what was going on as you closed the door. Your whole body felt like it was trembling as you leaned against the counter and took a few deep breaths.

That wasn’t him, is what you tried to keep telling yourself. That wasn’t your Joel…he would never have talked to you like that. A sensitive topic had been brought up and he was hurting…anyone could have responded in such a manner.

But, you decided, you’d give him some space. Maybe seeing you wasn’t the best thing for him right now….you were sure he’d come to you when he was ready to. Until then you would just love and support him from a distance; but that was the thing and you hoped he knew it too - you’d always love him. Not matter what happened, Joel Miller had your heart.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Hey big brother,” Tommy caught Joel’s attention as he walked into the tavern, flashing him a meek smile. Joel looked up and offered a wave in a sign of acknowledgment. Before he could say anything else, Tommy’s fist collided with his face, causing him to stumble off his stool. He clutched at his face, surprised by the sudden attack, “heard you were being an asshole.”

“What the fuck!?” Joel clutched at his face in shock as he took in Tommy's angry expression. And here he thought that they were getting along well these days. But then he said - your name, "listen-"

"No, you listen," Tommy grabbed by the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer so only he could hear his next words, "I can't believe you yelled at her. And you told her she doesn't know what it's like to lose a child? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"What do you mean?" Joel's brows furrowed in confusion. Yes, he hated himself for yelling at you, but it had all been in the moment. He agreed with that part anyway, "what are you talking about?"

"You're an idiot and an asshole," Tommy shook his head, "you're not the only one who's lost everything. You're not the only one who's lost their child."

"W-what?"

"She lost her son," Joel's face fell as realization crashed over him like an icy wave, "to one of those clicker bastards. It almost got her too. You ever notice that scar on her face? Now you know where it comes from."

"Tommy-"

"Next time don't assume you know everything," he shoved him and put a bit of distance between themselves, "don't ever be a dick to her again. It won't end well."

With that, Tommy left Joel sitting there with a sore face and aching heart. Not that it was undeserved, but still. Joel knew what he had to do, but he wasn't sure you'd give him the time of day. But you were so good and kind that he realistically knew that you'd let him explain.

All those things that he thought had made you weak actually made you so stronger. Much stronger than he was apparently.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was late in the evening a couple of days later when he knocked at your door. You were both surprised but in a way had been expecting him. It was Joel after all, and the two of you shared a special bond; it wouldn’t be so easily broken.

“H-hi,” his cheeks immediately pinked when he saw your pretty face and he felt like either running away and never looking back or throwing up then and there. You offered him a small smile in return but otherwise remained silent, “I, uh, I wanted to…I came to…apologize. I’m sorry for the other day. It doesn’t excuse it, but I was just wanted to let you know. So…yeah.”

“Do you want to come in?” you asked softly, causing him to look at you in pure awe.

"I-what?"

"I just made some tea," you stepped aside and beckoned for him to follow, "I couldn't sleep so I thought it might help."

He was incredulous as he stepped into your kitchen and watched you make him a cup. In the warm yellow light of the kitchen, he studied you intently. He noticed the scar running from your cheek and disappearing into your temple. It wasn't the first time he spotted the scar but it was the first time he made the connection.

"Why?" He asked as he sat down across from you, pulling the cup of tea closer, "why aren't you telling me to go fuck myself and leave?"

"There's no reason to," you shrugged before taking a long, thoughtful sip of your tea, "I assume Tommy told you by now."

"How'd you know?"

"I can see the bruising on your face," you reached over and gently ghosted your finger along his skin, "and no one would dare to hit you besides him. Or maybe Ellie."

"I'm sorry," he repeated, wrapping his fingers around your wrist and giving it a squeeze, "I had no clue."

"It's not something I usually go and advertise," you sat back in your seat and exhaled slowly, "losing a child isn't easy. It doesn't really get easier but time lessens the sting. I can tell you more about…him and everything that happened sometime. If you want to hear it, but not tonight. Tonight we can just…just be."

"Yes," he reached for your hand and put his hand on top of yours, "I know it doesn't seem like it but I…care for you. Very deeply."

"I know you do, Joel," your assurance made him feel so much lighter; it felt like the weight of the world was off his shoulders, "I care for you too. There's a lot we still have to learn about each other Joel, but I'm not going anywhere. I'll be here."

"Me too," there was a hopeful smile on his face as you squeezed his hand, "I'm not going anywhere."

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal #tlou

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muzyoshi · 1 year

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Miles Edgeworth's Secret

This post is purely for documentation purposes, and also to inform anyone who may not be aware. This post will contain SPOILERS for the end of Phoenix Wright: Trials & Tribulations, so proceed with caution.

During Case 5, Bridge to the Turnabout, while playing as Edgeworth, you are presented the opportunity to peer into Iris' heart. Specifically in regards to a secret she is withholding from Phoenix, someone she was romantically involved with. During which, if the player fails to present the correct evidence specifically for the second Psyche-Lock, an interesting conversation concerning the nature of secrets occurs.

I have seen talk of this dialogue, but no footage or screenshots, so I took the liberty of getting them myself. The full conversation and my further thoughts will be found under the cut.

You MUST present incorrect evidence during the second Psyche-Lock. This dialogue is laughably easy to miss, which is why I could find zero footage of it. (Sorry if the formatting for this sucks)

(Interesting to note: the music stops playing here.)

Incidentally, Iris' secret is that she developed romantic feelings for Phoenix while dating him in college (disguised as her twin sister). Edgeworth affirms her thoughts, confirming that he does indeed have a secret of similar nature deep within his heart and soul; "It takes one to know one." It cannot be said what exactly this secret of his is, but every real plot point behind Edgeworth has been more or less resolved by this point in the series. He found his path as a prosecutor, the truth behind his involvement in the DL-6 incident was concluded, so... What's left? Reading between the lines, this only really seems to lead us to one answer. It has something to do with romantic feelings. I truly can't see it being anything else, even with a critical mind.

Just mere moments ago, Iris had inquired as to what Edgeworth and Phoenix' relationship was. Edgeworth (famously) responds that Wright is a "dear and indispensable friend". Wonder if Iris gleamed something deeper from that comment, then? ;P Keep in mind: she makes these comments directly because Edgeworth avoided presenting Phoenix Wright's profile.

"he just like me fr" - iris probably

Now, just for completion's sake, let's see what happens when you present Phoenix's profile and break the Psyche-Lock.

I have a lot of thoughts regarding this string of text from the two of them. This is a huge reach from an admittedly shipper-crazed brain, but aren't Edgeworth's retorts here... interesting? He does not know this girl, but he knows that the two of them are important to one another. We can assume it's likely that he is pushing for this for Wright's sake, rather than Iris'. At this point it's fair to say that Edgeworth has some basic understanding of her secret (the feelings, at least), and he doesn't benefit from her telling Phoenix her secret. So why is he adamant that she does it? Especially when he's, apparently, holding a secret of similar nature himself? Projecting, perhaps?

"But it's pointless..." "Why would you say that?"

Why indeed.

(EDIT) I was thinking about this feverishly, and I had another thought. What if the "darkness in his heart" and his "secret" has something to do with jealousy? Still in context of romantic feelings... it starts to make sense that this could fit into the puzzle as well. By this point it was already established to Edgeworth that Phoenix and Iris share an intimate connection of some kind, and with all of this pressuring (including the words the two of them share before Edgeworth leaves the Detention Centre), it sort of adds up. "Uncovering the truth" in order to "get rid of the deep-seated darkness in [his] heart" - could this refer to closure? As in, if Iris comes forth to Phoenix Wright with her secret, and there is some level of reciprocation, would this make Edgeworth's own secret/feelings "pointless" to confess? I wonder.

One last note I'd like to make is that this is the first time we view Edgeworth through the 'protagonist lens', and that a great deal of care was put into having the player truly feel like they are Miles Edgeworth in this moment. His mannerisms, choice of words and thought patterns are decidedly very different than Phoenix's when you are in control of them, as I'm sure most people would agree. Therefore, I feel comfortable proposing that a lot of what he says here isn't filler, and in fact is very deliberately worded.

I think this post also deserves a spot here.

Diehard Narumitsu/Wrightworth shippers are likely already aware of this conversation's existence. However, due to the circumstances necessary to see it, I wasn't able to find any screenshots. I hope this was interesting to read, at least... Thanks for reading!

#ace attorney #ace attorney spoilers #aa3 #aa trials and tribulations #bridge to the turnabout #narumitsu #wrightworth #I wanted to write more but I would have gone on a tangent #there's just Too Much Evidence #I'm interested to hear other peoples' thoughts on this #I try not to let the shipper lens obscure the truth too much #but how can you even argue this one...

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lurkingshan · 3 months

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Dead Friend Forever is a Marvel of Mystery Writing

I haven’t been watching Dead Friend Forever live, because I am not always that into the slasher genre and I figured I would wait to hear whether it holds up before jumping in. I admit, I was a bit dubious about a drama sustaining a slasher narrative for 12 entire weeks and didn’t want to spend time on something that might be too shallow to sustain and would end up falling apart. I basically told bestie @wen-kexing-apologist to vet it for me and holler if I needed to start paying attention. And a few weeks ago, they started poking me with increasing intensity, along with a few other friends, because the writing was holding up better than they could believe. I started asking questions, and once @ginnymoonbeam mentioned that Sammon was the writer, it all started to click and I dove into a binge to catch up.

And they were right! This show is excellent, and its strength is sourced in an incredibly strong script from a writer who knows how to construct a longform mystery. Because it turns out, that’s what this show actually is. How do you sustain a slasher for 12 weeks? By embedding a deeper mystery within the slasher framework and pacing your story so that the entire middle delivers a backstory narrative that is even more compelling than the current events. This show is expertly structured to grab your attention and then get you deeply emotionally invested in the coming bloodbath, which is crucial for a slasher to feel like it has any stakes. Let me also note that the excellent writing here is supported by extremely smart direction and editing and some standout performances from young actors. I am going to focus on the writing here because that’s what I do, but it should be said that this whole production is all around excellent.

