#and there’s a birthday scene that’s supposed to be like the climax of the first book and show this relationship and it’s first spark

[theamazingannie]

The worst part of being a writer is that you have to know everything. Not just in regards to all the research you have to do for a one-liner (which is hard) but also that if your character has a character trait, you also need to know how to exhibit that character trait. Your character is funny, you have to be funny. Your character is flirty, you have to be flirty. Your character is known for giving the perfect gifts, you now have to also know how to give the perfect gifts. It’s exhausting

[majorblinks]

hard to break the habit, part 2 ((g)i-dle yuqi, minnie)

(smut, threesomes, public sex, anal, double penetration, oral, bodywriting, strap-ons, sex tapes, birthday sex, mentions of blood, biting, choking, squirting, sadomasochism, public humiliation, fluff, polyamory, 29k words, i originally wrote this for minnie's bday so she gets to top for once lmfao, first part here)

“So, about that sequel.” 

It’s the three of you, but it usually is. It always starts with the most familiar scene.

“Ugh,” says Yuqi, arching an eyebrow at you, the equivalent of a title card, opening credits. “Your obsession with sex is genuinely so unflattering.” 

She’s got her hands in Minnie’s hair, thumb skating along the side of Minnie’s neck. Her nail trails across a row of hickeys you’d bitten and Yuqi’d made worse - or maybe the other way around. Oh, well. It’s not like you’re clamoring for recognition, competing during awards season; there’s no point in keeping score. 

“I’m up for it,” says Minnie, smiling. 

Her eyes flutter open, irises so green you suddenly can’t look away. Tilts her head, the line of her jaw an edge you’d love to drag your tongue across. She says, “I mean, I’m always up to get the life fucked out of me.” 

“We get it,” says Yuqi, mouth curling. Her gaze flicks to Minnie’s face, anchors there just like you. You’re supposed to be playing a video game together, but it’s all a completely lost cause. There are too many pretty things in the room to resist. It’s a real problem. “You’re a whore.”

“Just for you two,” Minnie says, so easily that Yuqi actually stops short. 

Her surprise is almost comical, because anyone with a view would be able to pick up on the context clues. Minnie, her head tucked into the crook of Yuqi’s neck, her arm splayed across Yuqi’s stomach, fingers brushing at your palm; Yuqi, working her fingers into your sleeve, tugging absentmindedly; you, and the kiss you’d pressed to the crown of her head seconds before. That’s an establishing shot, showing rather than telling; you’re all a little addicted to the physical. One look at the three of you and any audience would get it on sight. 

“Oh, come on,” Minnie says, grinning when she spots Yuqi’s expression. “That can’t really surprise you, Yuqi. I’ve been fucking nobody but you guys for months.” 

“Yeah,” you add, egging her on. “I thought you were supposed to be the smart one out of the three of us.” 

“I am,” insists Yuqi, but her dark eyes are gentle, lips quirked like a vulnerability. Heroes and their hamartias. “You guys have a collective IQ of, like, five. It’s not a high bar to clear.” 

“Five,” repeats Minnie, jutting out her bottom lip at you thoughtfully. 

“I think it’s gone up,” you agree. 

“Stop talking,” says Yuqi, wrapping her fingers in the strap of Minnie’s tank top and tugging hard, letting it bite into her hickey-smattered collarbone. Minnie yelps, a breathy, needy noise - and your eyes flash right to Yuqi’s. 

“Sequel?” you offer, again. 

The pink’s almost completely faded out of Yuqi’s hair, but it smells sweet, tickling your neck. She’s got her tongue settled at the corner of her mouth, Chekhov’s gun - it’ll come back around just in time for the climax. The kind of criminally gorgeous that turns on you in a plot twist, betrays you and does it beautifully. 

“You and your fucking one-track mind,” says Yuqi, scoffing. 

But there’s the catch that they’re perfect scene partners, dripping chemistry; at her side, Minnie tilts her chin up, effortlessly alluring. Any camera would drink her in greedily, nab all the details: sharp points, places to apply pressure. Slant of her sternum. Slender lines of her shoulders. She’d walk on-screen and turn an audience wild. 

“Well,” you say, grinning at the two of them. “It’s probably a little more than a one-track mind.”

Their reactions might as well be straight from a script; Yuqi breaks on a husky laugh, the echo like music itself. Minnie immediately pauses to watch, drawn like a sound cue, waiting with bated breath for the swell, the shift in tone. It’s art in motion, film in real life. Maybe sex isn’t really the thing you’re all obsessed with, in the end. 

“Ha,” Yuqi says, sarcastic and somehow delighted, all at once. “You’re evolving.” 

“That’s fucked up,” Minnie tells her, smile already beginning to spread. “You know we don’t know what that word means.” 

“What, did you skip basic biology?” 

“Basic what?” 

And it wouldn’t be your kind of art if there was a single hard cut to a happy ending - there’s still a story to tell. You’ll be the narrator, asking your audience to just walk with you here. Stick it out; you’ll get there. Maybe it’s not all about sex, maybe it’s never so straightforward: fine. Maybe you’ll have to look a little deeper. 

(Maybe it’s just each other, then. Maybe it’s just this.)

-

“Oh,” Minnie tells you both, one day. “You should probably know Miyeon’s giving me so much shit about this.” 

“About what?” Yuqi asks, neck lolling to look at her. “Getting fucked regularly?”

All this talk of films - sure, the three of you together is more of an episodic thing, a serialized narrative; every moment slips neatly into the next. Apparently Miyeon and her boyfriend had spent the morning making some romantic breakfast together - crepes, blueberry and chocolate - and by noon you and Minnie and Yuqi are out in the kitchen sleepily scarfing down leftovers. It’s domestic. It’s mundane. It’s a perfect kind of day. 

Yuqi’s sitting on the counter, splitting a chocolate-filled crepe with Minnie. “She’s one to talk,” she’s saying, about Miyeon. “Her teacher boyfriend’s like twice her age and he fucking ruins her every time they get together.” 

“I actually have a question about that,” you say, already on your second crepe. “Or several questions. So, when you say he’s her teacher - do you mean that he’s her professor, like, currently, or-”

Minnie licks chocolate off of her bottom lip; Yuqi freezes, hooked on her mouth. Well, you’ve all got your weaknesses. “He was her high school teacher,” Minnie says, and inexplicably doesn’t elaborate, setting her plate aside. “Anyway-”

The sun’s drifting in through slats in the blinds, a snapshot framed naturally, spilling midday light over the counter, the floor, filtering through Minnie’s glossy black hair. There are subtleties in the set dressing, in the distinct lack of hickeys, bruises; everyone’s able to walk straight, that’s a first. You all stayed the night here yesterday after getting caught up watching some ridiculous rom-com, and managed to miss out on the sex, for once. 

(Well, maybe not for once. There’s a recurring segment, like a bit played for laughs - oh, you all meant to be fuckbuddies; now you’re making a habit of sleeping over, sharing breakfast. It’s hysterical. It’s a riot. Slapstick humor at its finest, how you somehow tripped and fell into each others’ beds, and lives, and you just can’t manage to find your way back out.)

“Her whole point was that I have a bad track record,” Minnie’s explaining. “I have a habit of falling in love with my fuckbuddies.” 

Yuqi stiffens. “She told you that?” She shakes her head vehemently, brows lowering in distaste. “That’s so shitty. I’ll kick the shit out of her.” 

“Is it shitty?” you ask Yuqi, confused. 

Yuqi’s jaw works. She’s inspecting Minnie’s face carefully. 

“Yeah,” she says. “Considering the reason Miyeon stopped hooking up with Minnie was because Minnie fell in love with her, I think it’s pretty goddamn tactless of her to say.”

“Hey,” says Minnie, gently. She lifts her shoulders in a shrug, smile rueful. “I’m okay now. It was a while ago.” Her gaze runs its usual circuit, you to Yuqi, back again. She’s so good at playing parts that no stranger would be able to separate truth from fiction - but you can. You know she means it when she says, “I’m over her.” 

“Still,” says Yuqi, irritated. She’s never so easily mollified. “Want me to talk to her?” 

“Talk to her? You’re just gonna threaten to beat her up.” 

“Yeah, and she deserves it.”

“Yuqi.” 

You’ve all started this thing out by sneaking in and out of each others’ beds like you’re all teenagers engaging in some secret love affair - two’s company, three’s a crowd; that’s what they all say. Dodging roommates and donning each others’ sweatshirts. Playing games like there’s some kind of prize to be won, bruises and bright red lines scraped over skin, tallying up your points.

“She didn’t mean it like that,” Minnie’s clarifying, patting Yuqi’s knee soothingly, hopping down off the counter. “Like, she didn’t say it was a bad thing. She just wanted me to make sure that I knew what I was getting into.” 

But it’s been months now, and somehow, even without all that drama, you’ve learned you can still have fun. 

Everyone knows you’re fucking anyway, you’ve all decided; what’s the point in an act? Alright, you’ll spend entire days joined at the hip, let your friends recognize you all as a trio, as partners in crime. Laze around Yuqi’s apartment playing video games and splitting coffees. Get stern talking-tos at the library because you and Minnie can’t stop laughing at some absolutely foul joke Yuqi makes. You drag them both to the gym with you at least twice a week - Minnie never fails to don the most revealing athletic wear you’ve ever seen; Yuqi always ends up drowning in one of your t-shirts. Minnie rounds you all up at her favorite coffee shop between classes. You go to every gig Yuqi’s band has. There’s a name for this kind of thing - some kind of romantic trope, some cliché.

“She’s my best friend,” says Minnie, settling herself between Yuqi’s legs, fingertips dancing across her thigh. “She knows me.”

She knows this, too, you think of saying. Miyeon, with her fondness for flowery novels and pretentious films, mindful of foreshadowing, the way plot points thread together and tie themselves up in bows. 

“Fine,” says Yuqi, a little petulantly. Her hair’s swept up, pale pink twining down her spine. “But - don’t you already know what you’re getting into?” 

Haven’t we covered this by now? she’s saying. You and me and him. I’ve spent the night here every day for the past week and only half those were because the sex was so intense I couldn’t move afterwards. You know, don’t you? You know. 

Because that’s how Yuqi sees things; she’s got no logical reason to stick around. She’s always got things to do. But she’s here, anyway, with the two of you, letting Minnie touch her however she wants, letting you sneak over and press a kiss to her shoulder, just above her tattoo. It’s a Saturday afternoon, mid-autumn. A moment of sweet, languid silence, letting the scene speak for itself, letting all the main players just breathe. There’s no other word for it but peace. 

“Yeah,” says Minnie, and grins over at you. “Yeah, I think I do.” 

-

Well, the peace doesn’t last very long, but it never does. 

It can’t, really. Not with Yuqi, always something of a succubus, seconds from pulling out claws, fangs, going feral; not with Minnie, submissive like it’s something permanent, invariably ready to get on her knees. Not with you, utterly helpless in the face of both of them - oh, scratch that. You have agency. You knew what you were getting into. The point is that you’ve got a sequel to get to, so:

hey, Yuqi says one day, and it’s not in the group chat for once. you’re at minnie’s place, right?

You are, but you’re far from the only one. There’s something about Minnie and Miyeon’s apartment - okay, it’s not exactly a mystery, it’s gorgeous and way too much space for just the two of them; ah, the things old money can buy - that tends to attract strays. Today that just happens to include some of Miyeon’s friends, laughing with Miyeon out in the kitchen; Miyeon’s boyfriend, flipping through a dog-eared book on the couch; you, next to him, asking him if he can proofread one of your essays. Hey, it’s all about using your resources. 

yes? you text back, puzzled. why?

minnie and i are on our way home. make sure the apartment is empty before we get there. 

Just like that - like there’s no room for debate. ? you text, then: ???????

No response. You stare at your phone for a second, glance up at Miyeon’s boyfriend, watching you expectantly. In the kitchen, Miyeon squeals at something one of her friends says. It’s not even your apartment, but-

hey, you text Miyeon, discreetly. yuqi just texted me saying she wants me to clear the apartment out before she gets back…. can you help please

Desperate times, desperate measures. You’ve learned to read Yuqi’s tone even through texts. It’s an order you’re not about to ignore. 

“Sorry,” you say to Miyeon’s boyfriend, “Yuqi is - you know what, never mind.” It’s a lost cause; there’s no point in explaining Song Yuqi’s whims. Instead-

You wait a beat, and then you hear Miyeon snort out a laugh from all the way in the other room. 

sure, Miyeon replies over text, because despite it all, she’s a girl who knows how to pick her battles. give me like five minutes.

“Sorry about this,” she says to her friends moments later, true to her word, as she’s ushering them out the door. Her boyfriend’s arm is wound around her waist, the staggering height difference between them as adorably funny as it always is. “I totally forgot we have date night tonight.” 

“It’s okay,” says one of Miyeon’s friends - she’s remarkably tall, willowy, voice sweetly soft and understanding. “Have a good time.” 

“Yeah, whatever,” says her other friend, a brunette who is ostensibly wearing sunglasses indoors. You recognize her vaguely as one of the baristas from the coffee shop near campus. “You don’t have to be, like, coy about it. If you’re gonna get fucked senseless, just say that.” 

“Yunjin,” admonishes Miyeon, adopting that faux-scandalized tone that you recognize on the spot. Miyeon’s rarely anything but shameless, but she’ll play her parts. “No - we’re going to dinner. We’re classy.” 

Yunjin slips her sunglasses to the top of her head just to give the most dramatic eye-roll you’ve ever seen. “Sure,” she says, and moves to tug the other girl out the door. “Have fun. Don’t get a venereal disease from having sex in a public bathroom. And don’t get pregnant.” She pauses, purposeful. “Or do, whatever. You’re into that, right?” 

Miyeon sputters; it takes a lot to catch her off-guard, but Yunjin’s doing it wonderfully. “I - you-”

“Bye, Miyeon,” the other girl tacks on, earnestly sincere, and lets the door fall shut, leaving you all speechless in the process - and it’s certainly one way to make an exit. 

-

“You’re welcome,” says Miyeon, standing in the doorway with her boyfriend’s hand clasped in hers. “The only reason I did that is because I know Yuqi will hit me with her car if she finds out I’m the person who cockblocked her.” 

“I owe you one,” you say. There’s no fighting those allegations; when Yuqi’s that demanding, it can only mean one thing. “Thanks. Seriously.” 

You’re about to bid them farewell, but something gives you pause, drinking them both in. 

See, you were right about Miyeon knowing stories like yours, her penchant for romantic novels and tales spun - but there’s this, too. Miyeon, who’s been right where you are now; who gets the way sex and situationships can slip into a future, into a finale, into the rest of your life. 

Well, at least she’s on your side. There are worse allies to have. 

“No problem,” Miyeon says, and her smile spills her own secrets. “Good luck.” 

-

Oh, about your sequel: obviously, you’ve got to outdo yourselves this time. It’s all about setting new standards. There’s a camera, there’s a set-up, there are toys, tricks, daydreams to indulge in, novelties; there’s Minnie, practically asking to be tortured-

The front door slams shut. 

“Hello?” you call, and get nothing back but silence. 

(Contrary to popular belief, you and Yuqi don’t get riled without a reason. If you’re going to rough Minnie up, take her to the point of no return and push her past it, you’ve got to have at least some incentive. You’ve all been fucking so regularly that it’s a given - but it’s got to be a special occasion, to bring out the cameras. 

So: this all means you’re not exactly sure what to expect when you wander into the entryway, but-)

“Oh,” you say, when you see her. “Hey?” 

It’s all there, immediately. The flushed cheeks, stark against the faded color in her hair; lips screwed up, half a pout, half a scowl, cute with an edge, adorable with an aggression. The footfalls of her feet in her platform sandals, determined; she’s in jeans and one of your t-shirts, so oversized it’s slipping off a shoulder. Her fingers flex like she’s thinking of wrapping them around someone’s hair. She’s fuming, from the jump. It’s hilarious. It’s hot. 

“Uh,” you say, watching Yuqi fumble with the straps of her sandals, too worked up to work anything. “Are you okay?” 

“Minnie,” snaps Yuqi, furious in place of an explanation. “She’s fucking - I’ve been out with her all day, and she’s-”

It’s nonsense. You open your mouth, about to ask for clarification - but then Minnie walks through the door after her, and you instantly get the gist. 

“Oh,” you say again, struck. 

“Exactly,” says Yuqi, seething.

Minnie’s not even paying attention to either of you, humming softly to herself as she leans down to slip off her shoes, teeth notched into her bottom lip. She’s in these criminally short black denim cutoffs, riding high and shameless up her thighs, this cropped black sweater, showing off her flat midriff and dipping low at the neckline - every part of her is slender and lean and gorgeous, just begging to be bruised and bitten and scratched - there’s her silky black hair, her eyes green and rimmed with dark eyeliner, mascara, ten times more arresting than usual, half-lidded and devilishly sexy, lips red and throat just begging for a fist around it - okay, she’s not even fucking doing anything, but-

Minnie glances over at the two of you, gathering up her hair in one smooth, fluid motion; it wouldn’t usually be this teasingly hot, but - alright, that’s a lie. It’s Minnie and everything she does is like an invitation to rip her clothes off, or at least it is for you and Yuqi. 

“Hey,” she says, nonchalantly, letting her hair drop back past her collarbones. 

“I’m gonna fuck you up,” says Yuqi, like there are a dozen unspeakably violent urges she’s repressing all at once. 

Minnie’s mouth falls open, somehow actually startled. “What?” 

“You look really hot today,” you translate. “It’s making her, um-” 

“Horny?” Minnie supplies, catching on. 

“Homicidal,” you correct. Well, when it comes to Yuqi, they pretty much go hand in hand.

Minnie cracks into a smile. “I’m hot every day,” she says, planting a hand on her hip. She lifts her chin, and there’s the fantasy again: tall, toned, threateningly attractive. That familiar brand of beautiful, like something you want to rip up and ruin. “I would think you’d be able to control yourself by now.” 

“Don’t be a brat.” Yuqi’s patience is already running thin - there’s a tightrope you’re walking, precarious. There are fault lines, already splitting ground. “You’re such a fucking cocktease.”

“Okay,” says Minnie, still smiling. She’s used to how Yuqi’s sexual frustration practically possesses her, something of a spirit, fury flushing her veins; it’s always a bit demonic, but that’s the fun of it. “Do you want to do something about it?”

She asks it so innocently. She’s always down to push limits. It’s enticing, to her: the opportunity to drag the devil up from hell just to taunt her.

But then Yuqi jerks forward to grab Minnie’s forearm in her hand, and that’s enough for Minnie to give it all up entirely - Yuqi touches her and there’s no point in putting up a fight, not that she’d even want to. She’ll have bruises later. She’ll wear them like jewelry: against her wrists, her neck, bitten into her thighs; rubies, amethysts. This, you’ve come to realize, is a girl who’s used to living in luxury. Sex like this is just another way of showing status. 

So you’ll give her what she wants. “Well, baby,” you say, at Minnie’s wide eyes, as Yuqi tugs her roughly towards the bedroom, “when you’re crying later, I hope you remember that you did this to yourself.”

Minnie blinks owlishly at you, but it’s an act with fraying edges; she can’t hide the smirk unfurling at her mouth. Yuqi throws the door open, says where’s your fucking camera - Minnie doesn’t break eye contact with you, flattens herself against the wall, already prepared to get tossed around and manhandled. She’ll make herself smaller, shyer. She’ll give you exactly what you want, too. 

“Oh,” Minnie says coyly, and she’s always so much more in control than she’ll pretend to be. “I absolutely will.” 

-

(See, Miyeon was only partially right when she wished you good luck: it’s a sweet sentiment, sure, but it’s becoming very obvious that you're not the one who needs it.)

-

It’s the outfit. The shorts, more accurately. It’s what you manage to glean from the way Yuqi gets Minnie on the bed, gets them off and to the floor like they’ve personally offended her. You know Minnie; know she probably spent the whole day bending over in them, irresistible to get a reaction, insatiable when it comes to attention. She’s fond of skimpy clothing - she’s got a figure she loves to show off - and you’re obviously not complaining, because you’re allowed to stare and grope and touch. Yuqi is too, but something about today, something about the mood-

“Here’s what you don’t seem to understand,” Yuqi says to her, voice low and deadly. “If you dress like a dumb slut, you’re gonna get fucked like a dumb slut.”

Your eyebrows raise involuntarily. 

(Look, today’s particular outfit wasn’t even close to the most revealing thing you’ve ever seen Minnie wear - but your gaze falls to the godforsaken shorts abandoned on the bedroom floor, and you kind of get it, regardless.)

You’ll let Yuqi have this one. Plus, you’re not about to start complaining about this, either, especially when-

“Proposition,” continues Yuqi casually, above Minnie on the bed, trapping her wrists in her hands. “You wanna take two cocks at once, sweetheart?” 

It seems like it’s been established by now, the answer to that question: you’ve fucked her throat, Yuqi’s fucked her pussy. Minnie can take dick like she was built for it, her body lithe with a purpose, designed for sin, sex, debauchery - but Yuqi leans in closer, mouth like readying a weapon, preparing a stipulation:

“One in your cunt,” she says, and for a second it’s like she’s already bitten down and broken skin, “and one in your ass.” 

And that’s-

“You think she can handle it?” you say, camera in one hand, lens trained and remarkably still. Minnie whines, inhalations shallow; she loves being talked about like she’s not there, loves the dehumanization of it. It takes a certain kind of person to get off on being treated like fucking property, but-

“She’s a fucking whore for anal,” says Yuqi, dismissively, then laughs, raspy and ruinous. “I mean - she’s a whore all the time, we know that. But she really does love getting fucked in the ass.” 

You reach out, take Minnie’s face in your other hand. “Is that true?” you ask her, almost placatingly; condescension drips from your tone. “You want that, baby?” 

It’s immediate. Instinct, practically. A strangled breath from Minnie’s parted lips; a squeeze of her thighs together, stomach taut and back ready to curve to archways - a tilt of a camera, a discovery of a new angle, a clearer light. It’s rhetorical: you’ve heard it all over again, a million different ways - I’d let you do anything, she says, often and to both of you, halfway to begging; I’d let you fucking tear me apart, I don’t care, God damn, sometimes I just want to get fucked-

“Yes,” Minnie whispers. Then, pathetically: “fuck, please.” 

There’s so much power in having her underneath you. It’s a miracle she ever makes it out of shit like this alive. There’s no real guarantee -  this could be the time that ruins her for good, but that goes for every time. Yuqi laughs, fingers tightening around Minnie’s wrists; there’s her mirth in a minor key, there’s Minnie’s pulse like a funeral march. The risk is just the fun of it, really. 

“Alright,” you say, grinning, and steady the camera; well, it’s all a show, anyway. “Then we’ll make it happen.” 

-

It’s so fast, but that’s how it always goes: Yuqi hates being patient and you’re right there with her. She’s been riled all day, ready to call for warfare. She needs to see Minnie fucked and filled with cock, she says, smirk halfway to sinister, and she needs it now. Just like the two of you, she always gets what she wants, so there’s this:

Minnie, on all fours like it’s an automatic reaction. Yuqi, drenching her own fingers with lube, watching as Minnie whimpers against her pillow, made to part her own ass cheeks with her hands and wait-

Yuqi hums low in her throat at the sight, and shoots you a look behind the camera. “You getting all of this?”

“Obviously,” you say, and your voice sounds just as wrecked as hers; you both purport to have the upper hand, at times like these, but you’re both victims to your desires just as much as Minnie is. It’ll be abundantly clear, when you watch it back. You can’t really bring yourself to care. “Like I’d ever fucking miss it.” 

And you can’t - no one can, no one in the room, no future versions of yourself watching it all back, no prospective audience - as Yuqi presses a lube-slicked finger to the pucker of Minnie’s asshole, and truly starts to fuck her. 

The intrusion kicks a gasp from Minnie’s lungs, air whistling through her teeth. You can’t take your eyes off of her ass, Yuqi’s hands, the nearly feral gleam in her eye; that’s a sight you could get addicted to, no holds barred. Oh, it all shows here, somehow, underneath the abject filth-

“Yuqi-” Minnie’s voice breaks off, a strangled semblance of a moan. “Yuqi, fuck-”

-because Yuqi’s gentle when it counts, in the end. She’ll let violence bloom in other ways: a harsh smack to Minnie’s bare ass, a laugh at the mewling yelp it gets. The way she balls Minnie’s black hair in her fist just to yank her hair hard, just to see her back curve beautifully - just to snarl, “Nasty fucking slut.” 

You can’t look away from the way she works her fingers into Minnie’s asshole, can’t get over the concept, the anticipation, the mind game in motion - Yuqi shoots a grin your way, beckons you closer - the strap-on’s waiting on the sheets, the lens is waiting for a performance. 

“You ready?” Yuqi murmurs. 

You pass her the camera - it’s all about setting the scene, about getting the perfect shot - okay, that’s only in theory, because in reality you know it’s just about getting fucked in more ways than one, but you’ll use your excuses while you can still think clearly - and then-

-

(It’s like it’s all been for practice. That’s the first thing you can even manage to come up with, and even that slips out seconds later, your brain too consumed by the feeling, the physical - Minnie’s cunt clamping down on your cock, Yuqi’s strap-on buried in her ass, and then she starts to thrust-)

“There you go,” you choke out; it’s all you can manage. You’re underneath Minnie, and you can’t take your eyes off that face, her devastating eyes, her lips parted prettily. “There’s our girl.” 

That’s what you mean: like you don’t even have to say it out loud to fall right into it, to fuck Minnie like you’re returning to a rhythm. There are so many days with sex as a sort of sadistic competition, between you and Yuqi - who can hit Minnie harder, make her cum faster, make her scream louder - but it’s never been clearer: you’ve always had the same goal in the end, identical objectives, purposes and paths to ruin. Like you’ve both taken a girl and corrupted her, wholly and completely. Like - like-

“Like you’re just a cheap little whore.” You can’t see Yuqi’s face, but you don’t even have to; the rasp of her voice is enough. “That’s what it feels like, huh? Having your slutty fucking holes stuffed with cock?” Only a part of it is her performing for the camera, you know; get her in the right mood and this is what’ll make it out of her mouth regardless - predatory, ravenous, like she’s been starved for the sound of pain - or pleasure, whatever, like anyone can even tell the fucking difference - and needs to hear it again, and again, and again. “Having his cock in your cunt while I’m making your asshole gape-”

You’re letting her take the lead, but it’s partly because you can barely breathe, Minnie’s cunt like a vice, her perfect face above yours, green eyes dazed and watery, mouth slack and wet. Her body is so hot it’s almost feverish, simmering on high - her blood’s kerosene, her arteries sparking up in flames - there’s a hunger to this kind of craving, how it scalds and burns and consumes-

“Because you know,” continues Yuqi, so thick and rough she’s almost slurring. Her strap-on’s the kind that stimulates her clit, makes her shudder visibly with every thrust. “That this all belongs to us.” A loud smack on Minnie’s ass - Yuqi’s got the camera, probably getting the perfect angle, Minnie’s spine a winding road - you’ve got a view with how Minnie shrieks, tears forming in her eyes and spilling over - and Yuqi says, “We own you.” 

The sound Minnie makes next - needy, desperate, shattering like glass and gorgeously - isn’t anywhere near a protest. Yuqi’s there with her defenses anyway, on the offensive as if Minnie’d screamed out loud, as if she’d writhed and fought it, as if she doesn’t know that it’s exactly the brutal truth. But there’s nothing Yuqi loves more than an argument, so:

“Baby,” she purrs, and cants her hips, “if we wanted to get eight strangers in here to fucking gangbang your tight little body - throw you around and use you like a fucking toy - you know you’d just get on all fours and take it.” Adds snidely, insult to bloody injury: “You’d let us film it, too.” 

You suck in a breath at the image, struck, groaning. It’s one of those moments where everything starts to blur at the edges, tear apart at the seams - anything in the periphery seems to swim, melt, fade to obscurity - Minnie’s always deliciously tight, but Yuqi’s strap-on in her ass takes it up tenfold, makes her cunt nothing less than suffocating - you’re not sure how you’re not splitting her in two, how you’ll ever be able to come back from this-

“Gonna cum,” she whimpers, needy and threatening nonsensical, or it will be, in a few seconds. “Fuck me, fuck me, I’m gonna cum-”

She squirts - right there, right around your cock - but neither you or Yuqi stop. Self-control is fucking overrated, Yuqi’d said to you, once; I like taking what I want, especially when she’s fucking begging for it.

But there’s no space in the room for begging now, no opportunity for that kind of effort, for anything other than cumming, crying. Minnie’s sobbing incoherent - you bring that perfect face in your hands and drag her in for a kiss, and all you taste is salt, sweat, tears - her lips part and she’s drooling into your open mouth, unraveling, reduced to nothing but a wet, well-fucked mess-

It’s like you’re both trying to wear her out, make her something to fuck and tear apart and discard later. Hey, all bets are off in this bedroom. You’ll make her scream your names.

But it’s all about the benefits. You’re wired by the expression on her face, saying, “You know we only do this because you get off on that shit.” There’s your hand to her neck, the way she sees it coming and still flinches, still clenches tight around your cock. “You like when we treat you like a dumb fucking cocksleeve, choke you, hit you-”

It’s practically a cue; you hear how Yuqi’s hand comes down on Minnie’s ass, hear the smack, the strangled squeal. She must go for the curve of her hip next, because Minnie jerks to the side, gasps for air, squirts again-

Time shifts, has a way of becoming irrelevant - everything so slick and wet and sloppy it’s impossible to put a source to; Minnie won’t stop cumming - you and Yuqi have your hands everywhere she wants them, nails finding purchase wherever they can: there’ll be broken skin and blood, her body like a crime scene, but at least Minnie’s fucking asking for it - Yuqi’s panting, demanding, “Fucking cum, fucking cum in her-”

You think Minnie cums at the same time you do, but you can’t be sure. The room’s flooding, your head’s underwater; you can barely hear anything, blood rushing in waves. Minnie falls to the side next to you, gasping for air. 

Yuqi’s above you with a camera, running a hand through her hair. The line of her neck shimmers with sweat. She looks victorious in the way only she can after sex, like there’s a war she’s won. Hair fucked up and falling down her back. Grin like a gold medal. 

“Yuqi,” you say hoarsely, once you can speak.

She turns towards you, and you make your move. 

You get the strap-on off in seconds, push it out of the way. For once, it’s all slow; sloppy but somehow gentle, two fingers in her cunt and your mouth on her clit - you fuck her and there’s no danger in it. Sometimes, you’re content to just make her cum; sometimes, she’s content to just let you. Oh, the roles are fun, the swearing and the slapping - but Yuqi’s thighs tighten around your head and she’s cumming around your fingers with a moan, and there’s nothing that compares to this, either. 

Something clatters to the nightstand next to her. 

You draw back, instantly suspicious, still licking her cum from your lips. “What was-”

But Yuqi’s already got the camera back up again, focused even with her thighs trembling, chest heaving; panning from Minnie’s slack, exhausted face to her tits, to her midriff, where-

FUCKDOLL, it reads, in crude letters across the flat plane of her stomach. Like she’d seen a canvas she just couldn’t resist. There’s an eyeliner pencil on the nightstand, entirely incriminating. You raise your eyebrows at Yuqi, not quite questioning the impulse - you’re so far past that - but entertained by it, nonetheless. 

Yuqi grins back, catches the look. 

“Well, look at her,” she says, stroking her thumb down Minnie’s midriff, pausing to trace the letters, the sweat dappling her skin. Looks back up at you, smirk wicked and wild, and her expression says it all: it’s the truth, isn’t it? Tilts the camera, supporting evidence. She’s calling it how she sees it, how anyone would. Look at how we fuck her, she’s saying. Look at how she’d fucking die for it. 

Hey, she doesn’t need to prove anything to you. You’re seeing it all firsthand. Squirt ruining the sheets, the gape of Minnie’s asshole; her well-fucked cunt, drooling your cum onto her thighs. A toy by any definition - like her body’s designed for it, her pussy, her ass, her brilliantly expressive eyes. 

“Realistically,” continues Yuqi, a little cruelly, “there are way worse things I could’ve called her.” 

But another second passes and she’s giggling, tracing the sloppy letters, enjoying her own handiwork. It’s practically a compliment, coming from her. An endearment. A giveaway. Anyone she liked less would get something much meaner - but it’s Minnie.  

“I don’t give a fuck,” mumbles Minnie, fingers splayed lazily across the drenched sheets. Dazed and only half-alive, words melting into each other like honey. You laugh at the state of her because it’s hilarious, and you kiss her, because she’s gorgeous. She smiles against your mouth, murmurs, “Call me whatever you want.” 

(See, but she doesn’t really need to tell you that, either - you’ve known the entire time.)

-

It’s like that thing all the great filmmakers say: every single frame like a painting, Minnie at your mercy. Vaguely surreal, unbelievable, like she can’t actually be that filthy, that fucked, that beautiful - getting this all on camera; well, it’s something of an art form, if you actually think about it-

“What the fuck are you talking about?” exhales Yuqi, reaching out to brush your sweaty hair off your forehead, affection dulling the snark somewhat. Then: “Oh, God. You’re losing it, too.”

Too, she says, because Minnie’s already long gone, but that’s a given. “No, I definitely have a point,” you protest weakly, throwing a haphazard gesture towards the camera. “We could - like - win awards for this shit.” 

“There is something seriously wrong with you.”

You try in vain for a glare, about to fire back, but-

A breathless laugh. Half a wheeze, so scratchy you would be alarmed - but you know better. Minnie’s got her entire face buried into your shoulder, giggling deliriously, sounding partially like she’s seconds from complete lung failure, a marginally worrying and entirely familiar mark of exhaustion. She’s too adorable to resist, fucked out and hopeless. Yuqi stares, says, “Great. That’s great,” and opens her mouth again, like she’s readying another insult-

Minnie swivels just to tip her cheek into Yuqi’s neck, eyes closed and makeup ruined, a slight, dreamy smile gracing her lips. Yuqi’s mouth snaps shut.

“You were saying?” you prompt. 

“Go fuck yourself.” 

“Not a chance,” you say, delighted, too caught up in the moment to be anything else. “Not when I could be fucking you instead.” 

Yuqi rolls her eyes; she’d probably punch you if she didn’t think it’d disrupt Minnie. “Boo,” she says, instead, and throws you a withering look. “That sucks. You get girls with lines like that?”

Minnie’s laughing again, suddenly. She mumbles something incomprehensible into Yuqi’s neck, then tilts her face out, says to Yuqi, “It got you, didn’t it?” 

“Please,” says Yuqi, never missing a beat. “I’m only here because you guys are better than nothing.” 

But she’s stroking a hand through Minnie’s hair, the curve of her lips soft and honest in a way that she can’t be openly, sometimes; too tender, too shy. She doesn’t try to hide it, but she doesn’t announce it either. She’s content as you lean over, kiss the tip of her nose, make her laugh; content just to be there, with the two of you. Happy to give in, after all of it.

“Right,” you say, smiling back, because you’ll let her confess when she’s ready. “Let’s go with that.”

-

The dust settles, eventually; the camera’s shut off, the sheets are stripped and thrown in the washer, you distribute Gatorades, waters. You rebuild each other, afterwards. You clean it all up. Minnie needs it most, but she always does; she falls right into your arms, in the end. Fine, says Yuqi, I guess I’ll forgive you for dressing like a whore - but she’s laughing.

“Yeah, what was that?” you ask; it’s all unmasked, the curtains finally drawn back. You’ll thumb back through the script, double back on your lines. “I’ve seen Minnie in way sluttier outfits. That was kind of an intense reaction to a pair of shorts that I’m pretty sure she’s worn, like, forty times.” 

Minnie makes a tiny noise of protest - with the kind of money I have? you can imagine her saying, overdramatic and bratty to get a reaction; you know I don’t fucking repeat outfits - but now she’s too sleepy for any real argument, too sated to even want it.  

“I was looking for an excuse to lose my shit,” says Yuqi, shamelessly. She tilts her head, thumb tracing a circle on Minnie’s bare hip. “Plus, she liked it.” 

“I like you,” says Minnie, dreamily. She pokes your cheek, grin beaming like stage lights. “You too.” She pauses, briefly swerves into another train of thought. “Are you actually going to get eight strangers in here to gangbang me?”

“Of course not,” you say, entertained, before Yuqi can even open her mouth. “Yuqi’s too territorial. She’d curb stomp anyone who tried to go near you.” You stop, amend, “Except for me, obviously.” 

