#like wouldn't you want to replace her immediately?????

[lilmisshellfireswritingblog]

The Prophecy Chapter 1: A Greater Woman Wouldn't Beg

Summary: After the death of her husband, Aurelia must make a decision to either die or marry the new ruler of Rome.

Warnings: 18+, talks of execution, talks of murder, Rome is in chaos, Lucius being Lucius, nothing too crazy right now

A/N: Hello! I decided to name the OC but honestly, you can replace her name with your name if you want to be a reader insert. It doesn't matter. Art is flexible. Anyway, this is for fun, not historically accurate. Also not bet read or proofread but I write for fun. Hope you enjoy! Separator banner credit to: sweetmelodygraphics.

Aurelia had been standing on the balcony of her chambers in the imperial palace, her thoughts consumed by the heavy, oppressive silence that had fallen over Rome. The sun had begun to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and crimson, but she didn’t notice the beauty. She hadn’t noticed much of anything for days. The death of Geta—her husband—had shattered her world. The sudden violence, the brutal murder of both Geta and Caracalla, had left her numb.

The door to her chambers had crashed open, and there they were—storming in, their swords drawn. Aurelia's body had gone cold at the sight of them.

She had tried to flee the guards. Tried to run. Tried to make it out of the palace before they could seize her, but the soldiers were fast, their hands grasping her wrists and dragging her back as if she were a criminal.

There had been no mercy for the widow of an emperor.

The next thing she knew, she had been thrown into the cold, damp cell, the iron bars of the tiny window casting a faint shadow on the stone floor. She had fought them, of course, her pride burning like fire in her veins. She had called out for help, for someone—anyone—to come to her aid but no one had come. No one would come.  Not even the guards at the door, who she had once known, now looked at her with suspicion and fear, as if her very blood made her guilty by association.

She had spent days in that cell. Alone. Hungry. The flickering light from the torch outside the bars offered little comfort, and the cold stone walls pressed against her, making it hard to breathe. There was a part of her that wanted to give in to despair, to let herself curl into the shadows and forget everything—forget who she was, forget what had happened. But she wouldn’t. She couldn't.

The door to the cell creaked open, and Aurelia’s sharp, ice-blue eyes snapped up. For a moment, she thought she had imagined it, but then the figure stepped inside. A man in a dark toga, his face unreadable, his eyes cold. Aurelia’s stomach churned. The new emperor, Lucius Verus, stood before her now.

He wasn’t what she had expected. Lucius, the gladiator, the son of Lucilla, now the ruler of Rome. She had heard whispers in the halls—how he had killed Macrinus, how he had taken the throne in the wake of the murders. She had never imagined he would come for her, never imagined he would see her so low, so utterly powerless.

He surveyed her silently, his piercing blue eyes studying her as though she were an object of curiosity, something to be analyzed.

“You’re still alive,” he said finally, his voice low but commanding. “I had thought the guards would’ve killed you by now.”

Aurelia remained seated on the cold stone floor, her knees drawn up to her chest. She didn’t answer him immediately, just glared at him with defiance, her back straight despite the pain in her muscles.

“You were married to Geta,” he continued, the faintest hint of disgust flickering in his gaze. “It seems the Senate is unsure what to do with you. You’ve been a widow for only a few days and already they want to… settle this matter.”

Her lip curled in a bitter smile. "Settle what matter?" she spat, her voice hoarse but sharp. "You think this is about some matter? The Senate will decide my fate like I'm some common criminal, won't they? Just like Macrinus decided my husband's fate. My brother-in-law's fate."

Lucius gave a slight nod, though he didn’t look sympathetic. “The Senate is divided. Some say you should be put to death, to cleanse the last remnants of the old regime. Others suggest you may have been complicit in your husband’s death. After all, it was your family’s legacy that fell with Geta.”

She scoffed. “Complicit? You think I had a hand in killing my own husband?”

“I don’t know,” Lucius said quietly. “But that’s not my decision to make.”

He paused, and Aurelia could feel his gaze on her like a weight pressing down on her chest.

“I have come to offer you a choice,” Lucius continued, his tone cold, detached. “You will be tried in front of the Senate, but I’ve decided to intervene. You’re… valuable, despite the chaos surrounding you. You are the widow of an emperor. You have connections to the old regime and some factions within the Senate believe your marriage to me would solidify Rome’s future.”

Aurelia’s eyes narrowed. Her pulse quickened, the confusion and bitterness swirling in her chest. “Marriage to you?” She laughed, though the sound was bitter. “So now you want to use me too? Use my name, my blood, my title? Is that it, Lucius? Is that how you plan to secure your throne?”

Lucius stepped closer, his footsteps echoing in the silence of the cell. His eyes were as cold as the stone walls surrounding them.

“It’s not my plan,” he said, his voice low. “It’s Rome’s plan. I am offering you a way out, Aurelia. A chance to live. To keep your dignity intact.”

“Dignity?” she hissed, her eyes flashing with anger. “Do you think I care about dignity? Death would preserve my dignity more than marrying you to secure your throne, to put another puppet on the imperial seat? To sit beside you like some obedient wife?”

Aurelia stood, her body trembling with rage, her fists clenched at her sides.

“I never wanted this!” she shouted, her voice rising. “I never wanted to be a pawn. My marriage to Geta was a nightmare and now you want me to marry another emperor?”

Lucius regarded her quietly, as if studying her fury with the detachment of a strategist. “The Senate does not care about your wants or needs, Aurelia. They care about power. They care about stability. If you do not marry me, they will find another way to dispose of you. If you do not marry me, you will be executed.”

She swallowed, her throat tight, her pulse roaring in her ears. He was right, of course.

Lucius watched her carefully, his gaze unwavering. “You may not like it. You may not want it. But you have one choice: death… or marriage to me.”

Aurelia's heart pounded in her chest, the weight of the decision pressing down on her with crushing force. She looked at him, then looked down at the cold stone floor beneath her feet. The choice before her was cruel, stark, and suffocating.

She could die. Die with her dignity intact, die with her pride as the last remnant of her old life.

Or she could marry him.

Marry a man who had come to power through bloodshed and violence. Marry a man who didn’t love her, who would never love her.

The silence between them stretched, long and heavy. 

"I'll think about it," she said finally, her voice low, almost broken. It was all she could say. Because the choice wasn’t hers to make. Not really.

Lucius inclined his head, his face unreadable. "Take your time. The Senate expects an answer soon."

And with that, he turned and left the cell, leaving Aurelia alone in the darkness, the weight of her decision already pressing down on her like the chains of fate.

The grand hall of the Senate was filled with the murmurs of Roman senators, their voices a low hum of power and fear. The marble columns stretched high, reaching up into the vast ceiling, echoing the weight of centuries of rule. The Senate chamber, once a place of noble discourse and decision, now felt cold and suffocating to Aurelia. It had always been a room of intrigue, but today, it was a room of judgment.

Aurelia stood at the center of the chamber, her hands clasped in front of her, her gaze fixed firmly on the floor. Her heart beat loudly in her chest, a sharp drum in the silence. She could feel the eyes of the entire Senate on her, watching, scrutinizing, waiting.

She had been brought here under guard, her wrists bound in chains, but even now, they were nothing more than a symbol. She was a prisoner. A prisoner of Rome, of the Senate, of her own fate.

Behind her, the throne was empty.

The throne her late husband had sat in.

 Lucius Venus had not arrived yet.

The murmurs grew louder as the senators took their seats, each one wearing their finely crafted tunics, their faces a mixture of indifference, curiosity, and judgment. The men of the Senate had always been ruthless in their pursuit of power and the death of Caracalla and Geta had left the empire vulnerable. Macrinus and his plot had sent Rome into chaos. 

For the Senate,  it was not about justice—it was about control. Aurelia was a relic of the old regime, an obstacle, and now she was to be disposed of. But in what way? In what way could they control her? 

The doors to the Senate chamber opened with a heavy thud, silencing the room instantly. Lucius Venus, now Emperor of Rome, entered. His piercing blue eyes scanned the room, his expression unreadable as he moved to the center of the floor. His presence was undeniable. The senators, who had once ruled Rome, now watched him with a mixture of respect and fear. The gladiator turned emperor was an anomaly, a force to be reckoned with.

Lucius ascended to the platform, standing beside the podium where Aurelia was forced to kneel. The contrast between them was stark. He stood tall, composed, his posture regal despite his origins. Aurelia, on the other hand, knelt on the cold marble floor in silence, her eyes still lowered.

A low, deliberate murmur passed through the Senate as Lucius raised his hand to silence them.

"Senators of Rome," Lucius’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding. “We are gathered here today not to deliberate on the future of this empire, but to settle a matter that will define the future of Rome itself. The widow of the late Emperor Geta, Aurelia Carina Cassia, stands before you today as both a symbol and a question. A symbol of the old Rome, the old blood, and a question of loyalty. The question of whether we allow the remnants of the past to threaten our future.”

Aurelia felt her pulse quicken at his words, her mind racing. A question of loyalty? She hadn’t asked for this. She hadn’t asked to be married off to Lucius, nor had she asked to be placed in the center of this political struggle. But here she was, forced into this trial, caught between the old regime and the new one.

Lucius turned his gaze toward her, and for a moment, their eyes met. His gaze was cool and distant, but there was something more beneath it—something she couldn’t quite grasp. For a fleeting second, she thought she saw a trace of sympathy in his eyes, but it vanished almost immediately.

“You stand accused of complicity in the deaths of Emperor Geta and his brother, Caracalla,” Lucius continued, his voice echoing through the chamber. “It is said that you, as the wife of Geta, played a part in the conspiracy that led to their deaths. Do you deny this, Aurelia?”

Her voice was steady, though it trembled with the weight of the question. “I deny it. It was Macrinus. I saw it…”

There was a murmur in the room at her response, some senators exchanging glances, others looking down at their scrolls in preparation for the next statement. Lucius didn’t seem surprised. His expression remained impassive as he looked back at the senators.

“The Senate will now deliberate,” Lucius said, gesturing for the first speaker to approach.

An older senator, his face lined with the marks of years of manipulation and power, stood and addressed the assembly with a voice that held no softness.

"Empress Aurelia, you have been a figurehead of the old regime. Whether or not you directly plotted the deaths of Geta and Caracalla is immaterial. You were Geta’s wife. You were complicit in their actions, and you knew the risks of such alliances." His words were harsh, accusatory, but there was no fury in them—just a cold, calculated desire to secure his place in the new order.

“You are a widow. We understand the grief of losing a husband, but you should know better than anyone that this is not a matter of emotion. This is a matter of stability for Rome. Your presence here is a threat. Your family’s bloodline is a reminder of a Rome that no longer serves its purpose.”

Aurelia’s hands curled into fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. The senator’s words hit her like a blow, and yet, she held her ground. Stability for Rome? What was the point of Rome without love, without people who truly cared for the well-being of its citizens?

“Empress, the Senate proposes that you be executed for your role in this treason,” the senator continued. “For the good of the empire.”

Her heart pounded, but she did not flinch. This was not about her. This was about politics. This was about control. They would say anything to justify their thirst for power.

Another senator rose, younger than the first, with a look of thinly veiled disdain on his face. He glanced at Aurelia with a slight sneer.

“Though I do not fully support the accusations of complicity, the death of two emperors and the subsequent collapse of their line cannot be ignored,” he said. “Her very existence challenges the new order of the empire. If she is not put to death, then what is to prevent others from following her path? I suggest we put the question to the emperor: If not death, then marriage. Let her be a bride to the new emperor, a tool to bring the people of Rome together, to prevent further dissent. What better way to silence any rumors of betrayal than to unite her with Emperor Lucius?”

The words struck Aurelia like a blow to the chest. Her breath caught in her throat, and she felt her knees tremble slightly as the full weight of the situation pressed down on her.

Lucius stood silently beside her, his gaze fixed ahead. She could feel him watching her, his presence a constant reminder that, even in this moment of supposed judgment, he was the one who held the final say. He had given her the choice before, but now it seemed to be a cruel trap—a way to dispose of her without the bloodshed that would come with execution. A way to use her as a pawn, to bind her to him, to secure his claim to the throne.

Aurelia’s voice, though barely a whisper, broke through the growing tension in the room. “You think marriage to him will erase everything?” she spat, her eyes now blazing with anger. “You think that will make me a loyal subject of Rome, after everything you’ve done?”

Lucius’s gaze turned toward her, his expression unreadable. He said nothing, but the weight of his presence seemed to fill the room. His silence spoke volumes. Aurelia knew that, in the end, her fate would be decided by him.

The senators shifted uneasily, waiting for his verdict.

Finally, Lucius raised his hand, his voice cutting through the tension.

“Enough,” he said, his tone firm. “The Senate has spoken. I offer Aurelia the choice of her fate: death, or marriage to me. If she chooses to live, she will be bound to me, not only as my wife but as the symbol of the stability I will bring to Rome. And if she chooses death…” He paused, his eyes briefly meeting hers before he turned away. “So be it.”

Aurelia looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of defiance and sorrow. This was it. This was the end of everything. Her heart, which had once been full of hope and love, now felt empty, hollow.

Her life would never be her own again.

The Senate waited. The room held its breath.

And Aurelia was forced to make a choice.

“Give me an hour and I will give my answer to Emperor Lucius myself,” Aurelia says. “You’ll have your answer no later or no earlier than that.”

Aurelia stood before the great marble columns of the Imperial Palace, the cold stone pressing against her back as if it could steady her trembling bones. Her mind raced, her heart a fluttering bird caught in a cage. Everything that had happened in the last few days felt like a blur—a dream, perhaps, or a nightmare. The death of Geta and Caracalla. The rise of Macrinus and his ultimate betrayal. And now, the demand to marry Lucius Verus.

The Senate had spoken. The Emperors had been murdered, and the city of Rome was in turmoil. But it was Lucius, not the Senate, who now held power. He was the son of Lucilla, and by blood, he had the right to rule. And yet… he was not the one who had killed Geta and Caracalla. The murder had been orchestrated by Macrinus, but now, the world had spun into chaos, and Rome needed stability.

And so, the question had been asked.

Would she marry Lucius Verus to solidify his claim to the throne? Or would she die just because she was the wife of the previous emperor? 

Was she lucky to even had the choice?

The air in the room was thick with expectation. The door behind her creaked as it opened, and Aurelia didn’t need to turn to know who stood there. She could feel his presence as if it were a tangible thing, heavy like the weight of the empire itself.

Lucius Verus.

The man who was now the Emperor of Rome, not by his own doing, but by circumstance. The gladiator who had risen from the sands of the arena, who had fought for his freedom only to be forced into the throne by the whims of a crumbling empire.

“Do you know why I am here, Aurelia?” His voice was deep, steady, but there was an undercurrent of something she couldn’t quite place. Perhaps a sense of duty. Or perhaps… uncertainty.

She didn’t turn to face him immediately, though she could hear the soft echo of his footsteps as he crossed the room. It felt almost like a finality. She could already hear the whispers of the Senate, the people, the court.

It was already decided.

Turning slowly, she met his gaze, her eyes steady. He stood confident with those piercing blue eyes that seemed to always know more than they should. Today, however, there was something else in them, something that perhaps even he didn’t understand: a flicker of vulnerability.

“I know why you are here, Lucius,” Aurelia replied, her voice cold, controlled. “You want your answer. I promised you that in the senate this morning.”

She didn’t let her anger spill over, though it burned at the edges of her words. Instead, she forced herself to focus, to look at him as though this were just another political arrangement, another moment where she could maintain control. She was used to power plays—she had been married to Geta, after all. But this… this felt different.

Lucius’s expression softened, as if her words had stung, but he didn’t flinch. Instead, he took another step closer, lowering his voice.

“No one is forcing you, Aurelia,” he said. “You still have a choice. I won’t have you marrying me out of fear. It’s not just your life at stake now. The future of Rome is as well.”

Her eyes flashed with a mixture of disbelief and bitterness. “And you think I care about Rome’s future? Rome’s future died with my husband. And my brother-in-law.” Her voice cracked, but she quickly regained control.

Lucius watched her silently, his jaw clenched. He could see the weight of grief in her eyes, the anger—familiar, raw, the same kind of anger that had been in his own heart when he first stepped into the Senate after the deaths of Caracalla and Geta. He had learned to control it, to channel it into something else. For Aurelia, that was still a battle she hadn’t won.

“You’re angry,” Lucius said softly, almost as though he were stating a fact. “I understand that. But if you don’t marry me, Rome will spiral into chaos. This empire needs unity. It needs strength. I can give that to it, if you help me.”

“And you think you can just take this position, Lucius?” Aurelia snapped, stepping forward, her hand gripping the edge of the table in front of her. “This is not something you can simply inherit. This marriage is a farce. You think Rome will rally behind the son of Lucilla? A man who was raised in Numidia, a gladiator, forced into the games, used as nothing more than a pawn?”

His gaze flickered, but he didn’t move. “I am not a pawn and neither are you, Aurelia.”

She scoffed bitterly, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “Aren’t I? Tell me—what happens to me if I refuse? Do you execute me in front of the Senate? Do you have me dragged through the streets like a common criminal? Because that is all I am, isn’t it? A widow with no place in this empire.”

Lucius’s expression darkened for a moment. There was no cruelty in his eyes—no harshness—but there was a kind of desperation there, buried just beneath the surface. His voice was low, steady, but there was an edge to it now, an urgency she hadn’t expected.

“I will not kill you,” he said. “However if you don’t marry me, the Senate will see you as a threat. You know that as well as I do. They’ll find a way to dispose of you. If not through execution, then through a thousand other means. I’m trying to protect you and Rome.”

Her eyes narrowed, studying him carefully. She had always been good at reading people—good at seeing through their facades, their masks. But Lucius was different. His words, his actions, his very presence were all so… contradictory. There was something about him that felt real. Something that felt honest. He wasn’t just playing a role. He was truly trying to protect her—and Rome—but at what cost?

And that was the question she had to answer now.