So let’s talk about why the writing in Dead Friend Forever works so well! Great drama mysteries should support two kinds of engagement from the viewer:

no thoughts head empty engagement from the people who just want to be pulled along for the ride and be constantly surprised

red string board theory engagement for the people who enjoy finding clues and trying to solve the mystery in advance.

It’s actually really fucking hard to thread this needle as a writer, because it requires seeding strong enough clues that attentive viewers could reasonably guess some of the big reveals, but not giving away so much that you are unable to surprise them. A reveal in a good mystery should have you saying “oh my god WHAT” and “of course, that makes perfect sense” at the same time. And the best mysteries support the viewer being able to go back and rewatch, find new meaning they missed the first time, and realize every single thing that happened adds up. A tight mystery has no loose ends and no false steps; it never lies to the viewer, it only works to draw your attention where it wants it at any given point in the story.

Dead Friend Forever does this masterfully with several of its reveals, but I will highlight the biggest example: the reveal of Phee and Non’s relationship in episode 7. In the first four episodes of the show, the story lets us in on a few crucial facts: Phee is newer to this friend group (along with Tan and White), he was not present for whatever went down with Non three years ago, he has some kind of fucked up not!friends with benefits relationship with Jin that involves lots of sexual tension and dick biting, and he seems interested in figuring out what the hell happened once all these dudes start acting crazy about the videos. The string board theorists had enough to go on there to reasonably guess that he was intentionally trying to uncover the truth—but not why—and the no thoughts head empty crowd could just vibe, enjoying his scenes with Jin and wondering how exactly he ended up hooking up with him and getting involved with this group of people he doesn’t even seem to like.

Once we get to the backstory and see Non’s narrative, additional clues emerge, like the existence of both an older brother and a mysterious sweetheart that is only saved as [heart emoji] in Non’s phone. No thoughts head empty is over here going huh I wonder who they’re gonna be and hey when are the rest of the characters going to show up; string board theorists now have two clear options for how Phee could tie in to Non’s story and why he might care enough to investigate, but no one knows for sure. So when the show ended episode 6 with Phee running into Non’s room and began episode 7 with The Most Effective Five Minute BL Of All Time, everything clicked into place. No thoughts head empty got to experience a very pleasant shock moment, the string board theorists got to feel satisfied that they figured out at least part of the reveal, everyone got to enjoy an unexpected shot of romance in the middle of this stressful narrative, and there were still parts of Phee’s motives and involvement with this group that we didn’t understand and would require additional reveals. That is great mystery writing in a nutshell.

And it’s not only the mystery construction that makes the writing here so smart. It’s also the way Sammon is weaving in tons of social commentary, embedding Thai cultural and religious values, incorporating complicated crimes with lots of players in the mix that somehow don’t get confusing, and drawing complex and nuanced characters whose choices and behavior you understand even if you find them abhorrent. It’s not easy to make a viewer both despise a character and still care what happens to them; when you write a story about despicable people you run the risk of inspiring apathy in the audience, which is a death knell for a mystery. We have to be invested for this story to work. We have to feel deep empathy for Non to the point that we fully support axe murdering his bullies, but we also have to be interested enough in the bullies and why they behave the way they do to watch 12 weeks of them running around being awful to each other and harming everyone in their paths. And Non, too, gets to have real complexity. He is not a perfect little Mary Sue who never does anything wrong. He makes big impulsive mistakes, and seeks attention and affection from the wrong people, and lies to the ones he loves, and doesn’t always ask for help when he needs it. He is a flawed human being and that’s so important, because he is the center of this story and we need him to feel real.

In conclusion: holy shit. I tip my hat to you, Dr. Sammon, and I am very excited to be on this ride for the final four episodes.

#dead friend forever #dff the series #thai bl #shan shouts into the void

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rillils · 4 months

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STEVE & BUCKY'S LOVE STORY, UNABRIDGED SOMEWHAT ABRIDGED, part 2/3 (here is part 1)

picking up from where we left off:

some 65 years into the future, steve's plane is fished out of the ice, and they find him, frozen like a sexy hot-dayum popsicle, but still alive thanks to the same super serum that made him go from Smol to Lorge.

steve is thus brought back into the world, but it's a world he no longer recognizes after all these years; a world where all the people he used to know and love are long dead, and his own face has been turned into a tool for propaganda over the years. obviously, he has a hard time adjusting, and he turns to fighting again, joining this group of kinda possibly superheroes, aka the avengers.

lots of exciting new things happen, sure; but steve is still pretty miserable. until one day, a mysterious masked assassin dressed in bondage gear (but not really), and sporting one very shiny metal arm (!!!!), is sent to kill steve's sort-of-boss. and then to kill steve himself. oh no!!

in what is possibly the most gripping, most visually pleasing hand-to-hand fight sequence in the history of cinema,

(NO BUT SERIOUSLY, all jokes aside, if you've never watched it then please do bc it's!!! *shrieks* so fucking good!!!)

a fight sequence which also happened to unlock both steve's and an entire fandom's competence kink with that little sexy knife-flipping trick alone -- i know you know what i'm talking about, don't you lie to me babes--

as i was saying, steve manages to knock the mask off of his opponent's face. and who do you think appears before him? can you guess??

DING DING DING!!! EXACTLY!!! IT'S HIS LONG-LOST BAE BUCKY! who apparently doesn't recognize him??

confused and upset, steve fights to uncover the truth. turns out, the man is indeed the very same bucky he grew up with and loved. only, he didn't actually die in that tragic fall in the ravine; rather, due to the experiments performed on him while he was a war prisoner, he survived long enough to be found and captured by the enemy. who then proceeded to torture and brainwash him, using him as a tool for murder against his will, and literally putting him back in the freezer when they didn't need him.

which, as it happens, is how he stayed so young in the first place: he, uh, spent the better part of 70 years frozen. yeaaah, are the parallels paralleling or what, hmmmm?? preserved in ice like your mom's best lasagna from last week? plunging to a 'death' that isn't really a death? waking up in the future kinda screwed over? :D

ANYWAY

steve is even more devastated than before, now that he's learned that while he was asleep in the ocean, bucky was out there suffering. when he finally confronts bucky again (and it's fucking epic and also fucking heartbreaking, believe you me) steve is desperate to bring bucky, his bucky, back. knowing in his heart that his bae is still somewhere in there, no matter how deeply buried.

in the most critical moment(TM), steve chooses to stay behind, on a plane that's about to fucking blow up around them - just like bucky did for him all those years ago - because if he can't save bucky, then he'd rather die with him.

only, bucky is scared and confused af at the moment, and he attacks steve, because 1) he has a mission after all, he's supposed to kill this guy dammit, and 2) wtf is even going on here??? who IS this man, WHY does he keep saying that they've known each other their whole lives?? and WHY does bucky feel like he's actually seen him somewhere else before?????

AND HERE IS THE PIVOTAL MOMENT OF ALL PIVOTAL MOMENTS: for the first time in his life, steve refuses to fight back. like he literally drops his shield out of the plane and into the river underneath, in a very powerful and symbolic gesture, signifying his surrender: he's not going to hurt bucky anymore, no matter what. THIS FUCKER LITERALLY LETS BUCKY BEAT HIM TO A PULP, WITHOUT EVEN TRYING TO DEFEND HIMSELF, 100% ready to let bucky kill him if that's what's gonna happen here, because that's still better than living in a world where bucky's gone - a world where bucky will look at him and only see a target, or a stranger at best.

and then!!!!

no this is like, this is THE most romantic shit, okay, like you could try to convince me that it isn't for the next hundred years and i wouldn't buy it, because. BECAUSE.

at the very last moment, steve finally manages to break through bucky's brainwashing, breaking the metaphorical spell bucky was under. and do you know how he does that? i ask you, do you know how steve does that, my love?

by repeating to bucky the very same words bucky offered him way back in the beginning, when he proposed asked steve to move in together. till death do us part the end of the line, baby. romeo could NEVER

bucky, who was about to deal the fatal blow, freezes instantly, finally recognizing the man under him.

and when steve falls out of the plane, bucky jumps after him, instinctively saving his life instead.

but bucky can't stay. confused, wounded, vulnerable, and only just beginning to remember who he used to be and what was done to him, he slips away and hides from steve - and from all the other people who might be looking for him, and probably want him dead. you think this is gonna stop steve, though?? now that he knows that bucky is still alive, and that he remembers him??? now that he knows that bucky's not lost to him forever?? AS IF!!

(to be continued in part 3)

#stucky #stevebucky #i have literally no idea how to tag this but???????#the silly stucky recap you didn't ask for #part 2 :D #catws #rillers scribbles

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usedpidemo · 1 year

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Tell your friends (Ive Yujin & Wonyoung)

—————

Thank you @capslocked for the input/advice <3

—————

“What do you think?” asks Yujin, casually, as you’re both walking up the long, winding stairs. A scenario you’re familiar with, but this is completely different from before.

“Of this place?” Your eyes wander around, scope out the surroundings like you’re evaluating real estate. “Eh, it’s fine—I mean, I’ve already been to your place and it’s really nice.”

“First time I’ve heard anyone call this place just fine.” Completely surprised at your reply, her eyes go wide, along with her jaw, as if you’ve said something taboo. “This place is no joke, it makes mine look like an average joe—just like you!”

“Hey.” Offended by her personal taunt, you counter, “At least I’m content with what I have instead of pouring needless amounts of money for this narcissistic shit.”

She simply laughs off your retort. You’re not even trying. Part of the game is you actually playing along. “Gotta keep the image up, after all.”

“What image? That you’re slutting out every night for a ‘random nobody’ off the street?”