“Even you’re on thin fucking ice, by the way,” Yuqi adds, trying her best to glare at you. “No, I’d never have you do that, Minnie. That takes a certain kind of sadist, I think.” She shudders. “To make their girl get fucked by a group of random guys and film it.” 

“What?” says Minnie, smile growing. 

“Aren’t some people just into that?” you ask Yuqi. “Like, that’s what being a cuck is, no?” 

“Wait,” Minnie tries to interrupt, still smiling. 

“Okay, but I think at that point it goes past… cuckism. Like, if it’s on that extreme of a level - that’s just fucked up. For someone to get their girl-” 

“You said it again,” says Minnie. 

Yuqi glances at her, a crease appearing between her eyebrows. “Said what?” 

“I don’t think cuckism is a word,” you say, three steps behind.

Minnie shifts, sheets pooling around her hips. She’s exhausted; you both had to hold her up in the shower, wash her face, her body - she drifted in and out, repeating your name, tipping her face towards Yuqi as if asking for a kiss. Yuqi obliged, every time, cupping Minnie’s cheeks in her hands carefully. There are some things that don’t have to be said out loud.

“You said it’s fucked up for someone to do that to their girl,” Minnie says. “Like you wouldn’t have me do something like that because I’m your girl.” 

For a second you and Yuqi just blink at her, caught out and characters broken. Both of you have told her as much a million times while you’re fucking her - you own her, she belongs to you, like property, like a possession - but you know that’s not what she’s really asking, now. Eyes dark again, full of stars, wide and wondrous. Alright: not everything has to be said out loud, but then there’s this. 

“Jesus,” Yuqi mumbles, pressing a finger underneath Minnie’s jaw - and then she can’t do anything but kiss her. “Yeah, you are, okay? Fine. You’re our girl.” 

“Good,” says Minnie, and curls comfortably between the two of you, like she knows it’s exactly where she belongs. 

-

There’s another life where you’d compartmentalize all of it, draw clear lines. You’d fuck them both and leave without another word. Yuqi’d cut her losses, be just as cold as she pretends to be; Minnie’d slip back into her favorite façades, tall and imposing and intimidating. You don’t need to stay and never did. Truthfully, it’s crazy that you’ve all made it this far, but-

“Cuckism is a word,” Yuqi announces, scrolling through her phone. “I mean, if you consider Urban Dictionary a reliable source. Which I do, so.” 

“One of these days,” you say, charmed by her, “you’ll learn how to lose an argument.”

“That’s never happening,” says Yuqi. “I’m always right. I never lose.” 

She’s wrapped up in a king-sized bed, recently fucked and cheeks flushed, all three of you smelling like Minnie’s shampoo. Content to stay for the night, stay for all of them. Tuck away all her weapons and sheathe the blades. The morning will come, and Yuqi won’t feel the need to run - she knows what it feels like to be safe when she’s had it in her arms for months. 

“No,” you agree, quietly. “I don’t think you do.” 

-

October slips into the frame, eventually. There’s the leaves changing, that bite to the air; autumn’s everyone’s favorite season, here. 

Minnie’s birthday is on the horizon - fucking Scorpios, says Yuqi, rolling her eyes like that means anything - so you get caught up discussing outfits, presents, parties; they’ve got a gig at Club Cosmic a few days after that that they’re trying to put together a coherent concept for, something that goes with their songs, their vibe. They’re searching for something new, they tell you. Soyeon’ll be the one who comes up with whatever they end up choosing, probably - she’s the brains behind the whole operation and always has been. But in the meantime-

“Minnie just wants us all to wear lingerie and cat ears,” complains Yuqi, the three of you walking to your usual coffee shop, soaking up the sun and the weather. “Zero imagination.” 

“I’m saying we should be sexy cats,” says Minnie, unbothered. “It’s, like, a classic.” 

It’s one of those perfect days, more light than lust, more peace than power plays. You’re with your girls and the sun’s high in the sky, blanketed by clouds, hands brushing casually as you walk like you’re right out of a trite, cheesy drama, all three of you. “Ew,” says Yuqi. “What’s sexy about cats?” 

“Miyeon says it’s camp,” says Minnie, whimsically, which isn’t an answer. 

“Miyeon would rather throw herself into traffic than disagree with you,” says Yuqi. “Her opinion means nothing.” 

Minnie’s lips pull up at a corner, amused. “No,” she corrects, “that’s why it means everything.”

The coffee shop’s mildly busy when you enter, but nothing too stifling, occupied by the usual college students and not much more. Some are shamelessly in pajamas, faded sweatshirts, taking up outlets with their laptops. Cramming for exams, probably, writing essays; you’ve been there. Miyeon’s friend - Yunjin - is working the register, chatting with her coworker and the tall, graceful girl she’s with all the time. Yunjin’s saying something to make both of them laugh: the other girl hides her giggle behind her hand, leaning half on the counter. 

“Hey,” Miyeon calls from the table by the window. 

Her boyfriend’s by her side, thumbing through a heavily annotated novel, tiny post-its sticking out from the pages. Minnie draws out her wallet, redirects towards Yunjin - oh, she knows all your orders by heart, and she’ll be generous. She can afford it. 

“Hey,” you say, and you slip in the booth first, take the window seat. Yuqi slides in next to you. “Okay, so, Minnie’s birthday-” 

Yuqi groans immediately, and even Miyeon sighs lightly, moves to take a sip of her coffee like just the mention of it’s exhausted her. You’ve been rehashing this conversation all month, practically. They’re throwing a party, but that’s a given. No, the real dilemma is the presents. 

Here’s the thing about Minnie - something you already know, but Miyeon, who’s known her the longest and still knows her the best, corroborates immediately: she’s not picky, when it comes to gifts. She’s so easy to please, points out Yuqi. Minnie has everything, so she’s happy with anything; she’d be content with something with a sentiment, and that’s all - and it almost makes it harder. 

“What’s an appropriate present to buy your regular fuckbuddy?” you wonder out loud. “Like, what’s too much? What’s crossing a line?”

“Ugh,” says Yuqi, punching your arm. “I’m pretty sure if there were any lines, we’ve already crossed them all, dude.”

She’s got a point. Well, you think, recognizing that you’re sort of on a double date right now, sort of with your favorite people and their favorite people, sort of the happiest you’ve ever been - you’re here, and it already says all it needs to. There’s a silence, contemplating, and then-

“I need help,” calls Minnie loudly from the counter. 

You all turn just to see her trying to balance three to-go coffee cups in both hands, eyes wide and exaggeratedly desolate. Behind the counter, Yunjin’s snickering at her instead of coming to her aid, but that seems pretty on-brand. Minnie casts a dramatic, miserable look over at your table, repeats woefully, “Help, please.” 

She’s adorable. Half the students sitting at the far wall seem like they’re seconds from sprinting out of their chairs to help her, but - obviously - Yuqi’s never gonna let them get the chance.

“You’re so fucking annoying,” she grumbles, standing up to collect the coffees with her. “Stop making that face. Stop. Minnie. Nicha.” A disgruntled sigh, like she’s hopeless. “You’re not as cute as you think you are.” 

Minnie smiles in that charmingly lopsided way of hers. “Yeah,” she says, simply, “I am.”

Oh, you think to yourself - her grin’s too infectious to resist, and you’re sure Yuqi knows it too - neither of you can really argue with that. 

Nobody gets anything done that morning, except Miyeon’s boyfriend, who has an actual grown-up job and constant work, so you let him be. You and Minnie and Yuqi and Miyeon are content to be dumb college students, dicking around, drinking too much coffee, talking too much shit; Minnie goes to the counter, orders two more for you and her. Yuqi scoffs, says things are better in moderation - “Look who’s talking,” you point out, and she kicks your shin. Like you said - one of those days.

Yuqi’s gotta leave earlier, so you’re the one walking Minnie back to campus. Bids you farewell, in the usual way: “Bye, gorgeous,” she says, leaning in to drop a kiss to Minnie’s lips, then moves on- “Bye to you too, whore,” she says to you, but kisses you anyway, deepens it, nips your bottom lip - right there in public, like she’s thinking of inspiring complaints, disgusting any possible observers with the PDA - breaks it off before it can get too extreme, grin vindictive. “Don’t get any public indecency charges without me.” 

“That girl is a menace,” says Yunjin admiringly behind the counter, when Yuqi leaves. 

“Completely,” you agree.

“She didn’t bite me,” says Minnie, unhappily. She turns towards you, tips her face up towards yours, lips pouting. “Make up for it, please.” 

“Oh, nasty,” says Yunjin, somehow even more entertained. 

“Chill,” you say, and Minnie grins, drops the pout and the wide eyes. She’s never really as bratty as she pretends to be, never as demanding; all the things she wants are things she already has. You dip your chin, touch your lips to her hair. Complain, not meaning it, “The face, Minnie.” 

Minnie tilts her head, and in a second she’s fallen straight into sultry, eyelids shuttering in that almost sleepy, sexy way, eyebrows lifting, lips finding a curl. Bedroom eyes, sure - it’s the tone she goes for when she’s trying to seduce, inviting tempers, begging to be tortured. “What about now?”

“You heard Yuqi,” you say. “No public indecency charges without her.” 

“I’m seriously going to throw up,” says Yunjin, lowering her aviators with a manicured nail like it’ll help her examine you closer. “God. I hate people in love.” 

Oh: there’s that word again, like a sucker punch, like something to weaponize - or it would be, but it isn’t, today. The morning’s too beautiful. You’re all too close. Minnie’s in one of Yuqi’s jackets, and your bottom lip is swelling from where she’d bitten it, and you both kind of smell like her perfume. 

“I’ll remember this when you finally fall in love,” Minnie says to Yunjin, without any real animosity. “I’m gonna give you so much shit for it.”

It’s a way of relenting, a sort of confession in itself. Yunjin says, disdainfully, “Never happening.” Shakes out her hair, tucks her sunglasses into the front of her shirt, dark eyes sharp and prettily shrewd. “Love is, like, so fucking overrated.” 

And Minnie - Minnie, next to you, black hair pulled up and bangs falling in her eyes; wearing Yuqi’s hoodie, wearing your arm around her shoulder, proof of people who would do anything for her. Wearing a hickey on her collarbone like a necklace. Wearing her heart in her grin.

“Hm,” she says, and keeps it to herself, for now. “I think you’ll change your mind, someday.”

-

“So,” says Yunjin, passing you two matching vanilla lattes, hot and extra-large. “Are all three of you guys, like, dating, or-”

“It’s complicated,” says Minnie cheerfully, hand clasped in yours. She seems perfectly content to leave it there, so you do. 

-

(She’s a little bit of a liar. You think everyone knows it, already: it’s not very complicated at all.)

-

“I don’t exactly make a habit of sleeping with the same people,” Yuqi says, once. “Familiarity breeds contempt, and all that.” 

“Right,” you say. 

“I’m sorry,” says Minnie, “my brain stopped working after you said breed.” 

“Ew,” says Yuqi, pulling a face. “You’re into all that breeding shit? What the fuck is sexy about pregnancy?” 

“I think for guys it’s like a power thing?” you offer, then confess, “I don’t get it either, honestly.”

“No, no,” Minnie agrees, “it sounds like a fucking nightmare. I mean, the thought of being pregnant makes me nauseous - if anyone ever brought it up during sex, my pussy would probably dry up on the spot. Like, if you want to turn me on, threatening to put me through the excruciating pain of childbirth is not the way to do it.” There’s a pause; Yuqi’s already snickering, taken with her bluntness. “Miyeon was always super into it, though.”

“I’m sure her boyfriend loves that,” quips Yuqi. 

It’s another one of those days: clouds covering the sun, sky threatening to split and storm. You’re safe in Minnie’s bedroom, thrown about the room somewhat; Yuqi’s swiveling aimlessly in Minnie’s desk chair, scrolling through her phone; Minnie’s leaning over her vanity, doing her makeup. Suddenly, Minnie says, “He wrote this story about her.”

You turn towards her from your place on her bed, hugging one of her egregiously oversized stuffed animals to your chest. Yuqi looks similarly puzzled, brows lifting. “What?” 

“Miyeon’s boyfriend.” Minnie squints into the mirror, evens out the precise points of her eyeliner. “He’s a teacher, but he’s also a writer, you know? And he wrote this short story about her.” 

“Was it dogshit?” Yuqi asks, always ready to jump to the least flattering conclusion.

“I wish,” says Minnie, turning to meet Yuqi’s gaze. “No. It was gorgeous. It was like - it’s incredible, you know? To love someone so much that you can make something like that for them. In honor of them, inspired by them.” She stops, then tacks on, a little wonderingly: “I feel like - in another life, I could do something like that. I could love someone enough to make art for them.”

She purses her lips thoughtfully, casually returns to her makeup. Yuqi abruptly can’t stop staring at her. Minnie’s like that; she’ll say things without realizing how they come across, how personal and profound. Like she’s not making your head spin just by opening her mouth. 

“Oh,” says Yuqi. Then, haltingly: “I think I could, too.”

You watch her, can’t help yourself; the way her dark eyes seem to catch a spark, fondness like a wildfire, consuming everything it touches. It’s such a romantic idea, creation and love intertwined. You think that’ll be the most of it, but then-

“You already do that, though,” says Minnie, sweetly, simply, like it’s the most obvious thing. “Through your music.”

And it’s like you can see it - can see the moment when Yuqi’s heart works its way out of its chest and leaps right into Minnie’s hands. Like you can catch the split second, frame it as a photograph, in vivid, screaming color: if it was showcased and shown off, it’d be titled one word, four letters. A seismic shift; one slip-up and you’re falling. 

“Minnie,” you say, unable to fight your grin. 

Minnie glances over her shoulder, your tone alerting her. “What?” she asks, and then spots the expression on Yuqi’s face - and then she’s laughing, swiveling to look at her. Eyes lined in black, eyeshadow shimmering, glitter and gold. Beautiful like it’s something she was born for. 

“Yuqi,” Minnie says, and then, smiling, “Baby.”

“Shut up,” says Yuqi, hotly, and looks away, but she’s smiling too. 

-

Yuqi never actually finishes her point, whatever she was trying to say about not usually sleeping with the same people - but, in the end, you know she doesn’t even need to. 

-

“I was wondering about that, actually,” Soyeon says to you, one day, as you’re out grabbing lunch together. “It’s so weird. I’ve known you probably about as long as I’ve known both Minnie and Yuqi, but-” She shakes her head, purses her lips. “I wouldn’t have put the three of you together.” 

“It’s crazy,” you agree, tugging absentmindedly at the sleeve of your coffee cup. “What about it?” You add, before she can answer, “Minnie says Miyeon thinks it’s more than sex, with the three of us.”

“Miyeon’s like that,” admits Soyeon, full lips in a half-grin. “Hopeless romantic. Also - she’s in love, so she likes to see other people in love, too. She can’t help it.”

“Well, what do you think?” You’ve known her long enough to trust her judgment.

Soyeon’s silent for a beat, considering. Then she says, “You know how Yuqi and I write the songs for our band, right?” 

“Uh-huh.” You spend enough time with Yuqi that you’ve seen her bent over the small notebook she scrawls lyrics in, caught up in a moment or a melody, gaze darting from you to Minnie like she thinks she’ll discover prose in your eyes, her mouth. She smiles, sometimes, like she’s gotten what she’s looking for. Never once says what she finds. “So?” 

Another silence. “I don’t know,” Soyeon says, but her tone suggests entirely the opposite. “She’s just - she’s been happy, lately. Even if she won’t say it out loud, it shows in the things she writes, you know?” 

Yuqi, playing at detached and unaffected, until she isn’t - passion with a bite, affection still sometimes on the offense - and then a second, a misstep, features softening and eyes crinkling at the corners, laugh raspy and suddenly brazen, so gorgeous you think you could stop breathing, just looking at her face. Tucked under your arm hiding from some scary movie; leaning through the passenger side window to kiss Minnie’s forehead before she leaves. It’s all so normal, shockingly easy. Get her outside of the bedroom, and there’s that feeling again - peace. 

You get what Soyeon means. Yuqi won’t give it up that easy, but she’s also not the type of girl to lie about the things she wants for long. 

-

(A moment, a few weeks back. It’s a normal day, or it would be - you’ve all got nothing to do, and that’s the way it begins. 

Yuqi’s got her notebook open on her thighs, penning lyrics as they come to mind. There are points where she’ll pause, hum out loud, fingers tapping at the inside of your wrist like she’s trying to find the chords at your veins, notes in your bloodstream. She’s been inspired lately, she says. 

“Oh, I get it,” says Minnie, slyly, nudging your arm. Her eyes glitter, conspiratorial. “We’re your muses. The songs are about us.” 

“The songs are about sex,” says Yuqi, dryly. 

“Same difference,” you point out, and tug Minnie into your lap, grinning as she squeals. “There’s no one else you’re having sex with.”

There’s a pause, a significance. It’s the three of you crowded on Minnie’s couch, limbs overlapping; sometimes, you’re with them, and there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. 

“No,” says Yuqi, finally, softly, like there’s something she’s confessing. “There’s no one else.” 

You turn, meet her eyes. Minnie goes still in your lap, reaches for Yuqi’s hand, tangles their fingers. You don’t say it out loud, but it’s there, anyway; you’re not going to be able to ignore it forever.)

-

“Yeah,” you say, to Soyeon, smiling. “I know.” 

-

It’s a Saturday, when they give you the full story. Rain, thin and misty outside the windows, streaking down the glass; you’re inside with tea and television shows, curled in blankets. Yuqi’s got some of her coursework on the coffee table, wavering between her textbook and her laptop. You’re all bored. That’s the first step.

Minnie’s recapping the story of how she got involved with the band - she starts with how she met Miyeon, which leads to a long, convoluted narrative of their best-friends-with-benefits arrangement that kind of went to shit - “It was then,” says Minnie, dramatically, “that I learned to never catch feelings for someone you’re fucking,” and you and Yuqi exchange an amused glance. Minnie’s got her legs in your lap and she keeps folding post-it notes into adorably lopsided hearts, tossing them in Yuqi’s direction. There are some phases you’re past.

“So,” you say; you’re pretty sure she’s leaving you in suspense for a reason. “How’d the two of you meet?” 

Yuqi’s fingers pause over her keyboard. She’s in one of your sweaters, hair finally lifted to a striking blonde, loose down her back. Throws Minnie one of her looks: purposeful, devious, smirk deliciously sharp. 

“It’s a slutty story,” says Minnie, after a moment, always too susceptible to the way Yuqi looks at her. 

You raise your eyebrows at her. “When are your stories not slutty?” 

Ah, there’s a point. Minnie smiles sweetly, readjusts her thighs, leaning back into the couch. She’s almost feline in her grace, her intention. “Does that mean you don’t wanna hear it?” 

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” you counter, and Yuqi pushes aside her laptop abruptly, picking up on a mood. It’s not the most suggestive expression - but it’s not the least, either. There’s a lot you could be doing with your mouth, right now; Yuqi stares like she’s calculating just how much, lashes flickering. “I’d love to hear it.” 

“Huh,” says Minnie. Then, demurely, “But it’s not even really that interesting, babe.”

“Fuck off,” says Yuqi, fed up with the games, and enjoying the theatrics regardless. It’s all about the contradictions, with her. “I’ll tell it.” 

-

They tell it together; they can’t resist. There was a party, they inform you. Something like lust at first sight, they say. There was a moment. There was a short dress and there were idle hands and the devil right there in the room with them - and like all bad habits, that’s how it starts.

“Miyeon had just broken things off with Minnie,” explains Yuqi, setting the scene, “so she was looking for a rebound, which meant she was in the sluttiest outfit known to man, which meant everybody in the room was staring at her-” 

Oh, you can see the image just fine; you remember how you and Minnie met. You know what it’s like to see her face and promptly forget anyone else in the world exists. You throw an entertained glance to Minnie, who shrugs, unaffected: she’s not ashamed of her coping mechanisms.

“-and I took one look at her and then I told Soyeon, if I don’t get that girl on her knees in front of me in the next ten minutes I’m actually gonna go fucking insane-”

“Cute,” you say. 

Minnie grins, somehow flattered. “Right?” 

You can see it so clearly - Yuqi will never admit it out loud, but she’s so easy when it comes to Minnie, when there’s a pose or a smile or a look in her eye; the light hits Minnie just right and it’s like Yuqi will drop dead if she’s not touching her. Some nights she won’t let Minnie out of her sight, won’t let anyone else lay a hand on her, won’t let anyone look at her without bringing the claws out-

Well, anyone except for you, but by now that’s old news. 

“And then,” continues Yuqi, and all of a sudden she’s studying Minnie a little too intensely, like she’s projecting the night on her all over again, scrawling the past across her skin, “I went up to her, and I was like, hey, and she was like-”

Minnie waves her hands in the air, giggling - “No, no,” she interrupts, “I was a fucking mess-” 

“She couldn’t even talk,” says Yuqi, smugly, sketching circles over Minnie’s bare thigh, nails blunt with a threat. “She was just staring at me.”

Minnie sighs, throws her hands up, shoots a helpless look over at you - can you blame me? she’s saying, with the rueful tilt of her mouth, and you’ve been right where she was, so you can’t. “I thought she was the hottest girl I’d ever seen,” she says. “Her hair was dark back then, and she was in, like, the tightest shirt, and this black miniskirt - I couldn’t breathe. And she looked at me like she wanted to kill me - and she didn’t even know me.” Minnie shakes her head, always one for the histrionics. “It was so sexy.” 

“Masochist,” you prod affectionately. 

“Yes,” says Minnie, despite it not being a question. “Yeah. I am. Everybody knows that.”

There’s a beat, meaningful. Yuqi cuts her gaze across at Minnie, doesn’t say a word. They’re both recalling history, the beginning of everything. There are no other details at first, but then-

“It was probably a bad idea to tell this story, now that I’m thinking about it,” says Yuqi, belatedly. “It always makes Minnie wet.” 

Yuqi wears arousal more subtly - she’s never as outwardly eager as Minnie, but no one is - but you can see it, regardless; you just know her too well. There’s an indication in the tense set of her jaw, the way she keeps clenching her hands to fists, like she’s already imagining strangling something between her fingers. Minnie’s hair, your cock, either of your throats in a chokehold - pick a poison. It’s that familiar gleam to her eyes: cunningly dark, devastating. They can’t hide a damn thing. 

“We’re all full of bad ideas,” you muse. “Isn’t that how we got into this whole situation in the first place?” 

Minnie shifts conspicuously between the two of you on the couch, bottom lip bitten into her mouth. Light pouring through the windows, the sea-glass green of her irises: she couldn’t be more fucking transparent. 

“Sure,” says Yuqi, carding a hand through her hair. She’d be something out of a classic old-Hollywood movie - the pale blonde, the red gloss on her mouth, the stunning sensuality - but she’s got that vicious edge to her, fatally gorgeous, too rough, too reckless. Well, you wouldn’t have her any other way. “So - you need a reenactment or something?” 

“Jesus,” you say, entertained. 

“I don’t know,” says Yuqi with a sigh. She tips her head, levels Minnie with a conflicted stare, false and facetious. “I’m thinking I need to elaborate a little bit more.”

She’s just looking for an excuse to fuck Minnie. She’s not terribly discreet, but none of you are. 

“I mean,” you say, already where she’s at. “Minnie does look great on her knees.” 

That’s an invitation, and Yuqi knows it; the look in her eyes is enough to whip up the rain outside, drown you all in a matter of minutes - she’ll take down the house, if given the chance. 

“Exactly,” she says, and the devilish line of her grin is so familiar you could cartograph it, pinpoint just where it leads. Redirecting the weather; there are better sources for a storm. Let the wind pick up and bolt all your shit to the ground and wait, wait, wait.

“If you say so,” says Minnie, smiling in the face of a tsunami, and lowers herself to the floor. 

-

They carry it out, right there in the living room. You ask if you should get the camera, but-

“Respectfully,” says Yuqi, the rasp in her voice reminiscent of knives on steel, her ass perched on the coffee table, one hand wrapped tightly in Minnie’s hair, “if I don’t get her mouth on my cunt right now, I’m gonna kill both of you.” 

Minnie’s knees are pressed to the tile floor - she looks like she’s seconds from worship, from complete and utter devotion - she’s tugging desperately at Yuqi’s shorts, at her panties; she knows an order when she hears it, knows a threat when it’s a blade pressed to her throat.

“By the way,” says Yuqi, her eyes locked on yours, “don’t even think about jerking off to this right now.” Minnie gets Yuqi’s shorts to her ankles. “Or you won’t get to fuck either of us for a month.” 

“Please,” you scoff. “Like either of you would survive that long without my cock.” 

Minnie stops, waits for permission, rests her cheek delicately against the inside of Yuqi’s thigh. She’s practically salivating already, but her eyes are big, expectant; she knows the deal by now. You’re all talk, really. You’re the one who wouldn’t make it.

“Believe me,” says Yuqi, grinning deviously down at her, and the dip of her chin’s a go-ahead. “We have lots of ways to entertain each other.” 

Minnie’s eyes snap to you for a millisecond, and you see a smirk so quick you could’ve mistaken it for your imagination - turning tables, proving points - but a second later and she’s perfectly meek again, and completely prepared to demonstrate exactly how good she is with her tongue, so:

“Minnie.” Yuqi’s hand tightens in Minnie’s hair, tendons straining under skin, pale and startling - voice breaking on a rasp, intoxicatingly husky - says, “Jesus, fuck-”

Minnie’s a demon when she’s giving head - when she���s got your cock shoved down her throat, when she’s lapping messily at Yuqi’s cunt - partly because she’s so damn good at it, but partly because of those eyes. 

She doesn’t let her gaze leave Yuqi’s face, not even once. A flick of her eyelashes, fingers curling tight into Yuqi’s thighs; she’ll leave bruises, but it’ll be allowed, for once. Yuqi can’t look away, and you can’t either - Minnie between Yuqi’s legs, tongue-fucking her pussy, so sloppy and filthy you can hear every slick, obscene sound, and that’s almost too much - it’s accosting every single sense, the way Yuqi’s trying not to moan and failing, thighs quivering around Minnie’s head-

“Fuck,” mutters Yuqi, voice low and raspy, cheeks flushed and chest heaving - and no one’s even touching you, but it doesn’t matter. “God - Minnie-” 

(You see a hint of it, then - everything that’s to come. Minnie’s nails are scarlet, digging into skin like she’s capable of drawing blood; her eyes flash somewhere near arrogant, half-lidded and calculating. For a second all her sharp edges - her collarbone, the points of her wrists, knuckles, jaw - turn weaponized, like she used them to kill once, like she could do it again. She’s been so submissive in front of you, so far. You forget, sometimes; she’s taller than Yuqi, imposing when she tries, intimidating when she feels like it. She’s got hands that know what they’re doing. The only reason she ever gets smacked and shoved around and fucked senseless by you and Yuqi is because she allows it.

It’s then and there, watching Minnie - her utter, striking satisfaction at making Yuqi moan her name - that you really start to wonder.)

But it slips away as you watch Minnie make a mess of herself, works her tongue like a professional, keenly aware of each stumble, each hitched breath, the way Yuqi’s face crumples as she comes closer and closer to cumming. Minnie’s the one on her knees, but she’s undoubtedly in control; it’s a side of her you never get sick of seeing. 

(Well - a side of her you don’t see enough of, really. You’ll get there.) 

So you watch, struggling against your own instincts, violent impulses - you believe Yuqi’s ability to follow through with a threat; she doesn’t believe in self-control, until it comes to a punishment. Forced to stay still and painfully silent as Yuqi’s head jerks forward, mouth wrapped around expletives, lips made to part and pant. Minnie’s eyes dart to you, again. She slows her pace. 

“Greedy,” she mumbles, eyebrow in a point like a challenge. “That’s the thing about you two, huh.” It’s not a question. “You’re both so fucking greedy.” 

She’s showing her hand. Yuqi’s hips rock, but she’s too keyed up to get a counterargument out - you’re the one on your knees, she could say, so who’s really greedy here - but Minnie’s licking her pussy again, sucking her clit; there’s no room to manage words. Not that she’d even need to; Minnie gets how to follow orders, knows her expression fixed in obedient innocence makes Yuqi just as wet as her mouth does, knows half the pleasure is in the power of the position, knows when she cums Minnie will lick it up like she does everything else - she will, and she does. 

Later, tracing a thumb over her chin, sucking cum into her mouth: “You’re good at that,” you tell Minnie, as Yuqi’s coming down, thighs trembling. 

Minnie’s clambering into your lap, palm brushing your cock through your pants; you’ve been good, you’ll get rewarded. “At eating pussy?” she asks, eyes exaggeratedly naïve.

At getting away with it, you mean. At maintaining control by letting someone else take it. At hovering in this impossible place between being a toy to use and being the one pulling the strings - at understanding that sometimes, you could tell her, if you let people do something to you, you’re really doing it to them. 

“Sure,” you allow, instead. “I mean, among other things.” 

From her precarious spot on the coffee table, Yuqi throws her head back and laughs radiantly. “She’s multitalented,” she says, as Minnie flicks her focus up at you from her place between your legs - now, you’re both gonna watch her prove it. 

-

It’s far from the wildest thing the three of you have done together, so it’s strange that this is the time that triggers it, but it does. 

“Hey,” you say, to Yuqi, a day where you’re alone together; she’s got her hair tied up and her eyeliner a little smudged, making her dark eyes look even wider, deceptively adorable, gorgeously hypnotic. You can’t stop staring at her - but that’s nothing new. “Can I ask you something?” 

You’re maneuvering through some video game together, something so gory it keeps making Yuqi flinch, reluctantly hide her face half in your shoulder; she’s tough, sure, but never as tough as she acts. “Whatever,” she says, gaze stuck on the game, chewing the inside of her lip. 

You get distracted, press a kiss to her forehead. “You’re cute.” 

“I’m literally not doing anything,” grumbles Yuqi, but looks at you sideways, smile flickering at her lips. “What’s your question?” 

“It’s sex-related.” 

“Naturally.” 

“It’s just…” You’re thinking of the other night, considering terminology. “Do you ever, like - not top? With Minnie?” 

Yuqi shrugs, unperturbed by the query. “Not really,” she says. “I pretty much always top.  I mean, it’s what she likes, with me. I know Minnie likes to top, too - like, she used to fuck Miyeon regularly, and Miyeon is literally the biggest bottom I’ve ever met - but… I don’t know. It’s just what works for us.” She glances towards you. “I’m definitely open to experimenting, though.” 

“Really?” 

Yuqi pauses, inspects your face. In the game, you’re dissecting a dead body; her gaze cuts twice as sharp. “You’re baiting me,” she realizes, caught between pride - she’s gotta respect a good game plan - and irritation; she hates being on the wrong side of a scheme. “You want something.” 

“I think I’m getting better,” you say, thoughtfully. “At the manipulation thing.” 

“You’re not,” disagrees Yuqi, irked, eyebrows furrowing adorably. Doubles back, “Well, you’re learning from the best”- she can’t resist the opportunity to flash her ego - “but - ugh - what’s your point?” 

“Minnie’s birthday,” you say. “We keep talking about how we don’t know what to get her, because she has everything, but…”

You make a vague gesture at Yuqi, drinking her in. Shirt oversized and slipping off a shoulder. Body softer than her words, thighs creamy and flawless, hands small and wrists dainty. Deadly in theory, five-four in practice. There’s a reason you like pushing her buttons, fighting her when you’re fucking; she’s so fun with her attitude, her antagonism, mouth like she’s contemplating murder. But for Minnie-

“It’s just an idea,” you say. “I mean, it’s the one thing she’s never had.” 

Hey, you’ve always sort of wondered what it would be like if Yuqi switched up the part she plays. It’d be a challenge for her, certainly, giving up those survival instincts. Getting someone else at the reins; dropping to her knees and following orders. It seems like it’d go against everything written in her code, but you’ve just got this feeling that-

“Aw, fuck,” says Yuqi, grin blooming, the concept taking root, finding ground. “I think I kind of like that idea.”

-oh, it’d be a challenge, alright, but she’s always loved one of those. 

-

(The one thing Minnie’s never had: complete and total power. Well, there’s a first time for everything.) 

-

So: Soyeon’s not the only one who notices all the recent developments. She’s with Yuqi all the time - she sees her side of it. But Minnie’s different, because when she’s not with you or Yuqi, there’s basically only one other person she spends all her time with, and that’s-

“Honestly,” Miyeon tells you, once, “I think you’ve been good for her.” 

You’re in the kitchen, collecting snacks. The apartment’s having something of a movie night, current partners included - or at least that was the prompt, so Miyeon’s boyfriend is here, and Yuqi is, too. It feels more official than if you’d put a label on it, somehow. You’re college kids, you’re dumb; sometimes that’s how it goes. The tiniest things mean the most. 

You cast a glance towards the living room. She doesn’t say Minnie’s name, but you know. “Really?” 

Miyeon lifts a shoulder, a resigned sort of nonchalance, but you get the secret significance: she doesn’t say things she doesn’t mean. “I think she was…” Her eyes follow yours, trail to where you can both hear Minnie laughing. “Not unhappy, exactly. But - I think something was missing, before she met you. Both of you.” 

“Oh,” you say, suddenly a little speechless. “You think so?”

Miyeon tilts her head. She’d cropped her blonde hair short maybe a month or so ago; it brushes her collarbone. She and Minnie are so close they’re practically joined at the hip; you can’t imagine a point where it wasn’t that way. 

“She loves being loved,” she says, like it’s so straightforward. “I mean, everyone does, on some level, but Minnie - she needs it to breathe, you know? Always has.” Her mouth curls at a corner, gentle and secret. “I don’t blame her. She’s just one of those people. So - so easy to love.”

She leaves it there, silence settling, like there’s something else she could say but doesn’t. A beat - another peal of Minnie’s laughter ringing out from the other room, bright and carefree - and it manages to be enough, anyway. 

-

(But you hear what she’s really trying to tell you: thank you. For being what I can’t. For giving her the things I couldn’t offer. I broke her heart, once; thank you for putting it back together.)

“I didn’t do it alone,” you feel compelled to say. “You know that.” 

“I know,” Miyeon says. “Don’t worry.” Her smile’s so soft it can’t possibly be anything but genuine. “I’ve already given Yuqi my thanks.”

-

“I don’t understand what you’re doing,” says Minnie, the morning of the twenty-third. 

It’s a perfect day, but that’s all of them, when you’re all together. You’re standing idly by, watching her get dressed. She’s making it a production more than anything - dragging her shorts up her thighs, buttoning her loose, long-sleeved blouse up the center, black and purposely, slightly sheer, showing off the lacy bralette she’s wearing - and only Minnie could make putting her clothes on feel like a striptease, but she’s pulling it off perfectly. 

“You take me shopping all the time,” she’s saying, drawing her hair out from under her collar; she’s been growing it out, letting it tumble loose past her shoulders. “And it’s not like you can buy me anything. I mean, no offense, but, like - you don’t exactly have money to burn on me.” 

You snort out a laugh. It’s not a criticism coming from her - just a fact, her tone genuinely puzzled. She’s filthy rich. She’s always the one doing the buying. “I know. So?”

“So this is suspicious.” Her nose crinkles cutely, arching a brow. “And where’s-”

Her bedroom door swings open, and Minnie’s jaw drops. 

Because standing there is Yuqi, blonde hair tied low in pigtails, in a godless fucking outfit. 

Top skintight and black, skirt tiny and dark denim. So much creamy skin on display, her thick thighs, the tantalizing cut of her neckline - somehow the flare of her hips seems pornographic, the sliver of bare midriff - but more than anything is the way she’s got her hands clasped together in front of her, and finally her front fits every part of her face perfectly: the delicate nose, the wide, sparkly dark eyes, so often too brutal to come across as adorable, in these contexts, but today-

Yuqi looks up at Minnie through her eyelashes, chin dipped, and says, “Happy birthday.” 

She can’t disguise the rasp of her voice, and she doesn’t try - but there’s something about it; you’ve spent so much time witnessing her spit venom, demand orders, laugh cruel and cold - and now there’s this new, unmistakable meekness, low and innocently soft, and-

Minnie says, “Holy fucking shit.” 

She’s just staring, lips parted. You run a hand almost demeaningly over Yuqi’s hair, like you would a pet. 

“Like she said,” you say, and grin meaningfully at Minnie. “Happy birthday.” Skate your fingers down the glide of Yuqi’s shoulder blades. “Here’s your present.” 