Aurelia looked down at her hands, fingers trembling slightly as she worked to control her emotions. There was no real choice, was there? Either she married him, or she died. Either she helped Lucius rule Rome or die, erased from history.

There was something else in her mind. A flicker of realization. If she married Lucius, she would remain at his side—able to influence his decisions, to perhaps steer him away from the path that had already been carved out for him. If she married him, she could still be somebody in this empire. She could still matter.

“Why me?” she asked, her voice quiet now, softer than she intended. “Why not someone else? Someone who truly loves you, who wants to share this life with you?”

Lucius hesitated, his gaze steady, and for a moment, Aurelia could have sworn she saw a flicker of something deeper, something more intimate.

“Because you are the empress of Rome,” he said simply. “And despite everything that has happened, you have strength. More than anyone else in this empire. I need that strength by my side.”

The words hit her like a stone. Strength. Not love. Not affection. But strength.

And yet, in that moment, Aurelia knew what she had to do. There was no escape. No retreat. She could fight it all she wanted, but the only path forward was through him.

“Fine,” she said, her voice flat. “I will marry you. But don’t think for a second that I will ever love you. Not like I loved Geta. And not like you want me to.”

Lucius’s expression softened, but there was no joy in it, no relief. He merely nodded, as if he had expected her answer, but it did not lessen the weight of it.

As he stepped forward to place a hand on her shoulder—an uncertain gesture—Aurelia stood still, rigid, her eyes hard, her heart closed off.

Rome had taken everything from her.

And now it had taken her heart, too.

[ilikekidsshows]

These are really good additions. For all Marinette complains about how her Ladybug/Guardian responsibilities cut into her time as Marinette, she sure isn't making any moves towards making it so that a Ladybug wouldn't be needed. All her efforts go into stopping the Akuma of the day or some other pointless project that won't actually bring her any closer to catching Hawk Moth. She'll jump at the chance to let Tikki replace her as Ladybug, but she won't make having a Ladybug unnecessary or find a permanent replacement herself. Basically, Marinette wants to stop being a Ladybug, but only when doing so would require her to do nothing.

This makes it seem like the only reason Marinette hasn't already quit is that her motivation to quit is even weaker than her motivation to be a hero. Although, Marinette has had this tendency where she complains about things she could change but then makes no effort to change for a long time in the show. She didn't like Fu sidelining Cat Noir but only made the weakest attempts possible to persuade Fu to talk to him after Cat Noir brought the situation up. Even after Fu stops telling her to keep Cat Noir in the dark about everything, when she's crying about how hard it is to be alone for the couple of weeks after Fu lost his memories, she still won't just talk to Cat Noir. Her telling Alya was an accident, done in the midst of another emotional breakdown. Marinette always had the option to reach out to others and, even when the outside pressure to not do so was removed, she still wouldn't do it by choice.

Marinette complains about things she has the power to change, but then does nothing to change them. This has been going on since even before the retool, and the post-retool Marinette views herself as being completely incapable of changing her circumstances even when she's the one with all the authority and power. Even when she knows how she could change things, she won't do it, because Astruc confirmed in the finale commentary that Marinette understood from Félix's message at least the part about Gabriel being Hawk Moth, and then she acted like she didn't know so that the finale could have a standalone "realization" moment (because they're still writing Miraculous as an episodic show).

However, that just means that, even after she found out the truth, she had no intention of acting on the knowledge that Gabriel was Hawk Moth until he jumped her when she was breaking in to find out information about Adrien. Marinette was going to let Gabriel keep being Hawk Moth at least for the time being, because stopping him would have been too much effort, I guess. Even if you go with the interpretation that Marinette didn't fully understand Félix's message, Astruc confirmed that she at least suspected Gabriel before she went into the mansion, and yet she didn't do anything with her suspicions because that would have required her to put effort and thinking into her heroics instead of just reacting to what was going on directly in front of her.

Basically, Marinette will rarely do anything more than solve an immediate situation. She would rather keep having easy-to-win Akuma fights that cut into her private life that she'll then constantly complain about than make a proper plan to track down and stop the source of the Akumas. Because of this laziness, she was completely unprepared to do anything to actually stop him when Hawk Moth decided they'd have their final confrontation now. All the power, allies and knowledge at her disposal went to waste and she fumbled her way into the world getting destroyed.

Like, when the protagonist has this much knowledge, authority and power and goes this far in not taking advantage of it, all the while complaining about rough she has it, you really gotta start wondering at what point her problems start being self-caused. Sure, Gabriel is responsible for his own actions, but 'Origins' had this quote be an inspiration to Marinette: "All that is necessary for the triumph of evil, is that good people do nothing!" and in the finale, she proves it correct in the worst possible way. Marinette, indeed, did nothing, and Gabriel triumphed. The writers can claim that "Gabriel laid down his arms so Marinette won" all they like, but that symbolic victory is nothing against Gabriel's literal victory of gaining ultimate reality-bending power and getting to reshape the world however he wishes. Once again, the Miraculous writers had something happen that's the exact opposite of what they meant to represent.

I've seen people said Adrien doesn't have motivation to be a hero but Marinette does, which is weird because I feel like it's Marinette who doesn't have a motivation to be hero beyond "people listen to Ladybug". Her lack of motivation is what confused me because as a protagonist, she's inevitably become a role model for the young audience and I find nothing about her is likeable, even more so after she become a guardian. It's as if being a guardian inflate her ego and she forgot that everyone else is a human with feelings, not just a pawn or a doll for her to play and ordered around.

Recently I found out a website that contain the concept plot and it confused me more because I feel like concept Marinette is a more grounded character than she is in the show.

Marinette's goal isn't just to be Adrien/Felix's girlfriend but she also need to collect the kwamis that she accidentally releases and she become a guardian not because of luck or favoritism like how it is in the show, it's because her grandfather is the guardian. Adrien/Felix doesn't even become Chat Noir because he's chosen by the guardian, it's Plagg who chose him. It's actually much better than the whole "I choose you but also I'm not going to do anything with you" that Fu pulls in the show.

i don't understand why the higher up/the sponsor reject this plot because I think this much better than whatever we have now. If they have a problem with Chat Noir being an anti-hero, then why do they accept Marinette being written like one while also hailing her as a hero?

---

“Adrien isn't motivated to be a hero” he actually likes being a hero, unlike our role model protagonist, who’d rather do anything than be Ladybug even when she's being lauded for her heroic deeds. Is this based on Adrien trying to quit when Fu or Marinette is making his job needlessly more difficult to do? Because, like, that's the only thing that he seems to dislike about being a hero, which, like, makes Marinette an even worse hero. She’s so bad at her job, she makes otherwise eager heroes lose their motivation.

I’m gonna be very honest here; Marinette becoming Ladybug because she accidentally released a bunch of magical creatures and Adrien/Félix being more of an anti-hero rival than a full-on ally would have been copied straight from Cardcaptor Sakura’s starting setup. Like, I’m not surprised that even the rejected ideas for Miraculous are copied from other properties, but it just proves that regardless of any other variables, Astruc’s creation was always going to be highly derivative. Regardless, I do feel that Fu being her grandfather instead of a stranger would have gone a long way in justifying Marinette’s special treatment both in-universe and to the audience, but that’s probably why it was rejected.

Like, we can mock the fact that Marinette isn’t actually within spitting distance of being a “normal girl with a normal life” all we like, but that doesn’t change the fact that, from a purely on-paper angle, she is pretty average. She’s a middle-schooler with pretty average hobbies who deals with normal teen problems like bullies and a crush on a boy she doesn’t know how to deal with. There’s a reason it’s the opening line for the show’s opening. It's marketable. A special chosen one from the start wouldn’t have been as marketable in the same way. Especially when we take into account how hypersensitive Astruc is to Marinette being less liked than he’d want. He’d do whatever he can think of to make sure Marinette isn’t immediately judged a “Mary Sue”.

The thing with executives is that they don't watch the shows they fund. They read the pitch, synopses, and maybe the scripts if they can find the time. And even then, they might not want to put in the money to get a script revised even if they paid enough attention to tell it was dogshit. They wouldn't be interested as long as the different Miraculous bedsheets and shampoos keep selling and as long as the show isn’t too gay to sell to other countries. Like, the show bible that Gloob leaked? The one full of inaccuracies because it was outdated? That was what the executives were most likely given when the retool went into development. In addition, corporate oversight on the show has actually decreased the longer it’s gone on, because the show’s proven itself to be a success. I’m pretty sure the higher-ups were not asked: “hey, is it okay if we make Marinette an entitled jerk who gets validated at every turn while she starts treating people worse and worse?” I’m pretty sure no one okayed Marinette’s “villain arc”, it was just allowed to pass because it didn’t make the show less marketable.

That’s the thing with any property that becomes “too big to fail”. Less oversight means less quality control. It’s like one anonymous Gamefreak employee said about making Pokémon games: “It’ll sell anyway, so it doesn’t matter if it’s bad.”

[hythlodaes]

i think the thing about work rn is that i'm more frustrated that i can't understand the logic behind my DMs decisions more than i am about the actual situation

in no way does it make sense that it takes over two months to promote someone already with the company. it's been three weeks since we got approval from our regional manager and he STILL hasn't gotten his promotion

literally what the hell

[abbyssgf]

𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞!𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | '𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧, 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲'

• concept: your wife was exercising in front of you in your living room during your ovulation. she knew perfectly that you are in the middle of your ovulation so she decided to tease you knowing her exercise will end up by fucking you on the couch...<3

• words: 1,9k

• warnings: dom!sev, sub!reader, riding sevika, strap-on, spanking, cursing, I guess that's all

• author note: i've wrote it almost in two days...during my ovulation, yeah…

you were in the middle of your ovulation and you were almost all the damn time wet, if your hand didn't was at your pants then you were using a vibrator but if none of these things then sevika was fucking you, not that she was complaining - she was excited that she could make you like four orgasm in one day and you would be still needy and wet.

right now you were sitting at your couch in your house while sevika was doing her daily exercises, in front of you, fuck it she knew what she was doing by it. she knew that your gaze was almost all the damn time on her, watching how her muscles tense while exercising which make you even more turned on. you could feel how wet your underwear was… no it was fucking soaked by your excitement just by looking at sevika watching her exercising. 

sevika was in her black sport bra and some black shorts and nothing more, you were having a perfect corner to look at your wife's body and muscles. you were watching her doing push ups after a few moments more but you couldn't wait not even a minute longer. fuck it.

you got off the couch and you approached your wife with a grimace on your lips, sevika looked up at you and smirked immediately knowing what you would say in a moment. "baby" you started "You're torturing me, damn it" you said to her and sevika chuckled with her low, rough voice. she stopped doing her push up only to sit in front of you with her muscular legs spread out, looking up at your face with a raised eyebrow and a smirk on her face. 

"oh really?" sevika asked you teasing and you groaned at her words "sevika!" you pouted and she giggled again "what?" she asked as if you wouldn't have any idea what were you having right now in your mind. "you know really well what" you responded to her. sevikas body was covered in sweat but it didn't make you want her less, vice versa it made you need her twice as bad. 

since sevika had her legs spread apart while sitting in front of you, you decided to take advantage of this opportunity. you leaned down and sat on her hips, wrapping your legs around her waist "I fucking hate you for this" you murmured to her not really meaning those words you were just flustered and needy right now.

sevika purred at your words and she wrapped one of her arms around your waist, holding you down and she grabbed your ass and squeezed it with her big veiny calloused hand. "you hate me huh?" sevika murmured to you, raising her eyebrow. after sevika a words you could feel her hand giving you a spank and squeeze your backside. 

"vika" you moaned and you leaned to start kissing her neck while pressing with your clit at her bulge under her black shorts. she even during her exercises needed to wear her strap-on. "please" you purred towards her neck and you could hear sevika's soft moan at your actions.  

"now you're begging, love, huh?" you wife said to you and she spanked your butt again "a moment ago you told me you hate me" sevika reminded you but of course she knew you didn't really mean that she was just playing around with you, she needed to hear how you told her how desperate you were for her.

"you know I didn't mean that" you responded to her and you moved away from her neck just to look into her grey eyes. "of course I know it, baby" sevika murmured to you and a soft glare  appeared in her eye but in a quick moment the glare disappeared from her eyes now replaced with something else… with a need and a desire. 

"but you were a brat" sevika said to you and her arms around your waist tightened. "and a brat deserves a punishment, am I right, baby?" she said to you and you whimpered at her words. 

sevika smirked looking at you, in a quick moment her lips stuck to your and she was kissing you roughly and with passion. you wrapped your arms around her neck and sevika's both hands now were on your backside kneading your ass and caressing it. 

you moaned into sevika's lips and she tightened her grip around your backsides. sevika broke the kiss only to start kissing your neck hungrily, you moaned and you felt a warm feeling inside your body. sevika prepared your neck with wet, hot kisses and her hand tugged onto the edge of your t-shirt "hand up, baby" sevika said to you and you lifted your arms.

sevika smoothly lifted your t-shirt above your head and she threw your clothes away not stopping kissing your neck.

sevikas hand wandered to the back of your bra, she unfastened the clasp on your bra and took it off you too, throwing it on the floor. now when your bare chest was all for her gaze her hands traveled to your boobs and she embraced them with her hands tugging one of your nipples and it made you groan at her actions.

"you like it, baby, huh?" sevika asked you and you just moaned again as a yes to her words "that's what i thought" sevika murmured to you or to herself, you didn't even care right now.

"vika" you moaned to your wife "please, please I need you" you said to her and sevika's gaze met up with your eyes. you could see the gaze of desire in her eyes too and oh boy you knew that In a moment she will be fucking you right here on the floor or on the couch. 

"such a needy girl" sevika purred to you and placed a light kiss on your nipple. she moved her hands to your ass and then stood up lifting you in her muscular arms and then placed you on your couch. 

sevika took a moment to admire you, she started to take off her black shorts knowing your gaze will take every second of looking how she was stripping in front of you. 

now sevika was only in her black boxers where her strap-on was perfectly visible through the boxers and her sport bra. goddamn you could swear that right now, in front of you, sevika like that looked like some fucking god. she took off her sport bra and now the only thing she wears was her black boxers but don't think she would take them off now, no, firstly she needed to shower your body with kisses and then prepare you for her strap-on.

sevika got on the couch and was above you, surrounding you with her body with a smirk on her face. sevika leaned to you and she started to give your neck a wet, passionate kisses while her hands started to wander around your body feeling your soft skin under her fingertips.

It wasn't long before she started trailing her lips down your body, to your collarbone, your shoulders, your breasts, and down to your stomach where she stopped at the waistband of your panties.

her gaze slipped down onto the wet spot that showed through your mothers and sevika giggled, shaking her head with a sly smile "you're already so wet, baby" sevika murmured and kissed your inner things. you moaned and you could squeeze your things so your wife would be even more between them but you rather to have a alive wife than non-breathing wifey.

"sevika" you moaned looking down at her pleasing her with your eyes to fuck you, you needed her right now and right here.

sevika only chuckled and tugged your panties with her finger "what?" she asked, teasing you even more "you want me to eat you up, baby?" she murmured "you want my fingers?" she asked you again running her middle and third fingers against your underwear "you want me to make you come?" she asked looking up to have eye contact with you.

your checks were pink 'cause of your blushing and you swallowed "yes, just-…just fuck me" you answered her feeling the hot feeling inside your body, sevika raised her eyebrows at your words and she smirked ominously. "lift your hips up" sevika said to you and you did it, you lifted your hips and she takes off your underwear now leaving you with nothing. 

sevika's gaze moved over your body, not even hiding the fact that she was checking you out, but why would she be ashamed? after all she was your wife. until you could even catch what's going on sevika picked you up and turned you two around so that now she was lying on her back and you were sitting astride her hips.

Sevika's hand went to her boxers, you lifted your hips so that your could wife took off her boxers without any problems and threw them on the floor, as she did it now your hips were in a perfect angle over her brown, skin-colored, stringy strap-on. you felt a shiver at the sight "oh fuck" you cursed under your breath even more turned on. Sevika's hand wandered to the strap and she wrapped her hand around the strap to position it straight, pointing at your clit.

"come on, ride me, baby" sevika hummed to you knowing how badly you wanted her to fuck you. you lowered your hips onto the silicone cock and moaned at the feeling of him filling you, after a while you had the strap-on fully inside your clit and your hips were touching the end of the toy. 

Sevika's gaze didn't even leave you for a moment, she was looking at you and your actions. She placed her hands on your hips and she squeezed them gently "come on" sevika hummed to you "use me to please yourself, darlin'" she said and you whimpered at her words.

You started to move your hips back and forth, feeling how the strap-on was pounded into you with every your hips movement, making you want even more and give yourself a pleasure. After a while, you started moving faster, looking for relief and pleasure, one of sevika's hand moved to grab your backside and she squeezed it. 

"you're doing so well, sweetheart" sevika said to you and you lined up at her words while your hips were moving every second  chasing your own pleasure. "fucking god" you moaned as you felt sevika's warm hands on your body, goddamn it.

"I feel so good, vika" you whimpered as sevika's strap was digging in your sweet spot as you were moving your hips, riding her.

the room was filled with your moans, sevika's praises and the sound of skin rubbing against skin. 

Sevika placed her hands on the sides of your hips and she started to help you move your hips and you both moaned. "c'mon, baby, cum on me" sevika murmured to you and you moaned at her words feeling how your orgasm started to get even closer.

"fuck" you moaned "i'm-…i'm gonna cum, vika" you whimpered to your wife and sevika smirked started to help move your hips even faster. "good" sevika said to you as her lips smirked. 

After a few moments you could feel how the pleasure and your climax had come and they shook your body. you cum with a loud moan and you place your hands on sevika's arm, catching your breath.

"That's my good girl" sevika murmured and she leaned to kiss you on your lips, giving you a hot, wet but gentle kiss onto your lips. you hummed at the kiss and sighed gently after the pleasure.