“If I wanted a random nobody off the street, I could have at least gotten someone with a bigger cock,” says Yujin, trying to get under your skin. This kind of banter should render you poisoned with all the toxicity, but you’re almost numb to it at this point. Her words hit hard, because she’s speaking the truth. Anyone else could be in your position right now, and you’re luckier than 99.9% of the people on this planet, because she’s still An Yujin—variety queen, fashion icon, and pop star—after all. “Or maybe someone who’s willing to rip through my clothes when I tell them to—”

“Yeah, I get it. You get new clothes that you’ll use for a week, only to stash them away in the storage.” Might as well put on those imaginary headphones to drown out the noise, but you’ve heard it so many times, your ears simply block out her voice. “You’re rich and famous; I’m a nobody. We get it.”

She shoots you a devilish smirk, complemented by a wink before going ahead. Her flawless body and model strut serve as the perfect hall pass; you're willing to give every excuse and exemption just to be with her in bed when it’s all said and done.

The huge front doors swing open automatically. The living room alone dwarfs your entire house and makes Yujin’s look miniature in comparison. Collective chatter fills the atmosphere as guests convene everywhere. Not a single space remains unoccupied with at least two people engaged in conversation over drinks.

Like the visitors at your girlfriend’s party, you have no idea who these people are or what their intentions are. Some of them turn their heads, stare at your direction and greet you hello. They’re not actually meant for you, but for the woman right beside you. To your dismay, she remembers how awkward you are at large gatherings and takes advantage of it. Bumping shoulders, she encourages you to wave back at them. Not the name you want to make for yourself.

So you sneak away from her and escape into the crowd. Passing through different rooms, you eventually run into a familiar face in the entertainment room. The person turns around, meets your gaze in dramatic fashion, and her excitement immediately rises to dangerous levels.

“Hey! Oh! Were you invited too?” asks the girl, enthusiastically, running toward you.

You vividly recognize her cute face—and her Japanese accent. She was the girl who almost uncovered you twice in a single night.

“Oh God—” You grumble, bothered, silently praying your whisper drowns in the sea of loud gossip. “Oh—hi, Rei.”

“You must really be someone special to be invited to Mistress Jang’s party.” Rei suddenly pulls you by the shoulder to whisper something secretive in your ear, closing any opportunity to escape. “You know this is a blue card invitation, right? Only those deep in her social circle can come here, and her private circle is really, really small. Just so you know, there’s an industry rumor going around that the son of a government official offered millions in a bid to woo her, and she turned him down.”

“O-oh, that’s—cool.”

Respectfully, what you wanted to say was that you had no interest in the so-called Mistress Jang, or the corrupt children of the officials running the nation with puppet strings. You were only there at Yujin’s insistence, and nothing else. “Surely he must be fuming that Jang—”

“Shhhh.” Rei puts a finger between your lips to quiet you down. She briefly looks left and right, scanning everything and everyone around you. “We call her Mistress Jang, Miss Jang, or Miss Vicky Jang. The title is very important here.”

“What?” For a moment, you thought you had stepped inside the palace of some ancient dynasty, the way titles are held in high regard. “What are you talking about?”

“You don’t know, huh? Are you living under a rock? Miss Jang is one of the biggest names in the country! She’s Korea’s it girl and national princess. Gosh, every brand she wears—and touches—becomes instant sell outs. She’s like a god even among celebrities!” Rei turns around, scouts the place a second time, as if she isn’t already screaming. Surely, this has to be hyperbole because you’ve never heard anyone with a description this grand, only in children’s role play. “She’s practically royalty, even if she doesn’t have a title.”

“Oookay.” Your lack of interest shows through your dry tone. “Yeah, well Yujin invited me here so—”

“Well, that makes perfect sense. I was thinking you were some kind of celebrity or photographer, but now I also know you’re Yujin’s boyfriend. So, the guy hidden in some of her Instagram photos was you.”

“Right.” Shake your head, slowly drawing away from her and this conversation before you become the center of discussion and treated like an actual celebrity. “So, yeah, it was nice seeing you again—”

“Can I ask you one question?” Her narrow eyes and pouty lips are practically pleading to you. Might as well amuse her just this once. Maybe she’ll finally leave you alone. “Please?”

“Fine, what is it?”

“What kind of person is she in bed?” The question elicits an animated reaction on your face—the kind that gets passed around on the internet as a meme. “I bet she gives really good head—”

“There you are!” Yujin suddenly shouts, interrupting right before it becomes extremely awkward. “Hey Rei! What have you been talking about?”

“Yujin!” The Japanese girl abruptly releases you, meeting her in embrace and exchanging friendly kisses. “Not much, just catching up with your guy about some—” she suddenly pauses, making up an excuse on the fly. “—stuff. Anyway, did you know he doesn’t know who Miss Jang is?”

“I was about to take him to her, actually.”

“Oh no—” You impulsively blurt, losing control over your volume at that moment.

Forget that they’re right in front of you. Forget that you value your own life over some pussy you can get any other time you want.

Surely Miss Jang would be the kind of person who immediately comes for the life of the offending party when the smallest rumor or slander reaches her ears—how much more at an occasion with some of her most esteemed guests, making you an example of what not to do to cross her.

Fortunately, the two friends then turn their eyes toward you, seemingly unaware of your dismayed reaction. Yujin takes you by the hand, but her soft touch doesn’t relax you in the slightest. “I’ll take him to her now. See ya!”

“Of course, have a great night, you two.”

There’s no light at the end of this tunnel; it’s more of a series of unfortunate events connected from one to another. You’d rather take the option of sharing the freakiest, lewdest secrets of your sex life with Rei over meeting this Mistress Jang face-to-face. You had no say in the matter, not when you’re Yujin’s partner and she’s just as highly esteemed of a name, if not greater, as everyone else in the room.

After a flight of stairs, she scans the second floor, where more people are drinking and chatting it up, before heading in. With you in-tow, you head toward the center hallway together. Seemingly uncaring of your hand getting crushed by her grip, she weaves around dashing from one side to the other until she suddenly stops. Her eyes light up when she sees several suited men assembled in a circle surrounding something—or someone.

“She’s over there. Give her a minute,” she says, observing them without giving a moment to consider your squished hand—or you for that matter.

“Understood, Miss Jang,” says the oldest man at the center, nodding. The suited men disperse in different directions like a trained, coordinated army unit. A young girl emerges from the assembly with a cold, steely expression in her eyes and her features.

You expected Miss Jang to be of intimidating, imposing stature, like she could snap you in half like a twig, when really, you’re more likely to toss her around instead. At first glance, everything about her appearance makes her akin to a doll. Pearly white skin, soft, silky lips, and a lightweight figure—everything about her seems curated and designed for maximum appeal to the unrealistic standards of the public. It wouldn’t surprise you if she was actually a life sized model in disguise, with metals and electrical wirings operating the body underneath several layers of unnatural beauty.

Your assumption seemingly comes to pass when she turns her head in a rather mechanical motion, then the blank look on her face shifts to a fixed little beam, hiding any sort of emotion behind them. “Yujin.” Her voice comes out near silent but honeyed, eyes curling into a smile as she recognizes your girl.

“Wony!” She lets go of your hand to hug and give her a kiss on the cheek, treating her like every other acquaintance or friend of hers.

“So, a boyfriend huh? Congratulations,” the other woman replies, reciprocating her friend’s gesture with a kiss on the other cheek. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks. He’s kind of a bum, but he’s all right.” Even around friends, Yujin couldn’t help but make the gap between you and her obvious. You’re properly dressed for the occasion (disregarding the fact she bought and tailored it for you), but otherwise, you’re a fish out of water.

“Come here.” Mistress Jang shoots you a cold stare. Frightened, you immediately follow. Releasing herself from Yujin’s hug, she extends her hand out for you to shake. “You must be Yujin’s boyfriend. Welcome.”

“Um,” You try to think of something—anything—respectful to reply to her with, but ultimately come up with nothing. Sure, she’s not the dangerous boss or demanding overlord you envisioned, but she’s still the most important person in the entire mansion, with emergency protocols practically marked all over her. “Thanks.”

“Please, make yourself at home.” Her eyes lock onto yours, curls into a friendly smile, inviting you to act comfortably in her presence. “I know it’s your first time here, so enjoy.”

“Thanks,” you reply twice in quick succession because it’s the only word you can think of. Other words aren't necessary when it’s the safest option available.

Patting you on the shoulder, then giving it a playful squeeze, she reassures you again, “I know you’re nervous because of the whole Mistress Jang thing, but please, I don’t bite. I would never.”

A little teasing smirk and wink from her makes Yujin giggle. The two women rub foreheads, share a brief stare into each other’s eyes, reveling in their strong bond. “Please just call me Wonyoung.”

“Um, okay. Thanks for the welcome, Wony,” you say, looking over your shoulder, trying to escape those magnetic eyes of hers, but they ultimately draw you back in. No one else in the room other than you three. “You two know each other, Yujin?”

“Of course!” The energy Yujin answers you with is infectious. Your girlfriend plants a kiss on her cheek, hooking her arms around her shoulders. If you weren’t around as a third wheel, they’d make for a perfect pair. If she had her way, she would talk about her all day long. “We’ve been friends for a long, long time. Then she got bigger and richer than me and—”

“No need to compare,” interrupts Wonyoung, facing her with a wider grin. “Let’s not make our guests here jealous.”

A hearty laugh from the two follows, and you can’t do anything but smile. You don’t really find their jokes funny, but at the very least, their tight friendship warms your heart. The way their eyes glimmer when they meet, how rosy their cheeks burn, and how close their lips are from making contact—they love each other dearly and intimately it’s almost invasive that you’re awkwardly watching them, as if you didn’t exist in that moment.

You have places to be and other things to do. Inelegant as it sounds, you’re forced to interject, respectfully. “I think I should be on my way now.”

Wonyoung turns her gaze back at you. “Oh, right. Almost forgot you’re there,” she replies, almost bursting into a giggle at the end of her sentence. “The main event will begin soon. Go and have fun in the meantime.”

“Yeah. Go and have fun,” Yujin repeats, almost taunting. It’s almost second nature for her to tease you. The twosome turn around and walk away, hands still clingy like they can’t live without the other, and their collective laughter echoes all over the room as they leave you alone.