For anyone else, it’d require more clarification - Yuqi in a mildly slutty outfit, what’s really new - but Minnie observes Yuqi candidly, scrutinizing her like she would a film; there’s the body language, there’s the inflection, there’s the clothing, reflecting a character choice. Yuqi, making herself smaller, quieter, letting you touch her wherever and however you want. She gets what it means. She gets what’s being given to her. 

An opportunity, a power. A chance to switch sides. Minnie tilts her head, says slowly, “Cute present.” 

She’s falling into it fast. It’s a comment meant to degrade and it does its job marvelously. 

You hook a finger in the belt loop of Yuqi’s skirt and tug her forward. “Say thank you,” you instruct, plainly domineering. “She paid you a compliment.” 

Yuqi doesn’t sigh - doesn’t roll her eyes, doesn’t snap at you, doesn’t do anything she usually would in the face of a command like that - and complies, instead. “Thank you,” she says, carefully measured, and miraculously keeps it together. It’s a good sign; like you said, it’s a challenge and she’s rising to it wonderfully. 

(Well, she’s always been competitive: who’s better at being submissive, that’s a new one. Yuqi’s in front of Minnie - the best she’s ever seen do it. She’s got something to prove.)

“It’s your birthday,” you say, to Minnie, hand slipping to trace the hem of Yuqi’s godforsaken skirt. “Do anything you want with her.” 

“Anything?” 

You can practically see Yuqi’s teeth cutting into the inside of her mouth, regulating. She’s not used to being shoved around and humiliated like this; there’s a learning curve - but you dip two fingers between her legs, draw them back just to show Minnie how fucking wet Yuqi is - and you know she loves it anyway. 

“Anything,” you confirm, smiling. “No panties.” 

“Good,” says Minnie. Eyes half-lidded and lined, tongue skimming a corner of her lip, smirk drawing wide. Tone deceptively honeyed; the devil with a new host and a motive. “A slut like this doesn’t really need them, does she?” 

Game, set - Minnie’s got no such motivations. She knows what she’s capable of.

“You’re about to have way too much fun with this, huh,” you say, wryly.

Minnie steps forward, grasps your wrist in her hand, laughs at the slickness coating your fingers. Lets her gaze wander to Yuqi almost analytically; oh, the quirk of her mouth says, you’re so into this - a glint of teeth - oh, of course you are. Like she’d never expected anything different. Like Yuqi, in the end, is just like all the rest of you: so goddamn predictable. 

“It’s my birthday,” Minnie says, a deliberate echo. “Isn’t that the point?” 

Sure, it absolutely is, but you all knew that already. Minnie cocks an eyebrow coolly and grins with all her teeth, not bothering to press for an answer. Drag me to hell, the gleam in Yuqi’s eyes replies; it’s not like I was gonna end up anywhere else.

“Exactly,” you say, anyway, and she drops your arm. “Like I said - whatever you want.” 

-

Okay, fine - it’s October. You’re not, like, actually evil. Minnie wraps Yuqi in one of her jackets, shearling and soft black leather, collar turned up to the wind, says, “She’ll be way less sexy if she dies from hypothermia, I think,” and Yuqi cracks up.

“She’ll be way less hot, you mean,” you say, which seems like the obvious joke. 

“Eat shit and die,” says Yuqi, unappreciative of puns and immediately deadpan - but this hits Minnie so hard she almost tumbles into your side giggling, nearly sends you all careening across the sidewalk, narrowly missing a passing couple.

They send you dirty looks, which only sends Minnie into further hysterics - and then you’re all a mess, dying laughing. Well, that’s the thing about the three of you, when you’re together: forgetting anyone else exists, because it doesn’t feel like anyone else even needs to. It’s a habit you wouldn’t want to break even if you could.

-

“What do you think of this one?” 

Minnie holds the dress up to her body, swivels side to side. It’s a long, silky black slip, dipping dangerously low in the front, tied in thin, crisscrossing laces; you can imagine it on her as easily as you can imagine it on her bedroom floor. 

“Love it,” you say. You nudge Yuqi’s side. “Sweetheart, what do you think?” 

You can almost see the edges of conflict in her, manifesting physically: the dark, slicing sharpness of her gaze, dissatisfied pucker of her lips. Sweetheart: it’s her least favorite nickname to be called, meant to debase - but it’s a special occasion, so she takes it. 

“It’s pretty,” says Yuqi, the timbre of her voice delightfully docile. Opens her mouth again, says almost bashfully, “It’d look really nice on you, Minnie.”

Minnie’s lips curl, enjoying it tremendously. “Thanks, baby,” she says, and moves on. 

So far, Minnie’s been so mild. No getting a vibrator inside Yuqi and making her tremble and try and hold it together in public; no brushing up against her in an aisle, pretending the proximity is necessary. No, actually, the most Minnie’s done is encircle her fingers around Yuqi’s wrist and tug her throughout the mall, making her follow behind. 

It’s like she’s a puppy, Minnie commented, almost too casually - and that’s something that’s got you thinking of collars, leashes, Yuqi with her eyes brimming with tears, mouth open and tongue lolling - now that you’ve opened that door, it’s impossible to shut; there’s a dam rushing in, a flash flood - but clearly Minnie’s got other plans, today.

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to come here,” she says casually, right before she leads the both of you into a very sparsely manned underwear boutique - there’s a salesgirl at the front who doesn’t even look up from her phone - and it doesn’t take a genius to know Minnie’s got an agenda. 

You can tell how impatient Yuqi’s getting, that’s the thing: any normal day and she’d be snapping and losing it by now. She doesn’t like to be the one kept waiting. You’re pretty sure she hates that all three of you keep bouncing from store to store and Minnie won’t just yank her into a dressing room and fuck her, won’t pull you in and get you to join, won’t just put her out of her fucking misery-

But there’s the other thing, which is that Yuqi’s just so game. 

“I’m kind of impressed,” you say to Yuqi, as you’re both waiting for Minnie to emerge from a dressing room. “You’re so well-behaved.” 

And Yuqi - a wolf in sheep’s clothing, a lamb where a lion used to be - turns to you, tiny smile on and lashes batting, says, “Aren’t I always?” 

She rarely goes for these angles - cute and coquettish, ditzy and charming as if by accident - but then there’s her big eyes, her adorably dainty features; it’s working perfectly. The pigtails, the pout; her outfit would ruin it, ordinarily, but she’s drowning in Minnie’s jacket and it somehow serves to make her look even more endearing.

“No,” you say, enamored nonetheless. “Absolutely fucking not.” 

Yuqi’s eyes narrow, but she winds one of her pigtails around a finger, laying it on thick. She’s ridiculous - but it’s so working for her. “What,” she says, “you need me to convince you that I’m a good girl?”

“Dear God.”

She’s smiling again, brows raising. “I’ll do anything,” she tells you, saturated in innuendo. It would be something out of some cheesy porn, not even an attempt at subtlety - but she’s just too hot, and she’s having too much fun with it. It gets you somewhere between exasperated and aroused and impressed with her audacity. Yuqi says, “I could take a page out of Miyeon’s book. I could call you sir.” 

“What?” Okay, that snaps the moment somewhat. “Does Miyeon call her boyfriend sir?” You pause, perturbed. “Her boyfriend that used to be her teacher? That feels - questionable. How do you even know that?” 

“How do you think Miyeon knows that Minnie likes to get fucked in the ass?” says Yuqi, and the crudeness is way more her than the character she’s trying to play. She’s cute enough to pull it off, too. “None of us are capable of being quiet.”

“Um. I’d assume Miyeon would know that because she and Minnie used to regularly hook up.”

“My point still stands.” Yuqi stops, back to considering possibilities, varying nicknames. Tries, experimentally, “Daddy?” 

There’s a short silence. “It’s not my favorite,” you confess.

“Fair enough. Not mine, either.” 

“Mommy?” you offer. 

It takes a second, Yuqi’s gaze sliding up to the ceiling like she’s imagining all the scenarios she could get out of it. “I could get behind that,” she agrees. “It’s hot.”

The curtain to the dressing room slides open, and - “Speaking of which,” you say.

Because Minnie’s standing there in an absolutely indecent pair of lingerie - and now Yuqi’s the one who’s speechless. 

Just the sight of her forces a silence, conjures suggestion - her eyelashes flutter and the world blinks out, leaves her and no one else. Straps delicate and tied up in bows, bra scooping low and panties cut high; intricate vine-like lace decorating her hips, her chest. Running her fingers through her hair, turning from side to side like she’s already posing for photographs. You’ve seen her naked countless times and somehow there’s something so alluring about her in lingerie like this, barely covering her cunt, so sheer you can see her nipples through the fabric, midriff drool-worthy and ass on display. If it were any other day, if you were permitted to shove her to the ground and fuck her senseless-

“I hope you’re buying that,” you say, fighting through fantasies. “I don’t think you’re supposed to just, like, try it on by itself. That seems unsanitary.” 

Minnie simply smiles, serenely, and raises an eyebrow at Yuqi. 

It’s futile. Yuqi’s just gawking, any sort of response clinging to the roof of her mouth and refusing to release. Gaze scouring Minnie from head to toe - ah, if looks could kill, if a stare could strip down to skin and bone - you’re certain Yuqi’s seconds from saying fuck it to the plan and just pouncing, then and there-

“Yuqi,” prompts Minnie, like she knows it’s all it’ll take to destroy her. 

You’re reminded of weeks earlier, Yuqi fucking the life out of Minnie for wearing a pair of shorts - you can’t believe she’s keeping her cool - but then you see the way her throat bobs, swallowing down her own instincts, and you realize that she’s not, really; not even close. 

Yuqi wraps her arms around her body, defense mechanisms obvious. “Um,” she says, and runs her tongue across her bottom lip unconsciously.

“Baby,” says Minnie, bordering a laugh, then crooks a finger. “Come here.”

She takes different strategies than Yuqi does; doesn’t bottle up rage just to let it boil over. The torture’s in the tease, the sweetness: getting Yuqi close to her as if magnetizing, as if skimpy lingerie and a wicked smirk are all it takes to channel gravity. Yuqi can’t disobey, not that she’d want to. She stops in front of Minnie, too close to be casual, too far to be imposing.

“You can touch me, you know,” says Minnie, eventually, sugary amusement underlining her tone. “You’re allowed.”

It’s less a concession and more an assertion of superiority - you’re only here because I’m letting you, that’s what Minnie’s really saying; darling, you’re only looking at me because I’m giving you permission. It doesn’t go unnoticed, or unheeded. Yuqi steps forward further, and takes a breath. 

“So,” says Minnie, as Yuqi’s hands trace her sides, fingernails grazing the thin lace, skimming the curve of her ass - she’s touching Minnie like she’s breakable, which you’ve never seen her do; cautious around her like you would be with a wild animal, waiting for them to coil and strike. “What do you think?” Minnie’s eyes track her face. Tacks on, like it needs clarification: “Of the lingerie.”

“It’s - it’s nice.” Yuqi’s voice unravels, stretched thin and hoarse. 

See, Minnie’s good, tapping into all her weaknesses; the one thing Yuqi can’t handle is seeing everything she wants when she can’t have it. Forbidden fruit, temptation personified. Minnie in black lingerie, something straight off a particularly erotic movie screen - you’re thinking of what constitutes a femme fatale, so hot you could call it villainy. 

“Nice, huh?” And now Minnie’s the one touching Yuqi, tangling her grip in one of her pigtails, threatening to tug. You’ve seen glimpses of this side of her - the sharp edge of a smirk one day, nail digging in like claws another, eyes like supernovas, collapsing - but they’ve never truly done her justice. “Any other adjectives you want to try?” 

“Minnie,” says Yuqi, voice breathy, and then Minnie does yank on her hair - and the whimper it gets from Yuqi is depraved. 

“That’s a noun,” says Minnie, and you actually snort out a laugh. “Try again.” 

“I can’t,” says Yuqi, almost furiously; her temper and her libido go hand in hand, but she takes note of the tilt of Minnie’s mouth, modulates, lets herself be pulled at, pulled in. “You’re so - hot.” 

“Aw.” Distinctly pleasant, voice bearing arrogance. “No, see, you got there.”

Her fingers deftly fall from the strap of Yuqi’s top to her hips, to her thighs. Yuqi can’t stop staring at her, ravenous and starved, knuckles bloodless from how she’s clutching her hands into fists. Minnie just laughs airily - “Oh,” she coos, “you’re adorable when you’re desperate” - and continues her path underneath Yuqi’s skirt, doesn’t inch higher than the hem. 

Yuqi’s chest heaves; it’s like she can’t manage another word. Minnie tuts like she’s chiding her.

“You’re so greedy,” she notes, a purposeful reprise of a weeks-old comment. “You just take what you want all the time, huh? You think you deserve it?” Clicks her tongue, expression measuring up to condescending sympathy. “Because you just can’t control yourself when you’re horny.” Laugh ringing out again, light and breathy. “Like a fucking animal in heat. No manners at all.” 

Yuqi’s mouth falls open. 

Look, Minnie doesn’t take the same war plans; doesn’t go for the jugular as much as a knife to the back, sneaky and sly, seduction as a battle tactic. Not even a lick of temper. Not getting mad so much as getting even. Minnie could handle Yuqi in the same way you do, matching her blow for blow, taking out fists and firearms - but it wouldn’t undo her like this does. Body wrapped in ribbons. Smile amicable and intact. 

“Let’s try this.” And suddenly Minnie’s yanking up the hem of Yuqi’s skirt, exposing her dripping cunt. You’re in public - the changing area’s barely closed off, anyone could walk in, anyone could see and say something-

But Minnie doesn’t even seem fazed. “How about” - an indulgent twist of her eyebrow, relentlessly composed - “you ask me very nicely for whatever it is you want.” Takes in Yuqi’s glistening pussy and spit-slick lips like it’s a daily occurrence, mildly comical and not much more. “Maybe even throw a please in there for once and I’ll think about giving it to you.” 

“Holy shit,” you mutter. Minnie’s grin widens a fraction, feral. 

Yuqi’s visibly caught off-guard, off-kilter - it’s obvious that whatever she was expecting, it wasn’t this - she squirms in place, thighs clenching - it’s obvious it’s making her so fucking wet.

“Minnie,” she says, tremulous. 

“That’s my name,” says Minnie, patiently. 

All the time you’ve spent with Yuqi - all her brutality and mercilessness and domineering sadism, all that insurmountable ego, all the power plays and viperous poison; heroes and their hubris - and it all crashes in an instant, here and now. 

“I - I just-” Yuqi stops, stammers, as if shellshocked by the sound of her own voice, the pathetic neediness in it: “I want you to fuck me. Please. Minnie.” Her name like a plea, like a prayer. “I’m so - so wet, and you - and I - I just want to get fucked.”

They’re so close together; another step and Minnie could slap Yuqi across the face, could wring her neck, could wrap her hand in the front of her shirt and tug her in for a kiss, put her out of her misery - but she only smiles, instead. 

“I don’t know if I’m convinced,” says Minnie, expression never leaving agreeable. “Maybe get on your knees this time.” 

It’s the perfect move - a punch, a pin pulled, a call for checkmate. There’s a beat, then two, three, then-

It’s a testament to Yuqi’s commitment to the character - okay, it’s more likely she isn’t even thinking about anything but getting railed right now, but who’s really keeping count - how she sinks to the floor, blinking fast and pupils blown, publicly in her place. Hands clasped firmly in her lap like she’s scared of what’ll happen if she doesn’t keep track of them. Chin tilted upwards like she’s praying to a god. 

And then she just breaks. 

“Minnie,” Yuqi says, a whine trapped in her throat, and everyone knows she’s about to start begging. “I really need it, I really need to get fucked, I need - your fingers, your tongue, fucking anything, I’ll do anything, I just - I’m sorry for everything, I’m sorry I was greedy, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know I’m so selfish, I just want to get fucked and you’re so hot and my pussy’s so wet and no one makes me cum like you do - please fuck me, I don’t care if that makes me desperate, please, please, please-”

It’s babbling, it’s nonsense, it’s her brain cutting off at the stem and seeping out. It’s embarrassing, it’s fucking hot. You can’t take your eyes off her, can’t even think of a way to make her stop - not that you’d want to, not that the look on Minnie’s face would even allow you to, but-

“Uh,” says the salesgirl, suddenly behind Yuqi. “Hey.” 

-well, that’s certainly a way to shut Yuqi up. 

Yuqi immediately moves to stand, but - almost coolly, gracefully - Minnie reaches out a hand and pushes at her shoulder, hard. It throws Yuqi entirely, sending her sprawling back to the ground, jerking a tiny, flightless gasp from her lungs, forced firmly to her knees. Skirt hiked up, cheeks flushing madly, unable to hold eye contact with anyone in the room - and you’ve never seen her so effectively humiliated. 

“Hi,” says Minnie to the salesgirl, seemingly unfazed.

“Please don’t have sex in here,” says the salesgirl. “I mean, I’m all for exhibitionism, but we’re severely understaffed. I don’t really want to clean that up.” Pauses thoughtfully, then says, “If you’re looking for a place to fuck, no one uses the bathroom on the second floor by the jewelry store. One-person. It’s pretty clean.” 

“Oh, nice,” says Minnie. “We’ll check it out.” 

“Cool,” says the salesgirl. “That lingerie looks awesome on you. Also, if you don’t buy it, we’ll have to toss it because you’re not really supposed to just put it on like that. But no big deal.” Then, apropos of nothing: “Happy birthday, by the way.”  

Yuqi chokes on her own saliva. It’s only then that you realize the salesgirl looks vaguely familiar. 

“Thanks,” says Minnie. “I’ll buy it. Hey, you’re coming to my party later, right?” 

“Yeah, Lisa told me about it.” Without even hesitating, like it’s totally normal, the salesgirl continues, “Okay, have fun,” and then turns on her heel and abruptly leaves the dressing room area.

There’s no chance to even let the silence sit. Minnie stands there in her indecent lingerie, features perfectly placid, beautifully untouchable, composure stitched together and tight. Like she’d meant to have an audience all along, planned for you all to be caught. It’s a stunningly sharp contrast to-

“What,” says Yuqi, on the floor and trembling, “the fuck, Minnie-” 

“Excuse me?” says Minnie, demure as she glances down at Yuqi, power dynamic firmly in place: Yuqi’s beneath her, in every sense of the word. “Thirty seconds ago, you seemed pretty adamant about wanting to get fucked. Needing me to make you cum.” She hums, juts out her bottom lip. “I didn’t realize it was supposed to be a secret.” 

“Fuck,” Yuqi mutters, under her breath, because she knows she can’t go toe to toe with Minnie and win - she’s too far gone for that. Too disarmed, too helpless; cheeks flushed and skirt yanked up and cunt bare and drooling. 

“Was it?” Minnie asks, brows sinking in feigned confusion, a gesture that indicates that the answer better be no. Voice taking on an edge. Stare like a cocking gun. 

“No,” exhales Yuqi, still shuddering, still shamed and furious and so turned on. “No. It wasn’t.” 

Finally - a smile. “I didn’t think so,” says Minnie, then reaches out her hand. “Get up, gorgeous.” White flags waving; you all know that’s only half the battle. “I’m not done with you yet.” 

-

Minnie changes back into her clothes, and purchases the lingerie, obviously. Says she’ll save it for a later date with a wink, a sly grin; well, that’s the thing about fantasies, with the three of you. You always find a way to make them true. 

-

“No one makes you cum like Minnie does?” you mutter on the way.

“Look, I don’t think you get it,” Yuqi hisses back. “I’m so fucking horny and pissed off right now - I will literally say anything to get that manipulative evil whore to fuck me-”

“Sorry?” Minnie’s voice lilts from ahead of you. 

“I didn’t say anything,” replies Yuqi, just as sweetly. 

Minnie lets it go, but her lips twitch, fighting off her usual breathless, raucous laughter. Oh, it’s fun to turn tables, but you all know the truth, in the end - she likes Yuqi mean and bitchy and temperamental; she wouldn’t change a thing. 

“You seemed to take your entire pussy being out in front of that salesgirl pretty well,” you tell Yuqi, impressed with her current self-possession. 

“I realized I know her,” says Yuqi, tugging down the hem of her ultra-short skirt. “Kim Jisoo - she’s Lisa’s friend. And she does not give a fuck about anything, that girl. A meteor could demolish the entire mall and she wouldn’t bat an eye. She probably won’t even remember this happened later.” 

“If a meteor demolished the entire mall, she wouldn’t be alive to bat an eye,” says Minnie, forgetting that she’s supposed to be pretending she can’t hear your conversation.

“You’re so right,” says Yuqi. “Wow, you’re so smart. Like, Mensa-caliber.” 

“Who’s Mensa Caliber?” Minnie comes to a stop in front of the bathroom, holds the door open for both of you. “Is she hot?”

“Scalding,” deadpans Yuqi. “Let’s get back in the game before I lose more brain cells.” 

A game, she says, reminding you all of the parameters - Minnie blinks and she’s back in it, places her hand to the base of Yuqi’s neck before she can pass through the doorway; Yuqi sucks air in through her teeth, freezes, lets Minnie’s thumb search for her pulse, proof of life like she’s aiming to carve it out. “Sorry,” Yuqi gets out immediately. “I’m sorry.” 

“Aw, honey,” says Minnie, merciful at the best of times. “It’s okay. Plus,” she adds, like it’s an afterthought and not the point, “I already know no one makes you cum like I do.” 

She shoots you a smile, like she’s just daring you to try and argue - but even you know better by now. 

-

Jisoo’s right about the bathroom - empty, decently clean, one-person, perfect to lock up and fuck in if you’re so inclined. Not that the quality of it really matters; you can tell by the look on Yuqi’s face that she’s largely forgotten all of her surroundings, like the shock of getting caught’s desensitized her somewhat. For a second you have to wonder if this was a deliberate strategy on Minnie’s part, but-

“Alright, pretty girl,” purrs Minnie, and oh, that’s something you’re learning today, how perfectly endearments fit in her mouth: “get on your knees.” 

-so, it’s not like you all got here by accident. 

Yuqi slips to the floor without question, follows the drop of Minnie’s chin, hands going for your pants. Sure, desensitized probably wasn’t the most accurate assessment: she’s kind of losing it, kind of out of her mind. Muscle ticking in her jaw. Tongue skimming her bottom lip, each breath like it’s a second from shattering. Voice unmoored and trembling, like it doesn’t even belong to her. 

Then, leaning against the bathroom counter, Minnie says, “Remember the first time you two met?” 

It’s a story you’ve both recounted for her before, too. A night in a cramped employee bathroom. The circumstances not so dissimilar to this, if you really think about it. Pushing boundaries until they crack, testing limits that were meant to bend and break; from that first day up to now, and maybe some things never change - that very first day: you, threatening to shove Yuqi to the ground, threatening to cum all over her face and make her walk out of there debauched and humiliated-

“Come on,” says Minnie, and smiles like she’s changing the subject, even when you know she’s not. “I want to see you suck his cock.”

Yuqi doesn’t fight back, but it’s not like she’d even try. 

It’s only after she’s halfway there - Yuqi’s lips wrapped around the head of your cock, you shuddering against the teasing lap of her tongue; you’re attempting to match Minnie’s inhuman poise and barely keeping up - when Minnie spots the way your fingers twitch and says, “Hmm.” 

It’s barely a prompt, but you glance at her just in time to see her mouth dart up at a corner, like she knew it’d get your attention anyway. 

“How about this,” Minnie says, spreading one hand wide, a barbaric business proposition. “Don’t do anything. Let her work for it.”

It’s only then that you realize she’s got her phone out, recording you. 

“What?” says Minnie, coyly, luxuriating in the eyes on her; doesn’t bother to reroute once she’s caught, doesn’t even try to act it off. Head put to the side and lens ready like a rifle. “I thought you two liked being on camera.”

Yuqi gazes dazedly right into the lens, mouth slack and wet. Blinks balefully. Considers herself on show, perverse performance art, the subject, the muse - then turns and fills her throat with your cock all over again. 

Your vision swims, spots, narrows to points. “Fucking Christ-”

You’ve rarely had your cock in Yuqi’s mouth in a way that wasn’t definitively aggressive - railing her throat, hearing her choke and sob and slobber, a way to punish her that she’ll just volley back in a matter of seconds - never been able to get her on her knees without pounding her mouth like it’s your right, your property, her fuming and features murderous-

A blithe laugh from Minnie. “Aw, look at her.” 

But that’s nothing like this. 

See, Yuqi’s almost careful, methodical - working her hands, her mouth, her tongue. It’s so spellbindingly smooth that it hits you how much practice she must’ve had, before she discovered she liked getting throatfucked better than giving actual blowjobs - and that’s a train of thought you’ll let run away with you. You’ve never seen her look so obedient, so subservient, so submissive; gorgeous eyes glimmering with effort, head bobbing, pigtails curled prettily-

“She’s such a good girl when she tries, isn’t she?” says Minnie, low, sultry. “Really makes you think, right?” Strokes a hand over Yuqi’s hair, like she’s praising a pet. “Maybe all she needed was someone to bring it out of her.” 

The implications are there: you’re the vessel, the weapon. The means, not the motive. Minnie’s putting you in your place just as much as Yuqi; maybe, she’s saying, eyes darkly derisive, all she needed was me. 

“See, I always knew she was a whore.” It’s almost conversational, the tilt of Minnie’s lips very nearly nonchalant. “But I didn’t realize she was so good at it.”

You’ve done your part to degrade Yuqi so many times before - fought with her while fucking, tugged her hair and swore at her, called her every disparaging name in the book - but there’s something viciously sexy about the calm with which Minnie does it, the constraint. Never tightens her grip. Never raises her voice; never even needs to. Lets her tone be enough, lets her intense eyes set the scene, decide the mood - lets the camera lens of her phone center in like a sniper, the suggestion of threat and no more - and, truly, that’s all it takes.

Yuqi makes an unholy sound around your cock, shuddering under Minnie’s palm on the back of her head. You watch her thick thighs squeeze together, trembling - there’s no way her cunt’s not dripping. Minnie makes her wet and worked up on a regular day; her with this sort of power is fucking lethal-

Minnie pulls at one of Yuqi’s pigtails, dragging her mouth straight off your dick. “Uh-uh,” she says, chastising, phone steady in her other hand, pointed right at your throbbing cock: “On her face.”

There’s a pivotal pause, and it’s just enough time for it all to click. 

“Minnie,” you’re in the middle of saying, incredulous - because she can’t really be planning what you’re thinking, can’t imagine she’d ever make Yuqi go that far, but - “Oh, fuck-”

Yuqi’s too far gone to see signs and storm warnings, throwing all caution to the wind. Too wrapped up in the motions and the way she spits on her palm, starts jerking your already saliva-slick cock. Too goddamn tempting with her eyebrows knit in concentration and her bottom lip tucked into her mouth right before she starts in on a filthy diatribe: 

“Please cum for me,” she’s whimpering, “cum all over my face, I was such a good girl for you, I deserve it, I need it-” A subtle, sudden switch, a gleam in her eye: “I know you wanna see my face covered in your fucking load-”

Your breath catches hard and violent in your throat. It’s all there: Minnie with the camera, watching like an ill-intentioned voyeur, like she’s planning to cut and distribute this, eyes bewitchingly predatory. I know you wanna make your mark on me, Yuqi means; I know you want picture proof that I’m yours. 

Well, no one’s gonna blame you for promptly forgetting how to form words. 

When you cum, it miraculously goes everywhere it’s supposed to - coating Yuqi’s face, her cheeks and her chin, her open mouth - her eyes shutter closed and she accepts it like the good girl she’s playacting as, today, without even a second thought - and that’s half the appeal, the way she just sits there like it’s your god-given right to do whatever you want with her, like you could use her hair as a cumrag, rub your cock through the cum staining her jaw, smack her across the face and make her take it-

“Alright,” says Minnie, amused, like she can somehow sense the violent impulse rushing underneath your skin, barely contained. She’s seen it firsthand; she’s taken enough hits to recognize it. “That’ll work just fine.” 

She shifts to press a kiss to your throat, open-mouthed and gentle, breath hot enough to inspire some sort of sensory overload - but she moves away again and it’s gone. For the best, really; you’ve got more pressing matters to attend to. 

Namely: Yuqi’s crumpled, tiny form on the bathroom floor underneath you; her tongue darting to the corner of her mouth, licking away a creamy glob of cum. She looks pathetic. She looks perfect. She looks up at Minnie like she’s seconds from bursting into tears, just giving it all up to fall apart, too worked up to really put it into words. Er, okay, any words except-

“Minnie,” says Yuqi, “I really, really need to cum.” 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Minnie fixes her with a pitying look, hand through her hair like she’s aiming to console - like she doesn’t know the threat of tugging on Yuqi’s hair is just going to make her wetter. “You can wait a little longer, can’t you? You’ve been so good for me already.”

“Minnie.” It comes insistent, desperate.

And it’s fucking intoxicating: Yuqi, who you’ve never once known to beg, to admit when she’s smaller, when she’s needy, when her cunt’s soaking wet and desperate; Yuqi, your cum staining her face and her eyes wide and watery, lips pink and swollen; Yuqi, who hates to accept when she’s lost and is somehow doing it anyway. Wanting to be fucked and filled so badly she’s willing to do anything-

Minnie’s mouth curls, calculating. Anything - that’s it, that’s the opening she’s been waiting for. 

“Well,” she says. “How about we make a deal?” 

She kneels so she’s face to face with Yuqi, mollifying and demeaning and elegant, all at once. “I can make you cum right now,” she says, kindly, and Yuqi still looks like she’s seconds from tears, “but you have to walk out of here with his cum all over your face.”

There’s a long, stifling silence. 

The writing’s been on the wall since the moment Minnie brought up the night you and Yuqi first met - but Yuqi’s been too busy with her efforts to please to remember her defenses and guards. Too drained to recall who she’s dealing with - Minnie, torturously beautiful, Yuqi’s chin between her fingers, the picture of polite tolerance; the devil herself isn't really about rage, that’s what you all forget; oh, it’s all about the long game - and so when you look at Yuqi, she’s genuinely shocked. 

“Minnie,” you say, again, conscious of boundaries. 

You’re playing back the night in question, the employee bathroom at the club, Yuqi’s visible panic when you’d brought it up. There’s no way, you’re thinking; even Yuqi has her limits. She’s too proud. It’s too public. The lingerie store with Jisoo was one thing, but that’s an isolated incident, that’s a baby step, that’s-

“Shh,” says Minnie to you, mildly, and nods pointedly at Yuqi’s expression. 

Eyes blown so wide, pupils swallowing her irises. A dreamy sort of slackness, half-dazed and somehow still completely devoted. Like she might just float away - like you and Minnie are the only thing anchoring her to the earth.

“Oh,” you say, stunned. 

The look on her face - not that you’ve broken her, but like she’s turned herself over to the two of you, regardless. Handing over her own body; this is your property, do what you want with it. Bruise it, hit it. Take a marker to it and label me every nasty thing possible. Cum all over my face and make everyone who sees me stare. 

“It’s up to you,” Minnie tells Yuqi, courteously, but she knows just as much as you what the answer’s going to be. 

-

It’s not even a question, really. It barely takes any time at all for Minnie to press her back against the sink, get a finger inside her, get three - she swipes her fingertips across Yuqi’s glistening cheekbone, grins as she lowers her hand, fucks your cum deep into her cunt, slow and purposeful. It’s so vulgar - so foul - so hot-

“You know,” says Minnie, gaze never leaving Yuqi’s face, sewn into lewd satisfaction, “for someone who talks a lot of shit about breeding kinks, you seem to really like me fucking his cum into your pussy right now.”

It’s not like Yuqi can even speak over her own moans, but that’s neither here nor there - her eyes are barely open, pressure everywhere at once, putty in Minnie’s hands - mold me, she begs, make me whatever you want - and Minnie smiles, goes back in for more, cum-stained fingers leaving a slick streak across Yuqi’s chin. Retracing steps as she fucks her, works her wrist, lets her other hand hook around Yuqi’s hip, keeping her firmly in place. “If memory serves, actually,” she says, and blinks over at you, commiserating, “I seem to recall we have a lot of videos of you getting your cunt fucked raw and filled with cum, Yuqi.” 

“I think we do,” you agree, breathless. 

“You know what I think? I think he was right. It is about power.” Each consonant gaining back their edges - fit to strip skin off the bone - Minnie’s fingers only get more cruel, but you’ve all gone too far to go back now. “And I think you secretly like it when you don’t have any.” 

Yuqi struggles against Minnie’s free hand on her hip, nails digging in, air vacating her lungs in a squeak. Aching for a killing blow. Begging to be put out of her misery, or she would be, if she could manage words - Minnie’s smile screaming you asked for this - playing mind games with the best of them like she’s the one making all the rules-

“You like someone else owning your body, huh?” It’s more than sex, but it always is - a mind-fuck, a manipulation. Yuqi’s cunt clenching around Minnie’s fingers the more she speaks like she’s drunk on every word, like she’s speaking in tongues - she can’t call it losing control when it’s getting fucked out of her with force-

“Doing whatever they want with it,” Minnie’s saying, the idea of it alone intoxicating enough. “Fucking it. Breeding it. You like being used like an object.” Her thumb on Yuqi’s clit, making her points and punctuating with a rasp: “You love that this cunt doesn’t even fucking belong to you.” 

When you look back, all you’ll remember are the raw details. Yuqi’s painfully wrecked moans; the lewd, wet sound of Minnie’s fingers buried in her cunt, curling; the way Minnie’s irises glitter, voice like its own siren song. The cum still splattered across Yuqi’s face, right before she dips her mouth to Minnie’s neck-

She’s not filming this part, but it’s not like you’ll ever fucking forget it. 

The one crack you’ve seen in Minnie’s composure all day, the tiny yelp she makes when Yuqi sinks her teeth into her skin - and then louder and strangled, as Yuqi bites down - and then-

It all crumbles in an instant, hairline fractures, fissures, earthquakes; Yuqi cums and it racks her whole body, sends her melting into Minnie’s arms. You’re there in a split second without even thinking about it, steadying her shoulder; Minnie reaches for you, lets your clasped hands link over the back of Yuqi’s neck. Keeping her upright. Keeping her together. 

“Good girl,” Minnie murmurs, carefully soothing; she knows the right way to wrap it all up. “There you go.” 

There’s blood beading on Minnie’s neck. She kisses Yuqi’s hair anyway. You don’t need to see her expression to know she’s smiling, but you tap your thumb to her chin, turn her face out just to see it - just to watch it grow. Minnie’s eyes connect with yours, irresistibly warm, unwinding rope, unbinding cords. Cutting you both loose just to watch you stay right where you are. 

“You’ve got a fucked up little mind,” you tell her, mesmerized. 

All Minnie does is laugh. “Hey,” she says, running her fingers down Yuqi’s spine, “don’t we all?” 

-

“You’re insatiable,” adds Minnie to Yuqi, as you’re putting each other back together, pressing a damp paper towel to the wound on her neck, somehow managing to make it sound fond anyway. “You know the point of hickeys is to suck, right? Not literally draw blood.” 

“I think it’s a kink,” you say. “Like, it turns her on to see the bite marks. And the blood, I guess.” 

“A blood kink? I’m pretty sure that’s just called being a vampire.” 

“I already do enough sucking, anyway,” says Yuqi, inexplicably finding the energy for a smirk. 

You flick her hip, pretending not to love it and failing. “Okay,” you say, “why are you allowed to make puns, but the second I make them you tell me to kill myself?” 

“I’m a hypocrite,” says Yuqi, unapologetically. “You’re just gonna have to make your peace with that.”

“Please,” you say. “If I were looking for peace, I would’ve lost your number months ago.”

Minnie’s the one who starts laughing first; she almost always is. It takes a second and you’re falling all over each other, in hysterics - Yuqi with Minnie’s leather jacket draped around her shoulders, you with an arm around Minnie’s waist, pulling them both in close. Everything’s funny, when you’re together, everything’s hot and humorous and carefree. Like every other pressing matter’s packed up and let you all be, for the moment. 

“I still might,” you warn, trying your hand at snark and partially pulling it off, judging by Minnie doubling over in giggles, Yuqi’s gasp, swatting at your chest and scandalized. “No - I really could, I absolutely could-”

“Fuck off.” 

“You’re so full of shit.” 