• taglist: @abbyslvrrr @noacinno @nytloq @l0vel3tterl0ver @pizzabbs @dvrkhcld @sannyangel89

@monsterastuff @kylorey25 @m00nd0v3 @ashlma0 @sevikasdoll @stmvivs @hell0-ki55y @leiyanzyves @sapphiellar @ellastone-olsen

[anotherlongstoryshort]

Things about the Wisdom Saga that have plagued me all damn day

Legendary

Whether intentional or not, Miguel's Telemachus really sounds like a younger version of Jorge's Odysseus. And that hurts.

"If I fight those monsters, is it you I'll find?" The layers. Could he go out and hunt for his father? Could he find his 'legendary' strength within himself? Or will Odysseus be the 'monster' he finds?

"Somebody help me, come and give me the strength" And his call is answered T_T

20 years.

Antinous fully interrupts this bop. Rude.

Ayron sounds legitimately scary and Telemachus taking a stand is so O.O

Little Wolf

I wanna fight this guy. Love that Athena agrees. (The beat of the song and sharp bursts of vocals really emulate blows.)

The quaver on "I don't know how".

Athena is immediately charmed by Telemachus' enthusiasm. She sounds so fond.

The fact she sees heart in him as an advantage when it was Odysseus choosing heart over mind that drove them apart. Guh.

Did she tell him to bite Antinous? XD

"Oh, maybe I pushed you a bit too hard." The change in her perspective is already so apparent - she wouldn't have admitted a mistake or miscalculation to Odysseus.

We'll Be Fine

"I had a friend before..." A FRIEND? FRIEND?!?!

An admission that she didn't fully appreciate what Odysseus was going through, that she feels guilty for having "missed it all".

It's unclear to begin with if she's come to Telemachus for Odysseus, or to try and replace him. Both are equally heart-breaking.

"I don't know who your friend is, I don't know what he's like" UNKNOWINGLY ECHOING HIS OWN THOUGHTS IN 'LEGENDARY'. NO IT'S FINE I'M FINE.

"The best day of my life because I got in a fight and I didn't die! :D" Telemachus, child, please.

"We'll be fine" using the same run as "this is my goodbye" T_T

Him immediately offering up friendship to Athena, like Odysseus once did, must hit her so hard. "You're a good kid." Yes he is - because he's more like his dad than he knows.

Love in Paradise

"Old friend..." FRRRRRIIIIEEEENNNNNDDDDD!!!!!

10 years.

The memory fragments sounding so fraught and chaotic together, hitting harder because they're hitting Athena all at once. She missed a lot.

"She's my wife." "Anyways..." Calypso, girl, please.

Love that they're singing completely different melodies through the first half of this song for two reasons: because Odysseus is revisiting previous motifs, once more trying to hold onto the man he was, and also because it shows Calypso is not willing to compromise on what she wants.

"Last I checked goddesses can't die." We'll come back to this later.

Then Odysseus realises he is truly trapped and he sings along to Calypso's melody in muted horror.

POLITIES OUT HERE STILL HAUNTING THE NARRATIVE.

Just the words "open arms" are enough to confront Odysseus (again) with all he's lost. All he hears are screams.

And the one he screams out for is Athena.

"He needs my help." NO KIDDING GO GET YOUR BOY.

God Games

"Father, God, King..." There's a lot to unpack in that fun family dynamic.

"To untie apprehensions that were placed on that Greek?" Zeus is like, nobody likes that guy, why do you care?

The gods being called out like X Factor finalists is everything.

So there's a great contrast against the previous song - unlike Calypso, Athena is matching each of her singing partners with their tone and beat as she convinces them. She isn't winning by 'imposing her will', she's meeting them where they are.

Rational arguments work until Aphrodite, where Athena says "please" for the first time. She softens to appeal to Aphrodite, which is why Ares has to step in.

The way she says his name XD

Ares' lines sound like as much of a fighting chant as 'Little Wolf' did, which makes it all the better that the mention of Telemachus is what gets her to 'fight back'.

"His son's my friend!" YES HE IS. And Athena of all people declaring "a broken heart can mend" is fascinating. Can't help but wonder if she's talking about herself coming around to forgiving Odysseus.

"Never once has he cheated on his wife." Handwaving the source material is worth it for this line ALONE.

Zeus is so pressed by everyone openly knowing he cheats on Hera. Stop doing it then my dude.

Ares sounding genuinely concerned for Athena is doing things to me. Goddesses can't die, huh?

Her time motif flitting in and out like a weak heartbeat.

The soft piano of 'Warrior of the Mind', touching on a whisper of 'Legendary', then rising to a triumphant crescendo as Athena regains herself. I will be forever haunted by visions of Odysseus and Telemachus helping her to her feet.

And then, finally, she faces her own father and begs. Because Odysseus and Telemachus deserve a chance to be father and child.

The parallel, by the way, of Athena entering this saga to help an outnumbered Telemachus, and now closing it with him/Odysseus unknowingly helping her win her own battle too. JORGE HOW DARE YOU T_T

[ckret2]

Bill hates it when people mention Euclydia. Everyone thinks it's because he doesn't want to hear his home's real name; it's actually the opposite.

Here, have some fic. The naming of Euclydia (among other things), the birth of the Nightmare Realm, and the Axolotl planting the seeds of a trillion-year-long plan to keep Bill from the death penalty.

This is the 🎉FINAL PART🎉 of a 9-part plot about the Axolotl in the aftermath of the Euclidean Massacre. If you wanna read the others (or look at the art), here's one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, and eight.

####

With the immediate crisis averted and the triangle, for the moment, not attempting to invade and/or demolish the multiverse, most of the god militia pulled back. A group remained stationed near the unstable border between dimensions to watch the triangle; but the less powerful gods could trickle back in to get back to their own work, first and foremost the construction workers doing emergency repairs to reformat and stabilize the neighboring dimensions.

The Axolotl—who, he suspected, would have been arrested himself for interfering if they weren't still focused on the triangle—wove through the crowd until he found the Time Giant; and then swam angrily up to her and demanded, "You used me as a distraction?"

She turned a stone-hard look on him. "That was the agreement."

"No! The agreement was that I'd try to talk him down! We'd only resort to distracting him if I couldn't get through to him!"

"Ya didn't get through to him." The Time Giant nodded at the Axolotl's burned side. "Look at you. Your leg's off."

He looked down at his missing foreleg. He'd been so distracted by the near end of the multiverse, he'd barely noticed the pain. "It's just a flesh wound," he insisted. "I'm an axolotl, it'll grow back!"

She shook her head.

"I would have gotten through to him! You saw me talk him down after an entire army threatened him!" the Axolotl said. "What if I had succeeded, and when we left my tank he found out you already wrote him off?! You never gave me a chance—"

"We did give you a chance," she said testily, "and I saw that you weren't gonna succeed." She hooked a thumb over her belt and tapped a finger on her time tape; the stylized symbol of the Time Giants glowed on the side, an unsubtle reminder that she knew what was coming far better than he did. "So I did my damn job."

So she'd sent him in already knowing that he would fail. The Axolotl was speechless for a second. "But—you couldn't know—I got so close, if I'd had just one more try to talk to him..."

"If I'd let you, I'm sure you woulda kept trying until the end of time," she said. "You seem like a good guy, Ax—but you can't save everyone." She pushed past him to get to work. "There's first aid near where Dimension 2 Gamma was. Get those burns looked at."

"They're fine."

She was wrong. He could save everyone. Because he wouldn't stop until he did.

####

"You're replacing it?" the triangle asked petulantly.

"I'm not talking to you," VENDOR said, turned away from the triangle. "You had your chance at diplomacy and you blew it." The crablike cop was holding up a clipboard with some paperwork for VENDOR to review, and didn't look pleased to have been temporarily reduced to a secretary.

"I'm just asking a question!"

"We're not speaking."

At the top of his lungs—which was, it turned out, very loud and very shrill—the triangle said in the direction of the reporters, "Oh wow, that's a crazy thing to say about Lady Morgenstern! And talk about obscene! She'd be furious if she could hear that—!"

"Shhhhh!" VENDOR rounded angrily on the triangle. "You don't even know who she is!"

"I know her name and I'm not afraid to use it," the triangle said. "You're really replacing my dimension?"

"If I can be left alone long enough to finish signing the authorization paperwork," VENDOR muttered. "The construction crew's already out here and waiting, so if you don't mind..."

"It just seems pretty tacky, replacing a universe just like that." The triangle spoke like dimension he was talking about was just a pawn to be used in a trivial argument about etiquette, rather than everyone and everything he'd ever known. "No memorial or anything? Yeesh."

"So hold a memorial for it," VENDOR said. "We don't have any choice, we have to repair all the fallen walls to keep reality stable. If you'd let us into your hovel to sweep up what's left of your old dimension, it could have at least been incorporated into the new one."

The triangle half reached for his hat, stopped himself, and curled his hand into a fist and thrust it down at his side. "Over my dead body," he said. "Which I'm pretty sure got incinerated! So that means never!"

"You're pretty sure?" VENDOR asked archly.

"It... I had more important stuff to take care of, okay? I'm a busy guy!"

"I'm sure," VENDOR said. "Well, it's too late for any cleanup operations anyway. Enjoy rotting away in your landfill."

"Wow, that's how you talk to a refugee from the biggest disaster ever?" The triangle laughed. "Hey, bet the muckrakers over there would love to hear how sympathetic you are to the—what'd you say I am—the 'last surviving soul from my dimension'—?"

"Let's find somewhere quieter to work," VENDOR said to the cop.

He looked relieved "You got it."

As VENDOR and THEIR impromptu secretary moved away from Dimension Zero, the triangle shouted after THEM, "Hey! How do I vote for Municipalitron!"

Volcanoes on several of VENDOR's planets erupted. THEY whipped around to face the triangle. "You don't! You aren't in my district!"

"Well, whose district am I in? This Morgenstern creep you keep bringing up?" the triangle asked. "How's voting work, do you toss a ballot across the border and I toss it back—?"

"You're not in anyone's district! If you were, you'd have been arrested already!"

The triangle stared in dumb shock. "Wait, so I don't get to vote for which of you idiots I have to deal with?" He hollered at VENDOR's retreating back, "That's fascism!"

Fuming, VENDOR passed the Axolotl muttering under THEIR breath about showing the triangle fascism; then stopped, abruptly turned to face him, and snapped, "You."

"You," the Axolotl agreed.

"You're an optimistic fool."

Yes, well, he knew that already. He'd been voted Most Adorably Idealistic in his law school yearbook for a reason. "I don't think I like you, either."

"No one does." THEIR camera whirred irritably as they looked the Axolotl up and down. "What are you doing here, anyway? I assumed you'd been sent to figure out who's liable for this whole mess—but no, you only handle afterlife cases, don't you? Who sent you?"

The Axolotl was silent.

Furiously, VENDOR said, "Are you serious?! We could have avoided half this mess if it weren't for you!"

"If it weren't for me, he'd have knocked down the multiverse before anyone realized he's setting the fires," the Axolotl snapped. "And if you had figured that much out, you'd have gotten your cops killed before anyone realized he's a god."

"The professionals here to handle the situation could have figured it out faster if you weren't derailing their investigations," VENDOR snarled. "And arguing about jurisdiction! We could have arrested that that little troublemaker the moment we figured out just what he's done—"

"Right after you arrested that kid with the spray can who didn't have anything to do with this?"

THEY growled in frustration. "Forget it! I hope you're happy with your genocidal pal over there—you seem about as concerned with public safety as he is." THEY stormed off, the cop with THEIR paperwork chasing after THEM.

The Axolotl watched VENDOR go; then turned to look ruefully toward Dimension Zero.

When the triangle caught his gaze, he formed a heart with his fingers over his top point and called out, gleefully singsong, "Genocide paaals!"

It wasn't exactly the reaction he'd hoped for.

####

The Axolotl was attempting to distract himself from scratching his itchy leg while it regrew by eavesdropping on the triangle. It seemed like the triangle was entertaining himself by darting around the border of Dimension Zero to start arguments with anybody he happened to recognize (except the Axolotl, whom he seemed to be trying to ignore outside of throwing a few odd quips at him.) At the moment, the triangle and the Time Giant were hollering at each other about her decision to reinforce the second dimensions by making them splinter into multiple timelines.

"So you're really willing to sacrifice zillions of lives by letting me incinerate all their parallel timelines?" The triangle laughed in disbelief. "And everyone here thinks I'm the killer! That's not a good look for you, buddy!"

She glanced up from a table full of paperwork to give him a totally neutral look. "You're the one who's willing to incinerate them. You could not do that."

"When I do it, it's justified."

The Axolotl was distracted from the argument as the storm cloud with the apoc agents gloomily blew past him. It was talking into a walkie-talkie as it went: "Yeah, I know he's a nut. But he's a nut that can't throw fireballs outside the border of his dimension, and I've got to finish this report before we can get outta here." He sighed at whatever the walkie-talkie said in response, and said, "Yeah. We'll rendezvous after I have his testimony." It let its tornado suck the walkie-talkie back in and drifted to the Time Giant. "Mind if I steal your conversation partner for a minute? ATTF business."

She grabbed a binder to try to shield her papers from the worst of the storm's rain. "Please. Take him."

"Thanks." It floated closer to Dimension Zero and raised its voice to bark, "Hey! Magister Mentium!"

The triangle looked over mistrustfully. "What?" As he'd talked to the Time Giant, he'd been playing with the fabric of reality, creating a circle out of raw... stuff. The Axolotl couldn't tell what the stuff was, but it looked like it was some sort of animal tissue, except far too uncannily homogeneous to be natural, disturbing in its uniformity. Like a slice of baloney. When he saw who'd called out to him, he rolled his eye and turned his attention to extruding the circle into a baloney cylinder. "Heeey, Officer Fun Police! Here to rain on my parade again?"

"Rain jokes aren't as funny as you think they are," it said. "No, this is Apocalyptic Threat Task Force business."

The triangle's eye narrowed. "What business? Are you gonna complain about my renovations again?"

"No. If you're not about to knock reality down, I don't care what you do anymore," the cloud said. "It's not my business to punish anybody for previous apocalypses, I just want to prevent future ones. Answer a few questions for our incident report and I'll be out of your life." There was an implicit and you'll be out of mine in its tone.

"All right," the triangle said dubiously. "Fffine. Then we're on the same side. I'm not fond of apocalypses either."

It paused like it wanted to argue with that claim, but said, "Good enough for me." It pulled out the soggy notepad it had been using all day, flipped through it, couldn't find a free page, and with a sigh pulled out a tape recorder instead. "You're from Dimension 2 Delta, right?"

"If you say so," the triangle said, lifting his hands in a shrug. "You guys are the ones who named my dimension."

"Uh-huh." Under its breath, the cloud muttered, "Not exactly a name, but... If you're from 2Δ, that makes you the only direct witness to how your universe was destroyed."

The triangle paused. "Mm."

"Can you explain what happened, exactly?" When the triangle didn't respond, the cloud added, "I'm not gonna arrest you for it. If we want to have a chance of stopping something like this from happening in the future, we need to know what happened here."

"Uhhh, yyyeah. Suuure," the triangle said.  It wasn't clear exactly how Dimension Zero rearranged, but the view of the eternal dance party simply vanished. There was no sign of the millions of shapes. The music had fallen near silent, just a constant distant low thumping noise, like your heartbeat in your ears; quiet enough that it couldn't drown out the whispery hiss leaking out of Dimension Zero. "It's not like I have anything to hide." Whatever he was about to say, it seemed like he wanted to hide it from his party prisoners, at least.

A bolt of lightning shot through the storm's recorder, turning it on. "You said you were an active participant in the end of the world, right?"

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" He eyed the recorder suspiciously. "What is this, some trick to try to get a confession out of me?"

"Again, I'm not a cop. And you already confessed in front of a thousand reporters," the storm said. "If you were involved, you've got a different perspective than some guy ten superclusters away who only witnessed it, that's the only reason it matters."

"Oh," the triangle said. "Then—yeah, I was there for the whole thing. Start to finish."

"Great," the storm said gruffly. "Then could you explain in your own words what happened when the universe ended and, to the best of your knowledge, what caused it."

"Oh. Yeah. Right. The cause," the triangle said. "It... it was a—monster."

"I thought you said you—"

"It was a monster," the triangle said, more confidently now.

The cloud hesitated. "All right," it said. "Tell me what happened."

The triangle took a deep breath. "Okay. So. It uh—started with the third dimension."

"The monster came from the third dimension?"

"No, we were going to the third dimension. But we needed—"

The hissing background static exploded into a roar.

The void filled with the staticky screams of countless dead voices, pleading for mercy, pleading for it to stop. Death rattles, howls of agony, wails of terror. Most of the crowd of gods outside Dimension Zero fell silent, turning to stare at the disembodied hysterical shrieks.

One voice, strained with pain, rose above the cacophony, crackling, "Emergency services! We need medical assistance! Ambulances, or—please—I don't know what happened—it's like everyone's internal organs spontaneously ruptured, there's—there's hundreds of people here! Some of them are missing parts of their body, they just—disappeared! I'm hurt too, I don't know what it is—I can feel it inside me—"

A second voice replied, "We can't send assistance. Everyone's bleeding, the whole city's dying! We can't help you!"

Whatever the triangle said was lost beneath the roar. He didn't even seem to notice it. His eye was filled with static. The word "blood" was just barely audible. The word "mandibles."

Another voice, trying to sound professional, trying to sound authoritative, but trembling with fear, "This is an emergency announcement! This announcement will not repeat! The fire can transmit over radio waves and sound waves! Turn off all radios and TVs! Turn off all radios and TVs and destroy any wireless phones and pagers! Do NOT listen to the screams! Again, the fire is transmitting over radio waves, this message will not repeat, destroy your radio and warn your neighbors!"