—————

You promised yourself not to stir up a commotion during the party, knowing that anything you do has a high probability to snowball out of control very fast. Only one drink will suffice. It’s not like you’re deeply hurting at all, unlike in the past.

You’re sifting through framed photos throughout the house, mostly of Wonyoung’s silver spoon childhood, but one picture sticks out from the rest—one with her and Yujin that was certainly taken recently. It becomes even more apparent that she’s most likely her only friend, considering she’s the only one present in the photos who isn’t connected by family or bloodline.

“Yo!” A shout breaks your introspection. Turn your head and Rei’s fastly approaching you. This time, you don’t even try to hide your annoyed expressions. “Enjoying the place? Have you met Mistress Jang yet? What was she like?”

Remaining silent, you feign ignorance, looking the other way, back to the photos. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t work.

She’s standing right beside you, smiling mischievously. It's almost trollish, almost pervasive, and downright annoying. You wonder how anyone puts up with her, and how she even gets invited to these gatherings. “Did you see her and Yujin holding hands? They look so cute together! I bet they would make an amazing couple, you know?”

You raise your eyebrows, partially in agreement, but mostly to entertain her, if it means she eventually leaves you alone.

“You know, you’re such a weird guy for being Yujin’s supposed ‘boyfriend’,” she continues, pushing her face close to yours, lips pouting and shooting you mischievous, playful looks. “I mean, I don’t get why she’d want someone like you, unless you’ve got something big down there—”

At this point, you’d rather cut your ears off than listen to another minute—no, five seconds—of her grating prattling.

When you walk away from her, she takes a hold of your hand, causing you to look over your shoulder, furious. Glaring at her, you snap. “Back off.”

“I’m not backing off until you answer me!” Rei’s shouting, trying to make a scene out of this heated exchange. “Serious, I’ve been nice to you the whole time, yet you don’t even look at me with equal respect!”

“What does that have to do with respect? You’re being annoying as fuck!” You don’t mince your words. “I mean, why does it matter to you that I’m fucking Yujin every night?”

She staggers back, eyes wide in shock, jaw slack, and the hand that seized you covers her mouth. It’s the answer she wants, yet it sounds unbelievable. It also draws the attention of everyone nearby, some approaching to see what kind of commotion is happening. There might as well be a huge spotlight shone on you both. You’re the main characters now.

One glance and it rips you from the immersion of the moment. Dozens of eyes focused on you and your co-star, eagerly anticipating what happens after the cliffhanger. The break is long and awkward; nothing exciting happens while you both freeze in place, like the script hasn’t been completed yet. In your mind, you’re hoping someone slaps some sense into you—or wakes you up from this elaborate dream.

“We’re just talking here, not much is happening!” Somehow, you’re able to break character to break the tension. It doesn’t seem to work initially. The onlookers remain observant of the situation, unconvinced, until one person leaves, followed by another, and more disperse, until you’re completely irrelevant in their eyes once more. Even more amazing is how not a single butler stepped in to intervene during the sudden uproar.

Deafening silence follows as you’re both left alone to contend within yourselves without outside interference. One look at Rei and you find her still motionless, like every part of her malfunctioned. Perhaps it’s the bluntness in how you’ve admitted a lewd secret to her or the way you snapped against her that caught her by surprise. You’re not entirely responsible though. She should have known what she was getting into by poking the bear.

Still, you’re a nice guy, and it’s still a heat of the moment action you’ll definitely regret in the morning. “Um, look, I’m sorry, but yeah—”

“Gosh.” Rei suddenly blurts, eyes still wide, staring at you without a single blink that it’s a little unsettling. You expected her to finally calm down after such a quiet, low answer, but instead, she follows with, “I wonder how well she takes your cock—I mean—how well does she give head?”

“Is this how you talk to friends and acquaintances, Rei?” you reply, tilting an eyebrow, more amused than annoyed.

“Maybe—” she rolls her eyes, avoiding your gaze, and you can spot the faintest sign of a devious smirk on her lips. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind if you showed me with your girlfriend’s consent—”

“To all house guests. To all house guests.” An artificial voice echoes over the speakers, interrupting the conversation and grabbing everyone’s attention. “Please gather outside. The special show will be starting soon.”

After the brief distraction, she faces you again with a friendly, mutual smile, saying, “We can talk about this another time.”

Leaving you on another cliffhanger, she spins around and follows everyone outside.

—————

The interior of the mansion is nothing compared to the courtyard. An enclosure so large in scale; it can host a concert or festival. While you and the guests pick seats, butlers form the stage for the performance. Surprisingly, Rei opts not to lurk close by, instead choosing a seat far behind. You, on the other hand, settle for one in the second-most front row area. She doesn’t spot you spying on her a fair distance away, and probably for the best, too, after what had just transpired.

Ignore her. You’ll want to avoid her for the rest of the night. Perhaps if you’re luckier, Yujin decides she’s had enough and wants to leave, but it’s very, very unlikely. It would take the ground beneath you splitting to separate her from her best friend.

Smoke rapidly fills the platform as the stage goes dark. The entrance is grandiose; the audience around you erupts in thunderous applause as two silhouettes flash themselves behind a door-shaped window. You can recognize both figures with ease. With all the times your fingers traced her skin and curves, you could recreate Yujin’s body from memory alone.

The cheering grows as the windows swing open, their faces now in clear view. Yujin and Wonyoung make this sexy pose side by side. It’s almost unbelievable how radically different their attitudes are on stage, and you were just speaking to them a while ago. A handful of phones are stretched out to take photos of the duo, while you’re mentally taking pictures, taking in their overwhelming beauty that cameras don’t do them enough justice. Your girlfriend was always the first thing you had your eyes on, but admittedly, Wonyoung’s making you feel some kind of way, too.

They follow up with a parallel strut that outshines any model. Yujin shoots your side of the audience a flirtatious smirk, and your reaction is no different than anyone else, falling head over heels for her, as if you weren’t her lucky one. Wonyoung’s smile is more innocent, dainty—the kind that warms even the coldest of hearts. Had your fingers not bore deep into your thighs, self-restrained, you might have quietly snuck them between your groin, irrespective of where you are and who you’re with.

You don’t realize they’re singing on stage with the stationed mic stands. You’re mostly immersed in their little sensual movements and the way they motion to the crowd with their hands. You don’t know the lyrics to every song, but you’re bopping lightly, imagining how their tight bodies would react when they ride you in private. There’s a little hum quietly dripping from your lips, not because you’re following along with the tune, but because you’re moaning.

Yujin and Wonyoung perform for half an hour, but you don't waste a single second of it not admiring them. There are times when one of the girls waves or shoots a pair of eyes at your direction, but you remain reactionless, taking in the sight of their perfection before you like they’re a present for your patience.

One more wave to the audience before they leave, to the loudest wave of resounding cheers. They walk back to where they stood in the entrance, flaunting their cheeks before the doors close and they disappear in a puff of smoke. In a different setting, you'd have ran onto the stage and taken them both, right then and there, in front of the crowd, without a care in the world.

—————

You don’t hear a word from either of them for the next two hours. Biding the time, you wait on the outskirts of the courtyard, beyond anyone’s sight, taking solace under the fresh mountain air, occasionally looking through your phone with no texts or calls, looking for a sign to leave. One look over your shoulder and it’s very clear that no one’s going home anytime soon. Taking photos of the two was the smarter play, in hindsight.

“Miss Jang would like to have a word with you.” A steely voice catches your attention. Tilt your head to find one of the many nameless butlers standing upright before you. “Come with me.”

“Oh thank God.” You’re not even hiding your excitement, as evident by that lively pep in your step. You feel your patience is finally being rewarded.

You follow the servant back to the mansion proper, avoiding eye contact with anyone, even when you catch a glimpse of Rei around the corner interacting with another guest. Back up the stairs to the second floor. Not another soul around and not a single sound can be heard. Ultimately, he leads back to the room where you first met Wonyoung before turning around and leaving you there alone.

“Wait, what does she want—” The door slams shut with a loud thud before you can even finish the question. Run back to chase him, but the door remains firmly shut and you’re unable to open it. Knowing how much surveillance there is everywhere, it wouldn’t surprise you if she knew of your little exchange with Rei, whether it be cameras, microphones, or guests disguised as moles.

“No, no, no—” you grumble, each one more fearful than the last. Try as you can to turn that knob, it refuses to budge. Texting Yujin’s your only other option, but you can’t get a good signal inside the spacious chamber, despite previously seeing 5G on your phone. The lights suddenly shutting off would be the last thing you want to happen, and against your wishes, it’s what does end up happening—leaving you entirely in the dark.

It’s the stuff of nightmares: completely shut inside a rich manor, with lights suddenly going off at random, and with no forms of communication. The only thing missing are the windows swinging open to let strong winds blow, but you have to stop thinking more of these grim thoughts before they become reality.

Desperation sets in so quickly; you’re banging aimlessly at the door, at the window, but not even your hardest efforts can move a single inch. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Your fate is basically sealed.

A little gleam clears darkness from the other side of the room. A call to judgment. A slim figure walks in, judge, jury, and possibly executioner all at once. Then the lights come back on, blinding you.

“Hi.” She calls to you gently, ignoring that you’re walking in aimless circles. “You okay?”

A scream escapes your breath, leaving you in your most embarrassing state. “Wonyoung!” You don’t give her any space to ask for context. “Look, if this is about what happened earlier, then I’m sorry—”

“Sorry?” She raises an eyebrow and her lips curl into a frown, concerned for different reasons. “Incident? Are you okay?”

“Didn’t you know? Me and Rei got into an—oh.” Realizing there’s no reason to panic, you relearn the ability to pick up cues, and act like everything’s normal. Wonyoung’s shooting you a wary look, and it’s not far off from how everyone else at this party saw you—at least at one point. “Yeah, no. I was kinda scared because the lights suddenly went off and—”

“The lights? Well, Yujin told me you were a scaredy cat,” says Wonyoung with a small smile. You roll your eyes to the side, far more annoyed than anything else that happened tonight. Take back what you’ve said earlier. Yujin’s the kind of person who’d actually pull those tricks on you, and of course she’d allow her friend to get involved in her own warped games to avoid suspicion. That’s how cunning she can be. She sees you as a sandbox to play with.