(It’s a flashback on loop, the perfect moment to hit. All those days of nights you stayed, of mornings you laughed through, of times you didn’t have to be there but you were anyway, and it meant something.)

Fine - you weren’t looking for peace, but inexplicably, you think you kind of found it anyway. 

-

It becomes almost immediately obvious that there’s been some sort of boundary broken, because as you drag Yuqi out of the bathroom, she, unbelievably, doesn’t even seem to mind. 

It’s like you’ve pushed her so far nothing can faze her. Walks right on out of the mall with cum on her cheeks and no panties on, her skirt so short she could absolutely get dragged in on a public indecency charge. Makes eye contact with an older woman staring near the entrance and says, unconvincingly, “Ugh, ice cream, am I right?” 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you say once you’re outside, obsessed with her nerve. 

“You’re the one who came on my face,” says Yuqi, somehow managing self-righteousness even with her pigtails fucked up, features glazed sloppily. “Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.” She catches Minnie’s eye, her pointed look; switches tone, bats her lashes, inexplicably pulls off innocence. “Not that you’re stupid, Minnie. I’d never say that.” 

“But I am?” you ask. 

“It’s not your fucking birthday,” says Yuqi - so, looks like obedience didn’t last long. “I don’t have to answer to you, dipshit. I was doing it as a courtesy before.” 

“Watch it,” says Minnie, and presses her fingertips warningly into Yuqi’s side. 

She’s obviously biting back laughter, but an order’s an order. “Sorry,” says Yuqi, and smiles like she means it. 

“I thought you were a good girl,” teases Minnie. “Isn’t that what you said when you were begging him to cum on your face?”

“Yes,” says Yuqi, immediately, unwilling to refuse any prompt from her. “Totally.” 

Minnie laughs out loud, and then - to both your shock and Yuqi’s - smacks Yuqi’s ass, hard. 

“Then fucking act like it,” she says, and leaves Yuqi spluttering for air. 

-

You take it back to Minnie’s place, and that’s what provokes it: all your best scenes get resumed. 

There’s Yuqi, costumed and choreographed - her skirt pushed up around her waist as Minnie fucks her with her fingers, and then discarded entirely - lets herself get shoved onto all fours, back arched and ass rapidly turning red under Minnie’s hands - and Minnie says to you, “Come on, babe, I wanna see this little whore get facefucked,” and there’s no better way to make use of her pigtails. Your fingers in her hair, making her choke on your cock - there’s the fantasy you were looking for, Yuqi’s eyes watering and woeful, brows knit together in perfect, concerted effort. Minnie in control of the strap-on for once, buried in Yuqi’s cunt, making her cum until she’s the one who’s moaning, breathless, panting fuck me, fuck me, fuck me-

“You’re so cute when you beg,” Minnie tells her, and the smirk she throws you is knifelike: “we should make you do it more often.”

“What do you think of that, sweetheart?” you ask Yuqi, but she’s whimpering too much to answer. 

It’ll be amplified under lighting and lenses, high fidelity - to you it’s all color without form, detached and unintelligible; to Yuqi it’s probably worse, fucked to to the point of losing recognition, distinguishing senses - or better, rather; you see the way she’s fucking cumming - and when you play it all back, all focus and film, you’ll realize Minnie’s better with a camera than both you and Yuqi combined, realize the definition of defilement when she’s panting in front of a camera, realize exactly what you’ve got in your hands. It’s earth-shattering sex. It’s some of the best you’ve ever had. Minnie will look back through the footage later and say this one’ll go in the hall of fame, ranking your sex tape like a sports commentator, and Yuqi will laugh so hard she’ll almost tumble off the bed, but you’ll catch her around the waist before she falls - and that’s the point of it all, wrapped up in a moment. Sex and safety and fun. It’s the theme of the day, but it always is. 

But for now Minnie’s on her knees on the soaked sheets, analyzing Yuqi, mouth wavering like she’s seconds from bursting into giggles. Yuqi’s choking trying to catch her breath, thighs trembling, one arm thrown over her eyes. You’re filming it; it’s the thing to do. 

“I’m gonna be honest,” says Minnie, “I can’t think of anything good to call her.” 

“Did you ever actually see what she wrote on you that one time?” you point out. “It was just fuckdoll. It wasn’t, like, that creative.” 

“Insidious bitch,” offers Minnie, spitballing, twirling the eyeliner pencil between her fingers. “Malicious hoe.”

“All too true,” you agree, sagely.

But Minnie smiles like she’s just remembered a secret, dips forward, and scrawls something across Yuqi’s stomach. Gently, despite everything, or because of it. You lean forward and laugh out loud when you read it. 

ours <3

“Oh, wow,” you say, enthralled. “That’s - surprisingly romantic.” 

“It’s my birthday,” says Minnie, unashamed, heart on her sleeve, on skin. “I’m feeling sentimental.” 

“What did you write?” Yuqi peeks past her arm at the two of you, dark irises dazed and twinkling. “Did you propose?” A silence, considering. “That’s kind of hot, actually. I’ll do it, dude. I’ll marry you for the eternal sexual benefits.” 

“Who?” says Minnie. “Me or him?” 

Yuqi’s grin tugs sleepily wide. “Why not both?” 

You’re not even dating, technically. It’s ridiculous that any of this is even happening at all. Minnie huffs out a breath, and then promptly buries her face in your chest, falling right into your arms, exhausted laughter hitting her all at once. Yuqi, inexplicably, starts snickering along, caught up in the infectiousness of the sound. She’s so right, you think to yourself, laughing with them and half-delirious, why not, why not-

“You really are greedy,” Minnie says to Yuqi, eyes curved gorgeously, luminous half-moons. “Can’t be satisfied with just one, huh?” 

“As if any of us ever could be,” Yuqi mumbles, and when you look at her, she’s beaming, hair pouring, too pale for gold but measuring up to something more valuable, somehow - like sunlight, like stars. 

Why not, indeed, you muse, kissing the top of Minnie’s head, and you let the scene come to a close. 

-

Oh, you’re creatures of habit, after all. You just can’t let each other go. 

“Happy birthday,” murmurs Yuqi when you’ve cleaned each other up, eyelids falling shut, trapped between you and Minnie; she’s smaller than you both and for once she’s showing it. “Did you like your present?” 

“Sorry we couldn’t get you anything designer,” you say, kidding. “Not exactly in our budget. Some of us actually aren’t descended from royalty, you know.”

“It’s okay,” says Minnie, smiling softly. She presses a kiss to your cheek, strokes her fingers through Yuqi’s hair. “I already have everything I want.”

-

Later that night, you all follow through on your plans, and throw her a party. 

Yuqi skips the first half or so because she can barely function after the fucking, but promises to join the fun eventually - do not let her out of your sight looking like that, she says, casting a vaguely hungry, territorial look over at Minnie, and then promptly falls asleep in Minnie’s bed, curled up in one of Minnie’s oversized t-shirts and her duvet. She’s earned it, hair towel-dried and fanning out on Minnie’s silk pillowcases, the sweet scent of her conditioner oddly soothing. 

“You heard her,” you say to Minnie, grinning. “Don’t leave my line of sight, okay?” 

“Who says I’d even want to?” says Minnie, head tucked in the crook of your neck. 

It’s codependent, it’s possessive, it’s fun. Well, with Yuqi out of commission, you’ve gotta be hostile and protective enough for the both of you. Today’s a day for switching sides, after all. 

It devolves almost immediately. Fit for the occasion, Minnie gets spectacularly drunk. 

Even as she gets dragged away in conversation throughout the night, you still end up staring at Minnie across the room, but mostly because Yuqi was right about the way she looks: she’s sporting a sash and a plastic tiara, but she’s also in a production of a dress, tight and hot pink and clinging to her hips, riding high on her thighs, tapering around her waist - she’s a vision, laughing and radiant, smile blown wide. She’s with this girl you sort of recognize - a brunette who must be smaller than she seems right now, heels noticeably tall, adorably sweet-faced and with a certain tilt to her head, not looking at Minnie at all. 

“The girl on the right?” Minnie’s saying, when you approach the two of them. She’s gesturing not-so-subtly towards the living room at Miyeon’s friends that you’ve come to be familiar with - Yunjin, with her ever-present sunglasses: the tall, graceful girl who’s always joined at the hip with her. “That’s Kazuha. Yeah, she’s so hot, but, like, so unavailable - she’s been dating her boyfriend for like five years, or something crazy. Which, I think - that’s true love. I mean, right? It has to be. When you meet that young, and you actually stay together-”

“Hmm,” the girl beside Minnie says mildly, watching Kazuha and Yunjin laughing over something. “That’s cute. And - the chick with the sunglasses-”

“Yeah, yeah,” says Minnie - and this is where you realize how intoxicated she actually is, because she’s rambling without reason, offering up nonsensical details; well, she does this sober, but it’s somehow even more extreme when she’s not. “That’s Yunjin. She and Kazuha are best, best friends. Um, Yunjin works at that one coffee shop - you’ve been there, you know, the one by campus…”

“Right,” says the girl, and nothing else, like she’s purposely making room for Minnie to go on. 

“I love Yunjin,” Minnie’s bubbling over drunkenly, switching from topic to topic less than seamlessly. “And - oh, wow, Kazuha’s shirt is so cute. Her abs, oh my God. Her boyfriend seems really nice, so that’s good. I mean, it’d suck if she was dating an asshole, because she’s so sweet. An angel, seriously. No, because, literally-” 

She’d probably continue on until the party filtered out, until the stars outside the window wrapped it up and left - but that’s right when she spots you, and promptly drops whatever train of thought she was on before she saw your face. 

“Babe!” she cheers, and practically leaps into your arms. 

“Hi,” you say, lips to the top of her head, grinning. “Having a good time?” 

“So good.” Her eyes are dreamy, drowsy, half-shut and glittering in low light. “The most good.” 

You smooth her hair out of her face. “You’re drunk.”

“The most drunk.”

You laugh when she pushes her face in your neck, mumbles something incomprehensible; she’s a cute drunk, giggly and sweetly optimistic, social like you wouldn’t believe. She’s been flitting from person to person all night, fielding birthday wishes and hugs and celebratory shots - so easy to love, you think of Miyeon saying, smile knowing - star of the show, center of attention, even surrounded by stupid wasted college kids. Speaking of which: 

“Hi,” you say, a little belatedly, to the girl she’s been talking to. It’s slightly unwieldy, considering Minnie wriggling and tucked under your elbow, but you make do.

“Hi,” the girl says back. She’s got this friendly, genuine smile, strikingly pretty eyes. “I’m-”

“Hel-lo.”

The cadence of the voice is like tugging on a leash - you and Minnie turn immediately, already caught in an orbit. All it takes is a look, a smile, a second. A single word and you’re both staring. 

Because there’s Yuqi, stunningly made-up, shorts denim and crop top tight and white, blonde hair wild and tumbling over her shoulders, one hand on her hip. She’s bruised at the neck, at the wrists - she’s got hickeys openly marring her pale thighs, not even a single attempt made to cover them up - and she looks fucking profane. 

“Yuqi!” Minnie slips out of your arms just to bury herself in hers. 

Yuqi plants a kiss to the corner of her mouth, wipes away the smudge of gloss, adjusts her dumb plastic tiara gently. “Hey, birthday girl.” Nods over her shoulder. “Why were you talking to that bitch?” 

You swivel in alarm just to see that the girl Minnie was talking to is now halfway across the apartment, picking up conversation with Yunjin and Kazuha.

“What’s wrong with her?” says Minnie, eternally ready to see the best in people. She’s clutching at the hem of Yuqi’s shirt with one hand and has the other tangled in your sleeve. The party swims around you guys, suddenly completely inconsequential, particularly rowdy background noise. That’s how it is, when the three of you are together - like everything around you is just static. There are more important things to worry about. Such as:

“She’s evil,” claims Yuqi, like that’s the end-all be-all - well, to her, it probably is. 

“What did she do?” you ask, mindlessly reaching out to fuss with her hair. 

“Nothing I can prove,” says Yuqi, somewhat venomously. She rolls her neck, gives you space. “But her vibes are so fucked up.”

“You would know,” says Minnie, wisely.

“What?” Yuqi looks flabbergasted; as if she isn’t fully familiar with the attitude, as if she isn’t bruised to hell and back from Minnie’s hands alone. You crack up. It’s always funnier when Minnie’s the one dishing it out. “Nicha, chill-”

“Don’t pull out the government name on my birthday-”

“You know what,” considers Yuqi, managing to backtrack and twist the sentiment all at once; it’s ridiculous, it’s absolutely a talent. “You’re right. I would know, because I’m the smartest. You were actually complimenting me. Thank you.”

“You’re obnoxious,” you tell her, but pull her gently to your side, anyway. Her blonde hair’s unruly, brushing your jaw. You’re captivated by everything she says and it’s blatantly obvious. “And fucking delusional.”

“It’s a gift,” agrees Yuqi, seriously, and Minnie bursts out laughing. 

It’s just one of those silver-screen nights, one of those perfect moments. Laughter on loop, boundless, endless, your favorite people and their favorite people - like you’ve had a million times since you’ve met them. You feel it constantly, but there’s a beat where it’ll just hit you, all at once, the two of them in your arms and giggling and gorgeous, happy like they don’t know how not to be. One of those moments that you hope you’ll have for a long time, after this. One of those moments where you think of turning to the two of them and saying I like my life a lot better with you in it, you know. 

But it’s a party, and Minnie’s drunk and beaming by your side, and Yuqi’s got the top of her head fit comfortably into the crook of her neck, and it’s not the time, or the place. You rarely get so sentimental. You’ll let it go for now. 

It’s alright, anyway. It’s just like you said - like a recording, like a rerun - you’ll come back to moments like this, again, and again, and again. 

-

(“By the way,” Yuqi says to Miyeon, when she sees her. “You are so fucking stupid. Like, I’m convinced you were dropped on your head as a child.” 

Miyeon ogles her, more amused than anything - well, she’s always been good at rolling with the punches. “Excuse me?” 

It seems self-explanatory, but Yuqi tells her anyway. “You used to have Minnie topping you daily and you gave that up for a geriatric old man?” 

“He’s twenty-nine,” says Miyeon, like that’s anywhere near the point. “Since when have you ever let Minnie top you?” Then she lets her stare fall to Yuqi’s clearly ravaged body. “Oh, wait.” 

“Birthday present,” says Yuqi, and doesn’t bother to elaborate. “Seriously, you’re fucking dumb, dude. She’s so hot when she gets like that.”

“I’m aware,” says Miyeon. 

Yuqi can’t help but stare at her - at her unaffected composure, the entertained glint in her eyes. “Then why would you ever give that up?”

The party’s in full swing around them, the people and the proximity, the hum of chatter, music. Miyeon’s in white, the pale shine of her blonde hair falling gracefully over her shoulders, something right out of a painting, every detail in place. It’s not that Yuqi’s ever felt she has to compete with Miyeon, but - but-

I know how it feels to be with Minnie, Yuqi could tell her; I don’t get how anyone could have her love and let her down, earn her heart and then break it - and she doesn’t say it in so many words, but Miyeon studies her, like she hears it anyway. 

“Look at it like this,” says Miyeon. “If I were still fucking her, she never would’ve started fucking you. And you never would’ve gotten the chance to get this far.”

She juts her chin across the room, where Minnie’s got her arms slung around your neck, your heads bent close together. Minnie, clearly talking a mile a minute, outrageously beautiful, plastic tiara askew on her hair; you, smiling like you’ve won a contest just being in the same room as her, content to indulge all her whims at once. 

You catch Yuqi’s eye; your grin does nothing but widen, obvious with your adoration, uncaring of who knows. Like no one could take your devotion away, even if they tried. 

“Really puts things in perspective, doesn’t it,” says Miyeon, knowingly. 

“Fuck off,” says Yuqi, and smiles back at you anyway. 

Miyeon huffs out a haughty little sigh, cuter than it should be. “Have some faith in the universe, Yuqi,” she says, and it’s only then that Yuqi realizes that Miyeon’s kind of drunk. Miyeon points up at the ceiling like she’s calling on a higher power - like she’s exactly the angel she pretends to be, like she’s got a direct line to heaven. “She knows what she’s doing. Everything works out exactly the way it’s supposed to.”

“You can’t possibly believe that,” says Yuqi, charmed by the idea nonetheless. 

“Why not?” asks Miyeon, mouth crooked at a corner. 

And Yuqi knows this about her - she always has. Miyeon’s had a life raised on passionate ideals, on novels and films and poetry; she’s got a man who’d do anything for her, who adores her enough to craft art for her, to create, to invent; she’s got the kind of love that makes her believe in impossible things, that grants her hope. She can’t see things any other way.

But - watching you from across the room, as you tap Minnie’s hip, point her in Yuqi’s direction, as Minnie sees Yuqi’s face and beams like she’s seeing the break of dawn - it’s the first time Yuqi feels like she understands it.

“Don’t let anything happen to her,” says Miyeon abruptly, then lets out a tiny laugh, like she’s recalling a secret. “Alright?” 

“Alright,” says Yuqi, so struck by the idea that she can’t even begin to dissect it, can’t find the angle. She searches Miyeon’s expression, like it’ll give her an answer. “I - you know we’d never hurt her, don’t you?” 

But Miyeon only smiles, serene and comprehending. Yuqi blinks, thrown. 

Oh. That’s when it hits her: there is no angle. No strategy, no tricks, no sussing out motives. Sometimes you love someone and you just need to know they’re loved, too. Sometimes you just need to hear it said out loud. 

“Yeah,” says Miyeon, “I know,” and it’s enough.)

-

Ah, like she’s taken the thought straight from your brain: why not, indeed.

-

Long after the party wraps up, you get Minnie to bed with all three of you in a giggling fit. Minnie’s the kind of drunk who’s exceedingly bubbly and completely hilarious, eyelids fluttering and laugh loose and happy, cracking up at the drop of a hat - and you and Yuqi are both obsessed with her, so you can’t help but join her. 

“Oh my god,” exhales Minnie, bundled up in her sheets, lifting a finger to the ceiling like she’s trying to find patterns in it, inventing constellations. “This is, like - whoa.” Falls into another peal of laughter; Yuqi’s rolling her eyes, stroking Minnie’s bangs off her forehead. “Like, the best birthday ever.” 

“You’re drunk,” you say, utterly enamored with her. “But - thanks.” 

Minnie lowers her finger just to wag it in your face. “Drunken words are sober thoughts,” she says, sagely, and dissolves into giggles again. 

You land a kiss on her forehead before you and Yuqi pile into the bathroom, scrubbing the night from your skin. Yuqi ends up perched on the counter, the two of you in matching, moisturizing sheet masks - self-care is for everyone, she says vehemently, and you’re not about to argue - and she’s playing some game on her phone, humming something under her breath. Breaks her own concentration just to glance over at you and smile. 

“What’s up?” you say, softly, and she slides off the counter. 

“Just - thanks.” Yuqi’s got a hand under your chin, tipping your face downwards. She’s always smaller than she pretends to be. “For being here.” 

“Well,” you say, tipsy and feeling a little philosophical, a little romantic, “where else would I ever want to be?” 

You’re getting in the routine of asking rhetorical questions of each other - will you stay, will you hold me, do you understand how much you mean to me - things you already know the answer to. Learning curves you’ve followed before. Inclines you’ve made it past. It’s fun to play your games, as long as you know when to pack them up and take them home. 

Yuqi smiles, slots her mouth to yours. A thousand places, she’s telling you, wrapped up in a kiss - you could be anywhere, but you’re here. Kissing you like it means something. Kissing you because you both know it does. 

“Can’t wait to see what you do for my birthday,” she says against your mouth, already grinning. “Are you gonna let me peg you or something?” 

And there is it - the charming crassness of her, the unyielding defiance - and there’s something else, the prospect of something living far into the future - and you laugh out loud, suddenly feeling like you’re seeing straight through time, at all the repeat performances you’ll have with her and Minnie. Something that lasts. Something that’ll never, ever get old. 

“Sure,” you say, and she’s laughing with you, too. “Something like that.” 

-

(You don’t know this yet, but a little bit earlier, towards the end of the party, Miyeon tugs Minnie into her room and drops a gift bag into her hands. It’d be unceremonious, but Miyeon’s smiling almost bashfully, tucking her hands behind her back afterwards. 

“Oh,” says Minnie, softly, drunkenly. “Miyeon.” A pause, gentle, fleeting. “Thank you.” 

“Open it,” is all Miyeon says in response, nodding towards the bag.

It’s a digital camera. Gorgeous, expensive, sleek and portable, the kind of thing Minnie can instantly see herself bringing everywhere, aiming it to the sky, to the scenery, to the people she surrounds herself with; to every beautiful thing that��s come to define her life, lately. It’s everything. It’s-

“It’s perfect,” Minnie finds herself saying out loud, voice strangely hoarse. 

The curve of Miyeon’s mouth is stunningly tender. She’s a little drunk too, or she must be; her shoulders are a little slumped, words a touch slurred. “I know a lot of your camera usage these days is pretty slutty,” she says, not meanly - Minnie breaks into breathy laughter, adoring despite herself- “but - well, you can absolutely use this one for slutty reasons, too. I mean, no judgment. You know that. Like, have your fun, you know?” 

“Get to the point,” chides Minnie, gently, cradling the camera between her fingers. 

Color sits high in Miyeon’s cheeks, eternally responsive to Minnie’s tone, her impulses, her certain, deliberate looks - I can’t help it, she’d told Minnie once, laughing; you look at me like you can read my fucking mind.

Minnie’s never managed to grow out of it even now, even after everything. She’s not sure she ever will. 

“I just thought…” Miyeon shrugs, shy. “I mean - I know how much you love photography. And I thought you could use it for yourself, whatever that-” There’s a break, searching for the right word. “Whatever that… entails.”

“Entails,” mimics Minnie, drunk and affectionate and stuck on the expression on her face. 

“Entails is a normal word.” 

“I didn’t say it wasn’t.”

“Minnie,” sighs Miyeon, and suddenly she’s pulling her in for a hug.

-

“Happy birthday,” Miyeon murmurs into her neck. And then, “You know you’re my best friend, right?” 

And here’s what no one will know, about Minnie and Miyeon, what no one will understand: love’s just not for them, right now. There’s nothing about them that could ever work out. But they’re inseparable, they’re other halves - they’re each others’ favorite people in the world, anyway. Here and now, that works perfectly. 

“I know,” says Minnie, and she does. 

“You and me,” says Miyeon, sweetly, distantly, like there’s some grand secret between her and a whole other universe. “Maybe in another life.” 

They’re both romantics, in all senses of the word; they’d both die for music, for melodrama, for scenes straight out of movies. See, Miyeon means it - that’s the thing. Means that she can see it so clearly, the two of them, side by side in some other world. Maybe they’re drunk. Maybe that’s all it is. Maybe - maybe-

“Maybe,” Minnie agrees, and she smiles.)

-

The morning after - that’s one cliché you’re readily familiar with. Hey, they’re well-loved for a reason.

“Um,” says Yuqi, in the kitchen the following day, and nothing else. 

It’s a gorgeous morning, or at least the kind you all love, sky dark and overcast, rain dripping down the windows. Minnie’s half-asleep on the counter, brilliantly hungover; the only reason she hadn’t fallen asleep in her makeup and her party dress last night is because you and Yuqi had taken painstaking care of her. Yuqi walked you through Minnie’s skincare routine, cleansers, serums; you’re not the fastest learner, but some people are worth the effort. Perks of being the birthday girl, you’d joked, and Yuqi laughed, unusually soft, said, well, we’d do this for her any day, wouldn’t we?

“Yes?” you say, noting her tone. Her attentiveness last night, her affection - the look on her face now. “You need something?” 

There’s always a turning point. Yours comes on a day where the sun’s hiding itself behind clouds, miraculously blanketed; giving you space to say what’s needed, granting you grace. Yuqi takes a breath, then says, “I actually have, um - I have a late birthday present.”

You watch her, confused. Yuqi’s usually immune to any sort of awkwardness, has a tendency to bulldoze past stumbling and silences without much care or tact - so this is something of a first. Even Minnie peeks up at her, crease appearing curiously between her eyebrows. 

“For me?” asks Minnie, voice half-muffled by the sleeve of her sweater. 

“No,” says Yuqi, sarcasm so acidic it might as well be poison: “for him. Yeah, Minnie, last time I checked, it was your birthday yesterday, so-”

“Yuqi,” Minnie says, straightens slowly, smile dawning in a storm. Yuqi only gets this bitchy in the face of vulnerability - when she’s on a cliff, on a precipice, when she feels herself falling. Minnie’s taking the high road, waiting for it. You’re right there with her. 

Yuqi huffs, lets her hair fall in front of her face, covering her cheeks, the blood rushing underneath her skin. Blonde on pink on pink - an echo of the night you’d met her, like someone’d seen her and pronounced her perfectly made, put in some effort to get her standing here, get her that gorgeous. 

“Fine,” she says, giving up the fight. “Fine. I - okay. Let me get it.” 

-

“Also,” admits Yuqi, reluctantly, prods your arm. “It kind of is for you, too.” 

(Because that’s the motif of it all, isn’t it? There wouldn’t be any of this without all three of you together. There’d be something missing. It just wouldn’t be the same.)

“I know,” you say, quietly, without smugness or ego, and there’s another point - Yuqi, in a room with the people who understand her perfectly, and she’s finally willing to give up the truth. 

-

Yuqi gathers you all in the living room, and then she goes to get her guitar. 

She’s bossy about it, too, tugging Minnie by the elbow, poking you in the small of your back, herding you both to the couch. That’s the thing about Yuqi: she makes it known what she wants, doesn’t apologize for it. There’s something strangely comforting about it, about being around someone who is so sure of herself, of every move and instinct. 

“Okay, it’s-” says Yuqi when she sits, drumming her fingers along her guitar, expression open and filterless. She tucks her bottom lip into her mouth, bites down, lets go. “It’s kind of… rough. I mean, not in a - not in a sexual context. It’s not like that. It’s just - unrefined, right now.” 

But now: tripping over her words, ready to pour her soul out, nervous like she’s unsure if you’ll both take it. You and Minnie, sitting in front of her, watching Yuqi’s lashes flicker, the morning painting her almost breathtakingly sincere. Now - the one thing she’s not perfectly sure about. Oh, she must have an idea, you think, exchanging a glance with Minnie, a soft, private smile; Yuqi must know, deep down. She must see the devotion, how it lifts instead of drowns, makes the room weightless; forget the tension, forget pressure. She must know how you and Minnie have never felt lighter. 

“Alright,” says Minnie, gently. “That’s fine.” 

A concession from the right person: Yuqi takes a breath, a moment. Fiddles with her guitar, plucking idly, tuning it up. And despite it all, despite the fact that you’ve seen a million times that she’s fine performing a stage, in front of strangers, speaking her mind through music, she says: “Don’t laugh.” 

Minnie’s lips part a little, surprised. Your voice catches in your throat. Yuqi rarely shows her nerves like this, lets them take hold and become palpable - but when she does, it’s only for the two of you. You lower your chin in a nod, gesture for her to go ahead: of course, you’re saying. It’s you. It’s you. Say anything and we’ll listen. 

Minnie murmurs again, carefully, “Yuqi.” Her name in Minnie’s mouth; it’s as mesmerizing as it always is. “We won’t.”

“Okay,” says Yuqi, believing it, and then she begins to play. 

-

Oh, it’s stunning, but of course it is. A revelation in the rasp of her voice, the nearly sensual hum of her guitar. Lyrics about sex and seduction and wanting to make time for someone, reserve a space in your life for them, in your heart, in your home. About waking up in the morning to love and nothing less. It’s not a sad song, by any means - it’s got a rhythm, an optimism, a playful lilt in the chord changes, the melody. It’s suggestive and a little filthy and honest and hopeful. It’s so completely her. 

By the time it’s over, you and Minnie are both wonderfully, completely, startlingly speechless. 

“Did you-” Yuqi can’t seem to muster up full sentences, working through her blush, her own emotions trapping words in her throat. “Did you guys - like it?” 

It’s so entirely sincere, and shy, and spellbinding. A remnant of a conversation from weeks earlier, about love and creation, about Yuqi’s heart in her music, about taking someone’s hand and saying here, I made this for you. 

“Yuqi,” says Minnie, grin leaking into her voice. 

Yuqi’s laughing, setting her guitar aside sheepishly; she can glean the answer from her tone alone. That’s the thing about love, when you’re in it - it saturates everything you make, everything you say. “What?” 

She barely gets a chance to get the word out of her mouth before you’re pulling at her hip, pulling her right into your lap. She squeals and Minnie’s there, throwing her arms around her neck, wrapping her in a crushing hug. The three of you, so entwined it’d take brute force to rip you apart. Well, let them try. 

“Baby,” you say, and Yuqi’s flushing pink again. “You’re so fucking adorable.” 

“I know,” says Yuqi, fiercely. She’s so good at taking compliments until they get too close to home. 

“And we’re obsessed with everything you do,” adds Minnie, helpfully, darting forward to press a quick kiss to the tip of her nose. 

“Fucking obviously.” 

But now she’s beaming like she could stop the pouring rain right in its tracks, burrowing herself further into Minnie’s embrace, tucking her knees up to brush your ribcage. The snark’s never been anything but a love language, truly. You’ve learned every turn of phrase by now. 

“It was brilliant,” says Minnie, then, vehemently, “you’re brilliant,” and then she’s laughing, kissing Yuqi’s face, throwing you that look in her eye when she’s too happy to do anything but show it, unable to process it in any way but the physical. Leans in to kiss you too, hand pressed gently to your cheek. “You two,” she says, then can’t even finish her sentence - it’s such a far cry from the character she’d played yesterday, but that’s the point-

“I don’t want to hear it,” Yuqi says, but doesn’t even try to leave your lap. “You two? I’m the one who wrote the song. He didn’t do shit.” 

“Did you or did you not just tell me that this song is about me?” you point out. 

One hand finds its way into Yuqi’s hair, and she lets it. “That’s slander,” says Yuqi. “I would literally never say that.” 

She’s dazzling when she’s blushing, bluffing, lying right to your face. “I really am your muse,” you say, entertained by the prospect. “That’s so sick.” 

“Half my muse,” says Yuqi, and pokes Minnie’s ribs until she yelps. “She’s the hot half.” 

“Clearly,” you corroborate, as Minnie laughs prettily, proving both your points - that’s a girl who can always take a compliment, any place and any time. Someone that gorgeous; she’s gotten used to it. “So I guess you’re stuck with both of us, huh?”

And here’s the point that should contain the purposeful score, with the camera panning out, with the confession and the slow motion. Oh, it’s not nearly so cheesy - never so theatrical, no tears or tortured secrets being revealed. It’d be a terrible whodunit, between the three of you: everyone already knows exactly how you got here, sees the fingerprints and the paper trails and the unsubtle clues. There’s no need for any grand reveal when you’re just unearthing what’s been there all along; no need for dramatically digging up graves when all you’re doing is opening a window, letting all the light in. It’s all so spectacularly obvious. It’s what you’ve always thought. It’s peace. 

“Fuck,” says Yuqi, content in your arms, and she’s not fooling anyone - so it’s a good thing she doesn’t need to. “I guess I am.” 

-

“I’m making an executive decision,” says Minnie. “We should all just date.” 

It’s so simple, so straightforward. All of you and your mutual obsession, wrapped up in a label, a ribbon to tie neat and tight. It’s insane that it could end in something so easy - oh, after the sex you’ve had, the rules you’ve broken, the boundaries you’ve thrown right out the window-

“Ugh,” says Yuqi, like she’s not smiling wide enough to split her face. There’s no possible way you’ve earned this happy ending, but somehow you’ve got it anyway. “Yeah, we probably should, shouldn’t we.” 

It’s not a question; no room for error. You can read her too well for that, now. Yuqi adds, belatedly: “I mean, just - like, logically.” 

“Absolutely,” you agree, infatuated with how she’s gunning for nonchalance and failing horribly. “It’s just like you said.” You pat Minnie’s hip, meet her radiant eyes, forever colluding. “We’re better than nothing.”

It’s a purposeful bait - you’re getting better at those. Hey, it’s all about growth. “Ugh,” grumbles Yuqi again, burrowing further in Minnie’s arms, squirming in your lap, torn between her attitude and her own need for honesty. “No, you guys - you’re like - you’re better than everything.” 

(This, hidden between lyrics, entire love letters scrawled in the margins of a screenplay: Do you understand how much you mean to me? Could you possibly?)

“Oh, wow,” you say, breathless, overwhelmed. “That’s so cliché. I thought you were a songwriter, Yuqi.” 

“I hate you.” At the sound of Minnie’s laugh, Yuqi swats at her thigh repeatedly, unable to even manage a scowl. “Uh, you too, bitch. You’re not exempt just because you’re a bystander. You let this happen. Realistically, we’re all here because of you.”

“What?”

“If you hadn’t wanted to get your ass fucked so bad that one day-”

“Oh my God.”

“-then he never would’ve caught us. And we never would’ve ended up here.” 

“Actually,” you cut in, mimicking. “Realistically, Yuqi, if you hadn’t decided that you just had to fuck me the moment you met me, I never would’ve gone to that first party, and I never would’ve met Minnie, so-” 

“Exactly,” says Minnie, smacking Yuqi’s shoulder triumphantly. “This is your fault.”

And there’s not a stitch of regret in it, nothing that constitutes actual blame. You’ve seen this film before. It’s the same every time. Sure, it’s her fault: her fault that you’re all the happiest you’ve ever been, that you’re having the best sex you’ve ever had, that you have somewhere safe to run after a bad day, friends to fill a home, a bed where you never have to be alone. Her fault that you slipped and fell right into a perfect ending, every stray thread wrapped up and stitched masterfully and closed out. A revelation. A kiss. A faultless flourish, and a cut away.  

(This, the question underneath it all, asked over and over again, slipped subliminally under each line of dialogue: do you understand how much you mean to me?)

“You know what,” says Yuqi, thoughtfully. “I’ll take it.” 

(The answer, the running theme, the credits as they roll: I do, I do, I do.) 

-

“What the hell are you doing here?” 

Well, in case you didn’t already know: there’s always going to be room for an epilogue. 

Call it a post-credits scene, something included just for kicks. This one centers in on a weekend - but doesn’t it always? - on the rush of a cool autumn night, on a dark club, on chatty strangers. It’s a single scene, bookended by names, labeled professions; there are more important things to worry about than this, but it’s your life. It’s where you’re at. It’s also exactly where you’d started. 

“You’re not even working today,” says Bona, perched daintily on a stool, scantily clad and seemingly amused by your presence alone. “You don’t need to be here, you know.” 

“I know,” you say, cryptically, settled comfortably beside her. “Just wanted to check out some of the performances.”

It’s obnoxiously vague. “Right,” says Bona, clearly suspicious. “Uh, have fun?” 

The band’s got more fans than they give themselves credit for - it’s like every extra’s right where they should be, prepared for any cue. You spot Lisa and Chaeyoung in the corner, laughing loudly with Jisoo and another brunette whose name you can’t place; at one of the tables, there’s Kazuha and Yunjin, who looks to be in a weirdly aggressive conversation with Club Cosmic’s manager; over at the bar, Miyeon’s boyfriend catches your eye and waves, one arm slung around Miyeon’s waist. Around them all, the atmosphere seems to glimmer, velvet and smoke and strategic lighting, placing them all somewhere mythic.

“I will,” you tell Bona, cheerfully, and hop up from your seat. 

Yunjin and Kazuha are the first to monopolize your attention, but that’s not especially surprising. Yunjin’s sporting some comically oversized sunglasses and losing her mind over some shocking celebrity breakup - two of her absolute favorite actresses, she tells you balefully, right before she downs her drink. Kazuha’s trying to console her, but also obviously trying not to laugh at her.

“I seriously don’t even believe in love at this point,” Yunjin’s lamenting, head in her hands, phone open to the news article. “Two years. They were together for two years.”

“Hmm,” says Kazuha, suddenly lost in thought. It’s then that you recall she’s been with her boyfriend for twice that long, or something similar. Nineteen and already tied down; but, you muse, stranger things have happened. You’re not gonna question love. Your life has too much of it. You can’t imagine believing in anything else. 

“Is that why you were arguing with…” You gesture discreetly towards Club Cosmic’s manager, who’s only a table or two away, making her rounds.