The Axolotl saw images flash in the triangle's eye, too fast for him to mentally process one before another ten had gone by: a plane like infinitely thin glass with tiny delicate shapes painted on its surface shattering in a rolling wave; a bleeding body reduced to shards and then the shards reduced to chips and then chips reduced to dust; fire spitting and crackling into every crack split in existence; a light shaped like a triangle. (Was that the light that had blinded the Oracle's seer?)

Another voice gasping, "It's doing something to the gravity, I-I don't understand—we don't even have the equipment to read... it's like gravity's turned in a direction that doesn't exist! Does anyone know how to stop it?! Our universe is tearing ap—" and the words were cut off with a scream; and the scream was cut off with a sudden silence that was swallowed whole by the other voices.

The triangle had peeled open, shining golden panels stretching out like petals, his mandibles unhinged and curling around his eye in a ring of teeth, like a blooming carnivorous flower, sun-soaked and mesmerizing. God, he was so bright. He shot light in every direction like an explosion that never ended. Like a star trapped in the moment of supernova.

Another voice, shaking with rage, "Did you hear that, you monster?! I told you we weren't ready yet! Why didn't you listen?! I can see the destruction from here—the sky's on fire, everything is burning. How could this happen?! YOU killed them all—" and the rage cracked, revealing the fear and grief just barely hidden underneath, "Remember us. If you're the only one left, you have to remember us. Please—"

The static snapped off; the triangle's body snapped back into place; his eye snapped back into focus; "—and then they appointed me their god," he said cheerfully, "and here we are!"

And with only a couple more dying cries of pain and pleas for help, the voices fell back to their constant background whisper.

The storm cloud had started sleeting.

The Axolotl had stopped breathing. Just the sound of the carnage was enough to make him sick.

But the triangle sounded perfectly at ease—more than he had before he'd answered the cloud's question. "So is that all you needed?" He'd resumed playing with the cylinder of meat he'd been constructing—extruding it further, and then, dissatisfied with the results, collapsing it back into a circle.

His hands were trembling as he messed with the cylinder. There was a tightness around his eye.

"What..." The storm cloud let out a low rumble of thunder, ahem, "what... did you say about blood? I didn't catch it."

The triangle blinked blankly at the storm. "I didn't say anything about blood."

It paused.  "All right, then—what about the other voices? Who were they?"

"What voices?"

The storm stared at the triangle, baffled sunbeam fixed on him; then swung the sunbeam over to the Axolotl. "You heard—?"

So his eavesdropping had been noticed. He nodded. Oh, he heard, all right.

The triangle glanced between them. "I think you guys are hearing voices," he said. "The only one talking here is me."

He said it like he meant it. The Axolotl was sure he did. Had he not heard the voices?

"Never mind, forget it," the cloud said uneasily. "You said someone... Who appointed you their god?"

"Uhhh..." the triangle tilted to the side as he tried to think. "Pretty much all my people? Yeah. It was everyone!"

"Your people? From your universe?"

"Yup!"

"They didn't appoint you their god," the cloud said. "They're all dead."

The triangle scoffed. "I don't know what you're talking about. They're all in here with me!"

"You mean the mortals from the other universes?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," the triangle repeated, a little slower, warningly. "They're all from my universe."

For a moment, the cloud just stared at him, at a loss. It glanced again toward the Axolotl. The Axolotl had nothing to offer it.

"Is that everything?" The triangle tried to keep his voice peppy, but there was an edge of exhaustion that hadn't been there earlier. (Yeah, him and everyone else here.)

"I guess that wraps up that part of the questionnaire," the cloud muttered uneasily, trying to recover its professional tone. "Just a couple more questions. I need your name. For the report."

Dimension Zero's hissing background static rose again: "The murderer... The name of the murderer... is—"

"NOBODY ASKED YOU!" The triangle turned and chucked the cylinder he'd been working on into the Dream Realm. He grumbled under his breath, created another circle, and started stretching it out again.

The triangle could hear the voices. Then why hadn't he been able to hear them earlier? Unless he had been able to hear them—and he just... couldn't remember that he'd heard them?

Even if the Axolotl hadn't known about the incomparable trauma the triangle had survived/caused, it would be pretty obvious by now that something was going terribly wrong inside his head. Contradictory stories about his own reality, memories he refused to remember, facts he simply set aside as not relevant. Was he refusing to face them, or was he unable?

From their conversation in the Axolotl's tank, he thought the triangle understood more than he was willing to admit. But the Axolotl might be the only one who knew that.

And that was beginning to give the Axolotl an idea.

"Just—put me down as the Magister Mentium, okay?" the triangle told the cloud. "Everyone'll know who you're talking about."

"If you say so," said the cloud. "What was your universe's name?"

"Its name?" The triangle glanced up from his new cylinder and gave the cloud a perplexed look. "You asked already. You said it's Dimension 2 Delta."

"That's its serial number. Every dimension's assigned one at its Big Bang. But it's standard to let a dimension's own residents choose its name. It makes it more personal." The cloud sounded as though it had memorized this explanation. The Axolotl wondered how many times it had had to take statements from a destroyed dimension's grieving survivors. He hoped it usually got to give this spiel to witnesses of a narrowly averted apocalypse. "Typically the first explorers to leave their dimension get to name it; but the only person ever known to leave 2Δ is... you."

"Oh," he said. "Right."

"So, what did your people name your universe?"

He stared at the storm like it was stupid. "We called it... the universe?"

"Everyone calls their universe The Universe," the cloud said. "Followed by The World, The Dimension, Reality, and Home. They're all taken, come up with something else."

"Seriously? You're making me name my whole universe and now you're telling me how to name it?"

"They're not my rules," the cloud said. "If you don't have a native name, we usually name a dimension after the first known explorer to leave it. Was that you?"

The triangle was quiet for an uncomfortably long moment. His gaze twitched away; and for a moment the Axolotl thought he saw another image flash in his eye: a triangle floating in space, eerily serene, dead. His voice was small when he said, "No."

Surprised lightning quietly flashed in the storm's cloud. "Oh. Do you know the name of the first?"

"Of course I do. He's my..." He stopped himself. He said, too evenly, "His name is Euclid."

Obviously, the triangle wasn't speaking a language that can be spoken with human mouths or written with human symbols. "Euclid" is a stand-in word for an unpronounceable name; trying to say the name without the right anatomy—without even the right laws of physics and sound waves—would only mangle it.

But the rest of the multiverse didn't have the right physics or anatomy either. "Euclid," the cloud repeated, mangling it. The triangle winced. "Fine. How's Euclydia sound?"

"It sounds stupid," the triangle said.

"Well, it's your dimension. Do you have a better suggestion?"

"I..." The triangle floundered helplessly. "That... Okay hold on, I've had a very long..." He floundered again as he tried to figure exactly what kind of time span he'd been having a long one of.

"If you want me to come back later..." said the cloud, who very obviously did not want to have to come back later.

"I don't knowww, gimme a second," the triangle whined. "I've never thought about a universe having a name! It's—it's fine. Euclydia's fine."

"If you're sure—?"

"Of course I'm sure," the triangle snapped. "Euclydia. Yeah. Great. Fine."

"All right." The cloud zapped its tape recorder, turning it off. "Thanks for your time."

As it started to hover off, the triangle said, "Hold on! I answered your questions, you owe me some."

The eye of the storm reluctantly swung back toward the triangle. "What?"

He held up the shape he'd been extruding. "What do you call this... 3D circle thing?"

The sunbeam swept over it. "A cylinder?"

The triangle pointed toward VENDOR, who was out at the edge of the crowd answering the questions of some reporters who'd caught THEM attempting to slink away from the scene. "And what are the 3D circle things Coin Slot over there is hauling around?"

It glanced at VENDOR's stock of planets. "Spheres."

The triangle shook his cylinder. "Well, what am I doing wrong, then!"

"I don't know, math's not my thing," the cloud said. "Try rotating it."

The triangle waited until the cloud had moved on; then created another circle, extruded it again, but curled the extrusion around into a circle. He ended up with a shape like a donut. He said, quietly, "Oo-oo-ooh." He sounded impressed.

The Axolotl swam up alongside the storm cloud as it left. "So. Find out what you wanted to know?"

The cloud laughed ruefully.

That was what he thought. "Are the interviews you've been taking classified?"

"No, our reports are open to the public. Anyone can request copies. The database is a nightmare to navigate, though."

"Let me know who to contact for the records on this incident. Especially the witness testimonies."

"I take it you're also planning to go through that noise we just heard with a fine-tooth comb?"

"That's hardly the start of it."

If the Axolotl had been convinced of anything during all his conversations with the triangle today, it was that the triangle could barely begin to grasp just what it was he'd done to his dimension and all the dimensions around it—and he did a very poor job of communicating what he did grasp.

And if the Axolotl could prove that—if he could build a convincing argument that the triangle hadn't understood what he'd done, psychologically couldn't understand, that even now he only had the fuzziest comprehension of what he was involved in...

Someday, that triangle's sins would catch up to him. Someday, he would be in the hands of the gods of death and justice, and they would have to decide what fate his actions had earned. And when that day came, it would be the Axolotl's job to ensure that the triangle didn't end up damned or erased from existence.

As it was now, that triangle didn't stand a chance in the multiverse of being found innocent. But there was more than one way to avoid a "guilty" verdict.

By the time the triangle stood before a judge, the Axolotl would make sure that the right laws were in place for him to do what he wanted to do.

####

Where there had been swarms of firefighters earlier, now the scene swarmed with construction workers, working on the emergency genesis of over half a dozen replacement universes—carefully, so that the big bangs didn't do any further damage to an already unstable situation; but quickly. Already every destroyed one-dimensional universe had been replaced. Several half-burned dimensions had been supplanted with oddly-shaped undersized universes that met at the older universes' burned edges; jagged 1D dimensions sealed the gaps between these dimensions like a line of solder between two panes of stained glass.

By now, the flat planes and edges surrounded the zeroth dimension like the sleek shifting surfaces of an infinity-sided die; all except for one last missing wall in the middle of the damage.

Dimension 2 Delta. "Euclydia."

The construction workers were already setting up the scaffolding and equipment to set off another big bang.

As the Axolotl looked at the copious warning signs around the construction site—"DANGER! COSMIC EXPLOSIVES" "GENESIS IN PROGRESS"—the specialized equipment, the veritable army of workers, the mountain of papers the Time Giant had been reviewing earlier to ensure that everything was up to code and nothing would go wrong... he couldn't help but think of the triangle holding the seed of a big bang in his bare glowing hand, threatening to set it off right there. The Axolotl had known it was foolish, but seeing all the workers' preparations put just how reckless it was into perspective. Like a toddler holding a stick of TNT over a campfire.

He spotted the Time Giant among the workers, flickering back and forth across the scene as she tried to literally be multiple places at the same time. When she settled down for a moment over a worktable to double check a pile of blueprints and forms and calculations and even more paperwork, she caught sight of the Axolotl passing by, and tipped her chin up at him in greeting.

He paused, then nodded back to her. No hard feelings. He was just following his principles; and she was just doing her job. They'd each found their own way to help hold up the multiverse.

"Hey," she called out, and gestured for him to come over. As he did, she said, "Your leg's healing nicely."

He glanced down at it. His new toes were stubby, but at least they were back. "I don't like being uneven." He'd take a few more days on his tail. "I'll probably pay for it tomorrow, though." When he finally got home, he'd have to see if he could cancel his morning appointments.

"Reckon we'll all be feeling this tomorrow." She tilted her head toward Dimension Zero. "I've got a message for the god of DIY over there. I think you're the only one he likes—you mind carrying it over?"

####

It wasn't hard to find the triangle; he was leaning against the membrane around the zeroth dimension, moodily staring out at the third. He seemed to be gazing past all the gods, unfazed by their hubbub. The Axolotl tried to see what he was looking at, and didn't spot anything of note. As far as he could tell, the triangle might as well just be stargazing.

Along with the police tape and the ATTF barrier and the long-forgotten cordons to hold off the reporters, there was now an additional grid of orange cones set up blocking anyone from getting too close to the destroyed wall and the construction site. The Axolotl glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention before he slipped past the cones and swam up to the triangle.

When he approached, the triangle was muttering under his breath: "Stupid, now it sounds like an STD. I should've named it something cooler. Like... Triangletopia. Or the Party Plane. Or Margaritaville—I bet no one's ever used that one before..."

"Magister," the Axolotl said.

The triangle's eye snapped to him. "Hey, look at that! The pompous psycho is back! If you're even thinking about sticking me back in your 'office'—"

The Axolotl held up his forelegs appeasingly. "I'm not." He wasn't even crossing the threshold into the triangle's turf. "This is the last time I'll speak to you today."

"Finally, some good news," the triangle grumbled. "What do you w—ha! Ah-haha! I caught myself, that one didn't count."

The Axolotl decided not to count it. "The Time Giant wanted you to know they're about to set off the big bang where Dimension 2 Delta used to be. You probably don't want to be too close to the wall when it goes up."

The triangle's expression darkened; but he just said, "All right. Fine. Have fun. Not my problem! Just keep the construction noises down."

That was all he'd been sent to tell the triangle; but he added, "If you ever want to leave your dream realm, this is your last chance."

The triangle groaned. "This again? Listen, frills, I already told you I'm not interested! And you don't have the right to drag me out, this is my sovereign god territory—"

"I'm not threatening to," the Axolotl said gently. "I just—wanted to make sure you know. If you change your mind later, you physically won't be able to leave."

That gave the triangle pause. "I... don't see why not."

"For something to pass from one dimension to another, it needs a large enough hole to pass through," the Axolotl said. "For a person carrying the mass and energy of an entire universe to cross from one dimension to another... they need a hole the size of a universe. The missing wall where 2Δ was is the size your universe used to be. And now... it's the only exit big enough for you to pass through. Do you understand?"

The triangle stared at him silently. There was that hard, heavy look in his eye. It was awful to see. He did understand.

"If you don't come now..."

"We came up with a way to fit my entire universe into this one," the triangle said. "If I ever want to leave, we'll invent a way to get it back out."

"Your universe didn't fit in without incinerating it."

The triangle tapped the side of his hat with a finger; somewhere inside it was the speck that used to be his universe—the seed of a big bang. "It's travel-sized now. The next time will be easier."

For the first time since seeing the awful ruin of Dimension 2 Delta, the Axolotl forced himself to turn his fearful gaze chronologically forward. He squinted toward the hazy, far-flung future; and then he gave the triangle, in the present, a sorrowful look. "No, it won't," he said. "But I'll do what I can for you."

The triangle stared sullenly at him, unmoved by the offer. "I don't see what you're getting out of helping me. Everyone else is dying to send me to ghost jail or however things work around here."

"Isn't it enough to help you just because you exist and that makes you worth it?"

"If you ever, ever say something like that again, I'll kill you. I will find a way."

He wasn't particularly surprised. But that was truly what the Axolotl believed—and believed strongly enough to guide everything else he did. 

The things this triangle had done were too ghastly for even an ancient, experienced god to fully wrap his head around. Without exaggeration, he might have done the worst thing anyone anywhere in the multiverse had ever done.

But.

But if the Axolotl could prove that he, the worst person ever, was worth giving a second chance—that he could change, that he could show remorse for what he'd done, that he could be a force for good in the multiverse... then he would have proven that everyone, no matter what, was worth it.

The Axolotl had been voted Most Adorably Idealistic, but he'd never been called soft. His ideals were harder than diamond and sharper than obsidian. He hadn't decided to protect the triangle in spite of the impact that might have on the multiverse; he was protecting him because of the impact it could have. 

The Axolotl was a god of justice, of monsters, of second chances, and through his actions he could shape what justice meant throughout the multiverse as if he were sculpting clay; and he thought a small, sharp little equilateral triangle would make a perfect sculpting tool.

"In truth, I just don't believe in punishment. Not even for you." The Axolotl lay a forefoot on Dimension Zero's bubble. "But I don't see why you trust me." Because it was clear the triangle did. He'd trusted the Axolotl to judge the character of the other gods. He'd kept looking toward him like he was trying to gauge his own situation based on the Axolotl's reaction to it. He'd admitted the truth about the remains of his universe and his plans for it. It seemed like the Axolotl was the only one the triangle trusted in all this mess.

The triangle thought that over; then said, "You seem like a grade-A sucker."

He laughed. "I'll try to live up to your opinion of me." He had a guess what kind of people this triangle thought were suckers. The charitable; the caring. The people who didn't think that seeing the worth in everyone was a kind of illness.

"You should know, I intend to legally register my tank as a purgatory. I'll probably submit my application before the end of the week. If you claim it as your afterlife, you'll be transferred to my tank for holding while awaiting trial to decide your final afterlife."

"Ugh, now it all makes sense: you're starting a cult! I don't wanna join your cult, frills—I've got my own."

"But you do want to go straight to your lawyer's office if you're about to go on trial for your sins," the Axolotl said pointedly. "I don't intend to house anyone in my tank permanently. It will just be a transfer place for clients preparing for trial or figuring out where they want to go next—another afterlife, reincarnation... You're already technically dead; you can request at any time to come to my tank, and you'll be there."

"Sounds great for your other clients! But I'm not planning to go on trial and I don't want to be in an afterlife," the triangle said testily. "I'm pretty sure we've been over this!"

"I know you don't. I wish you didn't have to face it. But when you have no choice," the Axolotl said. "When you need it. When your time comes to burn like your people—" (the triangle flinched) "—call me. I'll offer you a second chance at any time."

"Low blow," the triangle muttered. "Don't put yourself out on my account. I'll be fine by myself."

"I'm sure." The Axolotl suspected he'd be putting himself out on the triangle's account for a long time. "What's your name? Your real name."

The background hiss of cosmic noise roared louder. The echoes of billions of erased ghosts said, "THE NAME OF THE MURDERER IS—"

With a flinch, the triangle cranked the distant dance music louder so it spilled cacophonously out of Dimension Zero again. It was too late, though. The Axolotl had heard the triangle's real name.

He pretended he hadn't. He waited.

The triangle didn't answer for a long moment. "You probably wouldn't be able to pronounce it."