“I’m sorry. I called you so I can apologize and because I want to speak to you.” Wonyoung continues quietly, bowing reverently as if she committed an unforgivable crime—something she most likely learned being under intense scrutiny all the time. Forgiveness was going to be given, regardless. This seems completely unnecessary, but you appreciate the sincerity and effort.

“Wony, or Miss Jang, whatever you want to be called—it’s fine, there’s no need to cry about it.” She lifts her head, sobbing a little, and her lips contort into a gentle smile. You can see and understand why she’s so beloved; beyond the wealth, she’s so innocent, pure looking and sounding, all the elements of a likable character in a cute package.

“Thank you.” She nods her head energetically, shaking your hands in appreciation. Dramatic behavior for something relatively minor, but you’re a guest without any authority in her house. Besides, how can you say no to that endearing face? “I’m really sorry. I just wanted to be close with my friend—”

“Yujin? Don’t worry about it. She likes to tease me a lot,” you interrupt, rolling your eyes to the side again, tone mildly disgruntled. Another one of her playful tactics, out in the light. “And I can see you two are really close.”

“Yeah.” Wonyoung brushes a finger against her pink cheek, pouting her lips. “We’ve been friends for so long, I don’t remember anything before we met.”

She suddenly stops, looks over your shoulder, before adding, “We should take our little talk to another room.”

—————

“Thirsty?” asks Wonyoung, walking around the room, scouring for the tea infuser.

“Kind of,” you reply, unsure if you really want a drink—or to drink her. Either way, you’re dying for a taste of something sweet.

While she’s preoccupied with serving you tea, you scan her from head to toe, still dressed in her showy outfit from earlier. A red corset covers her white dress shirt and tie, complemented by her hair wrapped in a cute bun. None of it steals your attention more than her short shorts, showing a glimpse of her plump ass cheeks that ripple when she casually walks back and forth. Her attitude is nothing compared to what she displayed on stage, yet she renders you speechless. In your head, she’s still the daring woman out there performing.

She walks over to you, casually reclined on the comfy sofa, with a fresh pot of tea in hand. Pouring a drink on your cup, she shoots you a heartstopping smile, like she’s facing the cameras; it’s second nature for her to charm. A memory you’ll keep forever. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” Lean over to grab the cup and take a sip. Very hot that it scalds your tongue, causing you to flinch, but it’s tasty. “Mmmmm—hot, hot, hot.”

She giggles in the middle sipping her own self-made drink, but it doesn’t bother her. Admittedly, you’re no religious tea drinker to tolerate it, but on the contrary, she handles it with such well-trained poise. It’s in the little details: how straight her sitting posture is and how she holds the cup in her delicate hand, despite the long nails, along with the saucer—very princess coded.

“Not used to tea?” she asks, before taking another swig at it. “It’s healthy for you, you know that?”

“Don’t really have time for it,” you reply back, mirroring her motion, but the second nip is just as sizzling. As a result, you end up looking even more stupid. She has this neutral, deadpan look on her features, but the little shift in her lips as you burn your tongue on her tea reveals cracks in her well-manufactured character. A very embarrassing display, even behind closed doors. “Shit—I mean, crap, that’s hot—”

“Hey, you can swear here. This isn’t a church.” Her cup is half-empty or half-full, depending on how she sees it, before she puts it down on the table. “So where were we again? Right. Yujin.”

Her name sets off red flags in your head, activating your fight or flight response. Even when you’re in the most secure place in the world, where nothing can hear or see you, she’s lurking around the corners of your mind rent-free. Knowing she’s close with Wonyoung means she’s more than likely in the know about every part of you, down to your most personal parts. The lights prank was the biggest proof of this.

“Tell me. What is she like as a girlfriend to you?” No mincing words, no gentle mood setting opener, she goes straight to the point, yet you’re still on edge. The wary side of you believes she’s probably extracting info that you’re keeping for yourself. It’s the perfect lure; behind all the flashy lights, she has a kind and friendly aura wrapped in a sweet package.

It takes a few minutes to process and think your answer through. Her eyes demand honesty, but to you, it’s probably just a front. She’s a celebrity, after all. She wears a mask everywhere she goes.

“That’s a very personal question to ask,” you reply, emphasis on very. There are lines that can’t be crossed, and this is one of them. You’re not falling for the bait so easily.

Wonyoung tilts her head, cocking an eyebrow, unbothered. “I know. Yujin tells me you’re a great lover, but I wanna hear it from your side. How do you feel about her?”

“She’s a great lover too,” you reply, testing the waters’ depth. Very treacherous. Hope it doesn’t pull you down and drag you to the bottom. “She likes to tease, she’s very playful, and she likes to make me look bad in front of her friends, but otherwise, she’s great in just about everything.”

She lifts her eyebrow and nods, taking mental notes of every spoken word. After a pause, it’s on to the next question. “In what way does she make you look bad in front of your friends?”

There’s still time to swim back to safety, but the waves are growing more turbulent by the minute.

“Er—” you struggle to formulate anything that doesn’t raise a suspicious eyebrow. Either it breaks continuity, or makes no sense. Maybe you’ll float, somehow, but that sinking feeling remains stronger. “She likes to stick it in my face that she can own me if she wants to.”

“And is that not true? You know you’re dating a celebrity right?” Wonyoung places a finger on her chin, staring deeply into your soul. She’s the taller person in the room, but not the bigger person. “We’re kind of narcissistic like that to anyone. You should have known that.”

“If I knew all celebrities were like that, I’d have never come back to her,” you say, using every bit of your willpower not to yell at her.

“Yet here you are. And you’d never be here without her presence.” Wonyoung crosses her legs, mildly entertained as you gradually pull those metaphorical hairs off in front of her. “You told me she was great at everything, right? I guess ruining the bedroom must be part of that, too.”

The sound that comes out of you is almost inhuman. Wonyoung’s no longer acting sincerely, breaking character to laugh at your misery. It was bound to happen with how shallow your brain thinks. Then again, you weren’t in the clearest state of mind when you reconnected with Yujin.

“I get it. She’s very hot. Everyone wants a piece of her. Consider yourself very lucky she’s just that—and not a naggy bitch, unlike some of the people in this party,” she adds, smarmy in delivery that it doesn’t feel like proper consolation.

“Yeah, but what else am I supposed to do? I don’t like being her punching bag.”

“To be honest, I don’t know what you two are like, I really don’t.” Wonyoung suddenly stops, hops off from her couch to sit beside you. Disarming of a tone it is, the answer is anything but reassuring. “But think of it this way. Gotta take the bad with the good, right?”

“I guess.” You take a deep breath, uncertain about what to feel, or do.

“She hasn’t done anything to you tonight, right?” She quietly wraps an arm over your shoulders, inching her pristine face close to yours. Another line crossed. Forget about that, she’s dancing back and forth between those non-existent lines.

“Nope. Haven’t seen her after the performance, either.”

Your eyes meet, and hers twinkle brightly, worthy of a star of her name. It’s the thing you wanted the least to happen. You’re drowning in her gaze.

“Can you do something for me?” she asks, whispering softly. Her breath fills your nostrils with inviting warmth.

“Sure,” you say, without hesitation, throwing all caution to the wind.

“I wanna know what she feels,” she says, each word dripping with honey and rapid growing lust. “I wanna know how she feels with you in bed.”

“Are you sure?” you question, but it’s pointless. Your hands are already tracing the outline of her back, marking new territory to explore, until they cup soft, bare, round flesh.

“I’m ready,” she replies back, eyes gleaming with desire. She shifts her entire weight onto you, pushing you to the bottom of the couch, asserting dominance over you. “She told me how amazing you are in bed, and I can’t help but be curious. I really wanna know what it’s like.”

Before you can even question the security of the place, she’s right ahead of you. Kissing the ridge of your nose, she whispers, “Don’t worry if we’re being too loud. Only the both of us will know.”

Kiss her on the lips in return. A lure until you flip positions. Suddenly, you’re hovering above her. Your hands drag along upward until they grasp the zipper of her red corset. You meet resistance when she quivers beneath you, shaking her head vehemently.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, pulling yourself back into a crouch.

“I want to keep my clothes on,” she whispers, timid and nervous, her demure character gone in an instant. “Um—it’s not that I suddenly changed my mind, it’s just that I haven’t done this before.”

You sit up on the couch, perfectly understanding, quickly formulating a way for you to make her first time feel comfortable. “Tried any toys before?”

Wonyoung follows you, softly grasping your hand. “Played with a few dildos, but that’s about it. I find it quite uncomfortable at times.”

“Hmm.” An idea suddenly hits you like lightning. It’s ridiculous, but you might as well swing for the fences. “Watched porn?”

“What?” Wonyoung’s jaw slacks, caught off-guard by such a rather obscene question, even by lewd standards. She lets a moment to let the question sink in, more on the side of disbelief than looking for an answer. “Yes, but—why?”

“Well, I was wondering if you want to learn how to suck a cock.”

“Mmm, that sounds interesting, but I’ve seen enough ‘movies' to have an idea.” Wonyoung hops off the couch, promptly drops to her knees. Frisky fingers latch on to the hem of your pants, already ahead of you. “Would you like me to suck your cock?”

There was no need to elaborate any further.

You give her an approving nod. Immediately, her fingers work on your zipper, sliding them down. The rest of your pants and underwear follow. Her eyes light up at the sight of your cock, springing to life after being freed.

Looking up at you again, she asks, “Can I?”

Nod again, completely hypnotized by the sight of your shaft close to the perfect, young starlet’s face. It’s almost scandalous how you have what’s basically a goddess in everyone’s sight brought down to earth in such a filthy manner.