“Sakura’s such a bitch,” says Yunjin, not quietly, and - well, there goes discretion. “She’s like - oh, every celebrity relationship is PR, I don’t even know why you’re upset, it was probably fake anyway - and I was like, for two years? That doesn’t even make sense-”

“I can hear you,” says Sakura, turning abruptly. 

“Good,” says Yunjin. “Cunt.” 

“I could ban you from this place,” says Sakura, hand on her hip. She’s maddeningly gorgeous just by standing there - the big eyes and the flawless skin and the long, dark hair, swept up out of her face, ears lined with delicate silver jewelry. Every time she mans the floor, she gets just as much attention as the lingerie-clad performers; that’s a talent in itself. “Also, two years isn’t even that long for a serious relationship.” She smiles, tiny and catlike. “Not that you would know.” 

“I will key your car,” says Yunjin seriously, then, to you: “It’s fine. Sakura and I go way back.”

“No, we don’t,” says Sakura. “You’re an acquaintance at most. I barely tolerate you.” A pause. “Hi, Zuha.” 

“Hi,” says Kazuha, amiably. “Nice to see you.”

“Don’t lie to her,” says Yunjin, emphatically, and flips Sakura off.

They’re largely caught up in their own spectacle, their own stories and lives and loose ends. It’s none of your business; it’s a movie you don’t have a part in. Fine: you’ve got your own plot points to hit. You leave them to it. 

Minnie’s not flaking out on band duties for once, so Miyeon’s off the hook tonight, enjoying being in the audience. She’s the band’s biggest fan, she always says - she’ll have to fight you for that title, you return every time. She’s loitering by the bar with her boyfriend, and the second she sees you, she leans in and says, almost nonsensically, “Feels pretty good, huh?” 

You lean in too. “Sorry?”

Miyeon smiles. “I heard about Yuqi’s song,” she says. Then, “It’s fucking awesome being someone’s muse, right?” 

“Uh,” you say, somewhat startled - but, like, she’s not really wrong. “I mean, yeah, totally.”

Beside her, Miyeon’s boyfriend sighs tolerantly, one arm now around Miyeon’s slender shoulders, one hand sifting carefully through the ends of her hair. See, Miyeon’s exactly what anyone who’s ever read an artsy romance novel would picture as a muse: gorgeous in this elegant, almost demure way, like she’s perennially cosplaying as some sort of princess. Her boyfriend’s older, he’s seen more of the world, he knows what it has to offer; Miyeon’s such a classic counterpart for him, despite the age difference, the mildly sketchy circumstances. You look at the two of them and you get it - why someone like him would make art about someone like her. 

“All we have to do is exist and be beautiful and get fucked into oblivion,” says Miyeon, dreamily. “We’ve got it made.”

Right - she’s sort of drunk. Well, you could’ve seen that coming. “Why are you assuming I’m getting fucked and I’m not the one doing the fucking?” 

A tilt of her head. “Yuqi doesn’t peg you?”

“Uh - not currently?” 

There’s that bright laughter, her best sign of a break in character. Miyeon tucks her face into her boyfriend’s shoulder, only half-successfully stifling her own giggles. He smiles enigmatically over at you, the kind of expression that could mean anything from wow, women, huh? to yeah, yeah: she’s the love of my fucking life. 

“Baby,” he says to her instead, gently, hand still half in her hair. Lets out this endeared sort of huff, partly a laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners. Right, you think: love of his life it is, then. 

Miyeon turns her face out again, cheeks flushed and lids heavy as she looks at you. 

“You know what,” she says, candidly. “Yuqi was right. You are cool.” 

“Thanks, man,” you say. Inebriation’s clearly killed her filter a little bit. “You didn’t think I was before?” 

“Well, I was originally worried you might be too dumb for Yuqi, but…” She nods sagely, blinks at you slow and serious. “She’s dating you and Minnie. It’s obvious she’s into morons. Like, that’s definitely her type.”

So, that’s-

“What the fuck,” you say, and Miyeon’s boyfriend actually bursts out laughing, which only makes Miyeon start cracking up again - and that’s pretty much your cue to leave. Let them be sort of young and all the way in love. They deserve it, anyway. 

-

“Hey,” says Bona, over the music, when she finally circles back to your side. “Your girls are performing tonight, aren’t they?” 

Your girls, she says. Like music, like belonging, like a motion picture with all three of your names billed first, crossing the screen simultaneously. Like the last handful of months laced between the lines, a roll of film stretching out with no end in sight. Like something you could hear them called the rest of your life - your girls - yours. 

You swallow back your grin, and say, “How’d you know?”

But suddenly you don’t really need an answer. Bona nods towards the entrance, and that’s when you finally see them. 

(Oh - and about their outfits: 

Unsurprisingly, Soyeon vetoed Minnie’s sexy cat idea. No, she’d said, or so you’d heard secondhand; Club Cosmic’s a burlesque club, isn’t it? You’ve all seen those old movies, vintage costumes, coiffed curls. We already employ the art of the tease, all that shit; now we’ve got the perfect setting for it. Let’s lean into it. Let’s bring a fantasy to life.)

“God,” says Bona, voice suddenly faint, like just the sight of them together’s forced some sort of physical affliction. “You don’t even know how fucking lucky you are.” 

“Actually,” you say, your throat entirely too dry, “I think I have a pretty good idea.”

(Let’s bring a fantasy to life, she says, so they do.)

It’s very nearly fatal, the two of them across the room and so gorgeous your heart skips out of time; strings slipping, drums off-tempo, the pianist must’ve ditched and left you hanging. Your brain can’t catch up with itself, can’t reconcile that they’re here and they belong to you - in and out of focus like any possible camera work wouldn’t be nearly enough to capture this - can’t work out the fact that you belong to them-

“Pull yourself together,” says Bona, though she can’t quite seem to pick her jaw up either. 

“Dude, I can’t,” you say, hoarsely, and leave it there. They’re speaking for themselves just by standing there, anyway. 

There’s Minnie’s bodysuit, that’s the first thing: all scarlet fabric and scandalous cutouts, tucked seamlessly into a pair of tiny, tight shorts. Cords of glittering rhinestones dripping from her waist, dotting the crisscrossing threads of her fishnets. Strappy heels and shimmering jewelry wrapped snugly around her neck, something of a choker, something you’d die to hook your fingers in and tug on. She fits the aesthetic like it was made for her, every part of her perfectly arranged, tailored brilliantly. And Yuqi - all you can comprehend is the latticing detail of her stockings, everything trimmed in tantalizing black lace, the telltale straps of a garter belt. Dolled up in black, sweetheart neckline strategically low, skirt skimpy and primed to tease. Her boots, platform and buckled and beat-up leather, sending the whole look a touch theme-inaccurate, marvelously off-beat. It’s all about the details, the barely tamed wildness of her hair, nails blunt and black lacquer chipping, rough in all the right places. And it’s so completely her. 

You’re sure the entire place is staring. The room almost glitters around them, the scenery a perfect backdrop. Forget every single side character, every winding plot - it’s all leading up to the two of them walking in like this, side by side. That’s it. Nothing else matters. Cut it there. 

But you can’t - because you spot the exact moment the two of them see you, too.

You see Minnie’s mouth form your name even all the way across the dim club, her smile - lopsided, lovely - stunningly at odds with the allure of her outfit, her sultry sex appeal. Yuqi sees the look on your face and her mouth curls into a brilliantly red smirk, raises her eyebrows, aware of exactly what they’re both doing to you. 

It’s hypnotizing, the sight of it. They could have the entire room in the palm of their hand, but they’re only looking at you. 

Minnie says something you can’t hear over the music, waves one arm in a broad, indiscernible gesture. “What?” you say back, but then you notice the camera she’s holding - the one Miyeon gave to her for her birthday. Beside her, Yuqi puts a hand on her hip, mimes pouting and posing. 

Right. You throw your head back, laugh out loud, and that’s right when Minnie takes the shot. 

(She’s been taking them of Yuqi all night, you’ll learn later - while getting ready, in the car on the way here, outside the club. You’ll see it all after this, her blonde hair almost blown out, images soft at the corners. She’ll look inhumanly beautiful, like something magical, ethereal. God, Minnie will tell her, cycling through the photos, you’re so fucking gorgeous - and you’ll agree, slack-jawed and struck dumb.

Maybe, Yuqi will say, but don’t you get it? It’s me through your eyes, your point of view. She’ll take a look at herself on camera and laugh. I look prettiest when you’re the one photographing me. Do you understand? she’ll be asking, wonderingly. Could you possibly?

Oh, and you do. Love and art. Love and creation. Love and how it shapes the way you see the world, bit by bit, until you realize it - take a look around: you live a life full of beautiful things. You’ve got so much to be grateful for.) 

You’re barely ready, and it’s surely not flattering, but they’re both grinning at you anyway, so pleased with themselves. You, through their point of view, like the best you’ve ever been. An epilogue - maybe that’s not accurate at all, then. Maybe it’s all just a preview: a marker of everything that’ll come later. Sequel after sequel after sequel. 

(In twenty minutes they’ll both be up on that stage. Singing the song Yuqi wrote, the two of them sneaking glances at each other on opposite sides of the stage, catching your eye by the bar, in the crowd. Give them a little longer and they’ll both be running off the stage in record time, right into your arms - Yuqi will be complaining about a chord Minnie flubbed, Minnie will kiss her until she shuts up - and it’ll be a moment you’ll get to replay again, and again, and again. Every concert, every coming birthday, every moment, second, scene. Every night you’re gonna grin, and kiss them, and let them take you home. 

You’ve got a love that’ll keep coming back around, in the end. Forget the classics, forget convention - you’d be so repressed having one type and sticking to it. You’d be bored to fucking tears without the two of them by your side.)

But that’s all what’s to come. That, and so much more. 

For now, you watch as Minnie and Yuqi walk over to you, both of them trying to talk over each other at once - something about Minnie accidentally burning the side Yuqi’s neck with a curling iron; no, it’s not a fucking hickey, when has she ever tried to hide those - but all you can do is stare. 

“Hi,” you say, dumbly, smiling like an idiot.

“You’re such an idiot,” says Yuqi, predictably, her hip bumping Minnie’s.

“Hey,” Minnie says, beaming back, just as predictably, and it’s a start. It’s a step. A photo in a frame, cataloging your future in a single snapshot. The way she moves forward and loops her arms around your neck, and Yuqi wriggles close to her side, unwilling to ever be left out. 

“Oh, wow,” says Bona, who you’d honestly forgotten was even standing there. “You guys are nuts.” 

And you get exactly what she means. You’re obsessed with each other and you’re not shy about it. You’ll bicker as often as you’ll fuck, in private, in public. You’ll be fielding queries about the logistics for a while - the three of you? people will say, pulling faces. How? When? Wondering how you turned a habit into a home, a safe place to keep your heart. 

“Fuck off,” says Yuqi, muffled by Minnie’s hair. “Jealousy is a disease, bitch.” 

“I’m serious,” says Bona, but she’s smiling now. “And - Soyeon’s already in the back asking for you guys, by the way. She sent me out here to get you.”

It’s a lead-in, a prompt: wrap it up. Get it all out; you’re in the home stretch. A quip, a grin, a glance. A hard cut to a happy ending. This is the story you’ve got. 

“Well?” says Yuqi to you, eyes narrowing. Affection tilts her mouth. She’ll always let sincerity bleed through, when it’s all said and done. “Any last words before we go on?” 

She says it like she’s about to kill you; she’s gorgeous enough to get away with it. Minnie’s giggling openly, lacing her fingers through yours. They look like they could get anything they’d ever wanted and then some. Like they’re about to be put on pedestals and surrounded by snapping cameras, nosy paparazzi searching for a way behind the scenes, a glimpse of a masterpiece in the making. Them through your eyes, extraordinary in every light, every angle. That’s the thing about all the greatest movies, all your best narratives, love behind a careful lens: there’s always something new to discover. 

Fine: you’ll learn, then. You’ll stick around to see. It’s the story you’ve got - oh, and isn’t it a wonderful one. 

“Break a leg,” you tell them, laughing, and let it all fade to black. 

-

happy very very late bday to minnie! also one of these days i will write a smut that is not actually a love story in disguise but today is not that day <3

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret : What If...?

a series of alternate/unused bks story lines!!

contains spoilers for all of bks!!

alternate torture @ the end

i grappled with this a lot. i very strongly believe that the worst thing you can do with your characters in a high stakes situation is coddle them. if i've learned anything from dnd it's that you cannot be afraid to hurt you characters.

yet for the first time in my life i've become so attached that i just couldn't do it.

the tongue in a box scene was something that caused me a lot of turmoil. in the original cut it was elaine's tongue, but i talked to my friend catie about it and we agreed that cutting off a lesbians tongue is fucked up. then i considered actually cutting off din's tongue, i thought that that would make for something really interesting with the big reveal if he couldn't talk to her but it just seemed too brutal? i couldn't really wrap my head around it so i eventually just made it someone elses tongue.

my replacement for that was din's leg, that was something that sort of came on at the last second, i gave him the limp as foreshadowing and then said fuck it, lets take the whole thing.

dress maker

the scene in chapter 4 where din walks in on her in the bath was originally a much longer sequence where a modiste visited the castle and there was a lot of stuff around making new dresses for her and din was going to walk in while she was getting changed.

eventually i scrapped the entire concept and gave elaine the seamstress trait instead.

multiple parties & balls (masquerade)

i briefly mentioned this in the q&a but in the original bks outline there were a lot more parties and big scenes like that. i realized pretty quickly that balls and parties are a visual medium. the reason why i like those scenes so much in other things is because they're so visually appealing which is harder to do when writing. there was going to be a readers birthday ball, a few other parties or wedding for kodos siblings etc but it always felt like filler.

the masquerade was my dream sequence that just never really fir naturally fit with the story so i eventually had to let it go.

no breakup/rules storyline

there was no break up in the original bks story board. instead, everything after chapter 7 was gonna be based around breaking each and every rule.

each chapter following would have been dedicated to breaking a few of the rules up until the last one that would have been; no falling in love, stop when i say to stop, and no kissing would have all been one big climax chapter. it would have been very little women in the 'we have got to have it out jo' sort of sense where she begs him to stop talking but he just keeps confessing.

eventually i realized that a rule or two break every chapter wasn't very sustainable. it was a fun idea and it might work in a different setting but bks at its core is supposed to be an overly dramatic period piece and there just wasn't enough conflict with that so instead i went with the breakup.

alternative ending

i had a similar ending for quite some time and one day i was listening to music and thinking about bks and realized that she loved naboo. originally they fled after kodo was killed. they built a cabin somewhere far away etc. etc.

but the character seemed to make more sense as someone who would want to do right by the people she had grown to love within the kingdom so i decided to make it a sort of thing where she disassembled the monarchy.

(there was also an ending where she faked her own death, framed kodo, and he was ripped apart by the citizens of naboo)

and of course i briefly considered genuinely killing din and having her raise the baby on her own. but the idea made me so truly upset that i just couldnt do it.

hoth story line

not much to say here other that there was going to be a thing where she went back to hoth to visit her family accompanied by the mandalorian. another thing that was fun as a concept but ended up feeling like filler so i dropped it.

elaine plot twist

another case of me really loving elaine and being conflicted about her character.

originally elaine was going to tell kodo about their relationship. it was going to be a situation where kodo suspected something and threatened lysa forcing elaine to take action but eventually i decided to use my backup which was leo since there had been foreshadowing for that anyway

neutral kodo

for quite a while i planned for kodo to be just a bad husband and not a villain. but i needed more conflict and i needed a driving force and he was easy to mold into that.

there was an alternate storyline where he fell in love with the reader and “killed” din out of jealousy

[booktomoviebrawl]

We are not judging how bad the movie is, we are judging which adapted the book the worst. There are good movies that are bad adaptions.

Propaganda below the cut (spoilers may apply)

The Seeker: The Dark is Rising:

Painfully generic-dumbed-down-fantasy-action trying to channel better film franchises instead of the atmospheric, mythopoetic and lyrical children’s book it is technically based on. Bonus points for the open contempt people involved had for the source material, both in how they treated it and what they said about it.

BAD. Bad bad bad!! They completely changed Will's character. In the books he does get frustrated sometimes, but is mostly kind and patient and really makes you believe that he is both an ancient being and an 11 year old boy and in the movie they changed it so he's like really mad and angsty and just the total opposite of his actual character!! Absolute butchery. And they cut the Wild Hunt! And changed a bunch of other plot stuff and it overall just sucked.

where do I even begin. they made the main character American for no reason (this is perhaps the most egregious change), aged him up to 14, and added a straight romance subplot. they were so indecisive during production that they CUT AN ENTIRE MAIN CHARACTER in the time between the trailer and the actual film release. they completely fucked up all of Will’s family stuff. in pursuit of “relatability” they got rid of everything that makes the book good and put in THE most generic, poorly written, poorly acted (except Christopher Eccleston, who did okay), and poorly produced garbage. it was in theaters for like…less than a week; we were supposed to see it for my birthday but it was already gone. it doesn’t even have, like, half-decent special effects. it is an insult.

Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children:

While Miss Peregrine was one of my favorite books as a kid and incredibly unique in the way the story is written (The author basically took a box of weird antique photographs and created an underlying story behind a handful of them) the movie is incredibly boring. Like seriously I can't remember a single goddamn thing about the movie besides my extreme disappointment with it after leaving the theatres. It's probably because the original is a trilogy but they didn't want to make it a trilogy for the movie so they just scrapped the ending of the first book and rewrote a shitty climax where they threw snowballs at the nightmare child eating creatures or something. I remember THAT scene perfectly because it was so, so dumb. It was so stupid oh my God- ALSO, thank God I have a copy of the book from before the film came out because new copies don't have one of the photographs that the actual book uses as a base anymore and instead have the shitty movie poster! We truly do live in a society.

Changed way too much so it doesn't feel like the same thing. The main characters are these kids with different abilities (called peculiarities) and the movie switches around their powers and changes almost everyone's age. Emma and Olive switch powers so that Emma now floats (they also added that she can kind of control air to some extent) when she's supposed to have fire powers to match her fiery personality. Olive can make fire now and she's also aged up from an eight year old to a teenager and put her in this weird romance with Enoch. Enoch is also aged up from a grumpy thirteen year old to around the same age as Olive. Bronwyn, one of the older kids in the book and sort of a motherly figure to the younger kids, is now one of the youngest kids. Hugh and Fiona are aged down and basically have no interaction at all in the movie, even when their book counterparts had such a good relationship. The only one they didn't really change was Horace and Jacob. They also added these gorgon twins that do like two things. The antagonist in the movie is Mr. Barron who honestly isn't super memorable and isn't in the books whatsoever. The ending of the movie is weird too because they manage to turn back time somehow so Jacob's grandfather isn't dead and then he hops through loops so he can be with Emma and the other peculiars. I guess the problem of wights and hollowgasts is magically eliminated and we do not have to deal with the consequences. It took six books to fix everything. I appreciate that the movie engaged me enough to read the series but once I did, I could not believe they did my kids that dirty.

Yikes where to start. The 3 girl characters are all mixed up. There are 2 teens, one who's super strong and has a brother (I'll get back to him) and one who controls fire and is the love interest named Emma. The third girl is a child called Olive who floats. She's lighter than air.

In the movie, strong girl is the child, olive is now the fire girl and is for some reason super introverted, and Emma the love interest floats and gets given a super breath??? Power?? Like she rises a sunken ship by blowing in and keeps a man blown against a wall by blowing air at him. He makes a remark that she'll run out of breath eventually, which happens here because plot convenience, but not when she's blowing in the sunken ship.

The enemies in the book are terrifying Hollows. Creatures who have lost themselves and devour souls of those with powers... The movie decides they eat eyes now. And turn human again. And get busted up in a fair for the final act of the movie. Ugh.

The movie also decides randomly that time travelling through the loops is a thing; a loop being a pocket of time that replays the same day over and over. But apparently this means Main Character can travel back in time and stop his grandfather dying??? What?? His grandfathers death is the whole start of the movie and motivation for the character.

The movie undermines many of things that made the book amazing and even decides it's not a trilogy anymore!! Fuck the other 2 books, right?!

Tldr; it is terribly hollywood-ised and t tim Burton ruined a franchise by trying too hard to make it quirky and fun when the books already had a brilliant sombre and interesting tone to them.

[maleyanderecafe]

I have an live action yandere film recommendation , it's an very odd movie filmed in Ireland so you might want to watch it with subtitles,it ends with the boy killing some guy out of jealousy. It's called disco pigs

Sorry it took me a while, I normally don't watch as much live action films, but here we go. Disco Pigs is a artsy film about two people, Runt and Pig who grow up together, are each other's world until Pig goes out of control after he discovers his feelings for Runt. From what I remember, it's also suppose to be a stage play, which explains why it doesn't really feel like a normal film. Pig is the yandere in this one, considering he does murder someone for Runt.

The story starts out with Runt being born and seeing Pig for the first time. Ever since then, they were inseperatable, two halves of a whole who did everything together. The two aren't great kids either, causing a bunch of trouble like killing birds after Runt's dad abuses her, or bringing a knife to pop their inflatable doughnut while going to the beach and as teens, continue this trend of being not great people, bullying and attacking a guy at the store to get free booze amongst other things. It's clear that Pig is the more violent of the two, but both are troublemakers and both care for each other immensely. Runt is eventually sent off to boarding school and this is where Pig develops feelings for Runt, believing that the two are meant for each other and that one cannot live without the other. He ends up going to save Runt from boarding school on their birthday, going to bars to celebrate. In one bar, Runt gets to dance with a guy named Markey to which Pig ends up killing through bludgeoning him to death. After this, the two head to the beach, become one and Runt kills Pig, as Pig believes that he's gone to far. At the end Runt has lost the other half of her world and has to live with the consequences.

The film itself was a bit hard to interpret considering I'm really glad the subtitles were on or else I wouldn't really be understanding what they were saying. It feels strangely janky at some points, though I guess it's because it was originally a play rather than a movie. You could feel Pig's gradual decent into yandereness though as when Runt is taken away how big of a hole was left for him and his scene where he's kind of yelling at himself and runs to break her out of the boarding school does encapsulate that. The climax of course comes when he kills Markey in front of everyone after Runt dances with him and his eventually killing off by Runt in the end. To me, it felt like his yandere actions were eventually cut off, but I suppose it's better to end the madness like that if you are able to.

Overall, a pretty interesting film. There's something about it that feels real and yet not real at the same time. I'm not sure how else to describe it.

[opera-ghosts]

Remembering Lilli Lehmann on her birthday:

b. November 24, 1848, Würzburg, Germany d. May 17, 1929, Berlin, Germany

Mozart - Die Entführung aus dem Serail - Martern aller Arten - Lilli Lehmann (1907)

"Yes, I am quite tired," was her first remark as she seated herself at a little writing-desk and her visitor near by. " The opera lasted so late ; I did not get to bed until two o'clock. But I was waiting for you this morning, and had just prepared to write down some items you might wish to know."

Then she took a pencil and paper, — and what do you suppose she wrote first? These are the exact words, and she read them aloud as she wrote:

"Born — Wiirzburg, November 24, 1848."

I could not conceal some surprise, and was obliged to explain: "The American ladies so seldom give their age that your frankness is a revelation."

"The Lilli Lehmann " smiled and said:

"Why not? One is thereby no younger,"

She turned again to the desk, and went on with the "interview," using her pencil with great firmness and rapidity as she wrote in German, and with all possible abbreviations :

"I was brought up in Prague, where I made my debut when eighteen years of age. My mother was my first teacher and constant companion. She was herself a dramatic soprano, well known as Maria Low, and my father, too, was a singer."

" In what opera did you first appear? "

" It was the ' Magic Flute, ' and I appeared in one of the lighter roles ; but two weeks later, during the performance, the dramatic soprano was taken ill, and I then and there went on with her role, trusting to my memory after hearing it so often. My mother, who was in the audience and knew I had never studied the part, nearly fainted when she saw me come on the stage as Pamina."

Madame Lehmann's feats of memory have more than once created a sensation. We remember the astonishment aroused in New York music circles five years ago when she mastered the Italian text of " Lucrezia Borgia " in three days.

Recurring to her life in Prague, Madame Lehmann further said:

" I appeared not only in many operas, but also as an actress in many plays. In those days opera singers were expected to be as proficient in the dramatic side of their art as the musical, and we were called upon to perform in all the great tragedies. But nowadays this would be impossible, since the operatic repertoire has become so tremendous"

People seldom consider how much larger is the present list of famous operas than formerly. All the Wagnerian works, many of Verdi's, and most of the French have taken their places in comparatively recent years, and yet there is still a demand for all the old operas too. The singer who attains Wagner must at the same time keep up her Mozart, Beethoven, Gliick, Rossini, Meyerbeer, and Bellini.

As the visitor mentioned Bellini, Madame Lehmann assented. " Yes, we are to give 'Norma* here next month. " "Norma," abounding in melody and florid fancies, is as different from Wagner as a cloudless sky from a thunder-storm.

The divine art, like nature, has its various moods, and Wagner and Bellini represent two extremes.

Among Wagner's works, " Isolde" is one character to which Madame Lehmann's temperament and physique are strikingly fitted. Throughout the long first act, wherein she is almost constantly singing, she imparts a glorious impression of one who thinks in music. The fearless, impassioned Isolde thinks bitter, rancorous thoughts of Tristan, whom she abhors, until with fierce resolve she hands him the fatal drink which, unknown to herself, is a love-potion. The previous dearth of action has created a ready mood for us to thrill and respond at the love-frenzy, the delirium which now animates the scene as these unwitting love suddenly find all hatred and other memories gone from their hearts.

It may be mentioned here that Wagner firmly believed in the power of contrast, and he purposely preceded his greatest climaxes by what many would deem an unwonted length of inaction.

In 1870 Lilli Lehmann was engaged for the Berlin Opera- House.

Americans can hardly appreciate the significance of this fact; but it means much. The opera in Berlin is supported by the government and directly under the supervision of the emperor. The singers are not engaged for a season, but for life, being entitled to an annuity after they retire from the stage. Lilli Lehmann' s contract was signed by the kaiser during the FrancoPrussian war.

When asked if the old Emperor Wilhelm was musical, Madame Lehmann smiled, and there was a gleam of humor in her eyes:

" No, I can not truthfully say that he was

at all musical, tho he was wonderfully kind and good to all artists."

For fifteen years Lilli Lehmann sang in Berlin with an occasional flight to Baireuth under the kaiser* s permission, where she sang for Wagner himself.

" I was one of the Rhine daughters, and also the first Forest Bird in ' Siegfried "

Wagners own Forest Bird! It is a thrilling and poetic statement that would be hard to equal. Of all this great masters characters, including gods and demi-gods, knights and shepherds, dwarfs and giants, his most original, and perhaps for this reason his best-loved children of the brain, were, we believe, his Rhine daughters and his Forest Bird. The former sing under the water laughing strains of mystical import and unearthly sweetness, while the Forest Bird sings in the air — always unseen, but more impressive than the greatest presence.

This bird-music is not very long, but it is of unsurpassed beauty, and the most memorable theme in the opera. The scene too is

exceptional and powerful in its simplicity — only one person on the stage. Siegfried, the inspired youth, who knows the speech of bird and beast, is alone in the forest when he hears a bird sing. He pauses to listen, as you in the audience do too, for the song is not a meaningless mocking-bird array of trills and cadences, but a tender strain that bespeaks the bird as a prophet. Siegfried tries to catch the message, tries to see the bird, and tries, too, to imitate its tones. He cuts him a reed from the water-banks, and shapes it and tests it until he can play upon it the music he hears. Ah, we should like to have been in that audience at Baireuth when this Forest Bird took its first flight into the world !

It is a great thing to create a role, to set the standard by which all later performances shall be modeled. If the new opera proves to be a great and lasting work, the singers who created the important roles are always credited therewith and mentioned.

They usually have been selected by the composer, and their performance is the result of his best instruction as well as their own inspiration. Madame Lehmann has "created " many roles, but the most poetic, we deem, is the Forest Bird.

After writing with characteristic abbreviation the foregoing fact — " f 7S~7^y Baireuth, Rhine daughter, I Forest Bird" — Madame Lehmann handed over the paper and asked " Is there anything more I can tell you?"

Her bright eyes, clear complexion, and magnificent figure prompted a personal question :

" How do you keep your splendid health, and the strength to work so much? "

For this she had a ready answer :

" I have been a vegetarian for the past five years."

In reply to one more parting question, Lilli Lehmann spoke words of wisdom that are worthy of reflection :

" Yes, I still practise and study more than ever. At the end one is just beginning."

From

Stars of the opera, a description of operas & a series of personal interviews with Marcella Sembrich, Emma Eames, Emma Calve, Lillian Nordica, Lilli Lehmann, Geraldine Farrar & Nellie Melba

[starryhyuck]

can i request a best friend haechan with a corruption kink?? i love your work 🥺❤️

clueless; 2.4k+

this is so cliché and i love it

hyuck has been your best friend since you were nine. his toothy grin and curly hair practically sold you as he tugged you along for his wild adventures.

you both never strayed far from one another, even as you grew older and met new people.

you shared everything with hyuck except for one thing — your sex life. well, the lack of it actually.

you lost your virginity to lee jeno when you were seventeen, and it was probably one of the worst experiences of your life. it wasn’t jeno’s fault since he didn’t exactly know what he was doing either, but the lack of foreplay really brought you nothing but pain. he apologized after when he realized how uncomfortable you were, but the deed was already done.

hyuck’s had a few girlfriends here and there but nobody really stuck around. you knew he was sexually experienced though from the way other girls would talk about him. let’s just say you’ve heard your best friend is above average in size.

however, hyuck has never asked you about any of your sexual encounters the same way you haven’t confronted him about his. it’s the only thing you two don’t share — that is, until you get wasted on your birthday.

“donghyuckie,” you whine, leaning on him. he laughs and wraps an arm around your waist to keep you steady.

“how much have you had to drink?” he asks with an amused expression. you’ve interrupted a conversation with him and jeno. oddly enough, you and jeno don’t speak of the night you lost your virginities to each other. it would just make everything awkward, and you assume he hasn’t told hyuck either.

“jaemin’s trying to kiss me,” you mumble, not answering his question.

“jaemin tries to kiss everybody,” jeno chuckles.

you just sigh. “i need to get laid.”

hyuck’s eyebrows shoot up. “excuse me?”

“i’ve only been laid once, hyuck! and jeno was really bad!”

jeno’s face turns beet red and hyuck’s eyes darken.

“what did you just say?”

you don’t get to clarify before you’re being pulled away by renjun, who is insisting you open his birthday gift because he worked really hard on it. after you leave, hyuck turns to jeno with pure anger radiating off of him.

jeno gulps.

—

you don’t remember most of the events from your party other than the fact that you got completely trashed. hyuck is there to help you with your hangover and he doesn’t say anything when you keep complaining.

“my head hurts! why did you make me drink so much last night?”

“i didn’t make you do anything.”

you notice he’s a little more tense and curt with you today, but you don’t comment on it. he’s probably just hungover too.

it isn’t until a few days later when you realize how weird hyuck’s been acting. he hasn’t been hanging out with you often and when he does, he gets really frustrated and leaves. he keeps asking you weird questions like “you tell me everything, right?” and “what do you think about jeno?”

the whole situation’s really odd, and you approach jeno since he seems to be receiving the cold shoulder from hyuck too.

“do you know what’s wrong with hyuck? he’s been acting so weird lately.”

jeno frowns. “y/n, do you not remember what you said at your party?”

you mirror his expression. “no. what did i say?”

“fuck,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. “you told hyuck we slept together.”

“i did what?” you hiss loudly, causing jeno to smile politely at anyone who heard the commotion. “no, no, no. no way! i did not do that!”

“yes you did! you even told everyone i was really bad!”

“i mean, you were.”

you both sigh and you pinch the bridge of your nose. “why would hyuck care if we slept together anyways?” you ask him, and jeno rolls his eyes.

“just as clueless as ever.”

“hey!”

—

hyuck can’t stop thinking about you. this is bad. really bad.

he almost killed jeno that night for even touching you. jeno insisted that you two only slept together once and that it was a one time thing. hyuck was still troubled by the idea, and he couldn’t really fall asleep.

he kept thinking about you underneath jeno, moaning and crying for him to fuck you. and as days passed, he imagined it was him instead of jeno. pounding into you, coaxing you to your climax and whispering sweet things in your ear — hyuck wanted it to be him.

fuck jeno.

you’re super inexperienced and hyuck knows it. you get embarrassed whenever a sex scene comes on in a movie and you always grow uncomfortable whenever a random person compliments you. you also confirmed it yourself at your birthday party by saying jeno’s been the only guy who’s fucked you.

fuck jeno.

hyuck can fuck you way better. he wants to ruin you. he wants to make sure you forget everything about jeno — he wants to ram his cock into you until you’re begging for more. he wants to be your actual first, not a placeholder that jeno supposedly is.

fuck jeno.

he can make you feel good. he can show you what a nice fuck is supposed to be like. before he knows it, his hand is pumping up and down his hard cock as he imagines pounding into you. he wants to see you so pliant and submissive underneath him, begging him to fuck you harder and show you how you’re supposed to be fucked-

he groans when there’s a knock at the door.

he angrily pulls on a pair of sweatpants and swings the front door open before he can check on who it is. you stand behind it, a clear frown on your face.

his cock twitches at the sight of you.

“you asshole! why aren’t you answering any of my calls?”

“i didn’t see them,” he grumbles as you storm inside. he closes the door behind you, watching as you observe him.

“i’m sorry for what i said at the party the other day. jeno told me about it.”

so now you’re talking to jeno again. that’s just wonderful.

“it’s fine, y/n. don’t worry about it,” he sighs, moving past you.

you quickly stand in front of him to stop his movements. “i know it’s not fine! you’re clearly upset. i’m sorry i fucked your friend, okay? it was a one time thing. i haven’t even thought about jeno in that way since we did it.”

“y/n, it’s not even that!” he yells and you grow confused. “fuck. why didn’t you come to me when you needed to do that stuff?”

you blink. this was not what you expected him to say.

“what are you talking about?”

hyuck takes a step closer to you and you inhale. “why didn’t you let me show you how it is to get fucked, baby? why did you go to him? you know i could’ve made you feel better.”

you stutter. “u-um, h-hyuck this isn’t-“

“has anyone touched you since then?” he runs his fingers down your arm and you get goosebumps from his touch. “have you touched yourself?”

“i-i don’t really l-like doing that,” you murmur, avoiding his heavy gaze.

“you don’t put your fingers inside your pretty little pussy, baby?” he murmurs, forehead pressing against yours.

“h-hyuck, don’t say things like that!”

“tell me to stop then.”

there’s a beat of silence.

he growls, wrapping his arms around you and pressing your body against his. you squeak. “yeah? you wanna be fucked good, don’t you? wanna bounce on my cock until you’re full?” you whimper and hyuck goes rabid at the noise. he presses his mouth to yours and you reciprocate, not even thinking twice that you’re kissing your best friend. you moan into his mouth when his hands trail down to the curve of your ass.

“i’m gonna fuck you so good, baby,” he whispers against your mouth. “you’ll only think about me from now on.”

he grinds his cock onto you and your eyes widen at the feeling.

“see? see how hard you make me, baby? you’re gonna be filled to the brim with my cock.”

“please, hyuck,” you whine, clutching onto him.

“want me?”

“y-yes.”

he guides you to his bedroom and throws you on the bed. you stare up at him with innocent, doe eyes and hyuck is convinced he’s going fucking insane.

“you don’t know what you do to me, y/n. fuck.”

he shimmies your jeans down your legs and you wish you had worn a sexier pair of panties. hyuck doesn’t seem to mind, taking a lick up your clothed slit. you twitch at the feeling and he smiles up at you.

“so sensitive,” he remarks, pulling your underwear down. you feel bashful when you’re fully on display for him, especially since hyuck is looking at your pussy like it’s the eighth wonder of the world.

“hyuck,” you whine, squirming in your spot.

“sorry, baby,” he chuckles. “your pussy’s so pretty.”

you ignore his compliment, feeling embarrassed by the position you’re currently in. hyuck dives into you, licking and sucking at your folds. your back arches and you cry out, a new sensation filling your body. he holds you down with his arms, pinning you to the bed.

he slides a finger into you and you moan, gripping a fistful of his hair. he groans when you tug at his locks. when he enters a second finger inside your pussy and takes your clit into his mouth, the cord in you snaps. you unravel on his fingers and tongue, moaning his name as you cum.

it’s a blinding experience, something jeno never gave you. you whisper hyuck’s name as you ride out the waves of your orgasm.

when you come to, hyuck is kissing your neck. “good orgasm, baby? was it your first one?” you nod, head spinning a little. he smirks against your skin. “that’s right. i’m officially your first.”

he sits up and takes off his sweatpants, letting his cock spring up. your eyes widen at the sight of him. all those girls were right — hyuck was massive. you didn’t even know if he could fit inside of you.