"Maybe not." He'd seen how the triangle had winced hearing the cloud try to pronounce the name of some other shape. "I still want to know who you are."

He wrestled with his words; then finally gave up and asked his question. "What... is this place? We're not in the third dimension. When I—freed my dimension, I expected to go up; but we went... down. I didn't know there was a down." He confessed his ignorance in a near whisper, almost drowned out by his own music.

"You're in Dimension Zero." But that wasn't right. Dimension Zero was—should be—a point, and it's impossible to be "in" a point. A point simply is. "You are Dimension Zero."

The triangle said, "Then call me King Zero."

The Axolotl considered that. "Yes," he said. "I think that is your name."

Someone shouted, "Clear the way!" One worker at the construction site was looking directly at the Axolotl. "That means you! Unless you wanna be boiled frog legs!"

"I'm not a frog," the Axolotl muttered; but, he turned one last time to newly-crowned King Zero, said, "Call me," then hastily swam to the safe side of the orange cone barricade.

"Five, four, three..."

The Axolotl watched the triangle—and the triangle watched him—until the detonation. The big bang went off in a flash of light bright enough it would have incinerated anyone in the vicinity had it not been contained to a flat plane.

When the Axolotl looked away from the light, the afterimage of a triangle was burned into the center of his vision.

Dimension Zero was sealed off from the rest of reality—locking its king in for the next trillion years.

####

When the triangle said his name was "King Zero," of course, he wasn't speaking English. English wouldn't exist for a long time. The name King Zero is simply a convenient translation.

The English word "zero" comes from the French zéro. Zéro comes from Italian zefiro. Zefiro comes from Medieval Latin zephirum. And zephirum comes from the Arabic صِفْر—ṣifr.

####

Centuries ago, in the dream of a naive, trusting human, the human asked in Arabic, "What should I call you?" And King Zero responded, "Call me Ṣifr."

And years later, a dreaming human asked in Medieval Latin, "What should I call you, o muse of mathematics?" And of the two Latin words descended from his current Arabic nickname, Ṣifr responded with the one he thought was closer: "Call me Cifra."

A dreaming human asked in Old French, "What's your name?" And he replied, "My name's Cyffre."

Speaking Middle English, he told a dreaming human, "My name's Siphre."

And in Modern English, he told Edward Bishop Bishop, "The name's Cipher. But you can call me Bill."

In a year's time, and two years before his death from sleep deprivation, Edward would write Flatworld, a book about a 2D shape and his Muse journeying up to the highest dimensions; and also all the way down, below the spaces and planes and lines, to the self-absorbed King Zero, buried in the point-sized zeroth dimension, who thought a whole universe was contained inside him.

####

(It's FINISHED. 🎉🎉🎉

Hi y'all, if you just joined us for this Axolotl plot arc, usually this is a post-canon human Bill fic. I took a break from the main plot for one week to post a one-chapter flashback and then it was nine chapters. This bitch is 50k words. It's a novel unto itself.

Anyway if you only showed up for this story about the Ax, it only exists in service of a much longer story; so if you enjoyed this check out the rest of the fic. This is technically chapter 69 (lol). (If human Bill isn't usually your thing, I've been told that this is The Human Bill Fic For People Who Don't Like Human Bills because Bill is clearly very much a triangle unhappily trapped in a human body, rather than just chill with being human—so you might wanna give it a shot.)

And for the regulars who are already reading the whole fic: OH MY GOD IT'S FINALLY FINISHED, WE'RE FREE, WE CAN RETURN TO THE PRESENT. Listen I love the Ax and his bizarre but unbending morality, but guys. Guys. I miss Mabel so much.

Pre-warning that I may end up needing to skip a chapter or two before the end of the year, because work's piling a LOTTA extra work on me this month and I might just flat out not have time to edit & do art. I'm up at 3 a.m. editing & queueing this post and I was up til 3 a.m. another night doing the art because I HAVE NOT HAD TIME this week to do it any earlier. I did this because I love y'all.

No that's a lie, I did this because I want to FINISH this DANG ARC. That's my birthday gift to me.

Anyway lemme know what y'all think!! 💕)

[higuchisora]

"Jinx left so Vi wouldn't have to choose between them, she left so Vi could finally be happy"

Is anyone else bothered by the implication that a relatively NEW girlfriend would be capable of making someone just as if not MORE happy than healing their relationship with their sister, who they spent YEARS wanting to make up with?

Me personally, I can get over a bad breakup. But if either of my sisters DIED, or simply chose to actively walk out of my life forever, that would fucking break me. I would not, in fact, move on. And maybe it's different for you guys, but Vi consistently spent an entire season trying to find and make up with Jinx. I don't know what the hell happened in season 2, but her saying "the only thing that kept me going was the thought of getting back to you" about her 7-year prison sentence doesn't sound like "I'll be better off with this girl I've dated for a total of 2 weeks".

Why is there an immediate assumption that any romantic relationship holds just as much if not MORE weight than any platonic/familial one? I'm sorry but why is it even a contest? I'm fully convinced that in season 1, had Jinx not demanded Vi kill Caitlyn- aka take a life, ANY life- and instead asked for LITERALLY ANYTHING ELSE, she'd have done it. Remember what she said? She said they could leave the entire city behind, just the two of them, and never come back. She was ready to leave their home, leave Caitlyn, leave all of it, for Jinx. Because at the end of the day, all she wanted was her sister back. But suddenly season 2 rolls around and it's "Caitlyn makes her happier." When? Where? How? I don't see any scenes of Caitlyn making Vi happy. Oh but she did hit her though, after getting upset that Vi didn't want her to shoot at a kid.

I'm sick of romantic relationships being taken as "naturally" being the priority. Maybe if you're married with kids or something, you'll prioritize your partner over your friends, sure (but if you have kids they still take priority over your partner IMO). But a 2-week-long situationship? I've known people who get ghosted after longer than that. Fucking be real with me.

I'm simply not convinced that Caitlyn should matter this much to Vi so quickly. It shouldn't even be a competition. I genuinely cannot imagine Vi, who's SOLE MOTIVATION in season 1 was Jinx, and who's SOLE MOTIVATION in EVERY UNIVERSE and TIMELINE was her FAMILY, would ever "move on" and "be happier" with any romantic partner. Callous as it may sound, she can always get another girlfriend. There's no replacing her sister.

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Don’t Prove I’m Right - [Part 4]

♥ prev

♥ series masterlist | main masterlist

♥ pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

♥ series synopsis: you didn't think twice about the dj you hooked up with until you found out you were pregnant. turns out the man wasn't just some dj but a famous formula 1 driver.

♥ chapter synopsis: after his reckless decisions, lando attempts to make it up to you. it took some convincing from oscar but you eventually gave in and had a conversation with him.

♥ smau + written - fc: girls on pinterest - none of the pictures are mine

♥ warnings: swearing !!!

♥ a/n: its been MONTHS since the last chapter I am so sorry lovelies!

liked by logansargeant, lilyzneimer, lilymhe, and 120,538 more

yourusername ever since @/logansargeant and @/oscarpiastri got camila these plushies she’s been obsessed with them

view comments

yourbestfriend please don’t tell me the deer is being replaced 😔

yourusername camila would never

lilyzneimer shes just too cute to not spoil

user1 haven’t seen lando in any of her posts recently 😕

user3 they did JUST get back to Monaco so I wouldn't be worried

user6 they're not dating either so I don't see why he would be

user4 we need a godfather reveal

logansargeant it’s me

oscarpiastri its me

carlossainz55 … it’s probably not me 😕

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

It had been a couple of days since your last conversation with Lando and a knock on your door drew your attention away from your phone.

A giant box was sitting on the doorstep alone with no sender information. You hesitantly brought it into the living room and grabbed a pocket knife to cut through the clear strip of tape. The box quickly burst open from the pressure of the deeply packed objects—about a dozen jellycats and an apology note placed on top. 

It was clear to you that this package was from Lando, and it was a very sweet gesture. He’d clearly seen the post you made the previous day and was trying his best to make up for his mistakes. You sighed and folded the note up, setting it on your couch. You pulled out a soft pink bunny from the box causing Camila to squeal and hold her arms open. 

You still hadn’t checked your texts from Lando, but Oscar was right. You couldn’t ignore him forever. Lily offered to take you out for the night in order to clear your head. You were extremely grateful for Lily’s support and generosity ever since you met her. She had truly become one of your best friends throughout this experience.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by lilymhe, carmenmundt,, and 102,843 more 102,473 more

yourusername girls night

tagged; @/lilyzneimer

view comments

lilyzneimer <3

user1 we love a self care queen

user2 she’s so pretty

alexandrasaintmleux we should all hang out together <3

francisca.cgomes i second that

yourusername i’m so there

user7 i love that the wags include her 🥹

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

You sat next to Lily with a glass of white wine in your hand, conflicted. Of course you were. Like Oscar said, you had to confront him at some point, but it was going to take a lot for you to trust Lando again. You pulled your phone out of your purse.

You got the response pretty much immediately.

You sighed and turned to Lily, "I'm gonna go talk to Lando."

"Good luck," she said with a smile, and took another sip of her drink.

You picked Camila up off the couch and bundled her up in a small yellow blanket.

-

You were at his apartment in about twenty minutes. You knocked hesitantly, tapping your nails on the case of your phone and jangling your keys in attempt to reduce your anxiety. Lando opened the door in silence, letting you into the room. He sat back down on his couch and you followed, cradling your daughter in your arms and choosing to stand up as you spoke.

“Listen Y/n, I know what I did was-“

"I'm not going to take your child away from you,” you stated, cutting him off. “You said you want to be in her life, but you have to keep that promise."

He nodded and ran his hands across his face. You wanted to get straight to the point with no excuses. You had heard all of his apologies already.

"Lily talked to Kmag and found her a babysitter, so we're good on that end. But, you still have to earn back my trust to be alone with her and if anything like this happens again I won't be nice."

He looked back up at you, “It won’t ever happen again, I swear. It shouldn’t have happened in the first place.

”I agree.”

There was some awkward silence as you gently sat on the arm rest of the couch.

You looked down at your daughter, “She may not fully get it yet, but you’re her dad and she loves you,” you locked eyes with Lando again. “You chose to raise her with me, so you need to take responsibility.”

He nodded, “I understand.”

"Good," you responded, standing back up and stepping towards the front door. You paused without turning your head back towards him, "Good luck in Imola.”

With that you were gone.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

end notes: this was short, I am aware! there was originally supposed to be more to this chapter but I decided to turn it into its own whole part lol :) I've already started working on it so stay tuned!

taglist; @hc-dutch, @papaya-twinks, @2pagenumb, @formulaal, @erin-odonnell04, @drunkinthemiddleoftheday, | @kissesandmartinis, @ironmaiden1313, @six-call, @wolflover384, @tremendousstarlighttragedy, | @ilivbullyingjeongin, @celestialend, @silentreader128, @wolflover384, @ellesssssxzxz | @clowngirlsstuff, @ln4smiamitrophy, @whoneedsgeorge, @chezmardybum, @warlike-morning, | @gigicisneros, @hard4ndsoft, @eveninggstar, @jolixtreesunn, @acesofspadess,| @formulaonebuff, @notpeachybby, @shesmugirl, @mxdi0, @ririyulife, | @kravitzwhore, @bellinghambby22, @helaenatargaryensfavoritebug, @maplesyrupsainz, @harrysdimple05, | @pippyth3hippy, @noneofyourfbusinessworld, @littlegrapejuice, | @majx00, | @si1ver06 | @weekendlusting | @landossainz,

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@harrysdimple05, @toriiez, @theonottsbxtch, @fastfactory

[hareofhrair]

I wanted to put this one the previous post but it was long and this is a tangent but- In regards to the hypothetical "If House was my doctor I'd just tell him everything. Rip to all his other patients but I'm different."

The whole point of the show is that you wouldn't. Like a major theme of the show is about how the various shames and stigmas and habitual dishonesties that plague our societies both metaphorically and literally kill us. "Everybody lies" isn't just a cynical catchphrase, it's the shows thesis. Because of how we operate as a society, everyone feels compelled to suppress and hide things and that inevitably leads to suffering.

And there are plenty of episodes where this is obvious, ie "I cheated on my partner and gave them an STD." But there's also much more of "This little girl went through early puberty and because of the way our society stigmatizes women's bodies her single father never discussed puberty with her and she was so afraid and ashamed of her new pubic hair that she tried to shave it without telling anyone and mutilated herself, leading everyone to think she'd been abused and throwing off the whole case until House figured out her hormones were going crazy because she'd been exposed to her father's low T medicine, which he hid because of how our society regards masculinity, which he started taking because he began dating a younger woman (because of shame stemming from our society's unrealistic expectations wrt sex in relationships) which he was hiding from his kids, because of shame regarding our societies toxic views on monogamy."

A particular episode stands out as a really good example. S06E15 "Private Lives," which aired in 2010 but was fairly prescient about where social media was heading. The patient was a blogger who documented literally every moment of every day for her followers. She made it very clear she left *nothing* out, from her and her boyfriend's sex life to, eventually, asking for feedback from her followers on whether to get her heart valve replaced with one from a pig or a "vegan" plastic one. She handed the whole blog over to House as soon as he took the case and the team poured through the whole thing. Surely this is proof you're wrong about everybody lying, the team says to House. She's give us her whole life and you still can't find out what's wrong! Spoiler, it turned out the crucial symptom that allowed House to put it all together? Was the one thing she *didn't* include in the blog- Her bowel movements. Shame and stigma around talking about *poop* nearly killed this woman. It was also a detail that should have been picked up immediately by a normal doctor, who would have asked about her bowel movements as part of the standard checklist of diagnostic questions. But this woman was so confident that she'd laid out every relevant detail of her life in her blog, she wouldn't answer those questions, obfuscating what she was actually ashamed of underneath a pile of curated, rationalized, narritivized junk she could pretend was proof of a lack of shame and not simply a skill at creative writing.

When I say "I'd just tell House everything" is ridiculous, I don't just mean "well, because of the way the show works, you HAVE to be hiding SOMETHING." I mean literally, you- because you are a human being- are ashamed of *something.* And because you are a human being, the more info you try to give House the more deeply you will bury whatever it is you're actually ashamed of. And, because of the way the show works, that *will* end up being the key to what's making you sick.

[housepartyprotocol]

Indycar Babes

Logan Sargeant x Indycar Driver!Childhood bestfriend!Reader

Summary: Childhood best friends reunite after years apart when Logan returns to America after departing F1. What other feelings return...

Masterlist / TipJar

ynusername

liked by patooward, callumilott, marcusarmstrong, and 70,342 others

ynusername Heading into a new season strong, with a championship title behind me

view all 598 comments

user I came from Pato O'Wards Instagram, does she also drive?

user omg yes, she drives for Andretti and literally won last season user shes an absolute power house

patooward see you on track

ynusername you'll see me beat you on the track! user shes an icon

logansargeant

liked by alexalbon, williamsf1, oscarpiastri, and 142,245 others

logansargeant Dissapointing first few races but staying confident for the rest of the upcoming season

view all 9,255 comments

user he is so gonna get dropped before the end of the season

williamsf1 head up, keep pushing

user shit driver in a shit box car

user cut him some slack, it is a shit car user yeah but he is also terrible

alexalbon stay strong Logie bear

logansargeant hmmm not sure how I feel about that one

f1newsupdates

liked by 6,347 users

f1newsupdates LOGAN SARGEANT TO BE DROPPED! News has dropped that Logan Sargeant is to depart the Williams F1 and to be replaced by Franco Colapinto

view all 630 comments

user FINALLY

user He was leaving at the end of the season anyway, why drop him now

user He is just THAT bad

user the American flag is lowered

user Williams has destroyed that man

user Whats he going to do next?

user maybe indycar user he might quit racing user endurance?

ynusername

liked by callumilott, patooward, logansargeant, and 69,098 others

ynusername Race. Win. Selfie. Home. Dog. Race.

view all 983 comments

callumilott You went back to Florida?

ynusername I needed my puppy fix desperately callumilott you went back just for the dog? ynusername don't be crazy, i saw my family and close family friends

user OMG PUPPY

user she is dominating this season

user she could win it all next week again!

user that would be iconic

user imagine her in F1

user she wouldn't go, no team would take her, they're all too focused on the new blood in F2 ynusername who said I wanted to? user ahh shes here!!

logansargeant

liked by alexalbon, oscarpiastri, ynusername, and 98,363 others

logansargeant Home in time for the summer

view all 5,023 comments

user its sad when you realise the only reason he is properly home is because he is unemployed

user oh

user FLORIDA

user he is so hawt

user down right tasty user is he taken? user I don't think so

alexalbon looking nice and sunny !

logansargeant I burnt immediately, I forgot how the heat was alexalbon OUCH understandable logansargeant no one will see it is fine user he is feeeeeling the singleness

ynusername

liked by callumilott, logansargeant, patooward, and 75,236 others

ynusername Adding another title to my name. Enjoy Pato on the podium from early in the season. Don't ask why.

view all 1,397 comments

user CHAMPION

user I love her

patooward why me?

ynusername I said don't ask!!!!

logansargeant Congrats!

liked by ynusername user pookie what you doing here? user crossover!

user I can't tell if I want to be her or date her...

user you think like the rest of us

f1newsupdates

liked by 4,620 users

f1newsupdates Logan Sargeant to do Indycar testing at the end of the season! Hopefully, it will breathe hope and life back into that poor man!

view all 305 comments

user he looks so dead in that last photo, my soul hurts

user his home ground might regenerate him

user he'll probably bottle it

user god do you have to be so harsh user exactly!

user I was right with the indycar move

user he might not race next year, he's probably just testing

ynusername

liked by logansargeant, callumilott, patooward, and 74,259 others

ynusername Reunited with childhood bestie post season @ logansargeant

view all 829 comments

user COLLAB?!?

user this is so cute

user Baby YN AND BABY LOGAN?