“I’m not really good at this, but I really wanna try.” Wonyoung’s being apologetic again before anything happens, and it’s repetitive, but you’ll let it slide over and over. She sticks out her tongue, nervously inching it close to your cock, until it plants atop your tip, breaking your resolve almost immediately.

“Mmmmm.” She gets her first taste of real cock. It's bitter, salty, and everything she expects, everything she craves. That first slurp cools her dry throat, like finding an oasis in the middle of a desert.

“Christ.” You lose control of your senses, eyes growing weary at the sight of her dainty fingers, the way they wrap around the base of your dick, pumping you to full hardness. You can't believe it. There's this surge of ecstasy, and it renders you helpless under her control. "This was your first time? Fuck--"

Sloppy slurps and smooches from her lips reduce you into a groaning mess. She spreads globs of precum all around your shaft, unintentionally spilling little specks on her chin and cheeks. Her eyes continue to watch intently while you fall weak at the knees, clinging nails to the sofa’s linen. Ignore the collateral damage you’re making. It will barely dig into her deep pockets.

The more Wonyoung continues to blow you off, the more seed splatters onto her, making her sparkly features even more glinting. It’s difficult to comprehend just how incredible she is at sucking cock—or maybe it’s just you struggling to think beyond pleasure and nothing else. She claims it’s her first time, yet the way her fingers stroke you with confident and elaborate precision means anything but. The little bits of white that taint her flawless face do nothing but make a masterpiece shine even brighter.

Her tongue continues to slide and make itself known all over your length. It’s almost impossible not to give in to your urges and force yourself down her throat. She’s doing well so far; you can barely hear her gurgle or complain while she takes more of you inside her, little by little. Caress that dark hair, still bundled together in a cute package. She reciprocates your compliment by pushing a little bit further, even when her maw tries to resist, only to cross a line she hasn’t reached.

“Ghhhk, mmmph, ghhhk!” Wonyoung coughs into your shaft, overwhelmed by the fullness of your length, tickling her sensitive part deep in the gullet. You pull her by the bun, release her throaty grip on your shaft with a sloppy pop, letting saliva spill onto the floor and her dress.

“You okay?” you ask, concealing the bliss you feel with a frown. Compared to her, you’re not a good actor.

To your surprise, she slaps you away from her harshly, then shoots you a disappointed pout. More adorable than intimidating. “I was still adjusting, asshole. If your dick wasn’t so fucking big—”

“Gotta take the bad with the good, right?” you deflect what she said to you earlier, chuckling at her cute scowl. Unknowingly, Yujin’s mannerisms are rubbing off on you, but you refuse to give credit where it’s due.

Wonyoung rises from the floor, opting to straddle herself on your lap instead. Your shaft lines against soft, wet flesh. Her hands grab the bottom of her shorts, pulling them up for easier access to her folds. It’s impossible to look anywhere but those magnetic caramel eyes, staring deep into your soul, telling you what she wants, without the need of any needless words.

“I’m ready now.” She rests her hands against your shoulders, looking at you expectantly. That was only a warm-up. It’s time for the real test. “Fuck me.”

You’re briefly taken aback just by how blunt her demand is, but those two words spoken in such a sensuous tone linger. Denying her at this stage would be downright criminal. Her slim thighs wrap around the area where your cock stands, the softness of her skin more than capable of making you cum before you can do anything.

She leans forward to capture you in a passionate kiss, hotter and more passionate than the first. The spell that pushes away whatever logical and moral barriers remain. There’s an angel placed before your lap; time to make her sing.

Lift her up until she gently descends and makes a graceful landing against your shaft. Upon impact, the kiss is disrupted, rocking her entire body with a new, electric sensation. Moaning music into your mouth, she makes it clear how heavenly you feel.

“Mmm—oh God, you’re already stretching me out,” she purrs against you, shutting her eyes and letting all the pleasure wash over her.

“Better than any dildo?”

“Better than any dildo.” She nods, lifting her head to expose her neck, clean and pure—ready for ruin, just like every other part of her.

“Just moan for me, okay?” you say, whispering against her nape. “I’m gonna fuck you like how I fuck Yujin.”

Her body locks as you push deep into her tight, overwhelming cunt. To say she was suffocating would be an understatement. Her sopping pussy proves to be a strong vacuum when you draw back for the first time, pulling every bit of you deep into her core. She’s grasping at straws to not fall apart so quickly. Tugging your hair, neck, and into your expensive dress shirt—none of that bothers you in the slightest, thrusting in a second time, adjusting quicker to her heat than you expected.

You release a breath you’ve unknowingly been holding, looking up at her pleasure ridden face. Her expressions melt in every direction, chest heaving deeply from all the built-up pleasure. “You’re really tight, Wony.”

Resting her forehead against your temple, her palm grips the back of your skull. “And you’re so big.” Praise you’ll never grow tired of hearing from anyone. “C’mon. Do it already.”

In an ideal world, all her clothes would have been gone while you pound into her wet, delicious pussy. This is just as hot, too—maybe even hotter. The usually imperfect Wonyoung looking like your typical girl at the local bar arouses you. So you weaponize those nasty thoughts and do your God-given purpose—to fuck pleasure into their needy, wanton bodies.

Pushing your strained hips up, you pound her, make her sing to high heaven. Hungry fingers hike up the rest of the leftover fabric in her shorts being sucked in by her gap, partially stained from pent up excitement. It’s a familiar feeling, reminiscent of when you were young, innocent and didn’t know any better. Now it’s playing out again, scene by scene, with a few key differences. The girl is different, and you’re nowhere close to being drunk, but here you are—stuck in that old place.

Wonyoung is nowhere close to assertive, unlike her. Her confidence and emphaticness immediately crumble after the first thrust, and freefall even further on the second. She’s not ripping through your clothes, nor is she eager to lead you to bed right away, how she has you glued to the couch with those slender legs. None of that matters when her moans are pornographic, unbefitting of her otherwise pure, princess-like charm that she’s famously known for. On the contrary, her torrid, frantic kisses perfectly embody that trademark allure.

You’re testing those waters again to see how far you’ll go before you inevitably drown. One hand rests at the zipper of her corset, imprinted with your fingerprints, eagerly anticipating her go-ahead for undressing. The other confides on her plump ass molding into your grip, into something truly yours. Meanwhile, she continues to alternate between a mewl and a moan, crashing her body against your shaft to stretch her out even further. Soften her up more with kisses and nibbles on her chin and neck, leave crimson marks as red as her dress. As glowing as she already is, she will shine brighter than the lights above.

“Yujin must be so lucky to have you,” whines Wonyoung, huskily, tilting your face up to meet her fluttery eyes glazed with pleasure, expressions twisting with every overwhelming sensation. She kisses you again. The taste of strawberry flavored lipstick will never leave you. “This dick is so good—”

“I’m still holding back, babe.” Kiss her reddened neck and collarbone. The way she moans in response reminds you of her, a pleasure they both share. “I want you to feel good since it’s your first time.”

Yujin would demand you to up the pace, and lead you to a rushed ruin, but not Wonyoung. “It really feels so good. Keep going.”

Even as you engage in small conversation, your slow, loving tempo rocks her light frame vigorously, releasing sweet melodies you’d never hear from that mouth otherwise. Her tight, sopping cunt flexes against your cock, allowing you smoother and sloppier glides in and out of her core. You’re nowhere close to hitting the perfect angle, but her silvery mewls offer consolation. She continues to envelop you in her tight embrace, hands reaching all over your back, wanting more of you merged with her as possible.

The hand itching to undress her roams down her back to rejoin the other in squeezing her soft, cheeky flesh. To your amusement, she yelps in your ear and she violently quivers, eliciting a silent giggle out of you. A test of the room’s soundproofing, and it works as intended. Her entire body is in your grasp, moldable and malleable in any shape and form to your heart’s utmost desires.

“I don’t know how much longer I can last. I’m so close to cumming,” she whispers, and it only spurs you on to lead her into a satisfying climax. Slow as you are penetrating her, you want the moment to last longer. A few minutes isn’t enough for you to relish the warm sensation of your cock buried in her incredibly tight hole. Still, she has this look in her weary eyes demanding you to pull through, which you happily oblige.

“Where do you want me to cum?” you ask, slowing your pace down that even snails move faster. You’re unwilling to take any risks, especially with someone like her.

“Anywhere you want.” Wonyoung continues to fuck herself against your cock, apathetic about everything else except the high she intensely seeks. “I swear, if you pull out now, I’m going to—”

A kiss on those sensitive collarbones tempers her demanding mouth, back to those broken, varied moans. Another reminder that she’s nowhere close to grabbing you by the balls like Yujin could. As punishment, the dress must come off, but you know it’s not worth the rest of your life in perpetual harassment in exchange for temporary pleasure. You’ve already learned your lesson; she’ll understand it one day.

For now, you settle into that laid back pace, lifting yourself a bit off the couch as much as your legs allow you to. Wonyoung has basically marked down your whole back with her nails, hoarsely squealing and whimpering as her body trembles. You can feel it in every part of her how she’s ready to cum with the way her pussy clenches against your cock, unwilling to let go, just like the first time you entered her.

“Oh god, I’m gonna cum—”

Right on the dot, Wonyoung finally gives in, throwing her head back to let pleasure run its course. It pulls you deep, gives her juices to liberally coat your shaft with delicious waves of slick, dripping on the couch and down to her thighs, forming a lifetime connection with you. The force sends you back down on the sofa, enough to stop you right in your tracks, long before you’re even close to cumming.

“Oh my god, oh my god. I came so much.” Firmly clinging to you, she rests her head on your shoulders, completely zapped of all her strength. Her eyes tilt down to note the wet puddle blocked by your legs. It doesn’t alarm her in the slightest; to her, a replacement couch is cheaper than a thorough cleaning.

Kissing her ear and placing her beside you on the sofa, you quietly ask, “How was it?”