“i don’t think you can fit inside me, hyuck.”

he chuckles lowly. “your pretty pussy was made for me to fuck, baby. i’ll make it fit,” he says confidently, pumping his cock up and down slowly. you watch as precum leaks from the tip. “wanna have a taste?”

“i-i don’t know how.”

he groans, fisting over his cock faster. “i’ll show you, baby. sit up for me.” you follow his orders, falling on your knees and gazing up at him. “good girl.”

you eye his cock and he motions for you to follow the same movements as him. you place your hand on his cock as he instructs, moving it up and down. your hand looks so small on his thick cock and you watch in amazement as more precum falls. you lean forward and take the tip of your mouth, surprising hyuck as he jolts. he shoves his cock deeper into your throat and you gag a little.

his hands fly to the back of your head as he slowly fucks your mouth.

“such a good girl,” he grunts. “suck my cock so well.”

you close your eyes as you take more of him in, saliva starting to drip down the sides of your mouth. you think you’re doing well since hyuck’s making all kinds of noises, going crazy at the sight of you blowing him.

he thrusts into you a few more times before pulling out, groaning when he does.

“i have to fuck you now, baby. have a big load of cum for you.”

you whimper. “but i wanted to taste it.”

he growls, shoving you back down on the bed. “i’ll let you taste it later. i need to fuck you now.”

he pumps himself a few more times before lining his cock to your entrance. he looks up at you one more time.

“you sure?”

this time, he’s not just speaking as a horny teenage boy, but as your best friend. he’s giving you a way out, but you don’t want it. you want to feel his cock in your tummy.

“yes, yes. take me, hyuck, please.”

and that’s all the confirmation he needs. he plunged into you and you wail. you haven’t been stretched like this since jeno, and hyuck is way bigger than him. you can feel the burn in your throat and you sob.

“i’m right here, baby,” he assures you, lacing his fingers through yours. “right here for you.”

the pain quickly subsides into pleasure and you try to roll your hips down on his cock. he grunts and starts picking up his pace, ramming into you.

“wanted this for so fucking long,” he confesses, biting down on his lower lip as he thrusts into you. “feel your pretty pussy clenching around my cock, baby. now you’ll only think about me, won’t you? think about how my fat cock stretches you out? how i ate your small pussy until you fell apart?”

“only think about you, only think about you,” you blubber, mind blank. you’re only thinking about how he’s pounding into you, turning your brain into complete mush.

he chuckles as he watches you envelop yourself into mind numbing pleasure. he takes pride in knowing he’s the only one who can do this to you.

“i knew you were a dirty girl,” he laughs sinisterly. he hoists your legs on his shoulders so he can fuck you at a deeper angle. you practically sob at how hard he’s fucking you. “begging to be fucked. how’s it feel? you like how my cock sinks into you? like how deep i am inside your tight pussy?”

“l-love it, h-hyuck,” you whimper. your eyes roll back at how deep he feels inside you.

you reach your second climax in no time and he groans, hips moving at a rapid pace. you feel like jelly underneath him as you let him use you any way he wants.

he shoots his load deep inside you, moaning at how much he has to give you. you feel warm and filled to the brim with his cum.

he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

“good for your second time?”

“you’re my first, as far as i’m concerned.”

he smiles in victory.

[16woodsequ]

I have three questions about writing fanfiction and you’re the best fanfic writer I’ve seen so I’m going to ask them to you if that‘s alright

1. How do you write a lot in chapters, because I never manage to write more than 1k words about the chapter topic

2. How do you stay motivated for writing a long fic?

3. Do you have any tips about how to deal with a large ensemble of characters?

First of all, I'd like to say how happy and honoured I am for this ask! It made me so happy you thought of me. I'll do my best to answer helpfully.

My response ended up being pretty long, to I'll leave it under the cut.

1.

In general, my chapters are between 3k to 6k. I find 4k-5k is a good range for me. Before I talk about writing more in chapters, I think it is important to say that short chapters are not wrong. Short chapters can be wonderful to read!

If you want to work on writing more, I have a few suggestions. First though, the way my writing style works is I go into a story generally knowing the basic plot points, and I write all the chapters first, before I post them. So keep this in mind, since my techniques might need to be adapted for your style.

When starting a chapter, I have what I call the 'bone and meat' method. To write around 5k words, I find each chapter has enough room to explore 3-5 "events". These are the bones of a chapter.

As an example. I will use chapter five of "Alternatively", because I'm guessing you read that one. (If not you can send another ask with some you've read and I can use those).

The bones of this chapter are:

Prelude/set up to Steve learning about Bucky.

Pierce taking Steve to see Bucky

Steve having a breakdown in the elevator

Steve and Tony talking about it

These are the four main things that needed to happen in this chapter. I don't always start a chapter knowing what will happen at the end, but usually by 500 words in, I've figured out what out of my plot points will be happening in the next 5k of words.

When deciding what will be the bones of a chapter, I find I have two systems. Either I give the reader a satisfying cathartic ending, or I leave them in anticipation.

Chapter five is a good example of a mini-arc within a chapter that ends with a satisfying emotional catharsis. If you think of it along a story plotting graph, the prelude is the exposition, Pierce taking Steve to Bucky is the conflict/rising action, Steve's breakdown is the emotional climax of the chapter, and Tony and Steve's conversation is the falling action/resolution.

The ending event of the chapter feels natural, because while the story isn't finished, the emotions and events of the chapter have been tied together and dealt with for the time being.

An anticipatory ending for a chapter would be more like a cliffhanger, and would probably end near the climax of whatever plot points are happening. (Such as chapter 3 of Alternatively, the emotional climax of the chapter hits right at the end.)

So basically, your overall story has rising action and a climax, but if each chapter is roughly outfitted around that too, then it may be easier to write long chapters.

Once you have the bones of a chapter, all you need to do is add in the meat to fill out whatever word count you are aiming for. If you have written the bones of a chapter, but still aren't at a word count you like, then it is simply a case of adding more depth to what is already happening—showing the emotions of the characters, getting into their head, bringing up past events and relating them to what is currently happening, foreshadowing, describing the scene/senses, etc.

Please know that when I'm writing my chapters, I'm not obsessively planning out the steps of a chapter and thinking of all these things constantly. These are just patterns I've noticed after the fact, so they are not hard and fast rules.

2.

As for how I stay motivated for long stories, the thing that works best for me is writing all the chapters before I post the story. I know this system doesn't work for every author (and believe me, sometimes I really want to post), but I find doing so relieves pressure on me, and I don't feel guilty if I don't write a story for weeks or months because I am working on something else.

That being said, for my large Alternate Timeline series, I didn't have time to write all the chapters ahead of time. By the time I was writing The Alternate Handler, I had about a 10 chapter lead.

Things that helped me stay motivated is finding parts of the story that I really wanted to write. I usually write chronologically, so having moments that I knew where coming and I was excited for helped motivate me to continue.

Also, recognising that I sometimes made things harder for myself. Sometimes I'd be stuck on how to finish a scene, or expressing something, and my writing would slow, until I would realise that sometimes things don't need to be written in exact detail. If you don't know how to get a character to walk out of a room, sometimes you can just end the scene there. Unless something is plot relevant, you can write around it, if it is an issue.

Sometimes, if I'm stuck on a story or a chapter, it helps to take a step back and figure out what the actual blockage is. Often it won't be what I think it is. Sometimes it isn't because I don't know how to write it, or I don't know what to write—sometimes I can't write a scene because I haven't seen the movie in a while, and all I need to do is find the battle on youtube and rewatch it. Sometimes it is because I don't know how an engine works, and I need to either look up the information, or make a note of it and move on to another scene.

And sometimes you just gotta clunk out a scene word after word, because once you do, it will be done, and you can always make it better later. You can't edit what isn't written.

3.

Writing Marvel gives me plenty of opportunity to deal with large casts. Generally what happens is I end up focusing on the relationship between a few main characters, while the other characters have less focus.

In my Alternative Timeline series, the relationships between Steve, Bucky, and Tony are the focus.

Of course, this doesn't mean I want to forget about the other members. You'll notice especially in Bucky and Tony's stories that they have secondary relationships with other people like Natasha, Bruce, Clint, Pepper, Peter, and Nebula. These secondary characters get scenes with the main characters too, kind of on a rotational basis.

So first tip is to trim down how many characters you are focusing on, and how many characters are interacting with each other in each scene.

In fics I will often have Thor be away on Asgard, or Clint and Natasha doing missions, etc, so they don't get underfoot.

That being said, there are times like during group meetings, when you can't avoid having everyone in the same room.

In those times, it is important not to forget who is in the room. I will literally count on my fingers, or write down lists of who is supposed to be at the table, so I can remember.

A good example of this on a small scale is Steve's birthday party in chapter 14 of The Alternate Handler. That one has almost every Avenger but Thor sitting in a circle, playing a game. I had specific moments in mind, so I needed to remember who was sitting by who. I wrote down the names in order so I wouldn't forget, and could properly situate people in my head.

An example on a bigger scale is chapter 26 of The Alternate End. In this chapter, the Avengers have a meeting with practically every other character who was there at the final battle.

Yet again, I pare down the cast a little. T'Challa and Shuri aren't there because they are in Wakanda.

To help keep control of the larger group, I start with a vague idea of where everyone is sitting, and then don't go into deeper detail than I have to.

In the scene, we know the Guardians, Peter, and Thor and Loki are all sitting kind of near each other, but I don't specify who is sitting next to who unless I need to.

I also have Tony looking around the table for a few hundred words, seeing each group, and slowly but surely introducing them to the reader. Tony hasn't seen the whole group for a while, so he has a reason to catch the reader up to speed on what has been happening. While he thinks about the life developments of the people around him, the reader starts to get an idea of who is in the room, and their general mood.

A final tip I often use is staggered entrances. If you have a large group, and something Plot Worthy needs to happen when Character A and B talk, then don't have the meeting ready to start right away.

Have some people already sitting, so that your POV character can process them, then have some more people come in, and then some more. (I do this in chapter 19 of The Alternate End, before the time travel jump.)

With a big group, you need time to show what needs to be shown, so give yourself the space to breathe and give the characters the right amount of attention.

I hope these tips and notes were helpful. Feel free to come back with more questions, or details about your own writing style if what I said doesn't work nicely for you!

And remember, these are just tips, not the golden rule.

Have a great day!

[girl4music]

BUFFY REWATCH - S05E06 - Family

WILLOW: “My dance?

*She takes Tara's hand and leads her onto the floor as a slow song starts. They begin to dance. Willow has her hands on Tara's waist; Tara's hands on Willow's shoulders*

Good birthday?” 

TARA: “Best birthday.”

WILLOW: “I still can't believe you didn't tell me about your family and all that.” 

TARA: “I was just afraid if you saw the kind of people I came from, you wouldn't wanna be anywhere near me.”

WILLOW: “See... that's where you're a dummy. I think about what you grew up with and then I look at what you are... it makes me proud. It makes me love you more.”

TARA: “Every time I... even when I'm at my worst, you always make me feel special. 

*Willow smiles*

How do you do that?”

WILLOW: “Magic.” 

*They embrace, putting their heads on each other's shoulders and swaying to the music*

Melanie Doane (sings): “I can't take my eyes off you... I can't take my eyes off you...”

*This line of song repeats several more times as they continue slowly moving to the music and the camera moves around them. We see them slowly rising upward. Long shot of Willow and Tara surrounded by other couples who are also dancing, but Willow and Tara are floating several feet above the floor*

‘Family’ is one of my favourite episodes of the whole show. It’s definetly my favourite episode of Season 5... but then there’s not really much contest there. I love it not only because it’s the only Tara-centric episode that finally gives her some character development. But I also love it for the complex and serious themes it addresses. That of domestic abuse and found family VS blood-kin relationships. And you may well know that I am always more interested in the themes and messages conveyed in art/entertainment than the actual content of it. I’m definitely more about the meaning and the learning than the pleasure principle in watching a TV show - so therefore ‘Family’ is an important episode to me. It’s not just because I love the character it’s about,... although that does help. 

Tara is a character that is supposed to remind us of the shy and insecure character Willow used to be in the earlier seasons. However, there is much more reason for Tara to be the way she is in her demeanor than there ever was for Willow. At least in my opinion - Tara is without a doubt the most abused character in all of the show because she’s abused throughout her whole lifetime. This episode shows us that Tara is domestically abused by her blood-kinship and this reveal doesn’t exactly shock us because it’s really evident in the way Tara expresses herself. And she is abused in two different ways:

Emotionally - by her father and cousin that gaslight her to believe she’s an evil demon and use coercive control to exert power over her.

Physically - by her brother who threatens to beat her if she doesn’t do what her father tells her and how she reacts to him in the shaking and the stuttering. 

This girl has clearly been through a lot before ever meeting Willow and we really sympathise with her throughout all her interactions with her relatives (I refuse to use the word ‘family’ in regards to them because they are not) in the episode. The lack of love, support, care, kindness, generosity, understanding, trust, faith and compassion has seriously had a major affect on Tara - as it would with anyone that goes or has gone through domestic abuse or domestic violence as it’s now called and recognized. 

So for Tara... being accepted as and called ‘family’ by the Scooby Gang at the climax of the episode means a great deal. Not just for Willow and Tara’s romantic relationship but for the relationship Tara develops with all of the protagonist characters. They are now her found family and the only people she really knows and interacts with from now on. The dance scene at the end of the episode is my most favourite Willow/Tara moment. I fell in love with them when I first watched this scene. It’s the acceptance and the forgiveness Willow gives in that she understands why Tara tried to hide her prior life from her but explains that it wasn’t necessary because the fact she isn’t anything like her blood-kinship is what makes Willow love Tara more. Because she’s entirely right - anyone that can come from a cruel and violent environment like Tara did and still remain so empathetic and non-judgemental with other people deserve great admiration and respect. It’s not easy to not reflect and project that same behaviour on others. I know that firsthand. And I’ll forever feel extremely guilty for it even though it wasn’t something I could really have conscious control of at the time.

Going forward in the show, Tara’s demeanor completely changes. With the love and support of her found family and her girlfriend, her self-esteem greatly improves very quickly and she becomes a confident, secure, strong and all around beautiful person. So much so that she is able to say ‘No’ to Willow when she starts to spiral with the abusing of magic and the accumulation of power - knowing herself exactly where that can lead to as she’s tried to avoid “becoming evil” her whole life. There is the thought for me that were that the truth - were she actually part demon - I doubt she would have ever been all that evil at all.

[sunlit-squid]

I don't care about everyone else! i care about you, SQUIDWARD! (simping softness asks)

For those who don’t know, my ask box is open. Send me a simping softness prompt, and I’ll write a short sbsp ficlet for you. ✰

so, uh -- i might have gotten a bit carried away with this prompt. it’s definitely longer than a ficlet, but oh well. either way, it was a lot of fun to write! selfish spongebob is so rarely explored.

fic under the cut. also, just in case, cw: drinking, drunkenness, etc.

Spongebob rose bright and early, long before his foghorn alarm went off at 7:00 a.m. With a cheerful shout, the poriferan jumped out of bed, earning a disgruntled “mrow” from Gary, who was still asleep nearby. Stretching vigorously, the sponge leaned down, planting a soft kiss atop the snail’s shell.

“Gary,” he whispered, practically vibrating with excitement. “Today’s the day!”

Turning away, Gary simply replied “mrow”, in a disdainful way that most certainly meant “whatever.”

Undeterred, Spongebob ran to his calendar. Sure enough, the day’s date -- July 14th -- was circled in bright-red, permanent marker, with the words “My birthday!” written neatly across it. And just below those words, was a tiny drawing of Squidward’s face, with dozens of little red hearts surrounding it.

Making his way over to the window, Spongebob gazed out at Squidward’s moai in the distance. He sighed, dreamily. What was Squidward doing right now? Probably sleeping, in that adorable dress of his.

The sponge lingered there, staring dazedly out at the moai, for perhaps a moment too long. Then, remembering himself, he sprinted to the bathroom. Once inside, Spongebob pointed a finger at his own reflection in the mirror.

“Enough beating around the bush, Mr. Squarepants!” he yelled -- much to Gary’s annoyance. The sponge lowered his voice down to a soft whisper. “Today, you tell him how you feel.”

His reflection simply shrugged. “I mean, okay,” it said. “But this is like, the 57th time you’ve said this.”

“Oh, shush.”

-0-

The party was supposed to start at 6:30, but Spongebob, in a manic cleaning fit, had the entire house ready by noon. This year, the party was themed around As The Tide Turns, a very polarizing-but-popular soap opera, especially in Bikini Bottom. If you were a Bikini Bottomite, you either watched the show genuinely, or ironically -- there was absolutely no in-between.

Spongebob and Squidward both genuinely enjoyed the show. It was one of the first things they bonded over, back when Spongebob started working at the Krusty Krab. Through the window to the galley, the two coworkers would talk for hours about the show, and whatever drama was center-stage for that season.

It got to a point where Mr. Krabs -- who only watched ATTT ironically -- got on them both, for shirking their duties.

“If yer gonna flirt,” he’d said, “do it on yer own time.”

So, Spongebob started coming over to Squidward’s house on Friday nights, when the new episodes would air. In fact, even when the show was between seasons, Spongebob still came over, just to watch reruns. It was one of the few times Squidward would (begrudgingly) let Spongebob inside, with no complaints.

Spongebob hummed softly to himself, his eyes scanning the small clipboard in front of him. Food, decorations, party games … Check, check, and check. Everything was present and accounted for -- and he had to admit, the house looked spectacular.

Every room was themed around a different, iconic arc in the ATTT series. His living room, filled with chalk drawings, crime scene tape, and red-string boards, was inspired by the murder mystery arc. His kitchen, decorated with leftover Halloween gear, was inspired by the vampire arc … and so on and so forth. Each and every room had its own particular, careful design -- and in all, it was probably Spongebob’s most intricate and detailed party to date.

That was because it had to be. Spongebob had a plan, a carefully detailed plan -- one that was sure to sweep Squidward Tentacles right off his … er, tentacles. And it went like this:

Squidward and Spongebob’s favorite arc, in all 42 seasons of As The Tide Turns, was the murder mystery. In the arc, the dashing Detective Heartthrob, accompanied by his sidekick-slash-lover Joey, must bring a heinous mass murderer to justice. At the climax, it is revealed that Detective Heartthrob is the true killer -- having been hypnotized by a witch, who was also his evil twin sister, for some reason. In the end, Joey must kill Detective Heartthrob, in a tragic display of love and sacrifice.

The season was thrilling, silly, and emotionally traumatizing, to boot. For months after the finale, Squidward and Spongebob would not shut up about it -- much to the annoyance of Mr. Krabs.

Either way, Spongebob had set up an elaborate, original mystery game, inspired by the events of the show. Each attendee would get a “random” card, assigning them a different role in the story. Squidward would be Detective Heartthrob, and Spongebob would be Joey.

Together, they would embark on an original mystery, one that Spongebob had devised all by himself. After he and Squidward solved the mystery together, and the party was over … Spongebob would finally, finally confess his feelings.

Of course, Spongebob had, more or less, rigged the game to ensure this would happen. Which was cheating, sure, but this was for love! So it couldn't possibly go wrong.

-0-

It went wrong. Almost immediately, in fact.

For one, the party started at 6:30 -- and, nearly two hours later, Squidward had yet to show up. Spongebob spent those first two hours lingering by the door, staring out the window towards the moai, and forgetting to refill the punch bowl. Sandy, ever the observant one, noticed immediately.

Pulling Spongebob aside, she asked, in a hushed voice, “Hey, partner. You good?”

“Oh, I’m -- I’m great!” chirped Spongebob, putting on his worst, most unconvincing smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Uh-huh,” said Sandy, flatly. “This about Squidward?”

Spongebob blushed, immediately. The squirrel sighed.

“I thought so,” she mumbled, folding her arms across her chest. “Did he say he was gonna come?”

The sponge nodded. “He said, ‘I’ll see if I can make it work’, which in Squidward-speak, is practically a yes!” groaned Spongebob, staring up at Sandy with his huge baby blue eyes. “He’ll come, right, Sandy?”

Sandy hesitated. She didn’t really know Squidward that well … but he did seem to have a soft spot for Spongebob. Awkwardly, she replied, “I mean … I can’t say for sure, but he did say he would try. Let’s be patient, okay, Spongebob? Maybe he just got caught up with something.”

Spongebob sighed, then repositioned his face into its usual chipper smile. “Alrighty. You do usually know what’s best, Sandy.”

“I sure do,” she giggled. “Oh, and Spongebob?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t cut his cable this time,” she said, before walking off to get more punch.

-0-

By 9:30, the party started to go a bit haywire. At this point, practically all of Bikini Bottom was at Spongebob’s house, except for Squidward -- and Larry thought it would be a great idea to play Truth Or Dare: Extreme Edition. The rules were pretty much the same as Truth Or Dare: Standard Edition, but with one exception: each subsequent truth or dare had to be more extreme than the last.

It started off alright. A few people were dared to take off their pants, or do a somersault down Conch Street while blindfolded. However, as the game progressed, the stakes grew astronomically. At one point, Patrick was dared to eat half of Spongebob’s pineapple. Later, Sandy was dared to juggle three of Plankton’s bombs, while riding a unicycle. Even later, Larry and Mr. Krabs were dared to switch shells and wrestle -- which wasn’t really destructive. Just disturbing.

The dares were stupid, but if there was one thing Bikini Bottomites had, it was a complete lack of common sense. Or any sense, really.

It certainly didn’t help that as the night progressed, the partygoers grew more and more … inebriated. The punch itself was non-alcoholic, but apparently, Karen and Plankton had taken it upon themselves to bring their own alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol.

By 10:30, Squidward still hadn’t shown up yet. Several people had either passed out or thrown up. And the pineapple was a complete disaster.

Spongebob sighed. He was seated on his living room sofa now, watching as the partygoers reveled inside (and outside) his home. Of course, the sponge was happy they were enjoying themselves -- but this day was supposed to be about him, and … well, nothing had gone as planned. His entire house was destroyed, it would take days to clean up the mess -- and Squidward hadn’t even bothered to show up! The nerve.

“Hey Patrick,” muttered Spongebob, waving a tired yellow hand at his drunken best friend.

Immediately, the starfish stumbled over to him, drink in hand. “Wha… haha … whasss’ up, Spunchblarb?” he slurred.

Spongebob pointed to the drink in Patrick’s hand. “Could I have that?”

Patrick grinned widely. “Yeeeeeahh! Now -- now, yer talkin’, buddy!” And with that, the starfish handed Spongebob his first drink of the night.

-0-

About three drinks in, Spongebob Squarepants was well and truly intoxicated. Which was nice, in a way. Now, the world was a weird, misty haze, and he didn’t have to worry about his pineapple being destroyed, or his party being ruined, or Squidward, or whatever. Now, he could just be peacefully drunk and stupid, just like everybody else in his house. Blissfully unaware of the world around them.

As the night went on, Spongebob began losing track of time. What time was it? Midnight? 3:00 a.m.? Did it even matter?

Over the course of one very stupid evening, Spongebob made more than a few bad decisions. For one, he bought like, ten mops online. Which was both counterproductive (he was a sponge) and financially irresponsible (he was also a frycook). Later, the sponge swam to the surface of the ocean to see how long he could breathe without water. He fainted within the first ten seconds, and had to be retrieved by Larry. After that, the night became a dizzying blur. Spongebob was certain he had been driving, at one point, and also dancing, and maybe singing?

Either way, several hours later, Spongebob was still dancing in his living room, a lampshade stuck on his head, when he felt something on his shoulder. Turning woozily, the sponge tried to get into “kara-tay” position, and ultimately failed.

“Who -- what -- stay back! I’m warning you!” shouted the sponge. “I know … er, kar .. karat … carrots?”

There was a familiar sigh, then a soft chuckle. “Oh, you moron,” came a voice, a voice that Spongebob loved so dearly, even in this drunken state. “You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

“Squ … squib … ?”

“Yeah,” said Squidward, wrenching the lampshade off of Spongebob’s head. “It’s me. Sorry I’m late.”

Spongebob looked up at Squidward -- and in his inebriated, hazy stupor, he couldn’t take it. He loved him so much, and for so long. It hurt. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. “Squi -- Squidward, you -- you came,” the sponge stammered, his bottom lip quivering. “I -- I didn’t think …”

“Hush,” said Squidward, looking around the room. “This is, uh … wow, you really had a rager, huh? I didn’t think you had it in you, Spongebob.”

Stepping away, Squidward began picking up random items off the floor -- the punch bowl, some photographs, and a spilled carton of milk. The octopus had to step over and around several bodies, which were lying passed out on Spongebob’s floor.

“Listen, I’m gonna try and find a way to get everyone home,” said Squidward, sifting his way through the pile of garbage and bodies. “Everyone else is knocked out -- ”

Spongebob had had it. He’d had enough. He’d planned out this whole day perfectly, just for Squidward to not show up, for his whole house to be demolished in the chaos. Sure, he was glad everyone had a good time, but deep down, Spongebob was a little selfish, and deep down --

“I don’t care about everyone else!” shouted Spongebob, clenching his fists at his sides. “I care about you, Squidward!”

Squidward, startled, nearly dropped everything he was holding -- and before he could properly respond, Spongebob fell over, unconscious.

-0-

For once, Spongebob didn’t wake up to the sound of his foghorn. Instead, he woke up to the sound of the television nearby. Very soft dialogue wafted its way over to the sponge, bathing him in its pleasant familiarity.

“Why, Joey, I think you’re right -- the killer is closer than we seem to think!”

“Then we best get cracking, Detective Heartthrob!”

Groaning, Spongebob sat up -- a dull, throbbing pain coursing through his skull. Dear Neptune. What happened last night? There was the party, the drinking, and … Squidward, maybe? Spongebob felt his heart drop at the thought of his neighbor, and sighed. He hadn’t gotten to tell Squidward how he felt. Attempt 57 had failed. Miserably.

Blinking slowly, the sponge looked around, and with surprise noted that his bedroom was not a mess, like it had been during the party. In fact, it was squeaky clean. The only thing out of place was the living room television, which had been moved to the end of Spongebob’s bed. The TV was playing an old rerun of As The Tide Turns, from the murder mystery arc. A smile tugged at Spongebob’s lips. How ironic.

Wait a minute. Who moved the TV?

Just then, there were footsteps on the stairs -- the tell-tale pat-pat-pat-pat of someone with four legs. Squidward. He was still here! Steeling himself, Spongebob sat at attention, gripping the blankets tightly.

When Squidward entered, he was holding a tray of food and wearing a long pink apron. When he saw that Spongebob was now conscious, the octopus jumped, nearly dropped the food, then steadied himself just in time.

“Squidward!” said Spongebob, cheerily. “You’re here!”

“Of course I’m here, you nitwit,” muttered Squidward. “Who else was gonna clean up that messy party of yours?”

Squidward crossed the room to place the food tray on Spongebob’s nightstand. Once there, the octopus shoved a glass of water and two pills into the poriferan’s hands, with one simple command: “Drink.”

Spongebob did so, gratefully. Then, he asked, “The party … what all happened?”

“I don’t know, but it was a mess,” sighed Squidward. “I’m pretty sure half the town was completely passed out by the time I got here. I’m surprised the cops didn’t get involved.”

“Oh,” said Spongebob, feeling very guilty all of a sudden. “Did -- did everyone get home okay?”

“Yeah,” said Squidward. “Listen, don’t -- don’t worry about it, okay? I took care of everything. Your house is clean, Gary is fed, everyone got home. That’s all.” Squidward’s cheeks were stained red.

Spongebob smiled, his heart jumping happily in his chest. “Thank you, Squidward.”

After a moment of silence, Squidward brought the food tray up to Spongebob’s lap. “You should … you should eat that,” he muttered, then took a deep breath. “Look, I … I’m sorry I was so late, alright? The truth is, I … I got caught up.”

With a mouthful of food, Spongebob asked, “Wif whaf?”

Squidward grimaced. “You’re disgusting,” he snapped, then looked away, blushing brightly. “Anyway, I … was trying to get ahold of your birthday present. It was supposed to be delivered here, to Conch Street, yesterday -- but I guess there was a mix-up, and it was instead delivered to Conch Road, which is … in an entirely different town. Several hours away.”

Spongebob blinked. “You drove all the way to get it?”

Squidward scowled. “Whatever,” he snapped, pulling a small red present box from beneath Spongebob’s bed. “Either way, it’s here. So, I guess … open it, maybe.”

Shoveling down the rest of his food (much to Squidward’s disgust), the sponge quickly shredded the pristine red wrapping paper to reveal -- a boxed set of the entire As The Tide Turns series. The extended edition, with all the bonus scenes and commentary tracks. And to top it all off -- the box was signed by the stars of the show.

Spongebob looked up at Squidward, eyes shimmering with shock and awe. “Squidward, this is -- this is amazing, I thought they didn’t sell these anymore!”

“Oh, trust me,” said Squidward, shuddering. “You have no idea what I had to do to get my hands on that.”

“Let me guess,” said Spongebob, holding up two yellow hands to form finger-guns. In his best Joey impression, the sponge said, “You had to kill a lotta folks, didn’t ya, Detective Heartthrob?”

Squidward chuckled immediately. In one suave motion, he leaned against Spongebob’s bed, and pointed a finger-gun of his own. In his best Detective Heartthrob impression, the octopus replied, “I did, and I don’t regret it at all, Joey!”

The two laughed for a good long while. Then, suddenly embarrassed once more, Squidward looked away. Taking a deep breath, the octopus said, “Look, Sponge, I -- last night, you said something kinda weird, and I wanted to know if -- if maybe --”

“Huh?”

“You said -- you only cared about me, not anyone else, and I -- I wanted to ask,” stammered Squidward, “... what exactly … you meant by that.”

Spongebob’s eyes widened. Oh, barnacles. Did he really say that? Well … there was no hiding it now. Gripping his sheets tight, Spongebob steeled himself for what was to come. “It means I … I wanna keep hanging out with you, Squidward,” said the sponge, staring down at his yellow knuckles. “I wanna hang out with you more than anyone else.”

Squidward swallowed, hard. “Sponge, what are you saying?”

Spongebob looked up. Their eyes met. “I like you,” said the sponge, smiling nervously. “A … a lot.”

A long moment of silence passed. Spongebob’s heart hammered furiously at his chest. Then, Squidward sighed, and picked up the ATTT boxed set. Walking over to Spongebob’s TV, the octopus inserted the first disc, grabbed the remote, and returned to Spongebob’s side.

Lifting the blankets, the octopus said, “Scooch over.”

Spongebob blinked, then did as instructed. “Why?” he asked.

“You really are an idiot,” muttered Squidward, climbing into bed with him. “It’s a Sunday, the Krusty Krab is closed, and we have a whole boxed set to watch together. Might as well start now.”

Spongebob smiled, happily. “So -- so you -- ”

Squidward rolled his eyes. “If you must know, yes, I … I like you,” he snapped. “I’m not gonna drive halfway across the ocean floor for just anybody, you know.”

Spongebob grinned stupidly. “I guess not.”

With that, the show began, its melodramatic theme tune echoing pleasantly across Spongebob’s pineapple home. And just below the bed, Gary let out a soft, contended meow -- which almost certainly meant “finally.”

-0-

References:

The line about cutting Squidward’s cable is a reference to the episode “Party Pooper Pants”, in which Spongebob cuts Squidward’s cable to get him to come over for a party.

[ryuichirou]

Sooo how you feeling about the ending of AOT. I’m crying when I read the final chapter.

+

Anonymous said:

Ryu, ryu. 139. Not gonna lie, I was kinda disappointed. It was too vanilla ice cream of an ending for a masterpiece storytelling of AoT. Can't believe this is from the same person who wrote 125ish chapter before. I honestly kinda want to see Historia nuke the ship lol. Your thoughts?

Anonymous said:

Do you think the ending of aot was done like this for pure fanservice?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sooo let’s talk about the last chapter. Like I mentioned in another reply, it would’ve been good to reread the whole manga first, but I don’t think we’re going to do that in the nearest future, so might as well rant about it now.

The ending was weird. When we read it for the first time, we chuckled at some parts, but overall it felt pretty ok (more on the “meh alright” level). And I personally still think that it’s alright overall: not the worst ending ever; and a lot of aspects of it do make sense. In this particular case, we think it’s better to have an “eh” ending than a bad, disappointing one (the one that hits all the major no-no’s, disappointing in this regard more than anything else). But the more we think about it, the weirder it gets somehow?

Of course we talked about how cool it would be to get a morbid dark ending, but it was kind of a given that Isayama would go a lighter route. And one part of me thinks that it’s kind of fair, because we had our morbid chapters and the story’s climax already, so this chapter was more like an epilogue of sorts?? But at the same time, I do agree that it felt too vanilla ice-cream. The mood shift was too drastic, and everything felt too convenient. The fact that everyone who turned into titans went right back to being humans kind of upset me too, but I do understand why it happened, I just wish we had them being titans at least for a little bit longer. I guess what I’m trying to say is that the ending indeed felt rushed. Maybe Isayama cursed himself when he promised 139 chapters…. Why not 140?? I wonder whose fault that is: the fanbase’s, the editor’s or his own.

The epilogue’s also supposed to give readers some closure, and I’m not sure if we got it: Eren’s actions didn’t really fix the problem. Maybe the point was not in fixing the problem, but in being the first step for the change? Now after all that rumbling debacle, the world can at least listen to what Eldians have to say..? Why the fuck does Armin talk about how conflict’s never going to vanish then? I’m a bit lost here. Oh and of course Armin thanking Eren for murdering 80% of the planet is the funniest thing ever. All of it might make more sense if you reread the whole thing though.

Who knows. Maybe Historia decided to conquer the world, maybe she wants to rule everything, maybe she keeps Jean and Connie’s moms hostage, maybe she is going to nuke that darn ship to show the world that Eldians don’t want to have a peaceful conversation anymore lol, Historia the Khaleesi.

There are elements of the chapter that we genuinely enjoyed. The fact that Eren actually talked to everybody, Gabi yeeting Falco instead of hugging him, Levi remembering his friends and crying quietly, Sasha smiling at Jean and Connie and these two hugging each other afterwards. Reiner and Karina’s scene was pretty nice too. Historia making her child the saddest birthday cake ever… like you’re a fucking queen, make something more pretentious idk... Hitch yawning, Rico being present, everyone being all fancy and stylish, Jean trying his best to look hot. And of course Levi chilling with his new family. As you can see, there are a lot of very nice moments there. Even the Eren scenes were fun to be perfectly honest, but more on him in another post.

And to the Anon who asked about the ending being fanservice: maybe kind of? If by fanservice you mean the fact that everything went kind of well and everyone got to hug their dad and turned back to humans, then yeah, it does feel like fanservice. Remember that story about Isayama wanting to kill off Sasha waaay back in ch36 but changing his plans because his editor was too upset about it? A similar thing happened here I guess: he did say that he had more of a dark ending in his mind, but had to change it.

When I hear the word “fanservice”, I personally think about Naruto’s and Bleach’s endings, but in SnK we didn’t get any kids (except for Historia’s baby), any kisses and any hand-holdings, so I’m very grateful for that. Yep, technically AruAni is still a thing (eyesroll…), but at this point I just sit there and repeat a mantra to myself: thank god none of them had kids or got married, thank god none of them had kids or got married, thank god none of them had kids or got married. Maybe my bar is too low lol And if you mean the Eremika thing: it’s kind of complicated, but I personally think that Yams wouldn’t  drop this bomb as fanservice: it doesn’t make sense to cater to just one particular group of shippers.

So yeah, this is our overall thoughts and feelings at this moment. And to be perfectly honest, I think the chapter won’t feel as bad after some time. Right now everyone’s very emotional about it (very understandable), people argue with each other, you see a lot of morons that make you even more upset or pissed off, everyone had their expectations and interpretations of the characters + ideas of what was and wasn’t important for the story, and Isayama is just one dude who is very experienced at writing stories, but isn’t as experienced at writing final chapters (which is absolutely ok). I think no matter what, there would be a lot of people who are upset with the chapter… but it doesn’t change the fact that it was rushed and that it is weird.