user I didn't know they even knew each other

user logan has mentioned her a few times i think him being in F1 and F2 pushed them apart

callumilott oh god, blonde and less blond are back

ynusername we are ICONIC logansargeant haha we are

user are they dating?

user I don't think so but they are cuteee user they should!! user omg imagine them both in Indycar

logansargeant

liked by ynusername, oscarpiastri, alexalbon, and 85,621 others

logansargeant Back with this girly for one evening and back to being feral teenagers. @ ynusername

view all 5,012 comments

user This is a paring I don't know how I lived without

user icons

alexalbon OMG is this the 'girly' you wouldn't stop talking about

alexalbon holy shit have you told her logansargeant get out of my comments. Now. user WHAT! Alex SPILL alexalbon okay so... logansargeant OFF. NOW.

user Logan Sargeant wearing a 'sexy' hat is incredible

ynusername Teenage us was a force to be reckoned with

logansargeant I don't know how our parents survived

ynusername

liked by logansargeant, patooward, callumilott, and 80,097 others

ynusername See this mf once and now he is everywhere

view all 976 others

user they are cute

logansargeant I am at your work. I am at your home. I am everywhere

user He is at her home?? user they have to be dating ynusername get a lifeeeeeeeee logansargeant nope

user remember Alex Albons comment, I bet Logan has a thing for her

user you might be right

user imagine then together next season!

user I thought Logan is not racing Indycar next year user but imagine!

logansargeant

liked by ynusername, alexalbon, oscarpiastri, and 88,523 others

logansargeant Pre-testing and post-testing snack

view all 2,567 comments

user do you think he knows the connotations of what he said

alexalbon yes user oh my god

ynusername making it look like all I do is eat, wow

logansargeant I mean, its half true ynusername I am not logansargeant you used to eat everything you could when you were younger ynusername i have grown since then logansargeant No, you are still short ynusername harsh logansargeant xx user they argue like a married couple

user is he racing Indy next year

user I don't think there is a spare seat user shame i love these two

alexalbon be a big man and use your words

logansargeant I don't know what you mean alexalbon don't make me get her number through my contacts, I will get it logansargeant okay, we will talk now, out of my comments user I think i know whats going on user I have no idea liked by ynusername

ynusername

liked by logansargeant, alexalbon, callumilott, and 71,585 others

ynusername When it's getting colder but everyday feels like summer with you

view all 825 comments

user omg shes taken

user that is so logan

user childhood best friends to lovers arc

logansargeant you cooked?

ynusername always logansargeant don't know why i assumed you didn't ynusername I had help logansargeant I sensed that user gag

callumilott how did you brace that water?

ynusername with clenched teeth callumilottt okay fair

user she is beautiful

logansargeant

liked by ynusername, alexalbon, oscarpiastri, and 95,987 others

logansargeant Only took 23 years to act on a feeling @ ynusername

view all 2,352 comments

user hes takEN

user this is adorable

alexalbon god do I love blackmailing

logansargeant shut up alexalbon it worked though logansargeant I was going to do something alexalbon bs ynusername bs logansargeant damn

ynusername I love you too logie

logansargeant god youve always been perfect ynusername and I can finally say I've got more driving titles than you logansargeant I have more karting trophies user I love these two

user I would die if there families had bets

ynusername they did, dad won $100 from this user thats incredible, what was the bet? ynusername before our 24ths user obscure but good for him!

(a/n okay so not my favvvvvv but still cute i love these two they were so fun to write!)

(No one has permission to copy or reuse or repost my work, love housepartyprotocol)

[denwritesandcries]

Hold to my Hand – H.C

Pairing: loser!hazel x fem!reader

Summary: You might be a little – completely – obsessed with your girlfriend's hands and apparently she enjoys that a lot.

Word count: 2,3k.

Content: cursing, fluff, kisses, slight jealousy, hazel being a loser AND a mess, soft gfs.

Note: So… women, right? Women with rings and cold hands… right?

English is not my first language.

“Babe, stop that!”

“What?” You said, “I’m not doing anything.”

But you were.

You were sprawled out on your girlfriend Hazel's bed, a book from your English class abandoned in front of you while your girlfriend had a laptop open on her lap, the cute look of concentration from before replaced by red cheeks and nervousness at your actions.

It was no big deal, actually, your girlfriend was simply very easy to flustreat; you had one of her hands in yours, leaving feather-light kisses along her calloused, ring-covered fingers, sending goosebumps across her cold skin.

“You’re distracting me.” She whines, looking away to a random spot in the room, “I can’t type like this.”

You huff, climbing higher on the bed to be at her height, keeping your grip on her hand and glancing at the laptop screen.

“Boxing and wrestling techniques?” you read, letting your head fall to rest on her shoulder, “Will you really gonna start a fight club with Josie and PJ?”

Hazel immediately perks up, telling you all about the idea that she and the girls had at lunch – you're sure 80% of it must have come from PJ, but you don't have the courage to interrupt her – and how they're going to get along and have fun with this and Hazel will teach everyone self defense techniques. She looks so much like a happy puppy that it warms your heart.

Unfortunately, you can't give her full attention to the conversation, being too involved in the way she gestures to process anything else.

Okay, maybe you're a little – just a little – obsessed with your girlfriend's hands.

“...You sure you don't want to?”

“Huh?”

Hazel's voice snaps you out of your reverie and she's staring at you with bright, expectant blue eyes.

“Are you sure you don't want to join?” She repeats.

“Hm-hm,” you mumble.

“Please?” She asks softly, “For me?”

You look away from her, because there's no way to deny anything if you're looking at that needy dog face, and you keep yourself looking at the old judo and jiu-jitsu trophies that she keeps on the shelves in the big room.

She really wants you to be part of this, but you know PJ and Josie are probably only doing it because they want to fuck someone and Hazel because she wants to make more friends, but the most you'd get from this club would be a broken nose or tooth, so no, thanks.

“I can come to see you at meetings and give you moral support, love.”

It's not exactly what she wanted, but you know you won. Hazel completely softens the moment you call her love, every single time.

Hazel lets out a long dramatic sigh, giving up her laptop and turning to wrap her arms around you, burying her face in your neck.

“Fine, but you’ll definitely change your mind when the club finally starts!” She declares.

You scoff, sinking into her touch when you feel her hands spread on your hips beneath your shirt comfortably.

“Do you really want to get into this with those two, Haze?” Your question breaks the established silence, somewhat uncertain.

Your girlfriend unfortunately had a tendency to not notice or just not stand up for herself when someone was mean to her and PJ and Josie weren't exactly known for being gentle with people, so Hazel running something with them made you quite apprehensive. Of course, you wouldn't do anything to change her mind since it was something she really seemed to want to do, but a little caution wouldn't hurt.

“Oh, they know what they're doing, babe.” She squeezes you a little tighter, “They were in juvie!”

You laugh: “No, they weren't.”

“Still.”

You keep your word and start attending all the fight club meetings – under PJ's complaints that you're not really doing anything –, busying yourself with cheering Hazel on during her turns and talking to Mr.G about any nonsense stuff that he wants to speak in the stands. It's actually quite fun, but you don't change your mind about the fighting part.

You start bringing water bottles as a treat to the girls while you're there and take on the role of tending to all of Hazel's injuries when it's all over – which is a lot, since they don't really seem to know what they're doing in the moment –, you find yourself being very good at it and probably would have become the whole group personal nurse if it weren't for the possessive look in bright blue eyes and the sad pout on Hazel's face when she watched you wipe the blood from a cut on Brittany's cheek and put on one of the cute little band-aids that were supposed to be only for her one day.

Besides all that, the most important thing is that you have a free pass to admire your girlfriend as much as you want and she looks great kicking ass and throwing punches. Especially throwing punches.

In your defense, the obsession with your girlfriend's hands, your girlfriend’s touch, is actually justified. The thing is, you never had many friends since you came to this weird school and neither did Hazel, so when you got together everything in your relationship was a little new; you found yourself suddenly starving for contact.

Holding hands, playing with the rings on her fingers, pats on the shoulders, arms around the body, hugs, caresses. It was simply impossible not to be aware of every little touch that Hazel gives you, even less impossible not to melt with them.

So yes, maybe you liked it a little too much when Hazel came to you asking to bandage her bruised knuckles just because it gave you the chance to touch her as much as you wanted, like now, at home.

“Ouch!”

“Stop moving, Haze,” you complain as you apply the antiseptic to her, “This will only make it worse.”

“But it hurts.” Hazel whimpers, pulling her injured hand to her chest protectively.

She's sitting on the bathroom sink, which probably wasn't very safe, but it was the best way for you to treat her and also where the first aid kit you were using was kept.

Today's fight seems to have been a little more serious than usual because Hazel's dominant hand is hurt. Like really hurt, with purple bruises already forming over the torn skin, so your spare band-aids weren't enough to take care of it. Now, if she would just let you handle it properly.

“That's bad. You're lucky it didn't break.” You say, taking her hand more gently to examine it, “Damn, what did that blue-haired girl do to you to make this happen?”

Hazel stays quiet, suddenly embarrassed and looking at anything else as you wrap a clean bandage around the wound.

"Then?" You press.

Hazel mumbles something slurred and unintelligible and you frown, not knowing what could have made her so embarrassed. With how easily that happens tho, you didn't have a good guess.

“I heard her talking to some girls before the meeting today.” She pauses, “Talking about you.”

“Oh.” You say, trying to pull away a little so you can look her in the eyes, but Hazel closes her legs around your waist so you can’t move, “Saying bad things?”

She shakes her head and swallows, her blush deepening.

“She said that she likes it when you come to see us,” her good hand grabs the front of your shirt, “Said she wanted to ask you out.”

“Oh, Haze—” You begin.

“She knew we were dating. She knew. But she kept talking about it and I— I got mad, so I hit her.”

Hazel says it all quickly as if it were a single sentence, but you understand anyway; she is nervous, keeping her eyes closed and looking down. She was jealous, still is, but she's also scared of what you'll think of her for it.

Screw it, you think. It's a fight club, people are going to get hurt sometimes. Now it's time to comfort your girlfriend.

“You beat the shit out of a girl for me?” You say, taking the bandaged hand gently and bringing it to your lips, “That’s hot.”

Hazel's face is so red it glows, “Babe,” she squeals.

"What?" You tease, leaving smacking kisses from fist to wrist, “She should know better than to say things like that for you to hear, how rude.”

Hazel’s pupils are dilated when her eyes meet yours, “You’re serious?”

“Hmm.” You hum, leaving a mark of lip gloss on her skin, “Like I would leave the best girlfriend in the world for someone else like that.”

She squirms in your grip, swallowing hard and trying to keep from stuttering and you can't help the giggle that escapes as you notice a shiver run through her.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” she whines.

“I’m not,” you shrug, innocently.“I’m just kissing it better.”

You think Hazel never really realized the effect her touch has on you until one day at the library.

There's no club meeting today, so when you make your way to the library after your last class, your girlfriend follows along beside you excitedly, rambling about her day and waving your hands together as you walk down the halls.

You had to study for a history test, so you find a table in the back where you like to stay while Hazel looks for a book nearby to entertain herself.

You just spend less than an hour focusing on memorizing dates and names your teacher sent to the next test before your ears pick up the clink of Hazel's rings against the antique wood of the table.

Your gaze shifts away without even realizing it, focusing on Hazel's drumming and immersed expression.

“Have any of your rings ever fallen off?” You ask with sudden curiosity, even after months together this had never occurred to you.

“Huh?” She lifts her head, “Oh, yes. Lots of them.”

Hazel stops for a moment to check it and adjust some looseness and you gently take the hand with the ring you gave her, running your thumb over the silly little smiley face plastered on it.

“I never take that one off,” she smiles.

“I noticed,” you laugh, feeling your cheeks heat up. “You might end up breaking your finger over this, you know? Or someone’s nose.”

“I was trying to be romantic,” Hazel snorts.

“Sorry, love,” you lean across the table closer to her, looking between the plastic ring. “I just gave that to you as a silly joke.”

Hazel tilts her head, that confused and bit sad puppy expression back on her face.

“Yeah?”

You nod, “One day I’ll give you a real one, with a real gem." You can feel Hazel staring at you, her jaw is probably dropped, but you settle for shaking her hand, “A blue one. Will suit you.”

“You think so?” She sighs.

“Of course,” you find yourself saying. “I’ll give you the most beautiful one, the first one everyone will notice when they look at you.”

You look up to find Hazel. Just Hazel. With soft eyes, bright smile and hands full of rings.

There were moments – moments like this – when it felt like there were only the two of you in the world, when you couldn't see or feel anything but Hazel and you drowned in her completely.

Taking a deep breath, she leans over the table, hand letting go of yours to slide down your arm. You swear your skin crawls.

“Babe?” Hazel calls; you notice how she keeps her voice low for fear of ruining the moment, even though she's so clearly nervous.

You open your mouth and nothing comes out, the touch on your skin is cold but it feels like it's burning you from the inside out. What did you come here to do in the first place?

Hazel leans back under the forgotten book and you grab her wrist when she moves to keep her close.

“I— I would like that,” she says, eyes wide and face flushed, “Sounds good, I mean.”

"You deserve it. You deserve this and more, love,” You’re not really sure what ‘more’ is, especially for someone who can buy anything they want like Hazel. Maybe it’s all she wanted, all you could offer her; maybe it’s just you.

Hazel squeezes your hand, leaning in closer and running her thumb over your knuckles so gently that the noise you make is embarrassing. You think she's going to kiss you and maybe she would have, if it weren't for the angry shush! coming from the librarian near the bookshelves next to you two.

She only mentions it days later, when you're back in her bed, curled up in a familiar way while Hazel scrolls through her phone.

Her fingers are running through your hair, almost lulling you to sleep and you feel like you could do the same as the cat at the foot of the bed and melt into a purring puddle under her touch.

“You have a thing for my hands." She comments out of nowhere, interrupting the peaceful atmosphere, a giggle in her tone.

“What?” You ask confused, using your arms to lean against her chest, “I do not.”

You know it's not true, but denying it is better than admitting something like that. Hazel gives you a look; she knows you better than that.

“But you do.” Hazel turns you in her arms and you let out a surprised squeak at the action when she finds yourself on top of you.

You shake your head, refusing to give in, but she runs her cold hands under your shirt, resting on the warm skin of your belly – this seems to be one of her favorite things to do.

“Jeez!” You hiss, “How can you be so cold all the time? You’re like a lizard.”

“Oh, I love lizards!”

“Haze!”

You squirm in her grip, but Hazel holds firm, an unusual confidence behind her actions.

“Admit it,” she asks with a smirk. “You have a thing for my hands.”

“I have a thing for you.”

The cocky little smile she has every time she touches you for the next week is totally worth it – and it's also totally kissable.

[charlotteking23]

Hi, I don't know if you're taking requests, but here's one. Imagine that Bruce somehow ends up becoming a child again and this leaves his children a little desperate for fear of Y/N and Alfred's reaction, and during this time that Bruce stays in his child form one thing becomes very noticeable is that Bruce simply doesn't leave his wife's side (Y/N) and this somehow ends up making the boys, especially Damian, jealous and in the end everything is resolved.

Kisses♡ (by the way, I love your writing and I'm sorry if I'm a little confused, it's because English isn't my first language)

Little Bruce

Bruce Wayne x Y/n (batmom)

"Hey Bruce what does this do?", Here we go again Jason decided to use another machine zapping it accidentally at Bruce. " Jason, Why do you always do this didn't you learn from the age swap machine", Dick scold Jason again.

Dad are you okay, Tim said reaching towards the the oversized clothes that were on the floor. "Hi", A little boy suddenly came out of the clothes and waved.

immediately the boys started screaming and panicking. " oh no, what are Mom and Alfred going to say?", Tim said fearing for their reaction, already imagining it. "That's what you worried about not that he's butt-naked", Jason said covering his eyes, no one should ever see their dad naked.

"It's your fault stupid", Damian said looking shocked at his father being a child. "Okay, everyone calm down one of us has to tell Mom and Alfred so I vote for Jason", Dick said holding Bruce in his arms. Both Damian and Tim were okay with it, "why me?", Jason whined complaining how it wasn't fair but all he got was Are you kidding me looks from his brothers and even little Bruce.

Time skip

"Hey, kids and extra kid- who is that"? Y/n stared at her kids in shock counting them and making sure she wasn't seeing things. Wait a second that child looks like Bruce. " Mom please don't be mad but I accidentally zap Bruce to a little kid", Jason finishes saying in one breath, waiting to see his mother's reaction.

Alfred was so shocked he dropped a teacup, looking at Bruce reminding him of the past. "WHAT!, you all are grounded for 1 month", Y/n said angrily taking little Bruce out of Dick's arms.

The kids started to help more with taking care of little Bruce. But no matter what he didn't leave Y/n side always hugging her or holding her hand. Little Bruce wouldn't even sleep in the spare bedroom instead slept in his and Y/n rooms.

if you asked any of the boys who were upset with this change they would immediately say Damian. Damian was a momma boy who always got along the most with his Ummi.

"Ummi, Little dad/Bruce is staring at me with hatred, I request we should kick him out", Damian said glaring back at the little boy. "Dami, we can't do that, he's just a little boy and your father", Y/n said protesting giving little Bruce a hug.

"Mom, it's kinda weird to call a little kid my father", Jason looking at little Bruce making funny faces at him and making him laugh. One thing for sure little Bruce was much happier than adult Bruce. "I guess you're right, it is kinda weird calling him my husband as well", Y/n said side eyeing little Bruce.

While Y/n looked for a doctor to make little Bruce into an adult Bruce, so the kids babysat little Bruce. Jason was in charge of entertainment, making sure Bruce was happy because nobody wanted to deal with a crying Bruce. Alfred as usual was in charge of the meals having to expand his cooking to fit Master Little Bruce's appetite. Dick made sure to clean all the messes even the toilets to help Alfred. Tim Made sure little Bruce took his daily naps, reading stories to him, leading to Tim falling asleep. Damian all together decided not to help, because of his strong dislike towards little Bruce.