“I came so much. Oh my God,” she says, unable to comprehend she spilled that much. Her gaze remains glued to the wet pool formed on the couch, now seeing the full extent of her wreckage. A curious finger taps the sticky pool to make sure she’s not imagining things. “I don’t think I ever came that much with any dildo.”

Putting back your pants on, you smile at her innocent reaction. She’s still fresh to it all, but there’s a curiosity in her eyes, wanting to learn more. “You’ll get used to it.”

“I really wanted to undress you, you know.” you follow, examining her from head to toe, all sweaty and clothes soiled from a simple session—and you weren’t trying too hard. “I can’t help but imagine what’s beneath all that clothing.”

“You’ll see.” Her eyes have a fiery glint reminiscent of your girlfriend, and all of a sudden, she has this renewed life. “Just so you know, you didn’t cum in me, asshole.”

“Just being safe,” you reply, shrugging your shoulders. “Wasn’t sure if you were on the pill or not.”

“Of course I was on the pill.” Wonyoung looks away, but you can discern the scornful expression on her features, seemingly offended by your comment. “I would never.”

You flash a taunting smirk, ready to play her preferred trick. There was no way this would end after a one and done. “Why don’t we take this to the bed right now, then?”

—————

It was so obvious right from the start.

The door barely grants access to Wonyoung’s bedroom, but you already had a finger directed at the center of the mattress, pointing out the glaringly obvious figure laying on its edge. It doesn’t surprise you in the slightest, and looking back in retrospect, everything building up to this moment was all part of an elaborate plan.The questions, the setup, the secretive location—they were all red flags. Then again, you always think with your cock, not with your brain, especially when there’s a pretty girl begging for it.

“Hey sweetheart,” says Yujin, whimsically, posing on her side like it’s one of her typical photoshoots. Like Wonyoung, she’s still in her performance outfit, but with her hair down in contrast to her junior’s bun. “Having fun?”

“Was,” you retort, but your complaint has no ground when you’re unable to keep your eyes off your seductive girlfriend.

She smirks and giggles, knowing everything’s falling into place. “Wony baby. How was the experience?”

“Pretty good,” replies Wonyoung, smiling from ear to ear. “He didn’t cum in me though.”

“Hey,” you suddenly blurt out, turning your gaze to the younger woman, not even trying to hide your annoyance, because you know what really happened.

“You’ll get yours, babe.” Yujin rolls off the bed to approach you, retaking control of what’s hers from her friend. She then pushes you onto the mattress, staring you down like a hungry predator stalking down her prey, aroused by the taste of blood—or in this case, lust. If not for those fiery pupils watching your every little move, hammering home the fear of God into your soul, there would be some fight in you to resist.

Now that’s a lie, because you would never—she always had her way with you.

“Watch and learn.” Climbing and hovering atop you, slowly spreading your legs, Yujin looks over to her best friend, watching on eagerly to see what it’s really like with you two. She’s seated on the edge of the bed, having restored much of her elegant poise to its clean, camera friendly form.

“You did a great job warming him up for me,” says Yujin, grinding her hips against your clothed prison, already on the verge of blowing up. The two beauties watch in amusement as your tent pitches a second time. Fuck. You’re already leaking copious amounts, it’s quite obvious, and she’s humping you at such a relaxed tempo.

“He really wanted to undress me,” comments Wonyoung, still flashing that princess-like beam, looking innocent in the matter, when in fact, she’s the instigator. “I told him not to, and he thankfully didn’t, but I felt his hands on my zipper a few times.”

“Mmm, being so naughty when I’m not looking?” Yujin’s tone is honeyed, but her movements are anything but. The pace she grinds herself against you quickens, and you’ve never felt so desperate for release, but you had no say in the matter—not when she has your hands tied over your head, kept in place by Wonyoung’s delicate but firm grip. “Were you ready to leave me for her? Good choice, but typical.”

Quick fingers make near-instant work of your pants and underwear, pushed down to the floor in an instant, freeing up your hard cock. Such relieving freedom is taken away just as quickly as it’s given when Yujin seizes you by the balls and your length, setting you alight. Each second burns hotter than the last, a kind of fucked-up form of punishment typical of the justice system.

“Jesus, f-fuck, Yujin—” you hoarsely whimper, visibly struggling to gather air, but it only serves to arouse Yujin, and she reprimands your feeble oppression with a tighter lock on your most sensitive parts, smirking devilishly. It’s useless. For Yujin, this is all play, an elaborate demonstration to teach Wonyoung, but the pain is real. There’s a good likelihood you may not have a functioning pelvis in the morning.

“You’re being very rough on him.” Wonyoung watches on concernedly, but also intrigued by the rather torturous method being performed. She knows she couldn’t overpower Yujin if she tried, and well, she most certainly didn’t want to be on the receiving end of her hands, either.

“He actually enjoys being handled like this, dear.” Yujin makes sure not a single spot in your shaft is left unchecked by her steely hold. The deflated, helpless expression on your face says otherwise, but it’s only a front for what comes after. Little white spurts spill from the tip of your shaft, sufficient evidence to prove her point. “See?”

“Mm, are they like this all the time?” Wonyoung remains unconvinced.

“Not always, but you’ll find one someday—someone who’ll beg on their knees to fuck you.” Her stranglehold on your cock loosens, finally giving you some actual breathing room—at least in your groin. “Didn’t you have that Korean government official sending you birthday ads and flowers?”

“Too ugly for my taste.” The younger woman grimaces at the reminder of that particular man, wishing he never be brought up in conversation ever again, much to her friend’s laughter. “I would never.”

Yujin nods along in agreement. “You’re too pretty for him. I bet he doesn’t even have a big dick like our little friend over here.”

“True.” Suddenly, both pairs of eyes turn in your direction, stare you down with a malicious smirk, full of purposeful intent. You would meet them halfway with your own confidence, but not when you’re in such a powerless position and with most of your strength sapped.

“Come up here.” Yujin gestures to her keen friend, hopping off your lap to make room for the lighter woman. Hiking up her equally short shorts, she hovers above you, giving you a peek of her splayed out pussy—the one you’ve craved for so long. Meanwhile, Wonyoung occupies the space previously occupied by Yujin, smothering you in a sea of soft, creamy thighs. The older woman spins around to face her untrained partner, hanging her cheeky flesh atop your face—a perfect view and obstruction.

“What are you gonna do to him?” asks Wonyoung, eyes wide with curiosity at Yujin’s seemingly awkward and strained position.

“Don’t pay attention to him.” Yujin promptly rests her ass against your face like a pillow, followed by her thighs muffling up your ears. “Get on top of his cock.”

Wonyoung complies, gliding her hips down in a graceful manner until she hilts herself down to your base, impaling her cunt with your hard dick. The inviting, suffocating heat that surges throughout your sensitive body makes you violently tremble. What a position you are in, something that most people in the country could only dream of. Two beauties in the prime of youth, desired by everyone, sandwiching you with their perfect, goddess-like figures. At this point, you were simply an outlet of pleasure to two wanton, hot bodies and nothing more.

“O-oh God—” Yujin lets out a prolonged, tense whine as your tongue licks between her glistening folds, indulging in the sweet taste of her wet juices. Her thighs tighten up in response to your stimulation, closing spaces where you can breathe, but that doesn’t bother you. You craved her more than a drink in a dry desert with the way you lapped up her slick, and her suffocating legs were nothing but practice to hold in your deep breaths. For once, it was nice to have some form of control in the situation.

“You okay?” asks Wonyoung, clambering her palms against your thighs, looking hesitant.

“More than okay. This feels so fucking good.” Yujin’s confident expressions gradually melt away to make room for pleasure to take over. Before long, her slender, hourglass-shaped hips ride against your face, maximizing the areas your tongue can dig into. Her hands cling to your clothed chest for support, unable to remain balanced while you continue to feast on her. Miraculously, she’s still able to formulate a follow up, albeit with a string of stammers and stutters. “S-see? You’ll w-want your guy to be l-like this.”

“C-come on, ride h-his c-cock, d-dear. I-I-i’m s-sure h-he won’t mind.” Yujin reassures her friend with a weak smile that immediately folds under the helpless, blissful sensations her body feels.

Fueled by newly found courage, Wonyoung glides and slams her hips against yours in delicate, graceful motions, still testing her limits. Your primal instincts take hold of you and you thrust upwards in kind, making her thin figure move atop you in smooth waves. It doesn’t take long before their collective moans form a harmonious symphony that you wish you could hear perfectly, if not for the two layers of silky, thick skin blocking your ears.

“F-fuck!” Wonyoung whines, clutching at your waist, but the overbearing pleasure coursing through her body almost makes her fall off multiple times. Thankfully, her closest friend is there to keep her on her toes. “O-oh my God, o-oh God—”

“Feels good, doesn't it?” Yujin rests her hands on her junior’s shoulders while grinding her ass against your face, allowing you an endless fill from her slick fountain. “Just hold on. I’m here, okay?”

Wonyoung nods. Unsatisfied with her limitations, her hips increase in pace riding you. She wants to prove she can handle it, and that she’s ready for more of it. Soon, she grows comfortable, fully adjusted to your length. No longer needing Yujin’s help, she helps herself to her own lewd pleasures, using your cock roughly as her conduit.

Not a single second passes by that you feel your body split in half, moving in two different wavelengths: one half preoccupied with eating Yujin’s delicious pussy, and the other slowly pumping into Wonyoung’s tight, sopping cunt. You’re a quick learner. You know all their sweet spots to hit and create the most satisfying sounds from their lips. Subtlety is the least of their priorities—a point proven when they’re loudly cursing and passionately declaring how good you feel, echoing across several rooms. The rooms might be soundproof, but the entire mansion may as well hear you three fuck.

Between clean licks of Yujin’s wet folds, when she lifts her ass out of your view, you can barely make out her and Wonyoung’s pleasure-ridden expressions. The two friends have begun making out with each other in between lewd moans and whispers, while never letting up the pace they ride you with.