Damn it, wouldn’t it be great if we could have GOOD and BAD endings, like in visual novels?? This was the GOOD ending; now show me the apocalypse please.

[kaalamarii]

Henry and The Lord of Shadows (Levixgn!MC)

For ObeyMax (yeah, I’m like five days behind).

I told myself I wouldn’t use the tail because everyone uses the tail and what did I do...I used the tail.

Warnings: Smut and all the things that come with smut! Obviously, use of the tail. Choking. Roleplay, I guess??? Honestly, probably a bit cringey. I tried my best to keep it gender neutral, but am still new at it, so I apologize if it’s awkward or not quite right.

Also, I could not remember anything about TSL so I just kinda bullshitted that.

Masterlist

MC!” Leviathan whined. The human was sitting on his computer chair, in full Henry cosplay, scrolling through Devilgram. They looked up at the pouting demon dressed as the Lord of Shadows. “Henry doesn’t get on Devilgram. They don’t even have D.D.D.s in the TSL universe. You said you’d roleplay with me.”

“Yeah, this isn’t what I was expecting,” MC mumbled.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothing.”

MC set their phone down and turned to Levi to give him their undivided attention. “Okay, Levi, what do I need to do?”

“First of all, it’s Lord of Shadows. We’re going to do a scene from the latest volume where Henry and The Lord of Shadows win a fight against some bandits and, exhausted, build a fire and camp out. They drink wine and tell stories and talk about what’s been happening in the story, and it’s just such a great moment in their friendship.”

MC nodded. “Got it.”

“Alright...let’s sit down here on the floor,” Levi muttered, placing two pillows from his bathtub onto the ground. He grabbed a wine bottle and two glasses from his side table and set them down between him and MC.

He poured the wine and MC instantly took the glass, pounding the drink back. Levi stared at them. 

“You’re not supposed to drink it!”

“What? I thought you said they were drinking!”

“Sip it, don’t chug it.” Levi sighed as he refilled the glass. “Alright, ready?”

MC nodded.

“And...scene!” 

MC stared at Levi, unsure what to say or do. They expected Levi would start, considering he knew the entire scene by heart. 

“It’s your line.”

MC threw their hands up. “What do I say? I don’t know it like you do.”

“Just make something up. And stay in character.”

MC sighed and started enthusiastically. “Wow, Lord Of Shadows, fighting bandits is pretty rad, don’t you think?”

Levi rolled his eyes. “Yes, Henry, they didn’t stand a chance against us. We can rest here tonight so that we can get on with our quest tomorrow.”

“Indeed, our quest. Our quest to...take over King’s Landing.”

Levi furrowed his eyebrows. “Henry, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Sounds like King’s Landing is from some sort of fantasy novel and has nothing at all to do with us.”

“Oh, right. Do forgive me, Lord of Shadows, I believe this wine has gone to my head. Yes, our quest. Our quest to...defeat the…” MC wracked their brain, trying to remember the plot of TSL. “The death star?”

“Come on, MC, you know that’s not TSL.”

“You’re a wizard, Henry,” MC teased.

“What? That doesn’t even make sense. You’re Henry.”

“Okay, okay, sorry. I’m done.”

Levi sighed. “Let’s just start over...So, Henry, I heard from the Lord of Corruption yesterday that you’ve been spending time with him outside of our quest. Is that true?”

MC’s expression softened. “Levi…”

“Lord of Shadows.”

“Excuse me, Lord of Shadows. Luci-I mean, The Lord of Corruption simply had me going on a, uh, a side quest with him. As you know, it is soon to be the Lord of Fools’ birthday.”

Levi nodded. “So, we are still friends? You don’t like the Lord of Corruption more than me?”

“Best friends. And are you kidding me? I could never.”

The hint of a smile showed itself in the corner of Levi’s mouth before quickly turning into a frown. “I get worried with all of the other Lords around, you know. They have a lot more to offer you. I’m just a recluse.”

“I’m lucky to have a friend like you, Lord of Shadows,” MC said with a grin, scooting closer to Levi. “I think you’re a really good friend. You’re funny. And sweet. And cute.”

Levi’s eyes flicked over to the human. “...you think I’m cute?”

“I think you’re really fucking cute,” MC replied, playfully nudging him with their elbow.

He blushed, avoiding their eyes. “They don’t say those words in the TSL universe, MC.”

“Who’s MC? I’m Henry, remember?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Levi said, “Hey, Henry? Do you ever think of being...more than friends?”

MC grinned. “Constantly.”

Levi looked up, his eyes wide. “Y-you do?”

MC swung a leg over Leviathan, moving over to sit in his lap. 

Levi jumped, the red in his face darkening and mouth dropping open. “Wha-what are you doing?!”

MC hugged Levi tightly, brushing their lips against his ear as they whispered to him. “Do you want to be more than friends, my Lord?”

Levi nodded, too shy to speak. MC could feel him growing hard against their thigh, and they adjusted their hips, moving against him. The demon’s breath hitched, and he closed his eyes and shuddered. “MC…”

“Yes, Levi?”

“Can I kiss you?”

MC nodded, a smile on their lips. 

Leviathan gently rested his hand on the back of their head, pulling their face to his and they collided. Both of their eyes shut as they moved their mouths against each other. 

MC pushed their tongue out to brush against his lips. Levi opened his mouth with a moan, inviting their tongue in. As their mouths worked together, Levi laid down, bringing MC with him. He gently laid them down beside him, never losing their kiss. His hand began to roam, through their hair, down their side, a nervous yet brave grab of their ass and thigh. MC grinded their pelvis against Leviathan’s, earning another moan from the demon.

When MC dragged their hand down to undo his pants, his breath caught in his throat and he grabbed their hand. 

“You don’t want to?” MC asked, worried they had made him uncomfortable.

“I d-do. But I don’t know that I’ll be any good. I’m a bit out of practice.”

MC grinned. “It’s okay, Levi. It’s been a while for me too.”

“You still want me?”

MC wrapped their arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss. “I’m your Henry, Lord of Shadows.”

Levi couldn’t keep his demon form under wraps anymore. Hovering over MC, he dipped his head to attach to their lips again as he transformed, horns and tail making their way out. Their tongues wrestled as MC went back to his pants, pushing them down and releasing his cock. He let out another moan as MC stroked him.  He rested his head on theirs, eyes closing with pleasure. “W-wow, MC.”

“I wanna make you feel good, Levi.”

Levi bit his lip. “I want to touch you too, can I?”

MC nodded, desperate. Levi pulled away from them, helping them out of their clothing. The two of them adorably fumbled with each other, undressing each other clumsily, feeling each other up, kissing each other. 

MC crawled down to Levi’s crotch, taking him into their mouth. Levi laid back, pleasure washing over him as MC bobbed up and down on his cock. MC gasped at the sudden feeling of Levi’s tail wrapping around their leg, slithering up their thigh and teasing their entrance.

“Is that okay?” Levi asked, voice shaky.

MC groaned as the tip of his tail slid up and down against their hole. “Yes, Leviathan please.”

“No,” Levi demanded, his tail dipping into them and quickly pulling out. “Lord of Shadows.”

“Mph,” MC moaned at the feeling of his tail slowly pushing into them. “Yes, my Lord.”

Levi stared at the human around his dick, mesmerized at the sight of them. Their eyes rolling back from the pleasure from his tail and their beautiful mouth drooling as they stuffed it with his cock. 

He was about to cum, and as much as he wanted, he wanted to be inside them more. Levi pulled his tail out of MC, earning a pout from them. MC let out a surprised squeak as Levi wrapped his tail around their waist, pulling them up and setting them on their stomach in his bathtub.

He got in behind them, pressing his cock against their ass. He hesitated for a moment, his shyness threatening to stop him from continuing. 

MC felt his hesitation, knowing his nerves were about to get in the way of what they were so desperate to get. “Lord of Shadows, I want to feel you inside me.”

Levi gasped. That’s all he needed to hear. He pushed into them and MC gripped the edge of the bathtub. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

Levi’s tail trailed up their body and snaked around their neck, adding the lightest amount of pressure. From the feeling of MC tightening on him and moaning more, he assumed they liked it. He squeezed his tail around their neck a little tighter, and he reached around to play with them as he continued fucking them.

MC’s mind went blank as all the sensations overwhelmed them. Levi inside them, his very talented gamer hands working the front of them, and the tail with just enough pressure, they weren’t sure they were going to last long.

Leviathan was also about to burst. MC could feel in the way he was getting sloppier with his movements, his cock getting more rigid. “Cum with me, Leviathan.”

Levi moaned as he released into MC, his tail tightening. MC got a little light-headed, but in a pleasurable way, their orgasm intense with the choking of his tail. As Levi’s climax died out, his tail relaxed and slid away from MC’s neck. He pulled away, sitting back to catch his breath and admire their fluids running down MC’s leg and joining together in a pool underneath them.

Levi’s tail wrapped around MC again, pulling them onto him. The two snuggled against each other, Levi giving MC lots of kisses. 

“It wasn’t too much with the tail, was it?” Levi asked, worried now that he was thinking clearly.

“It hurt a little but I liked it.”

“I’m so sorry, MC.”

“It’s okay, Levi. We’ll practice, okay?”

Levi smiled excitedly at MC’s words. 

They snuggled into him. “You think Henry and the Lord of Shadows ever do anything like that?”

Levi laughed. “You sound like the normies that write weird fanfiction about them.”

[hoodharlow]

Sé lo rica que se ve en ropa de gimnasio. A mí me encantan lo' tatuaje' en tus brazo'

AN: I was gonna scrap this tbh, but my lovely mamas @be-ready-when-i-say-go posted this. So everyone say thank you to my mamas 

Request: Hunter kinda put it but for grabs and I quickly snatched it, so yes lol [ I need someone to indulge me in a cal blurb where you don’t handle spoopy well. however he don’t know that—new relationship right at the start of the holidays or something—and he surprises you with a date to a haunted house and you’re like, how about no??? But he’s a little bummed so you do it. Piss your pants (not literally) but it does not go well. Youre visibly shaken, almost crying and he’s like yikes okay, let’s just get food and wait for the rest of the peeps to be done and he’s like I’m really sorry, didn’t think it’d go like this. because I need it. But I can’t brain anymore to write it my damn self. Yes this is a cry for help]

Warnings: SMUT and aspects of spooky stuff (cl**ns) 

Word Count: 2.1k words

Calum and Claudia were waiting for his trainer in Calum's new G-Wagon. She was supposed to drop him off Griffith Park since she had a job interview at a dispensary and few errands to run. Fortunately the interview was in about two hours, so Claudia had some time to spare. 

His trainer forgot not to double book him with the influencer, who's name he had forgotten, after the fight he had with Claudia. Calum was quick to learn that she doesn't have a poker face when it came to people she didn't like, especially girls that always attempted to flirt with him. So when they saw her at the bench recording herself that she was going to workout, Calum had to find a way to remind Claudia he only had eyes for her. They may as well christen his G-Wagon. 

Their makeout session started out casual and lazy. Next thing they knew, they were climbing to the back seat, and Claudia was on his lap. 

Claudia slowly rolled her hips back and forth. With one hand, Calum bunched up her skirt and with the other he gripped her hip. Soft moans escaped her lips and mixed with the sound of Calum's groans. She greedily rode him at a slow, tortuous pace.

"Fuck, pretty girl," he grunted.

 Calum slid his hand inside her panties and roughly gripped her ass. He guided her along his length, loving how well she took him as he bucked his hips into her, meeting her thrusts. She let out a loud moan. Calum captured her lips, muffling her. 

They both sped up their movements, wanting to get the other off.  

“Calum!” She moaned out, her orgasm catching her off guard. She rested her forehead on his shoulder and slowly rode him through her orgasm.

He let go of her ass and pushed her down on the seat. He slid back into her and took her in slow deep thrusts. He wrapped her legs around his waist, so he had more room to maneuver them. He desperately rubbed her clit, egging her on as his thrusts sped up. 

Claudia pulled away from his lips and bit his shoulder as he brought her to another orgasm.

"Fuck!" She cursed. 

She moved her hands to his back. Digging her nails for some sort of stability as Calum increased his pace and pounded into her. 

"C'mon, Cal," she begged. "I want your cum deep inside of me. Please—"

"Fuck, Claudia," he grunted. 

His thrusts got sloppy and less rough. He chased after his climax. Moaning out his love for Claudia, he praised her for how well she took him. With one final thrust he came. He shoved himself deep in her until his high went down. He plopped next to her and closed his eyes. Wrapping his arm around her, he sighed in contentment. 

Claudia traced the dagger on the back of his bicep. She quickly remembered the lyrics to one of Benito's songs. 

"What are you thinking about?" Calum asked her. He lifted his head to look at her. 

"Bad Bunny— not like that!" she quickly added. "There's these lyrics that reminded me of you."

"Which ones?" 

"'Sé lo rica que se ve en ropa de gimnasio. A mí me encantan lo' tatuaje' en tus brazo' from the song 'Como se Siente.' It was just him saying how he knows that his boo looks good in workout clothes, and how he loves their arm tattoos. I was like mood because I know my boo looks good in workout clothes, and I love his arm tattoos."

Calum laughed. He hid his face into her chest, slightly shaking from the laughter.

"I fucking love you, Claudia." He said smiling brightly at her.

"I love you too." She said shyly. 

Calum shifted, so he was hovering over her. He sponge kissed all over her face and neck. Slowly he made his way down her chest, but Claudia stopped him. 

"As much as I'm down for round two, I can't. I can't have Ivan see these lovely hickies and snitch to my dad." 

Calum lifted his hands up in surrender at the mention of Diego. He sat on his knees and let her get ready. He heard a car approaching them, recognising his trainer. He cursed and reached for his shirt in the front seat. He handed Claudia his— their—Nine Inch Nails long sleeve. 

"Are those my leggings?" Claudia asked him when he slipped on his compression tights and shorts.

"Probably." He shrugged. He took her shocked look and tried to not laugh. "Now you know what it's like to have your clothes stolen."

"Vas a ver." Claudia stuck her tongue out and pushed him off. 

She pulled on her bralette, adjusting the straps and tucked in Calum's shirt in her skirt. She smoothed out the bottom of the skirt the best she could and grabbed her makeup bag. She touched up her makeup and redid her ponytail. 

"Here." She said handing Calum her headband. 

"Thanks," He said, wrapping it around his wrist. He looked outside and saw his trainer out of his car. "I gotta go. I'll see you in a bit. We're still going to Universal Studios with Ash and KayKay?"

"Yeah. Want me to bring you a change of clothes?"

"Please." 

"Okay." Claudia nodded.

Calum pulled her close to him. He smiled and traced his thumb over her bottom lip. He leaned in, feeling her sigh, and kissed her cheek. “I’ll see you later, love.”

***

Calum wrapped his arms around Claudia and rested his chin on her head as they waited for their turn to go inside the maze with Ashton and KayKay. 

Claudia tilted her head up.

 "Kiss?" she asked Calum. 

He smiled and leaned down to peck her lips.

Claudia turned around to kiss him properly. She held onto his cheek as her tongue gave into his. She sighed into his mouth as one of his hands lazily rested on her ass.

"This is a family park, not a place for you two to kiss like you're ready to make babies. Please go do that somewhere else." A woman behind them called to them, making Calum look back.

“You hear that this is a family park,” Calum turned back to Claudia. “Well, if it's a family park, guess we should make our own family." He pulled Claudia closer to him and wiggled his tongue against hers. Soon enough they were making out once more.

"Hey rabbits, let's go." Ashton said. He flicked Calum's ear, making them pull away. 

Calculus immediately linked her arm around Calum's as they made their way through the Stranger Things maze. It wasn't as eerie as the other two mazes they walked through considering  it was basically a tour through the set of the show. The Demagorgin did startle them when they passed through the lab, however.

Minutes later they made it through the maze. 

"Which one's next?" Calum asked Ashton, who was holding the map. 

"Clowns." He simply said.

Claudia stopped dead in her tracks. She hated clowns ever since Junior and Danny tricked her into watching the first It movie when they were younger and purposefully followed her around in clown masks to scare her. She never saw them the same. For Guito's birthday, Junior and Marlene hired a clown to make balloon shaped animals and face painting. With the excuse of studying for her AP stats class, Claudia immediately retreated to her room and hid there until it was time for the clown to leave. Now she had no idea how she was going to make it through the maze.

"You okay?" Calum asked her quietly.

"Yeah, just a bit tired from walking around." She responded.

Calum pulled her to his chest and pulled out his phone. He watched Claudia's face light up when she saw his lockscreen, a picture of them at the dog beach in DelMar with Duke and Panchito. He scrolled through the apps until he found Hulu. They had been binging One Tree Hill for the last couple of weeks. They made it through two episodes when it was their turn to go in. 

Claudia recognised the green cotton candy cocoon from the circus scene in the Killer Klowns from Outer Space. It started to move, revealing a clown taller than Calum with a raygun.

She whimpered, hiding her face into Calum's side. She held onto him, frozen in place. 

"Claudia we have to get going," Calum said.

"I don't want to," she mumbled. 

"Are you frightened?"

"Maybe," she grumbled. 

"Fuck, okay lets get to find the exit and I'll text Ashton. Yeah?" 

He felt Claudia nod on his side. He rubbed her back and guided them back to the designated exit for people that aren't able to complete the maze. They were almost there when a small herd of clowns ran in their direction. 

Calum tried to get them away, but they got ambushed along with another group of people. Next thing he knew Claudia wasn't attached to him. He quickly spun around and spotted her covering her face as another clown approached her. He trotted over to her.

"Hey, it's me. I'm here," he softly said. 

They finally made it out of the maze and Calum pulled her to a small table outside of Ben and Jerry's. He sat down, and she climbed to his lap burying her face in his chest. He felt his shirt get wet with her tears. He rubbed her back as she softly cried. He kissed her head.

"I'm not a baby, I swear," she sniffled after a few minutes. She wiped her face with her shirt sleeve. "I just, like, freaked out. I'm sorry for not letting you finish the maze."

"I could care less about a stupid maze. What's important to me is your safety and well-being." He shrugged. "Now why didn't you tell me you were scared of clowns?"

"Because I was embarrassed that I'm almost 22 and scared of something as mundane as clowns." 

"Claudia, fears are something grown ups have. It's natural to be afraid of things, or else the human experience wouldn't be so complex." Calum pulled her chin up to meet her eyes. "I want you to know that I'll always be here to protect you. Got that?"

Claudia nodded. "Can we get ice cream?"

"Of course." 

They got in line. Calum texted Ashton that the clown maze was a bit much for him, so he and Claudia will be waiting for them at Ben and Jerry's. Once in the shop, he wrapped his arms around Claudia and rested his chin on her head, swaying them to cheesy Halloween music. 

He saw a few flashes from outside. Lifting his head, he looked back. A small group of unsubtle fans were whispering and taking pictures of them. Even in his dark hoodie and gray beanie, they were still able to identify him. They tried to play off that they weren't recording, but one of them had their camera flash on. Calum cursed to himself and released Claudia. 

"Fans." He quickly mumbled to her. She nodded and took a few steps forward. 

Claudia was still subject to rude comments on social media, so they always tried not to be too affectionate when they're out. There were rare occasions that fans managed to capture them. He knew this was one of the cases. 

They quickly ordered and made their way to a table inside. Claudia sat across from him and watched his fans approach him as she ate her Netflix & Chill'd™ waffle cone.

One of them elbowed another, so they could get Calum's attention. 

"Um, we were wondering if we could get a picture?" One of them asked Calum.

"Sure." He looked to Claudia, "don't eat any of my ice cream."

She rolled her eyes and ate more of his. She watched him shove his hands on his pockets and crouch down a bit so he could be in the frame. While he went down the small line of fans, taking selfies, Claudia reached over for his Chunky Monkey. She tried scooping a small amount only for the spoon to get stuck and get a large amount. She cursed and frantically tried to get it unstuck resulting in the spoon breaking. 

"Seriously?" Calum quirked.

"It was like that when—"

"I'm sure it was." 

***

"I'm positive, Cal." Claudia reassured him. She swung their intertwined hands as they followed KayKay and Ashton into the replica of the Ghostbusters movie set. It was a mix of both the 80s and 2016 versions. Through the speakers the beginning of a certain song began to play. 

Calum and Ashton looked at each and seemed to telepathically communicate with each other. Suddenly they began singing along to Girls Talk Boys. A few people gathered around, watching them sing. Some were surprised at how similar they sounded to the people singing through the speakers, unaware it was them. Calum turned to Claudia as he sang, "Do you tell them I'm your lover, that I'm all that you need?"

"They're too cocky for their own good." KayKay laughed. 

Claudia giggled "Yeah, but the one in the gray beanie is cute." 

Taglist: @calpops @5-secondsofcolor​ @findingliam-o @calumscalm @sexgodashton @karajaynetoday @another-lonely-heart @cherryxwildflower @myloverboyash @spicycal @idontneedanyone

[goose-books]

goose-books productions: a 2020 review

view the image in higher quality here! (open the image in a new tab to zoom in.) thank you to my dearest @yvesdot for the template

transcripts and month-by-month details under the cut! for reference, you can find my projects here :-) overall, new and old followers, thank you for another good year over here! [holds your hand] [holds your hand] [holds your hand] [holds your h

january

i spent late 2019-early 2020 working on 2019’s nano project, quark, aka the speculative fiction thing about new york city and prophets and dissections of the chosen one trope and gay people. quark is my second-oldest project (five years!), but it’s also probably the most ambitious, so it’s been... difficult to wrangle into place, and i didn’t end up finishing a first draft. oh, well.

enjoy a snippet that is devastatingly emblematic of everything about quark. the tone. the homoerotic tension. the ensemble cast all talking over each other. the fact that caelum has spent pretty much this entire scene crying. fun autopsy report meeting.

Marble stares at the notebook in Shade’s hands. Or maybe he’s staring at Shade’s hands. Dawn feels a little voyeuristic, so she does what she does and says a dumb and unrelated thing: “Augustus, I think this pizza-on-the-floor thing is hurting my ass.”

Augustus flutters his hands. “Sometimes nonconformity is painful.”

“At least we’re originals,” Caelum mumbles into his sleeve.

“Exactly,” Augustus says.

“True originality doesn’t exist,” Marble says.

“Oh,” Shade deadpans, “it’s going to be a fun autopsy report meeting.”

It isn’t.

february

in january i stressed myself out trying to make the plot of quark work. so in february, i decided to take some time and write something Entirely For Fun. like, entirely for fun, no rules. and. my god. how do i explain the project i started calling “third eye for the bad guy.”

it was an unholy mashup of many of my past hyperfixations, including the gone series, a tale of two cities, warrior cats, and the left hand of darkness. one of the characters was a canon scalie and one was a canon fictionkinnie. it centered around a polycule of wannabe-evil-overlord high schoolers. i only wrote like three chapters but i was lost in the sauce for all of february and then i just… like… wiped it from my mind and moved on? somehow??? one character was a werewolf and that literally wasn’t relevant at ALL

I.

Someone was going to die on these steps.

This had been Ivy Lee Palomo’s thought last year during the all-school photo, and it rose in her mind again now. The one hundred marble stairs leading up to the great double doors of Saint Constantine Academy were the school’s pride and glory, steep as the mountain, sharp as the blade under Ivy Lee’s skirt. With the cutting wind and snow glazing the stone more often than not, with the freshmen wild and wired on their first day of their first year, it was really only a matter of time before someone slipped and cracked their fucking head open.

It wasn’t going to be her. Not when she had Doc Martens and reflexes like an electric coil. Still. Ivy Lee didn’t want to watch someone die. She didn’t get along with dead people.

march

in march, i got back to the project i’d started in 2019 - AMT, my podcast! it’s a shakespeare retelling set in a modern high school; this excerpt is funnier and also more unnerving in context. (double, double, toil and trouble...)

INDRAJIT: What the hell are you doing?

[PAUSE.]

DEE (like she’s lying): Making pasta.

[ALL THREE OF THEM LAUGH.]

NONA: That’s right.

MORA: We have the keys to Mab’s office.

DEE: We’re using her stove.

NONA: To make pasta.

DEE: Do you want some?

[A TENSE PAUSE.]

INDRAJIT: No.

april

and darkling rears its head! all of my other projects have existed for at least a year; darkling (specfic king lear retelling) is... special. it was conceived in april, when i started hyperfixating on king lear, and i still managed to write an absolutely ridiculous amount of content for it. it was like the power of hyperfixation let me speedrun the entire process. which. okay.

iv: control

They say Cressida Stayer was nine years old when she turned her hair to gold. They laid her down in bed blonde, and the next morning, the waves cascading down her shoulders were solid metal, glinting harshly in the sunlight, weighing her down, creating that odd head-cocked expression she still wears now. Nine years old. Two or three years before most people develop enough magic skills to dye a single curl. Much less transfigure their hair into precious metal.

People also say Leovald Stayer’s immediate reaction was to hack it off her head and melt it down for cash. But generally they say that part a lot quieter.

may

in may i wrote AMT episode 15, by which i mean that in may there was a day when i sat in my room with the door shut for literally five straight hours listening to the same three songs on loop as i wrote the climax of one of the plotlines of AMT. so. that sure was… a day.

ISAAC: Do you want… do you want someone to drive you home? Hawk, you’re worrying me -

HAWK (almost cutting him off): Don’t. Don’t say that. I’m here to help. With your… thing.

ISAAC (quietly): I… don’t know if you should be here to see this.

HAWK (a little louder, more audibly upset): Well - what else am I going to do? Go home and - and have my dads talk at me and - and not be able to answer them? Because I can’t? I can’t. I don’t know what to say.

[PAUSE.]

ISAAC (V.O.): I wonder if this is what he feels like, on the outside, looking in at me. Watching someone else hurting. Helpless and afraid.

He still fits perfectly in my arms. I rest my chin on top of his head and pull him close to me, like I can stop him from shaking, like I can stop anything from happening the way I know it’s going to. I bury my face in his hair. He smells so familiar. He’s so warm.

God, Hawk. I love you so much. You shouldn’t be here to see this. Something bad’s gonna happen. And you’re not the kind of person who belongs in a tragedy.

june

okay, honestly, i should talk about “night shift” here, because in june i wrote a whole short story in one night (and then foamed over it for a week), but i am still in the process of submitting it places! so i am terrified to put even a sentence of it online. instead: the other thing i did this month was to finish AMT! (sixteen episodes and somewhere around 175k, iirc, but don’t quote me.) these lines are the opener to the final episode!

RAHMA (V.O.): The combined series of sophomore year disasters stretched through November. It’s June now. It’s taken me… a long time to get this all put together. I was going to make a vlog about it, initially - well, calling it a vlog sounds frivolous. I was going to make a video recounting the whole deal. All of it. From when I kissed Avery Fairchilde to the very last night. I scripted dozens of drafts; I put together dozens of bullet-pointed lists of what to cover… and it was never enough. Because Avery and I weren’t the only ones involved. Even if I was only focused on the two of us, it wasn’t just the two of us.

So… I gathered up everyone else. The whole town of Ellisburg is still talking about the week the town went crazy, but it wasn’t just a week. There was a lot leading up to it. And I think if anyone’s going to talk about it, it should be us. The people who lived it. So here we are. The most ambitious Rahma Ashiq production of all time - at least so far.

july

every july i pause whatever else i’m doing to celebrate the birthday of aurum & argentate, twins from my oldest and dearest WIP The Mortal Realm. july fifteenth! mark your calendars. they’re princes, though argentate would really rather not be; you can read the full birthday piece here.

“Do you… plan to get dressed?” A bit of the usual humor crept back into Aurum’s voice. “Although if you want to speak to the kingdom in your underthings, by all means, you have my full support.”

Argentate scrubbed at his face. He wasn’t dressed, no, but the usual malaise hung over his shoulders like a cloak. Guilt. Nerves. The sick sense that he hadn’t done something he was supposed to. The numb knowledge that it was too late to change a thing.

“I meant to,” he said. “Get dressed, I mean.” The rest went unsaid: I have just been sitting here. On the floor. Thinking about how I should get dressed.

“Ah,” Aurum said, extending his hand. “The traditional route. We’ll save the nude speeches for the future, then.”

Argentate took his hand, stumbling a little as Aurum pulled him to his feet. He steadied himself on the closest wall, taking a few deep breaths. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. His hands found their way to the cross, again and again.

august

this summer, i wrote an entire draft of Valentine Van Velt is Dead, AKA “holden caulfield goes to exposure therapy,” AKA the weird little personal side project i keep tucked into my coat. interesting features include second-person narration from a narrator who doesn’t like the main character all that much. so reading it is kind of like the book wants to kill you? with an added dash of general melancholy.

You used to live here. That’s the thing that’s got you feeling so off.

You didn’t recognize your old house. I mean, you kind of did. You remembered that the road was on a hill. That hill felt like a goddamn forty-five degree angle when you were a kid. But if you didn’t have the address written down you wouldn’t have known it at all. It would have been just another little suburban house in rows of perfect little towns that make your skin crawl.

So now you’re in this diner looking out a gross smudgy window trying to block out the elevator music pumping through the speakers in the ceiling or whatever. I don’t know how speakers work. You’re trying to tune that shit out. The waitress comes over and catches you by surprise so you just point at some coffee thing on the menu so she’ll go away. For the record: you don’t drink coffee.

There’s a public library across the street. A little square building. You probably used to go there. The lady comes over and thunks your coffee on the table and gives you a kind of look, like she wants to know what in the goddamn hell you think you’re doing here and not at school. You sip your coffee and look out the window until she leaves you alone again. And then you spit it back into the cup because, for the record: you don’t drink coffee.

september

i spent september and october prepping for nano, so i was mostly working on darkling...

It’s late spring; still, at this time of night, on a rooftop, there’s a chill. The wind plays with the end of Ruby’s coat, with her hair. She hands the bottle off to Jasper, stares up at the fogged-over sky, wishes she were lying in Dany’s arms in Dany’s bed instead of here. Wishes, even, that Dany were the one on the roof with her. At least then they’d be cold together. At least then she wouldn’t have to imagine what Dany would say; she could just listen, and watch Dany’s flashing smile and her flinty eyes.

(She cuddles. This is another thing Dany does that Dany probably shouldn’t do, based on everything about Dany; it’s not like rattlesnakes cuddle. But Dany likes to nuzzle into Ruby’s side and rest her head on Ruby’s collarbones and toss an arm over Ruby’s chest, and hold her down like she’s worried she’ll float off somewhere. She’ll card her fingers through Ruby’s hair and hum. Even though they could get caught, even though she’s probably got better places to be - Dany cuddles.)

Ruby imagines it, momentarily, both of them on the roof together, sprawled like horrifyingly beautiful gargoyles, sharp teeth flashing, blood running hot. Up here - it’d be like they ruled the world.

But whatever. Jasper’s fun. He’s hot. He’s got a sharp tongue in a lot more ways than one. And she likes when he lets the mask down. She likes seeing the soft bits underneath. She wants to sink her teeth and nails into them so hard she draws blood. Masks don’t bleed. Ruby would know; that’s why she is what she is.

october

...though i was also in creative writing class in school, and thus ended up writing a bunch of poems of varying quality (my teacher had a real thing for poetry) and also one darklingverse short story where rory and cressida hold hands! which you can find here.

Lorelai Rory Flowers is afraid of thunder.

This is a bit of an embarrassing thing to admit, as they’re seventeen (“at least seventeen,” they like to tell people, “maybe two hundred, who’s to say?”) and generally wise beyond their years, or whatever it is that adults say about kids with too much psychological baggage. Being afraid of thunder is not a very wise-beyond-one’s-years trait. And yet the state of affairs remains: loud noises make Rory want to melt into the earth. Back when they still went to school, even the fire alarm sent them scuttling under their desk to hide.

Right now, in the elevator, all they can do is shrink into their sweater.

They haven’t let go of Cressida’s hand yet.

november

and then november of course was nano which was an adventure all the way through. (opening tumblr on the fifth day of nano to find out about d*stiel... was something.)

“Apologize to me. Or get out of my house.”

Gracen’s voice is very, very low. For a moment she thinks he hasn’t heard her at all. Then he spins, eyes blazing. “What did you say?”

Gracen watches her own chest heave. She pushes herself up off the desk, stands with the effort of pushing a mountain off of her back. Leovald is six-foot-four. Gracen is six-foot-two. In her heels, in the heels she must wear to be a professional woman, to be a lady - they are the same height.

Gracen wipes her nose. When she lowers her arm, there’s a streak of blood across the back of her hand. Fire shivers in her chest; her heart rings in her ears; her voice could cut steel.

“I said,” she says, low, slow, volume building, “apologize to me. Or get. Out. Of. My. House.”

december

and finally, the poem i posted this year! it’s called the beast sonnet, and you can find it in its own post over here (with commentary! how sexy.)

i kill the beast and drop down to my knees, my blade stained dark with blood of stygian hue, and for a moment these scarred hands shake free, and hold a world unfurled for me anew. but once-mourned victims, victors, vices find; fear winged me; now its absence strips me bare. my sword now dulls, my legs, my voice, my mind; the beast, pried from my throat, leaves no skill there. and still i hear it laugh, O DEVOTEE— O CHILD DEAR, NO GLORY WITHOUT ME.

i was quite productive this year; i have to think it was because i was avoiding things... the peak of my productivity happened over the summer and in november, AKA, college app hell. (almost done with the last applications! pray for me.)

a general breakdown of what occupied me this year:

(no, i don’t know why the “various other things” category ended up so large... i blame all the one-off projects i wrote a single page for, and also whatever the fuck happened in february. yes, i do know why it looks hideous; it’s because each of my WIPs has a theme color

thank you once again for spending some time at goose-books dot gov this year! what to expect for next year: well, i very much hope i can produce AMT... also hoping to get darkling ready for beta readers, so keep your eyes out!

[georgemackayhey]

Lean On Me

"Can you do something with both George and Dean maybe like seeing the reader cry and comforting her?" "Hiii, could you write a George x reader where they’ve been dating for a while and he’s jealous of her. Love your writing"

Right, so I've gone on and combined these requests because I failed to think up two separate ideas. So here's this monster! Thanks for askin' y'all! Enjoy ♡

w/c: 5k

───※ ·❆· ※───

"We're officially not unofficial!" You announced, clinking your second glass of wine against Dean's tumbler full of whiskey.

You'd been cast as costars in an indie rom-com, and were staying in the middle of nowhere Ireland for a month, to begin filming. Tonight you'd been shown to your separate motel rooms but wound up sharing a drink in yours, catching up and enjoying each others company before tomorrow's first big shoot. And since you'd been seeing George, it didn't take Dean long to ask how his friend was doing.

"What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?" Dean let out a bright chuckle before taking a swig of his preferred alcohol.

"Well as you know, George is off filming in the US and I'm stuck here, filming with you." You pulled a face but broke out into laughter before your playful disgust could be read. You adored Dean, and there weren't many people you'd rather be stuck in a dingy motel with.  

"Before he left two days ago, we agreed not to see anyone else while we're both so busy. And to keep seeing each other when he's back." You rambled. Dean shifted on his side of the love seat as you shared a drink and conversation.

"Really?" Dean's eyes winded as his smile grew, causing a blush to appear on your cheeks.

"Yeah," You grinned. "I know he wanted to take things slow before diving into a serious relationship, but it sounds like he's ready to pick up the pace." You informed although you figured Dean already knew. They were already the best of friends when you'd come into the picture.

"I'm going to tell you something." Dean leaned in a little closer as if someone might have been listening in. You brought your glass of wine to your lips to prepare for what he might say.

"George has some pretty serious feelings for you. But he's been burned before. There have been one too many girls who wanted him for all the wrong reasons." Dean went on like an older brother, though he was quite the opposite,  "The fact that he's mentioned getting more serious with you is a big deal. I hope you're ready for that because I think you're perfect together. But if you're not-"

"I am, Dean. The last thing I want is to hurt George and I swear to you I won't let that happen." You traced an X over your heart and gave your friend a stern nod, the best promise you had to show.

Your friend snorted a laugh but returned your serious nod as you both silently agreed to have George's best interest at heart.

___

"Action!" Your director shouted through a laugh as you sucked in a deep breath. You were placed at the end of a foothill where the damp grass caused you to slip every time you tried a new take.