Y/n had found out about Damian's jealousy towards little Bruce. " Damian I promised you will never be replaced by anyone", Y/n said putting her pinky out for a pinky promise. what surprised me was all her kids felt like this as well, even though they didn't show. "kids I didn't mean to make you feel as if you were being replaced, come on let's hug this out." Y/n even made Alfred join in the hug.

Y/n did end up finding a doctor/mad scientist and he was able to fix Bruce. But the kids decided to take pictures and videos of little Bruce to use as leverage against adult Bruce.

"So what happened when I was Little Bruce, you guys seemed to call me", Bruce said lying in bed and hugging his wife while reading a book. It's a long story I will tell you tomorrow but heads up the kids took embarrassing photos of you when you were little Bruce", Y/n covering herself in the covers. " Oh man", Bruce said slapping his forehead and sighing deeply, while Y/n laughed at his reaction. "I missed you Y/n", Bruce said kissing her lips. "I missed you too little Bruce", Y/n said letting go of the kiss with a teasing grin.

[iznsfw]

Senior Year Isn’t the Only Thing That’s Hard

Momoland's Nancy McDonie x Jeon Somi x Male Reader Smut

20,859 words

Categories | popular!Nancy and Somi, threesome, blowjob, titjob, anal, spanking, fluff, also if you get the reference(s) I love you

Thank you for commissioning! Was tough to find time to write during exam season but fuck it we ball.

Stars in the sky, stars in their eyes—they’re truly something else. Shouldn’t they be up there themselves? They glimmer too bright to be left here on earth, with a guy like you who can’t hold a flame to them.

But maybe you’re one yourself. Stars only ever mingle with their own kind. So there's the possibility that the three of you are stardust, simmered onto this world to shine in other places where they need it. It’s a laughable way to put it, almost cliche. But when you look at them, you realize you’re not far off.

See here: you're young. It's too early to worry about reputation—(oh, what a word, by the way, with its promise of faint or fail)—but a great, great place to start. 

You didn't know about that second part until you met Somi and Nancy.

First, picture this: your story is a movie, the rare one where the male character is the lead of the story although—let's face it—it's them everyone's reading this for. Not you, not your style, not nada and zip. Everyone is and always will be here for them:

Jeon Somi and Nancy McDonie. They're teen royalty. Only a few students ever get to say they held that title. Not that it's of any importance later in life but what matters more than the present? The juniors look at them green with envy, and with the seniors, the ones who are all proud in their recent age of adulthood, either like them but hate to say it and "hate" them but like them too much to say it. It's that simple. It’s that complicated, too, at the same time. 

And, admittedly, it’s… a lot to take in.

Strangely, you're not in either of those categories despite being a senior yourself. The difference is that you like them, and aren't afraid to say it. After all, you owe them a lot for helping you get out of your shell.

-

Well, not at first. But that’s how it works, right? You, Somi, and Nancy don’t immediately become friends right from the get-go. There has to be some kind of story behind it, and you’re willing to tell yours.

-

It all started… well, like this:

You enrolled into a new school sometime after your eighteenth or nineteenth birthday. Yep, you really couldn’t remember. It’s all been in a flash with them, makes you feel a little dumb. All you know was it was the worst present to have: being required to join an institution that was as unfamiliar as it was unwanted. Like, fucking hell—this early? You were just a kid! Well, not anymore, but there had to be some kind of consideration for this, right? An exception that could be made?

Unfortunately, signing up for a new school was not a subject up for debate. It wasn’t something you could bargain yourself out of. No promises to be good, no extra chores, nothing. Your parents were firm on deciding that you were in need of a fresh new start.

And it just sort of happened that this clean slate you had? You ruined it completely.

Oh, it was classic teenage rebellion. You did almost everything you could to buy your way out of circumstances that didn't go how you wanted them to. You wouldn't say it was totally uncalled for. You had friends at your old school you thought you'd forever be with—the way you saw it, no one could just pull that away from you.

Alas, here you were. You'd been in this classroom more times than you could remember. Neither you nor the presidents spoke. No one was willing to break the ice.

Finally, sun melted the cold and replaced the winter with a fiery, hot summer. "You again?" Nancy McDonie leaned on the edge of the teacher's desk. Her expression was that of someone who's going through a cruel cycle of same-shit-different-day. You knew what that's all about. "I swear, we see you here every Tuesday."

And what a privilege that was. Sarcasm? A little. 

"Oh?" you said. You did your own leaning on the backrest of the chair and put your arms behind your head. "Well, it's not like I enjoy it here."

Maybe you did. Maybe you didn’t. To be truthful, you didn’t know either at the time, so… well—you’re left involved in another banter with the two leaders of the student government. You didn’t see why you had to be sent to them every time you did something even just the littlest bit of wrong, but here you were. This was routine already. As everyday and usual as brushing your teeth and showering.

Nancy squinted her eyes at you, and you stared right back unnervingly. Neither of you were going to give up a silent fight like that.

"If you did," Jeon Somi quipped, beside her best friend with her hands on her own hips, "we'd understand. I mean, look at us."

She didn't have to remind you. Both girls were prettier than they should be. ‘Cause look here for a minute: Nancy's got this long caramel hair going on for her, and it extends long beyond her shoulder blades, framing her amazing curves and slim arms. She's the push to Somi's pull—Nancy is the calmer one, the girl who takes things more seriously. 

To be fair, Somi does her own taking, too. Just not in the same way. She's blonder, bustier, more extroverted. She walks life with an unrestrained laugh unfit for such a gorgeous girl and feet clad with platform school shoes that always carry her in paces around the classroom. She's kind enough to cast a blind eye on some of your offenses, but too princess-y to keep her words about herself humble.

You say these in present tense because later on, when the circumstances change and so do the seasons, you'd find out that's truly who they are. Your relationship would change but they wouldn't. They're still the same Somi and Nancy who are always glued to each other, always giggling, always the it girls, always the most popular girls in school.

One day, the punishment for your routine offenses would be death caused by them, and even that you'd welcome. Oh, just imagine…

"Let me guess." The brunette girl tapped her finger on the desk surface. Lucky piece of wood. "You didn't pay the treasurer again?"

You sighed and fiddled with your pencil. Scratches from the pointed led were imprinted on the olden table attached to the seat. You bit back a remark about how the class treasurer was as corrupt as a politician withering away with the hope the graft charges would, too. "Wrong," you said, steadily. "I accidentally spray-painted miss Seo during arts.”

Your truth was met with silence.

“She looked like she came out of a unicorn's asshole," you helpfully added.

You remembered it like it was yesterday. Ah, well, of course you did—it was impossible to forget when it happened fifty fucking minutes ago. Yes, you counted down, because the surprise that took over you when you squeezed the nozzle of the can on a teacher you didn’t even know was behind you was everything to remember. Every color of the rainbow was soaking her dress pants and blouse, making her become the personification of a lively Pride parade.

(You didn’t leave that detail out for your poor victim not to hear, when you said: “Gay rights, anybody?”

Looking back, that was prooobably what got you into another meeting with the girls. The teachers had some real strange beliefs.)

Somi snorted, then started to laugh boisterously, so much that her body rocked downwards. To be fair, it started out as a small chuckle. Things went from this to that and suddenly it worked itself into a full cackle. 

She slapped Nancy on the shoulder and shook her head. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she apologized; (it was useless), “but that shit’s so… fffucking—”

"It's not funny, Somi," Nancy said with a more solid voice than that of her friend’s. "Hey. Hey, it's not funny!"

“Just think about it, babe.” Somi, still snickering, tried to put some sense in her, tried to make her see what made it so funny. “Think of the gay flag. Now—listen—imagine it as mean old miss Seo. You see where I’m going?”

“Still not funny.”

"C'mon, prez," you told the unconvinced girl. You flung your hands in the air nonchalantly. "Live a little."

"Yeah, Nance," echoed Somi cheerfully, poking her best friend’s cheek. She was the only one who could ever do that to her. Any other person and they’d be found dead in a ditch alongside their reputation. And god, did it matter a lot to young’uns like you. "Live a little."

"Don't call me that.”

Somi shut her mouth. From what you noticed, she was the lesser contained of the two of them. She spoke with a sailor’s mouth that had the accent and vocabulary of a valley girl. Kind of true—she was filthy rich. You saw her parents during the senior acquaintance party and it wasn’t that hard to figure out she was wealthy when you saw her father slip her her allowance. Also, her mother was dressed in the best and latest trends, looking younger than she really was with how she held herself. Only rich people and really exemplary actresses could pull that off.

"And what was your offense the previous week?" Nancy went on. She was leaning forward now, unintentionally offering you the best view a horny senior could wish for: her bust struggling to be held inside her uniform blouse. 

A distraction, that's what it was. Oh, fuck, now Somi was doing it, too. Both girls are busty, full breasts begging to be freed from fabric. You should have really requested undressing them as your punishment, but it was clear that it was probably what they wanted and this was simply to coerce answers from you, unintentional or not. 

They still held their dynamics, even when they’re forcing words out of you. They went hand in hand, pairing up together like they were born to be friends: the angel that was Nancy, and the little devil Somi was; good cop (in a way) Somi, and bad cop Nancy.

You weren’t gonna say their methods didn’t work. You gulped. Since when did you sound like a shitty literotica author with two sales? "I started a food fight in the cafeteria."

"And the previous week?"

"I tripped mister Brown in the hallway because he failed me."

"And the week before that?"

"I started a campaign that Photoshopped Shrek onto teachers' faces."

Silence, as if all the world were a show that liked to take several beats.

“You think you’re funny, huh?” asked Nancy finally.

“You do,” you said. “You don’t think I can see you smiling?” There was something in her face that told you that hatred for you was not all there was to it. Something about the uplifted motion at the left end of her lips. Somi was barely hiding it with the giggles she was making.

“Don’t flatter yourself, dickhead.”

“Oooh, nice one for a first swear word.” You threw the pencil away and folded your hands together. Leaned forward, too, because if they were showing off their cleavages like that, you might as well do the same. “Got anything else for me?”

You promised you weren’t always this petty. These weekly meetings with the presidents just tired you out. It wasn’t your fault you were like this. It could all be traced back to your parents’ nth mistake: sending you off to this shithole of a school. For fuck’s sake, this wasn’t even where you envisioned yourself to be five years ago, when your teachers made you draw a visionary of yourself on white bond paper. Far from it, if you looked past your shitty skills at sketching.

“Detention, maybe,” Somi said helpfully after swallowing the last pieces of her laughs. “And a suspension.”

“Oh god.” You rolled your eyes. “Please, not you, too.”

“Yep. Real scary stuff, huh?” She smiled, raising her hands in claws before firing you a wink. Your breath shortened just for a while. Only just. “Don’t worry, you won’t have to go through all that if you behave.”

You smiled back. “Like a good boy?”

But there was your heart slipping into a knot as you said it. Joke-filled lines you exchanged with the girls were difficult not to stay upon when your hormonal brain kept each one dirty.

The two girls looked at each other for a moment. Then, they smiled. That was a rare one from Nancy. Somi, however, boasted her shining simper as she took a few steps forward to pat you on the shoulder.

"You're alright, newbie," was all she said. "You're alright."

-

A few months—

(Well, you could say it took fewer than that. Within a timespan of what seemed like seconds, Somi had you wrapped around the long hem of her ballroom gown. But she didn’t drag you around for long; she treated you like a fellow royal, helping you out with math though she had little time and greeting you in the hallways and therefore drawing looks, because why was the Jeon Somi talking to some random new kid? But attention was what came with being Somi and slash or being part of her life. It’s time you got used to it.)

—and a lot of bickering later—

(“You are the biggest dumbass I’ve ever met,” said Somi, fingers massaging her temple. “Who in goddess’ name doesn’t know dodos are extinct?”

You flipped the teacher’s copy shut. “Normal people,” was your answer to her, as you brooded over social studies homework at the library. 

“Shhhh!” the librarian, with her stereotypical glasses and graying hair, hissed at you from her desk. After a hateful glare, she was returning to her telenovela, which you argued was louder than your hushed conversation with your new friend.

Friend? What could you call this thing you had with Somi? She liked you, but that didn’t mean she was your friend or you were hers. You could like a modern abstract painting at the gallery and still not buy it. Maybe that was how she looked at you.

“The dodo is dead-o,” Somi said seriously. She looked at you with an equally resolute glare. 

“The dodo is dead-o,” you repeated. You could remember that.

“You’re so lying, did they never teach you that at your old school? Like at all?”

“Well I’m sorry I don’t spend time thinking if a stupid bird is alive or not.”

“See?” She raised her voice so that the poor juniors in the cluster behind you had to hear. “This, my friends, is what’s wrong in our society! Eighteen-year-olds in this prominent day and age are all like ‘I dunno what a dodo is!’!”

“For fuck’s sake, they’re all dead!” you yelled before the librarian could scold you again. “They won’t fucking care!”)

—things began to change.

-

She did say you were alright. You still had discourse over birds but in her eyes, you convinced yourself eventually you were alright. 

-

It wasn’t the case for Nancy. That smile she made back in that classroom apparently meant nothing. You were amusing to her, but that’s everything to it. Nothing more, nothing less. You were entertaining in a way a clown at a children’s party was: no one particularly cared about it days after.

“He’s tagging along?” she said. She looked you up and down suspiciously, as a guard would at an airport, then turned to Somi. “Somi, I thought we agreed on no boys on trips.”

And it—

… hurt you?

Not only that made you feel out of place, but the visible fact that both girls were dressed like they were about to go to a gala. They were both in skirts, wearing layers that vested upon expensive blouses and coats that even from miles away would look good. You, of course, were excluded in your simple tee and shorts. It was as if you didn’t even try to look presentable.

“Consider me one of the girls,” you said. You hoped that quick reply was witty enough, because if not, you were doomed. You already had a bad enough poor position to deal with. See? You weren’t lying when you said you didn’t want it.

And it wasn’t like going to the mall with them was something you wanted either. Somi texted you one day, having found your number through means that were probably illegal but were given a blind eye because oh look she’s Jeon Somi, and asked, hey, wanna come to the mall w me? 

Looking back, that message had a lot of undertones. 

You didn’t know Nancy was coming along, but you should have known that when the two girls were always together. Hoping that she would come along was what you did, and perhaps one of the reasons why you wanted to go (wait, you wanted to go? But didn’t you— never mind). Now that she had expressed clear distaste for your presence, you felt like an outcast again.

You didn’t want to go back to those days.

Somi nodded enthusiastically. Well, at least someone was happy to have you around. She was the first one to warm up to you, and you could say that you were friends with her now. Something told you she was okay with that. “Yeah, Nance! I promise he’s gonna be good, like super duper good. Just think that he’s Mina.”

“Don’t call me that. Oh, and remember what we did to Mina?” 

Everybody knew Kang Mina although she graduated a long time ago. She was a loner at first, but pretty. She didn’t know that she was beautiful, of course, not until she became friends with Somi and Nancy and suddenly—

“Oh no,” you said. You put up your hands. “No, no, no, no, no. You are not—”

“Giving you a makeover?” Nancy smirked, that being the first time of the day that she gave signs of a living smile. “Yeah, we are.”

The salon was right up ahead after the pavilion. You took a single look at it and saw its pink, glamoring state along with the hairdos it advertised, and knew that you were wholly, indefinitely, and irreparably fucked.

“God, what’re you gonna do to me?” you groaned as you were shoved into a disgustingly pink seat, accompanied by strange looks from strangers whose strangeness in their colored hairs and phrases shouldn’t give them any right to look at you like that. Masculinity this, masculinity that—but come on. It was… what year was it again?

“Hey, Jessa!” Somi called out loudly. Jessa was a plump, sweet woman with bayonetta glasses that made her slits for eyes look even smaller. “Make him look like everything.”

“Yeah!” Nancy actually looked enthusiastic. You tried not to curl up into a snail-like position when she brushed her fingers through your hair. “Like a dreamboat, that kind.”

Jessa smiled. “You two are always in some sort of BS, aren’t you?” Fondness graced her elderly tone. It was clear the two girls were frequent visitors.

She swiftly curled the chair into the vanity table’s direction. Your reflection in the star-studded mirror made you wince. You had cysts in all the inconvenient places, a bread crumb at the side of your mouth from the breakfast you had at that niche cafe, everything. Even Jessa looked like royalty compared to you. What more next to Somi and Nancy, whose skirted long legs towered over you and reminded you that they always held the better deck, the better position? 

“Call us the Bullshitter Bitches, then!” Somi began to tap dance on her heels. It was her hidden talent. Well, it wasn’t really hard to tap dance when she had those long legs. “‘We’re the Bullshitter Bitches / We shit on snitch—”

“Somi, that’s disgusting,” Nancy snapped sourly. She clicked a haircut apron around your neck. Great. Now you looked like a goddamned infant who’s growing up with a princess complex.

“Sorry.”

“Just so you know,” you said, as Jessa snipped away at your head, “I’m not paying for this. I don’t need a makeover.”

“‘Course you aren’t. It’s all on the house.”

Brushes swished on your face, hiding the beginning foundations of new hormonal pimples and blackheads. They hid away your imperfections with just one slide. You never saw them as such, not until you got into senior high and therefore compared yourself to the bigger guys, the cooler guys. The ones whose sweat wrung from their hair but still looked attractive enough to get the girls. Maybe this was what you needed. You were gonna have to think twice about the whole operation.

“Makeup?” you asked warily. Not that you were against it. but you never really tried it on before.

Somi’s hand made an L-shaped gesture and branded itself in front of her forehead. “Boo, come on, it’s the big year of”—redacted, with an exclamation at the end. Nobody needed to know when this happened. The time will come when everything will reveal itself. She painted powder that almost matched the shade of your skin and hued it on your cheeks and neck. “Who said guys can’t wear makeup?”