You’d love to lay in this position forever, as the complementary piece for two of the most beautiful girls you’ve ever met to pour out their pleasure in. But you knew deep down it wouldn’t last long, especially with Wonyoung, freshly recovered from your first session with her. She was always a ticking time bomb with a shorter fuse, accelerated by the now vigorous rhythm she rode your cock. It was always on your mind that this was her first, but she was fucking you like she had racked up a significant body count.

“S-so c-close,” whines Yujin, huskily, the first spoken word in a while that isn’t either your name or some kind of profanity.

“M-me too,” adds Wonyoung, breaking sequence with a deep kiss of her partner’s lips. There might be no competition, but the twosome’s intensity rises even higher as they desperately chase after that climax. Your body is close to falling apart, cock throbbing wildly, also on the cusp of sweet release, but you’re merely a silent witness with little to no say. You’re just a channel for them to bask in bodily, sexual pleasure.

It’s all but inevitable at this point. The real question is: who would be the first to cum, the first to start a chain reaction?

Their cries bounce loudly against the walls of the bedroom, past opened rooms as they lose control of their bodies, fucking themselves on you until the dams finally break. Yujin’s muscles spasm and crush you between her thighs. For a moment, you’d think she could snap you in half like a twig. A waterfall and a lake forms on opposite ends of your powerless body, creating two sticky pools on both sides. The powerful double surge of their climaxes is enough to bring you to a full stop, allowing them to drown you in their orgasmic bliss, creating one last crescendo as a swan song to their peaks.

The wave of Wonyoung’s orgasm washing over your cock should make you orgasm too, urging the tightness in your balls to burn up. Thank your lucky stars you grinded to a standstill right as they came, giving you enough time to put up some form of resolve not to cum in her right then and there. You’ve been holding the impulse for so long, but you wanted your load not to belong to her first.

To your regret, Yujin clambers off you, parting her bountiful ass away from your face and bringing you to the light. Similarly, Wonyoung gingerly slides off your lap, rolls over to the side, wrapping an arm around your body, completely zapped of all her energy. Yujin rests opposite her junior, not as fatigued as she is. She can’t resist giggling when she sees the aftermath done to you, your entire face a canvas for her cum, which you clean with your tongue.

“You did a number to her. Good job,” she says, darting her eyes over to her tired friend. She plants a finger on your groin, collecting a sampler of Wonyoung’s juices to taste in her mouth before gathering more to put in your mouth as well. Licking her wet digits, she adds, “Tasty.”

Her words barely register in your brain, and so does the little slick she places in your mouth. Your mind only focuses on one particular thing you’ve always wanted to do the whole night besides fucking, and that is to undress both girls and fuck them.

“You okay, Wony?” You turn over to face the worn out Wonyoung, who shoots you a weak but satisfied smile. She lifts her tired arm to give you a thumbs up, as if her beautiful beam wasn’t enough of a reassurance. “You know Yujin and I fuck more than once, right?”

“I know,” replies Wonyoung, coming out as little more than a faint whisper, mirroring her exhaustion. “Give me a minute. Maybe two.”

Eager as you were, you needed a breather, too, and there was no better place to rest than in the middle of two hot girls, lovingly resting their arms around you like they belonged to you.

—————

You take a beat to wipe the nonexistent filth off your chest as the two beauties stride ahead of you towards the desk table. With the way they walk, it doesn’t look apparent that they were railed to oblivion minutes prior. An insignificant detail that quickly becomes forgotten when your eyes take in the seductive and inviting manner they present themselves to you. Two sets of mouthwatering cheeks peek through their particularly short shorts—the most intrusive thing between you and them.

“Come on and fuck us, sweetheart,” says Yujin, looking over her shoulder with that sultry, near-impossible to resist gaze to entice you with sweet, dirty pleas, as if you weren’t already intending to fuck them hard. You always loved to hear those two words, but it’s a lot more special that she’s not alone.

“You still owe me your cum, baby,” adds Wonyoung, trying but cutely failing to mimic her friend’s motions and sexy voice. There’s still an air of elegance and cutesiness in her projection that almost makes you giggle in amusement, but you wouldn’t dare—not when Yujin’s there, eying your little every move, growing impatient and testy, likely because she would pick her over you any day.

Count your blessings.

It’s not difficult to get hard again, especially with the delicious sight in front of you. You finally rid the pesky dress shirt they’ve never removed and expose yourself down to your barest essentials. Positioning yourself between their legs, you stroke your cock with your hand, paint flecks of precum on their round cheeks, warming yourself up to embrace their heat. It’s impossible not to give their flesh a good smack as a reminder that their clean image is nothing more than just that—an image, a facade. You know them more intimately than anyone else.

“You two are so fucking hot,” you say, peppering their asses with a palmful, first to Yujin, then to Wonyoung. “And so naughty. I wonder what those people would say when they see you looking like this?”

“What did I tell you about kissing ass during sex, sweetheart?” Yujin shoots pointed daggers in your direction, unamused. Wonyoung’s not innocent either, following her senior’s eyes with an intrigued gaze. “Put it in already, babe.”

And that was all she said.

It only takes a moment before Yujin falls back to earth. All of her confidence instantly crumbles as you line yourself between her folds, then promptly invade her tight, welcoming pussy, foregoing all manner of pleasantries. She’s as warm and divine as you always wanted her, made easier and slicker by all the juices dripping and flowing down her toned legs. Her face rolls and slams against the surface, yet it can barely contain her strained cries of pleasure. Frantic nails scratch against the board’s edge as her body reacts to every little jolt, surrendering herself to your every whim.

You don’t leave Wonyoung unattended either. You slip a finger between her soaked lips, watch as her sweet, innocuous face crumbles into something lewd, something corrupted. Her eyes immediately go shut and her mouth goes wide with a whine a pitch higher than her senior before they melt into the desk. She’s a bundled mess, moaning into her friend’s ear as her pussy graciously coats your fingers with thick sheens of slick.

“P-please, o-oh God—”

“F-fuck, f-fuck, aaaaah—”

Their combined voices of strained, distorted bliss, dripping from their pleasure-laden faces spur you on and motivate you to ruin them some more. It’s unbelievable how they present themselves out there with a clean image when they have the most salacious, lewd tongues in private. None of it makes sense, how they could wear skimpy clothing in the sight of the most esteemed and well-regarded people in the room and no one would bat an eye, and they certainly wouldn’t raise an eyebrow with how loud they are as they’re being pounded from behind.

None of that ultimately matters to you. You don’t see two big celebrities in front of you. You don’t see your girlfriend and her partner asking for sex. You only see two of the hottest girls you know demanding pleasure, and you’re more than willing to give them everything.

With one hand gripped on Yujin’s ass and two fingers on the other deep inside Wonyoung’s cunt, you dive in and indulge into their overwhelming wetness. This is the kind of sex you always preferred—without any banter, without any further demands, just mindless submission into each other’s heat, filling the air with only the most pornographic sounds and nothing else. There’s nothing the two can do in response, especially when their bodies are squirming and vibrating beneath you, tightly clinging on the desk for dear life, growing wetter with each pump into their wanton pussies.

Without any voices in your head giving you directions, you have free reign to toy with them, use them as your outlet of pleasure now. So you switch your position behind them, sliding your wet dick inside Wonyoung’s pussy and replacing your cock inside Yujin’s cunt with your fingers. Even as you skip a beat, they’re too enamored in their own pleasures to realize your sudden absence, and far preoccupied by the new presence in their loins to care.

That’s the sequence you follow: mindlessly stroking yourself deep into their hot, drenched cunt while fingering the other, back and forth, ignoring the discomfort you feel in both your legs and fingers from this disruptive cycle. Your only regret is not being able to see the twisted expressions in their stained features without a mirror to revel in their perfect, pornographic image, but the chorus of moans accompanied by your flesh slapping against their flesh are more than enough of a validation.

“Going to cum, fuck,” you quietly announce, not wanting to let one seize demand over the other, but their ears catch wind of your little words. They tilt their heads slightly upward, still in the throes of bodily pleasure.

“Please cum for me.”

“Cum inside me, baby.”

Distinct as their voices are, they’re indiscernible to your ears, especially when they’re so husky and strained. Using the last of your strength, you pull out of someone’s pussy, stroke your throbbing cock with your hand, gasping and grunting as you finally let go. Gripping the other hand on someone’s waist, thick streaks of seed stain both girls’ clothes and cheeks, coat reddish spots of pounded flesh, letting it drip down their butt and thighs, to their boots.

The two girls lie motionless on the desk while you cling to their waist, gasping for air, barely holding out after your powerful release. Their legs and ass glow with your freshly coated sheen under the orange lights of the bedroom, and they sparkle brighter than any diamond in the world.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Yujin’s voice brings you back to reality. She’s the first to catch you in her embrace, cheekily smiling.

Unable to muster up the strength to speak, you simply nod, head still spinning.

“Is it okay if I ask you a question?” Wonyoung asks, having unlatched herself from the table to join in the embrace, pecking your cheek with her soft lips. Your eyes glaze over the young beauty in response.

“Whose pussy was better? Mine or hers?”

A question you certainly have no answer to—nor do you have any intention of answering.

“I guess he’s still undecided,” says Wonyoung, turning to her senior, smirking. “Do you know?”

“Nope. I have no idea either.” Yujin’s sweet grin turns into the same, wicked smirk.

Something’s wrong; you can feel it. You feel yourself staggering backward, saved only by their embrace of you. Yujin and Wonyoung kiss and moan into your body while moving you in the direction of the bathroom.

Possession of control swings back in their favor. They have you exactly where they want.

“Only one way to find out.”

—————

(A/N: Holy shit this one was an uphill one to create. I'm not a Wonyoung simp, not in the slightest even after writing this piece, but her SBS Gayo outfit made me feel some kind of way. Then there's Yujin being perfect as always. This is barely my new longest fic, topping out at a little over 12K words, and working on it became a chore at times. I only revisited this universe only because of those outfits and how good they looked together. Thank you for reading!)

#smut #kpop smut #ive #yujin #wonyoung

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