Luckily the director got a kick out of your silly little mishap and you'd stopped laughing enough yourself to try the take again for the fourth time.

Dean was standing amongst the rubble of a halfway demolished castle, waiting for you to run into his arms. Your first day of shooting was focused on the climax of the film, and it wasn't hard for either of you to fake years of chemistry for the camera as you'd been friends behind the scenes for months now.

That's why when you finally nailed running into his open arms, prepared to be swept off your feet, you kept on laughing when his foot slipped, sending you both to the dirt.

"You weren't supposed to do that!" You laughed. "We finally almost had it! I was depending on you." You fake cried, while Dean apologized through bouts of laughter.

"Take ten, we'll suss it out!" Our director laughed while a small crew scurried to help you up and clean up your costumes of dust.

After finally getting the final shoot right, you were sent off to change and grab dinner with the rest of the crew.

The middle of nowhere Ireland didn't have much to offer, so the company you kept became even more valuable.

Behind Dean, you followed the director and his wife into an unassuming pub, where you ordered drinks. You sat close together and spoke about what you'd gotten right on set and how you hoped for scenes in the future to turn out, now that you'd started bringing your characters to life.

When your extra-large drinks came, you took a selfie with the pints and followed Dean's strict orders to text the photo to George.

"Tell him I love him and wish that he was my leading lady, instead." Dean teased.

"Well, we'll just see if I catch you when you slip up next time!" You feigned offense while you formed a text to George. Under the photo of you and his dear friend, you wrote:

You're missing all the fun! But I'm missing you more. Hope your day on set is going well xx

You hadn't quite reached the heart-eye emoji stage, with George, but all you wanted to do was flood his message thread with sappy saying. Delivering all your romantic lines today was made easier if you thought of saying them to George. You couldn't wait for the film to end so that you might have the chance to actually kick off what you'd started with the man.

You met George at the Golden Globes, at one of the after-parties. Your agent knew his and you'd been wanting to congratulate the stars of such a groundbreaking film, anyhow. George and Dean were sort of a packaged deal that night, but by some miracle, you'd been left with George to finish off your free cocktails and talk about how the music was much too loud.

You went home with a funny feeling in your chest, thankful that you got to spend an hour chatting away with the handsome man, knowing you'd only gotten extremely lucky.

But not long after then, you met George again. He was all alone in a coffee shop on the lot of a studio you'd both been filming on opposite sides of. He offered you a seat across the tiny table from him, where you sipped your drinks and dove into conversation like you'd known each other for years before then.

That was the day you realized you had feelings for George, when you swore his bright eyes lingered on your lips. When he asked if you were going to some silly Hollywood party. You said yes, even though you hadn't planned on it before then.

That's how things kept going with George, for a while. You'd run into each other at events and waste the rest of those evenings sharing passing thoughts and strong opinions. Around the third or fourth run in, you got the guts to compliment his suits and the way he laughed. He finally invited you to a party you wouldn't have otherwise known about.

It was someone's birthday, and every surface of their mansion had been turned into a minibar. Dean was there, and when George left you two to find some drinks that weren't just straight vodka, Dean asked what was going on between you and his best mate. George had clearly been smitten, but you'd yet to discuss anything like that with each other.

With a push from Dean, George asked you on a Sunday morning stroll along the lake, your first official date, both glad to finally be able to call what you'd been doing more than "hanging out." That was the day you'd found out about each other's upcoming films. When George held your hand on the park bench. When you agreed to keep seeing each other when you'd finished all your work. Agreeing to keep up as many late-night chats as you possibly could, while you were worlds apart.

___

You woke up not so long after you'd fallen asleep to your phone buzzing on the nightstand. You worried you'd missed your morning alarms but a new sort of excitement took over your nerves when you realized George was calling.

"Hello?" You answered, happily snuggling back into your motel bed.

"I'm sorry, love did I wake you?" George worried, his use of a pet name causing your heart to flip.

"Well yeah, but I'm glad you did. We aren't filming until tomorrow afternoon. How's America, then?" You wondered, peering out of the crack in your curtains. The night was dark, and the light from the motel sign reflected off of the crew's cars in the lot. You heard laughter in the distance and wondered what kind of fun you were missing out on.

"It's nice. We're actually ahead of schedule. I might not be here as long as I planned." George spoke up, and you thought you heard him smile.

"Is that good news?" You wondered. He seemed so excited to head off overseas and start working again, even if his role was only small.

"I think so. Means I'm closer to getting to see you." George said, his voice was warmer and more inviting than all the blankets you were currently wrapped up in.

"That's very good news indeed, then!" You grinned. "But you know I think Dean misses you most of all, and that's really saying something." You joked, thinking about all the conversations you'd had about George since you'd been filming together.

George's delicate laughter was music to your ears. He asked you to send his sappiest greetings to Dean and the pair of you went on telling stories about your days on set. George seemed to be getting on with his castmates and enjoying his work. You were glad to hear it and made sure he knew that you and Dean were having the best of times as well.

You wanted to end the call with George by expressing how dearly you missed him, but something stopped you. Maybe it was your conversation with Dean from before when he warned you how cautious George was to move too quickly in relationships. You figured keeping in touch while so far apart counted for a lot, and settled for wishing George a happy sleep before you hung up to shut your eyes again.

___

As you wrapped up filming in Ireland, you and Dean had become rather inseparable. Since you'd been acting alongside each other almost exclusively, you were a little nervous how filming back in London was going to go. There was a new set of cast members to finish filming with, and you and Dean had developed some kind of secret language you worried might seem off-putting to everyone else.

You didn't want to be the costar known for picking favorites, so you tried your utmost to get on just as well with the folks meant to play your family members and friends.

That meant spending time off the set, going to dinner and hosting game nights when the chance arose. Granted, you and Dean often paired up to beat everyone at Monopoly, you were still succeeding in getting on with everyone.

"Tomorrow is the big fight scene. I just don't think I can punch you in the face, Dean." The actress playing your older sister laughed, reaching over to pinch Dean's cheek.

"Good, 'cause you're not really supposed too." Dean laughed, shooing her hand away. You laughed at their antics as you flitted off to the kitchen to find another beer.

Your phone had been left on the counter, and you noticed it lighting up as you stepped past the refrigerator.

You narrowly missed a call from George, his profile photo filling up your screen. When the call went dead, you noticed he'd tried to call once before then.

"Oh shit, it is Friday, isn't it?" You worried. As you and George each found the swing of your days on set, you figured Friday nights were the best time to check in on each other. But tonight you'd been so wrapped up in enjoying a night off at Dean's flat with your castmates, that you'd left your phone in the other room.

You pressed the call back button and scurried off to the back patio where you wouldn't be bothered.

"Hello love! Everything alright?" George asked. Because even though you'd agreed to call each other once a week, you'd started texting silly little updates to each other throughout most other days. And you hadn't done that at all today.

"Yeah, I'm so sorry I've been away. We've just been enjoying the rare day off."

"Ah, yeah that's alright." George was quick to assure you but you didn't miss the way his voice fell a little flat. But before you could go on apologizing, he spoke up again.

"I'm flying back home tomorrow morning." He spoke, and now he sounded as if he were on the verge of bursting out into excitable screams.

"Tomorrow morning?" You grinned. That was a week earlier than he'd been planning.

"We finished everything today and I've booked the soonest flight back. I can't wait to see you." George cooed through the phone line.

With all your might, you held back squeals and confirmed that you were just as excited to finally see him again, as well. Thought you'd started things off at an awkward time, your feeling for George blossomed more every day. Between flirty texts and late-night phone calls that lasted as long as they could with completely different schedules, you'd fallen head over heels for George.

He made you laugh, even all the way across the ocean. He would ask genuine and thoughtful questions and he'd never hold back from giving you his own honest and meaningful answers. You practically melted through the slots of the patio board when you ended your phone call with "See you tomorrow, darling!"

___

"That's a wrap for today!"

"Holy shit, I'm so glad we got that on the first take." You shivered. It was a little too cold to pretend to enjoy yourself in a swimming pool.

Dean was by your side next thing you knew, offering a robe from the costume lady who was sewing up another actor's tuxedo.

"Just think, all the hard parts are over. Only a few more days left of easy shooting!" Your friend held open the robe as you slid your arms in as a frown pulled at your lips.

"Don't remind me! I don't know what I'll do when all the fun is over." You pouted like a kid and dramatically threw yourself against Dean in a hug you couldn't manage while keeping your hands tucked under your arms. Your friend ran his hands along your shoulder with a laugh as you shivered, but the extra bit of warmth didn't last long.

"Oh my God!" Dean chirped, shoving you away from him all of a sudden. Just before you had time to shout at him for being rude, you noticed what caught his attention.

George! There he was, dressed in dark jeans and cozy sweater, happily chatting away with your agent before Dean got to him. The men shared a happy greeting and a warm hug as you hurried to do the same.

You shoved Dean away like he'd done to you, with a playful "Ha!," and practically threw yourself at George.

He was strong, effortlessly scooping you into his embrace and giving you a small spin from the momentum you'd gained. You'd never greeted each other so enthusiastically, but somehow now, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

"You're here!" You realized as George set you on your feet again.

"When you told me you'd be done round five I figured I'd just swing by." He explained, keeping one of his hands gently wrapped around your waist. You weren't very cold any more.

"I missed you." You beamed, soaking up how close he finally was, after so long. George returned your sentiments as you both stood together, enjoying nothing more for a beat.

"I just need to change, then we can get going, yeah?" You shrugged, feeling suddenly uncomfortable in your still-damp bathing suit under the itchy robe.  Before you parted, you'd somehow made plans to go get dinner, and Dean was invited along.

"I did miss him too." George shot you a playful face as he moved to find where Dean had gone off too, leaving you to go change. You'd never flown in and out of the makeup trailer faster, sliding your clothes on and checking your face in the mirror before walking out onto the lot calm and cool.

You were totally anxious to finally get to spend time with George, but you hadn't forgotten what Dean mentioned about moving too fast.

You found both men in the car lot laughing together. They both turned their heads to see you approach, smiles widening, somehow.

"Ah, my boys. Let's go eat." You laughed, shooting Dean a look at George grabbed your hand in his.

___

You wound up at a posh Italian place, sat in the curve of a big red booth under George's arm. Dean was nearer the opposite curve, leaning a in a little closer to show George a bunch of dumb pictures the two of you had accumulated on set for the past couple of moths.

"Can I tell him about Taco Bell?" Dean choked back a laugh and looked at you with pleading eyes.

"I guess." You smiled after a beat. One night, not so long ago, you and Dean got plastered beyond belief and wandered to the nearest Taco Bell on foot. Their diner was closed, but their drive-through was open, and you had no choice but to try and walk up to the order box and try your luck. No one would respond, but Dean swore he saw workers avoiding your drunken rambles through the windows. The adventure ended with you having burst into tears, somehow deciding the Taco Bell was purgatory, drunkenly crying into the drive-through box. It made Dean laugh so hard he vomited next to the bins in the parking lot, and the pair of you got sternly asked to leave.

Not your finest hour, but certainly one of many memories from the highlight reel you and Dean had spent the early spring creating together. And it was Dean doing most of the talking tonight.

You spent your time snuggled close to George's side. His hand rested on your thigh while you buried your face in your hands at the end of each of Dean's stories.

George sat back, listened and laughed, and made fun of both of you along the way. You and Dean were in the middle of arguing over the details of your first petty fight when the check came.

"I have been missing out." George took the last swig of his drink.

"Well, we're glad to have you back mate. I better get going, though." Dean explained that he had a meeting with his agent before your day on set started tomorrow. When you all made your way out of the restaurant, you hugged Dean goodbye, calling him some silly nickname you coined in Ireland. He pulled a face at you, waved to George leaving the two of you alone for the first time in ages.

"I'd hate for the night to end, already." George gave you a convincing set of puppy dog eyes, but you didn't need convincing.

"It doesn't have to!" You spoke rather quickly.  "We could go back to mine and watch a film or something."

You offered a bashful shrug, hoping your excitable offer wasn't too forward.

But before you knew it, you were leading George into your studio flat, offering him something to drink as you flipped on a few lights on the way.

Tea was in order. You leaned against the kitchen island while George leaned against the counter, delving into conversation like you did best. He'd asked about some of the pictures you had framed of your family and friends, and you asked about his.

When the kettle rang and you filled two cups and asked George what he was most excited about being back home.

"I'm just glad to finally be with you." He informed, reaching out to pull you closer with the gentles tug at the hem of your shirt. He was a lot more affectionate than you remembered, but you certainly weren't complaining.

"I wish I'd spent all month having all that fun in Taco Bell purgatory with you." George joked, hooking one of his impossibly strong arms around your waist.

"George Mackay, are you a little jealous?" You laughed unbelievably, shoving your cup of tea a little further from you.

"Dean has gotten to kiss you more than I have, yet." George gave a little shrug as his bright blue eyes searched your face. If he was actually bothered, but the tiny smirk on his lips made you believe otherwise.

"Why don't we get up to speed, then, huh?" You rose a brow, resting one of your hands on George's sharp jaw. He didn't waste another second before diving into a kiss that left you breathless.

You expected your first kiss with George to be gentle and soft, just like him. But this kiss was fierce and hot and his hands were pushing your shoulders against the wall. And his lips only left yours to travel down your neck.

Your tea went cold that night.

___

You plopped into Dean's lap for the first shoot of the day. A rush of gratitude swooped over you, glad that you'd been able to work with someone you cared for so deeply.

"For someone who claims to know his best friend so well, you sure were off the mark." You playfully jabbed Dean in the ribs. He shot you a curious glare as a boom mic was being switched out for another.

"Do I even wanna know?" Dean chuckled, gazing up at you.

"All I'm saying, is he definitely didn't seem to care for taking things very slow last night." You proudly hinted as Dean let out an understanding yet mortified laugh. Some of your castmates were trickling onto set as your director checked behind the camera.

"He was totally jealous of all the time we've been spending together." You laughed, picking a piece of lint off the actor's sweater.

Dean's smile faltered as the director called action. Your friend's arms wrapped around your waist as you went on pretending to be in love.

After a long day of hard work, you and Dean started off in the direction of the makeup trailer. You'd kept one arm slung around his shoulders as he went on yammering about the last scene you shot.

George had decided to surprise you on set for the second day in a row, this time with a coffee for you and Dean, each.

"Awe, would ya look at that, we've got our own personal gofer." You laughed, looking at Dean as he gently slipped out from under your arm to accept George's kind offer. The labels on the cups were from a tiny bakery down the street from your set, but you didn't think much of it until you took a sip.

"Oh my God." You looked up to George with starry eyes. You wouldn't have cared what he ordered you, but he somehow got it exactly right. "How'd you know my favorite order from this place?"

You'd never been to the bakery with George before, and you couldn't remember a time you'd mentioned it to him. He really was the perfect boyfriend.

"I asked Dean," George admitted with a smile. You thanked him with a kiss on the cheek, and when you turned to do the same to Dean, he was gone.

___

You spent the rest of the week acting your heart out during the day and decompressing in the evening with George between movie marathons and dinner dates.

He was always checking in, making sure you were comfortable and always excited to experience new things with you. And you made sure George knew just how glad you were for his company. And especially charmed by the fact that he could never keep his hands off you. When you sat watching old tv shows he would trace patterns against your knee. He kept an arm around you as you walked the streets and always greeted you with a kiss.

Today, that's how he left you on set, with a sweet peck on your temple and a few words of encouragement. It was your last day, and you just weren't ready to say goodbye to everyone.

The last scene to shoot was of you and Dean, alone together in the isle of a convenience store. Your characters were meant to be having their first big fight, when a song comes over the loudspeakers neither of them can resist dancing along, bickering all the while.

It took you a couple of takes with the director suggesting different approaches, but it was over in the blink of an eye, Dean's character delivering the final line, while you were instructed to keep lazily dancing. After the director called cut, someone turned up the music and everyone cheered as your time together drew to a close.

You danced your way closer, throwing your arms around Dean in celebration.

"You've been the best castmate in the world! Thanks for putting up with me this long Dean. On and off set." You nodded, feeling your heart begin to ache. Dean hugged you back, offering similar sentiments, but unusually, something in Dean's tone fell flat.

You gave him an extra squeeze before he slinked off toward his trailer. While everyone else was offering goodbye hugs, you wondered if Dean wasn't keen to show how sad he was too. You shook it off and went on thanking the rest of the cast and crew for such a wonderful production.

The wrap party was later in the evening, but you left a big part of your heart on the set that was being torn down on your ride home.

___

George made it a bit hard for you to slip all the way into your party dress with the way he kept slipping it right back off. But with a little luck, you straightened his collar and dragged him out the door in the nick of time to party the night away.

The wrap party was at a nightclub where a live band was playing. As you slipped past drink stations and loudspeakers with George's hand in yours, you were reminded of when you met. How you'd keep running into each other on nights like these.

You held his hand a little tighter as the thought passed your mind and smiled up at him like a loon as he moved closer to your side.

"I'm glad you're here with me." You spoke up past the music.

"Me too." George grinned, leaning to place a kiss on your temple.

Your cast members bombarded you with hugs when they noticed you'd made it, asking for selfies and handing out drinks.

When you turned to look for George he'd found Dean and you were glad to skip toward them.

"Long time no see." You joked, sitting perfectly between the two of them.

"I can't believe it's over." Dean shook his head and cast a look to you.

"Yeah, but we still have press tour! And the premieres." You reminded, lifting your glass to your lips.

"Yeah." Dean smiled like he was glad, but you knew him better than that. Now was the time when he'd dream up some wild scenario he hoped would happen as you traveled to advertise for your new film. Or surely at the very least crack a joke.

You almost wanted to ask if he was okay, as he'd been totally reserved for a couple of days in a row. Of course, you knew he was probably just as sad for the production to wrap, but something was off. You could just tell.

___

Dean was weird during the entire press tour. He kept getting increasingly weirder as the days went by. And it was hard to pretend you weren't bothered. You called George every night, begging him to check up on Dean, make sure he was alright, get him to tell what he wouldn't tell you.

Over the past couple of months, you and Dean had grown inseparable and after the film, that changed. You knew your closeness couldn’t have been an act. You knew Dean made genuine connections with people he cared about. He was still close to George after their film had ended. Why was he suddenly so cold to you?

When you did interviews together, it was almost like it used to be, suppressing snickers and sharing secrets through the rise of an eyebrow.

But on the bus and out to dinner, Dean kept his distance. He still spoke with you and asked about your life, but it was like he'd severed himself off from your connection. By the time you got home, you hoped leaving him alone for a week and getting back to normal would make things better.  

But the morning of the premiere, you'd had all you could take. You and Dean were just leaving a hotel conference room after the last of a dozen interviews.

Dean walked a few paces behind you on your way out to the lobby. George was there, waiting to take you to some celebratory lunch before you were meant to start getting ready. He was all smiles, happily greeting you with a warm hug. He started to say something about how excited he was to take you out when you noticed Dean brush by, headed for the door.

"Uh, give me a second." You decided all of a sudden, leaving George in the small waiting area so you could catch your castmate before he reached the hotel doors.

"Dean! Wait." You demanded, fed up with how strangely he'd been acting. You couldn't possibly show up to the premiere tonight without at least trying to make things better.

You had to chase him out of the revolving doors, but when you reached the pavement, Dean was shocked enough by your low tone to stop and face you. You finally had his full attention, thank God.

"Are you okay? Have I upset you, somehow? Did I do something? Please tell me what's wrong." You begged, your throat started to close, but you managed to press the words out in time. As you spoke, Dean's face changed.

His eyes left yours, cast to the floor, and flicked up to somewhere behind you.

"Please talk to me." You begged in a hush. You didn't care about anyone passing by who might have looked at you funny.

"I-I'm sorry. No, I'm not upset with you. I never meant to make you think that." Dean explained in a low manner.

"Then what's going on?" You asked, worried by how reluctant he was to say anything.

"I didn't want to be in the way." Dean started, searching your face. "You and I had gotten so close and when George got back I felt like I was breaking some kind of boundary." Dean sighed, waving a hand as he cleared the air. And right on time, out of the corner of your eye, you noticed George stepping out of the revolving doors to find you.

"I was only trying not to hurt his feelings." Dean finalized. All the while, you tried taking a step closer to your friend. He took a step back.

"Well, you're hurting mine." You batted back, feeling tears sting your eyes. You were much too overwhelmed by the interaction to keep talking to Dean.

As George approached the pair of you, you grabbed his hand and spun around to the other end of the pavement. You heard Dean call your name to try and stop you, but you were already around the corner to where George's car had been parked.

George hurried behind the wheel but didn't start the engine. He leaned gently toward where you settled back against the passenger seat, defeated. You sucked in a sharp breath, determined not to totally lose your cool.

"What's happened?" George worried in a high pitch. One of his warm hands wrapped around your shoulder as you tried understanding everything Dean had just explained to you.

"He finally told me what his problem was and," You let out a humorless laugh as a tear escaped. "And I guess I just wasn't expecting it."

"Oh love," George barely whispered, lifting a finger to wipe your tear away.

"I think... he thinks you're jealous of him? Or at least he was afraid of our friendship coming across as something it wasn't, in your eyes. So he just shut me out. I guess it's nice he cares for you that much huh?" You let out another small, watery laugh.

George had that adorably confused look on his face, casting his pretty eyes into yours.

"That's what he’s been worried over?" George seemed just as confused as you had been. He'd never been able to get a read on Dean, any time George had tried to talk to him about how strangely he'd been acting.  

And you knew George wasn't jealous, not of Dean. He asked to hear all of the fun stories you had about Dean while you'd been working together. George seemed delighted that his friend cared for you so deeply. You knew that.

George reassured you that was the case, admitting he might have been a little jealous of missing out on all the fun, but not of Dean.

You'd calmed down a bit, with the help of George's sweet, gentle talk. He reassured that you weren't silly for crying, and then he took you to lunch. As you fueled up for a long exciting night, George insisted that he would knock some sense into his dear friend and that you'd get back to being just as close in no time.

___

The pair of you got all dolled up, painted for a premier. George's suit complimented your dress and you confessed you were totally madly in love with him. Maybe it was too soon, but it was just the right time, all things considered. George returned your sentiments with a light in his eyes and a smile on his face and everything was almost perfect.

You piled into George's car and drove to the studio where a limo was waiting to escort you and Dean to the premier. You were a packaged deal tonight, and he never invited a date.

Thank God Dean was already waiting at the studio for you, and early. George was able to pull him aside as your agent fussed over a bunch of silly questions. Your director still hadn't shown up by the time George and Dean reappeared before you, both wearing relaxed smiles.

"I'm sorry I never really talked to you. I shouldn't have ghosted you like that." Dean approached, looking dapper in his navy blue suit.

"Never do it again. Yell at me next time, I can take it." You swore, nodding in his direction. Dean rolled his eyes as his smile grew and all the tension between you fizzled away.

"So are we finally back to normal? I want to have game night and I need you on my Monopoly team." You fell back into a familiar banter, longing to make plans with your friend.

"I can't play a single board game without you. We share one brain cell, I think" Dean reached out, grabbing your shoulder to pull you into a hug, a real, meaningful one. You could have cried again just knowing he would be there to make fun of you for being so emotional.

"Yeah well, you're gonna need it because I'm the best Monopoly player in the British Isles." George sauntered up to the pair of you, seemingly very serious. You let out a loud chuckle as your embrace with Dean ended.

And when you piled into the limo between the two people you cared most about, you wondered how you'd gotten so lucky. It was official, everything was picture perfect.

───※ ·❆· ※───

[random-mha-thoughts]

Chains (Shinsou X Reader)

Pairing: Shinsou x Reader, side!Kirishima

For anon

Genre: Angst to fluff

Word count: 2,576

Tags:  @yuki-osaki​ @liviitehe​ @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog​

a/n: Who am I to resist a request? Or even a little angst ;) Take care of your mental health kids, don’t end up like me Thanks for being the first request anon!  I hope I did a good job fulfilling your wishes!

When I started writing, I was scrolling through TikToks (bc I’m a loser) and I found one that helped me tweak the climax scene and I’m pretty happy with how it turned out.  It’s almost twice as long as my previous posts because I wanted to stuff as much into it.  Enjoy!

(Also ICYMI I wrote a Todoroki Birthday Special!)

"Are you excited for the Sports Festival?" I swings my legs on the bench, sipping my carton of juice.

Shinsou crosses his leg over the other, leaning his arms on the back of the bench.  "Yeah, can't wait to face off with that loud-mouth idiot."  He scoffs.  "Who does he think he is?  His head's stuck far up his ass.  I can't believe you're friends with him."

I roll my eyes.  "We're not really friends, Kirishima's attached to him at the hip, they're a package deal."

His dark purple eyes glance over me for a moment.  "I see."

The expression on his face is unreadable.  Not that it's out of the ordinary since he's the quiet type, but it makes me uneasy.  Lately, our relationship has become distant ever since both of us made it to UA.  I was accepted into 1-A and Shinsou didn't.  Though he tells me he supports me wholeheartedly and assures me otherwise, I know he's hurt about it.  And it doesn't help that I've had to split my time between him and my classmates after school.

I scoot closer to him, grip his large hands, and lean my head on his shoulder.  "You're stressed, aren't you?  I really want you to do well so you can transfer into my class.  You deserve it."

Shinsou's head rests on mine in response.  "I hope I can make it in."

"Hey," I call softly, a faint nagging creeping into my mind.  "We're keeping competition between us friendly, right?"

"Afraid you're gonna lose, sweetheart?" he chuckles.  I can't hear the smirk on his face.

I shove his shoulder with mine.  "Shut up."

Red flag, my mind immediately thinks as I stand there dumbfounded by what he's just said.  "You want to what?"

Shinsou crosses his arms over his chest.  "I need full control over everyone on my team, that includes you."

My body grows cold and my knees start shaking.  He's not joking.  There's not a hint of lighthearted joking or teasing in his cold eyes.  He's never even joked about it before because he was afraid of what I would think of him if he ever used his quirk on me; he would never forgive himself if he did.

I look down at my shoes.  I trust his strategic mind to lead us, but it hurts to think he doesn't trust me enough to help him without control.  He just wants to win like you do, I rationalize.  But is that enough to relinquish total control to him?

A hand on my shoulder scatters my thoughts and I stare up into Shinsou's concerned gaze.  "I know I promised before, but these are different circumstances, I'm sorry.  I promise you, we can make it to the next round if you trust me."

Though I still feel torn, I sigh in surrender.  "Okay."

He removes his hand, eyes blank.  "Are you ready?"

A hint of hesitation persuades me to reconsider, but the thought of letting him down and pushing him away overtakes me.  "Yes."

As soon as the words leave my mouth, my breath hitches and my mind goes blank.  All stiffness leaves my limbs but I can't move, a numbing cold sensation takes over.

It feels strange, having no control over your body; it moves though you don't will it to, and all you can do is watch.  It's almost like you're playing a 4D game, but you're the character and you can still feel everything, but you can't react.  Your quirk almost feels fake for a moment until you realize it's your body.  As Shinsou maneuvers our entire team to stealthily steal the other teams' headbands with the help of my chain-creation quirk, I feel out of place in my own body.

But I made this choice to trust him, and I will.  I just hope I don't have to feel this again.

When I saw our names lined up for the first match, I thought it was some cruel joke my eyes were playing on me.  But it wasn't.  Shinsou stands across from me in the ring, hands casually stuffed in his pockets like this is the most normal thing, like I'm his enemy.

"So much for keeping competition friendly," he smirks, looking down his nose at me.

I try to match his attitude to mask my uneasy nerves.  "Yeah, like you can hurt me more than I can hurt you."

I breathe, thinking of a strategy to beat him.  Fortunately, my quirk is pretty offensive while his isn't.  I just have to close the distance between us, grab him with my chains, and throw him out of the ring without responding to anything he says.  Simple.

"AND START!!!!" Present Mic's voice booms throughout the stadium.

I run to start closing the distance between us.  Admittedly, I can't make very long chains that reach all the way to him very quickly, so I have to get closer to my target.

Shinsou knows this, retreating the other way.  "I guess you haven't trained enough to extend your quirk."  When I don't answer, he continues, "It seems they don't teach you much in that Hero class."

The urge for me to yell at him to shut up is on the tip of my tongue, but I bite it back.  If he catches me, it's game over.

"I guess the only thing that class is good for is nurturing hot-heads and stealing your time from people who're supposed to matter."

I slow down a little, my breath heaving.  His words have a dark undertone to them.  I understand taunting me with petty, good-natured quips, but is he digging deep?

The smirk on his face wavers a bit.  "If I knew being a hero means abandoning the people you care about, then maybe some of us good guys aren't cut out for such a job."

Are you implying I'm a bad guy then? I want to taunt back, but I know I can't.

"But I guess you got into the hero course because you have a heroic quirk," he goes on.  "Too bad you can't use it to its full potential yet."

He knows how frustrated I get about my quirk.  Which is why he's using it as canon fire against you, I remind myself, picking up the pace again.  Damnit!  Just slow down already!  When did you get so athletic?

"But it's fine, as long as you have fun with your new friends, right?"  He suddenly comes to a stop, his back to me.

Though I'm confused and my first instinct is to stop, I rush forward, chains growing out of my palms in preparation.

"Well, I guess you always had the more heroic and useful quirk."

The pain in his voice stops me dead.  What-

He turns around, hurt, pain, and anger mixed into his expression.  "You must've realized the difference between our quirks, right?  That I'm more suited to being a villain?"  His eyebrows furrow into more anger.  "I knew this day would come, I knew you never really cared about my feelings and you would eventually leave me alone like everyone else!"

Shinsou shouldn’t be like this. The way he’s trained with his quirk naturally made him more blunt and willing to share his opinion, but he's not like this usually. Getting the brunt of that bluntness doesn’t make me feel that great.  My silence became less about me staying quiet to avoid his quirk and more me being appalled and dumbstruck by the accusations he’s throwing at me.   I know he's only saying things to get me to respond, but when did he cross that line between playful chiding just to win and an actual fight between us?  I don't even know how to feel about his words.

"You know, I never fully trusted you," he points a finger at me.  "Especially when you were chosen for the Hero class and not me.  I knew you would eventually shut me out of your life and avoid me because I don't fit in with your 'hero' friends.  You're just like everyone else!"

My mouth gapes open, the words not coming.  His apparent pain and frustration urges me to comfort him somehow, but how do I respond?  Where do I even start?

Shinsou bites his lip, his features softening up into melancholy.  "If you're sick of me, just leave me for Shark Teeth already, okay?  Don't string me on like this!"

My chest feels heavy with guilt and I want nothing more than to run to him and throw my arms around him.  "Hitoshi-"

The numbness grips me before I can register Shinsou's face relax from agony into a smirk of victory.  No...

"OH MY GOD!! SHINSOU WAS FAKING A LOVER'S QUARREL TO TRAP HIS OPPONENT WITH HIS BRAINWASHING!! HOW WILL THIS END?!" Present Mic screams through the speakers.

He was faking.  My heart sinks, overcome with varying degrees of fury and self-loathing.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this."  Funnily enough, he doesn't sound very apologetic.  "But now that I've got you, we can end this.  Go walk out of bounds and lose for me."

At this point, I don't even care about losing, or that I'm walking against my will out of this stupid ring.  Shinsou said all those things to hurt me intentionally, and when he realized I can ignore his taunts, he took advantage of my feelings.  And everything he said, he had to have meant them somehow.  I know he's bottled up all those complaints and used them against me now.

Midnight declares Shinsou the winner of the match after I take my final step out of the ring and the feeling returns to my body.  When I turn around, he's grinning for his triumphant win, but it falters when he sees me.  I'm not in the mood to be a good sport or even offer a smile, I just walk off and let him have his moment.

I walk up to where the rest of Class 1-A is sitting, fists still clenched into white knuckles.

"Nice job, Extra," Bakugou scowls at me, leaning back in his seat.  "You got beat  by that General Studies loser."

"Shut the hell up, Pomeranian asshat, I'm not in the mood."  I slump down a few rows up.  I just want to be alone to think.  There's the fear in my mind that I didn't show off my quirk enough and I might get replaced because I was eliminated so early and that I'm still weak at my quirk, but those are the least of my worries.  How am I supposed to confront Shinsou?  A part of me wants to be angry and beat him into next week, but I can't bring myself to.

Kirishima slides into the seat next to me.  "Hey, don't be so upset.  You tried your best."

I sigh.  "Thanks, Kiri.  I don't care about losing though."

He puts a hand on my shoulder sympathetically.  "That was a pretty nasty fight out there.  Is everything okay between you guys?"

"I thought it was!" I burst out, almost laughing at my misfortune.  "Apparently I was wrong and oblivious to everything!"  I bury my face in my hands.  "I just... How did it get to this, Kiri? I thought I knew him enough to know when something's wrong.  Instead I let him deal with all those pent up emotions alone.  God, I'm so stupid!"

Kirishima takes in my clearly disgruntled state and rubs the back of his neck, appearing uncomfortable.  "If I'll be honest, Shinsou would be an idiot to do that to you intentionally, and he's probably kicking himself for what he did.  I know he really cares about you, he was just caught in the moment."

I turn my body to face my best friend.  "Kiri, I know you're resisting the urge to beat his ass, you don't have to defend him."

"Of course I wanna beat him up!  He made you sit here all upset, that's not manly!"  He punches his fists together, suddenly fired up before he relaxes.  "And at the same time, it wouldn't be manly of me to come between you guys."

I offer him a sad smile.  I already know about Kiri's crush on me, he told me a few weeks ago after class when he didn't know I was already taken.  Thankfully, he never made anything awkward after that and we've stayed best friends.

"Which is why I should help you guys patch thing up instead!"  He flashes a shark-tooth grin.  "You guys should really talk it over, clear the air once and for all!  I think he would really appreciate it if you gave him a chance to explain his feelings."

I nod to myself.  "Yeah, it wouldn't do us any good to let this blow up."  Swinging an arm over his shoulder, I ruffle his gelled hair.  "You would make a great boyfriend, Kiri, giving great advice like this."

"Hey hey!  Don't mess up my hair!"  The red-head struggles in my grip.  "Don't you have any idea how long it took me to do this morning?!"

I stretch out my sore muscles as I walk out of the changing room, ready to go home after a long day.  In the distance, Shinsou's waiting near a bench, hands in his pockets as usual.

"Hey," I greet him with a neutral tone.

He's surprised to see me approach him first.  "Hey..."

To avoid too long of an awkward pause, I say, "I'm sorry you didn't win.  I guess Midoriya found a way to overcome your quirk."

"Yeah, that was shocking to me."  He avoids my gaze, rubbing the back his neck awkwardly.

I swallow, gathering my wits.  I've rehearsed what I wanted to say while I was sitting around idle during the day and I'm ready to let it all out.  "I-"

"I'm really sorry for everything I said."  Shinsou beats me to the punch.  "I want to take it back and say none of it was true, but my feelings are still there."  He shuffles his feet together.  "I know you were still trying to make time for me, I was just selfish that you were spending time with Ashido and Kirishima and...their friends.  My own insecurities got in the way."  His hand lands on my head, a sign of his affection.  "You made it into the Hero class by your own merit.  And I do trust that you wouldn't leave me.  You're the best thing that's happened to me and I almost screwed this up.  And if you're still mad, I understand-"

I cut him off by enveloping him in a hug, squeezing him with my arms around him as I bury my face in his chest.  "It's my fault too.  I should've been more aware of your feelings and addressed them."

His arms timidly wrap around my frame.  "So, you're not mad?"

"I mean, I still want to slap you for using your quirk on me twice when you promised you'd never do it."

His body rumbles as he laughs at me, petting my head.  "I'm sorry for that too.  I won't do it again."

"You better not," I threaten, though I know it's empty.  "It really didn't feel good.  If you do it again, as soon as I'm out, I'm whipping you with my chains."

He's silent for a moment.  "Should I be excited or scared?"  A girlish scream escapes his lips when metal collides with his back.

I had to I’m sorry :)

So the full anon ask (in case you were wondering) was: i absolutely love your writing! the shinso one is amazing! Idk if you write angst (to fluff) but if you do can you write: shinso and reader dating but the sports festival came up and they are against each other. shinso ends up saying negative things about the reader / relationship to try to get her to talk back. Reader ends up upset and wonders if he went too far. asks her best friend Kiri (who has a crush on her) for advice. And the rest is up to you :)

Thanks again anon for being my first request :)