“Makeup is for everybody,” chirped Jessa in agreement. “And that’s right, sweetie, you don’t need a makeover. Just a touch up. And everyone gets them, even handsome guys like you.”

Nobody had ever called you handsome. The last time it ever happened was when your mother buttoned your polo for preschool. It’s flattery, you knew, but your chest still felt as if it were knotted.

“Ain’t that right,” Nancy stooped to your level and brushed your nose with the tip of her finger—her soft smile was gripping, “new boy.”

Another one, and a roundness at the edge(?) of your throat you couldn’t swallow. Your Adam’s apple bobbed yet it was useless at downing it. 

You had to look away. Did she just agree that you were good-looking? You knew Somi thought that, too, but this was Nancy. Nancy McDonie, the girl who didn’t care for you much and didn’t want you here.

She still didn’t like you. But maybe that would change.

(Spoiler alert: it did. That’s how the story went.)

You wondered how rich they actually were to pay Jessa to be so committed to making you look your best. Your hair was purple for a few minutes (“Fuck no!” you shouted) and was easily returned to the black with a quick dye. Then she gelled it in so many directions that you’d think your blunt mane was a car being controlled by an overexcited student driver. That was already thousands of won by itself. But it went on without stopping, and Somi and Nancy still weren’t satisfied.

“I’m telling you, Somi,” said the brunette girl, twirling your chair to the mirror again, “he looks good with that slicked back do!”

“Be serious with me.” Somi blew-dried your hair and ran her hand along your whiffed locks. “Grody as hell. Doesn’t he look like 90s’ Brendan Fraser?”

“He does,” Jessa said. She returned with tools that looked so unfamiliar to you that they might as well be surgeon’s supplies. Fuck, were they gonna take out your liver after all that trouble?

“Ha! See?”

“He has some nice eyebrows. Just needs a little trimming and he’s good to go.”

“Thank god,” you said. They all looked at you as if surprised to remember you weren’t a doll to practice hairstyling on. Your scalp already ached royally. “I need to get out of here.”

Nancy shook her head. “Nuh-uh. You’re not going anywhere, new boy. You’re ours for today.”

You gulped. God, okay. You were good with that. 

A light edged metal ran along the ends of your brows. You were afraid they were going to make you look like Megan Fox in Jennifer’s Body, but it actually turned out alright. 

After all the ruckus, you were there, staring at your reflection.You could pass for a guy richer than you actually were, cooler than you actually were. Your eyebrows were cleanly trimmed, in a steady and one-way direction, and your hair was cut yet splayed in a way that made you actually look flattering. Then you had your cheeks to look at, which were clear of any of your open pores and pimples. You looked like what they told you would: everything.

“I… I’m one of the girls now,” you said out of the blue. It was like a moment of truth for you.

“Yes you are,” Somi said proudly. “Now can we go get some ice cream?”

Nancy glanced at the clothing shop a few blocks down the tiled path and shook her head. Nope. Not a chance in any galaxy.

-

It was also later on, when you saw yourself in clothes from brands you never dreamed of buying, you knew that this thing you had with the presidents would go on forever, an eternity that would last long after—

-

Senior year, your golden age.

"Hey, hotshot," a clear voice says into your ear. She's on the phone with you yet her voice is loud enough for it to be easily assumed that she's physically present. "Up to see me after class?"

That's Somi, by the way. Yep, the leader of the student body who sanctioned you years ago. She's a real life Korean-Canadian doll. She'd be the stereotypical one, the face and brand—she's tall and slender, owning the hallways like she was the first step to ever be made in them. Blonde, too. You've met her years before and not once have you seen her natural color replace her dyed yellow.

The thing about her is that she's always just that shameless and energetic. She has one default personality and that is extroverted. 

She's also naturally flirtatious, and you know it doesn't mean anything else when she calls you derogatory names in sweet tones but you remain attached to her. We’ll just keep it at that.

"Aren't we meeting in social studies?" you chuckle. This girl can't get enough of being around people. Around you, to be more specific. But that's what friends do.

"Not enough, obvi.” 

“Right.”

“Is Nancy coming, too?"

"I think so."

"Darn it. I was hoping to…." 

You raise your brows in suspicion. "What?"

"Nothing. I said we're meeting up."

Let out a soft chuckle. "I didn't say yes," you inform her, just in case she forgot.

"And I didn't say that what you think about it matters, butthead. You know you want to see me. Tata!"

And it ends off with that. Click. 

Your smile is wide. That's Somi for you: a brat at heart, always getting what she wants one way or another, with a vocabulary that matches that of a spoiled heiress. Maybe she is one? You don't know but the branded clothes she often wears to school are getting a little suspicious. Among other things.

The locker space is packed with students, both juniors and seniors, male and female. They see you and start whispering among themselves. Some even make way. That wouldn't have been possible in your first year, but then Somi and Nancy happened. They made you the way you were. They made you a centerpiece. Do you like it? Admittedly, it strokes your ego well on some days.

Where's your locker key again? There it is. Click it into the padlock and swing the door open. Notes and trinkets from your two best friends are stuck to its walls. They said it was "for motivation." You let them believe that because it's true. Seeing Somi's wild happy calligraphy on the sticky note “Yep :) totally got it - Jeon <3”, compared to Nancy's more contained handwriting “Let’s get going!!!” always brightens your day.

Collect your social studies book as well as the mathematics one for the next period. Shut it, and a figure suddenly appears next to you.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Nancy!"

Oh yeah, that's how the scene opens to introduce the present Nancy McDonie. She's the brunette and calmer duplicate of Somi, but with an equally amazing body—

You won't go there. 

She has one arm pinned to the neighboring locker door and a small smile. "Language, handsome," she chides, patting your shoulder. "It's just me."

Oh, and the less sarcastic counterpart as well. Nancy calls you sweet pet names and means them. 

She’s grown fonder of you over the years. Nancy hates hard, but when she loves, she loves just as much. You’ve become so much better as a person and a newfound friend that she’s got no other choice but to keep you under her wing. 

So, it could be argued that she loves you.

Never the same way you do, like you started to right from the very beginning, when unfamiliarity stepped between you and kept your hearts away from each other.

"Hey there," you say, clutching your chest. It’s just Nancy, your other half. You've been friends with her a little after your makeover. Quite a long time, if you do say so yourself; it seems to have happened so long ago. Long enough to have you become one of the girls.

It's not derogatory, like other boys would think. Being friends with the girls is more fun than hanging out with the vulgar rebels from your old school. For what it's worth, being one of Somi's and Nancy's is a huge compliment. Not everybody could say they were friends with the popular kids.

Gulp. It’s so hard to act normal in front of her when she’s naturally charming, and her uniform’s made to hug every bit of her curves, including her exceptional ass. You’ve come to terms with the fact that you’re strongly and sexually attracted to her a long time ago, but it still proves to be a challenge not to stare. 

Besides, she trusts you. You’re her best friend. If you make a move on her, everybody would know and ruin your life for it, even if you’re fairly popular yourself. You’d be surprised by how quick people turn against others.

You’re not going to lie: she’s gorgeous, and the last thing that would be able to scare you is her beautiful face, but she can’t just show up like that out of the blue. That little pet name gets your gears going though. Your spirits are already afloat.

"Hey." She pats you on the head and peeks at the schedule taped to your locker. "Oh, you got social studies, too?"

"Y-you got that right."

"With Somi?"

"Yeah, sure. So?" 

Nancy, sweet as a lollipop, shakes her head cheerfully. "Nothing," she says. "I guess I'll see you there."

"See ya there." 

Offer her a two-finger salute and walk as quickly as you could although you're leaving with her. It's strange how she has your heart all bunched up when she shows up. She's pretty, yeah, but there's a certain aura about her calm demeanor that captures your stomach and keeps it tight. You hope no one gets you wrong—you like Somi, too, but Nancy has you wrapped around her little finger. She could tell you to jump off a cliff and you’d rush to buy out parachute stores.

And you’re staring at her as you switch classrooms. Your eyes are locked to her smile, her every move, her charm. Nancy was the last person you thought you’d ever be in love with—after all, she was the one who gave you sanction after sanction whenever you showed up at her classroom. Somi’s the one who went gentle with you, right?

But things happen. Plus, in a way, she’s changed you for the better. 

Your style wasn’t the only thing they made over. They helped you with your studies, your personal problems, and everything they could. Your grades went up, much to the surprise of your teachers, and you stopped your troublemaking. That was also to the surprise of your educators, but also relief. You couldn’t be more grateful. It was comforting to find new friends in a place so new. And from the girls you least expected, too.

Nancy looks at you twice, then laughs. “Why are you looking at me like you’re in love with me or something?” she says, slapping the back of your head.

Well, what do you know? She’s not far off. You could say that you’re in love.

Just the tiniest, most speckling bit in love.

“Maybe I am.”

“Stud,” Nancy says under her breath. 

She wouldn’t have dared say that in a nicer tone years ago.

The roll of her gorgeous eyes has you thinking of a scenario where it’s caused by something other than your flirtatious remarks. It would start with a flirtatious remark, then evolve into something more. Something beyond that.

Abstain from that thought. Instead, you gasp as if you belonged to the theater club with Jiwoo. “Did you just call me a slut?” you ask her. Raise your voice higher. You really hang out with Somi too much. “Everyone! Nancy McDonie just slutshamed me! I repeat, president Nancy McDonie just slut—”

A rough shove to your shoulder that neither you or Nancy expected blocks your words before they create controversy. Blonde fills your eyes as its Rapunzel owner says, “Get out of my way, creep.”

It’s such a low snarl that it alarms you. What made you a creep? Do you have to fight?

When you look up, you see that it’s no other girl than Somi. Despite what she said, she wears a cheeky, large smile. Return the grin and make it as Somi-like as possible; right, how could you forget the thing you and she have going on? 

“Maybe you should watch where you’re going,” you say, crossing your arms in faux annoyance. Yeah, you really should have tried out for that play. You could make it big as an actor.

“Oh yeah?” Somi looks you up and down. Is that bite on her lip also part of the act? “Why should I? I don’t even know your name.”

“I don’t know yours either. Is it ‘bottle blonde’?”

“Shut the fuck up. 2008 called and said they wanted their My Chemical Romance hairdo back.”

Nancy covers her face embarrassedly. She’s too proud to join the joke you and Somi have, so she’s left having to deal with the unnecessary attention your fake fights warrant. It happens almost twice every other day and people still look on to find out what’s happening. It’s what amuses you and her blonde counterpart. She and Somi are alike in many ways, all except the latter’s thirst for childish fun.

“Madams. Sir,” the teacher says. She’s miss Kim Sejeong, your social studies teacher whom you swear has been here before you were even born. The university students and graduates who’ve found their tune visit often and talk about her fondly, yet despite their ages ranging, she looks like she isn’t more than twenty-three years old. Her gaze is stern yet amused. “Do you plan on getting in? The air-conditioner’s expensive.”

While Nancy blushes in humiliation, the class erupts into giggles, and you and Somi can’t help but do the same. Each repetition of your rivalry routine is funnier than the previous one. It might be corny, especially to the other students who despise you for no reason, but it keeps your friendship solid. And what’s a better friendship than one with a few inside jokes? A strange routine?

It’s an unspoken and universal law in every classroom that even if there isn’t any official seating arrangement as to who’s sitting next to who, you still choose the ones you first sat at the beginning of the year. You’re a proud follower of that rule, and that’s why you’ve been sitting here in the front of the class with Somi and Nancy for ages. You have a secret stenciled artwork under this specific chair with an equation of your trio’s initials. It would mark long after you’ve graduated and went to pass on that you three were once best friends, and nothing could change that.

Somi leans against your arm before turning her head to glare at you. “‘Bottle Blonde,’ huh?” she says spitefully.

“Not as bad as ‘My Chemical Romance,’” you reply. That one stung a little. Does your hair really need a cut?

“Fuck you. I don’t fucking care what you say, I’ll be a blondie as much as I want.”

“And I suppose I’m emo now.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Her brows curl together at the sight of Nancy looking sour in the seat to your left. “You aight, Nancy?”

The girl nods. There’s red coloring her cheeks and ears. Kind of cute, actually. “Still alive,” she says, “after the shit you pulled there. Surprisingly.”

You and Somi bump fists. This is how it is with her. Opposed to you and Nancy acting like best friends just two steps away from being a couple, you’re more of a teasing older friend to her. You act like brother and sister, though your bond is much deeper than that. There’s something lingering in the air between you, and Somi seems to have caught it. What could it be?

You don’t have to think about that for now, not when your arms are around your two best friends in the world and now keenly listening to Kim Sejeong. That wouldn’t have been possible in your first year of high school, when things were completely different.

But, like you said, things happen. Things change. It’s just how they work, and it’s about time you get used to it being like that. You wouldn’t have had it any other way with your two friends, though. 

Sejeong waits for the three of you to get settled, then smiles welcomingly. “Now that we all have ourselves safely in our seats,” a stress there as she looks at you pointedly, “I suppose we should get on with your missed activities.”

Wince. You’re crossing your fingers, praying and begging that one particular girl doesn’t—

“What about the declamation?” Nancy asks innocently. “I thought it was due a month ago.”

A collective groan. You’ve gathered the class before to develop a plan to stall the feared exercise. Popularity, you believe, ought to be used correctly and for the common good. Keeping that declamation away is for the benefit of all. Not only is it an individual performance, but it makes up forty percent of your grade. It takes a hell of an effort to do it instantly.

No effort, so it seems, to Nancy McDonie. She’s the gooder girl of the duo, the perfect angel in all the right ways. She’s still right for this one—a lot of you just don’t like that truth.

“I thought we all agreed—”

“Somi!” you cut in, but she goes on shamelessly.

Somi stands up and looks at the class with genuine disappointment in her eyes. “—not to remind miss Kim about it. My god, you guys are, like, absolutely two-faced.”

It doesn’t take a while for the realization to set in with your teacher. Her stare is, as always, something that cuts straight to the soul. It sheds your dignity and leaves you bare for the eagle to eat of you. To be clear, there’s a reason why she was one of the teachers you never dared mess with. She was quiet but stern—a deadly combination.

"Oh. You kids are too smart for me, huh?" Sejeong laughs sarcastically. Her smile strips you of any attempt to wash her scolding off with a laugh. Can’t resort to that. Again, Kim Sejeong isn’t one to mess with. “That was more disappointing than anything the other classes have done. Do you think that just because you’re popular you can suddenly hold it against me?”

She uses the same lines you’ve heard back in your troublemaker days. Each word untaps a memory. 

You all stay silent. Somi doesn’t for long, when she’s called up to go first with the declamation since “you thought of the plan, miss Jeon,” according to Sejeong.

“But, but, but it wasn’t even—” the girl protests. Her pupils are wide with rage. She’s so used to saying anything and getting away with it. She can’t believe it won’t work out like that for her today.

“Now.”

She groans dramatically, and rises with slumped shoulders so odd to be seen on such a duchess-like, pampered girl like her. After all, she’s the stereotypical rich, blonde teen with impeccable fashion and manners that range from the sweetest to the meanest. Right now, she’s veering in the middle of the scale as she gets to the front center.

You mouth her a deserved, and she says I’m sooo gonna punch you in the balls later.

“Now, miss Jeon,” says Sejeong, arms furled in front of her chest. Yep, she isn’t backing down. “What is your solution to poverty here in this country?”

Nancy raises her hand. “May I go first instead?” she offers in hopes to save her friend. 

“You may not. Miss Jeon, please be brief. Start.”

Somi pouts, but faces the class with steady eyes. She’s ready for this. Mostly. Wringing out a pink bubble gum from her pink lips with pink-polished nails, she begins.

“So, you know how there are a lot of poor people. A lot. I know because I see a whole bunch outside the clubhouse and middle classers are always like, ‘Oh nooo, don’t give money to them, they’re gonna use it for drugs!’. And I’m just there going, ‘Gag me with a friggin’ spoon, Becky. Where the hell can you find drugs for a dime? Where?’.” She pauses for dramatic effect, then nods smugly. “Yep, that’s what I thought.”

Nancy brings her palm to her face. You’re giggling in your seat, muffling it with a few fingers. Sejeong’s eyes are wide and appalled.

“Okay,” the confident Somi continues, “for example, there’re a lot of poor people somewhere. Let’s say fifty. Oh, maybe ninety! That's super many, right?”

You and your classmates look at each other. You’re not certain where she’s going with this.

“You can’t have too many people at the same place, like that time I had all of my geometrics class for my nineteenth and it was a total flop. You have to keep them fed, y’know. So I had to walk my pretty self to the bakers which is like ten minutes away then ask them for more chocolate cake. My daddy was super mad at me for maxing out his credit card, but by the end of the day, we had more cake! More cake equals less hunger equals more dessert equals less poor people.”

The jocks at the back nod in agreement, cheering her on. She acknowledges their reassurances with a flirty wave.

"So, if the government just maxed out their credit cards and let poor people eat cake,” she says, with real conviction for someone who’s dragging her chewed gum out of her mouth coyly, “I believe with all my heart that there will be no poverty in America. Who’s with me?”

The modern Marie Antoinette. You raise your hand proudly. Try to get Nancy to raise hers as well but she’s red in the face again. 

“And to conclude,” Somi adds finally, “it should be everyone’s knowledge that there's no law in this beautiful country that says ‘Republic Act Anti-Poor People and Rich People Eating Cake Together Bunch of Numbers.’ I offer dessert for all to help eradicate poor people– I mean, poverty, led by our government and me, Jeon Somi. That will be all, thank you.”

The whole class gets up on their feet and applauds her. Like the princess she is, your blonde friend waves and bows, even blowing kisses. Meanwhile, Sejeong contemplates retirement and realizes she’s actually considering it, salary and all.

-

"You killed it, Somi. You fucking killed it." 

That's what you say to your friend after leaving the classroom with her and Nancy. You mean it—you've never had a belly laugh that rocked your body that hard before. She deserved an A instead of that disappointing C-.

Sejeong’s sitting at her desk with her head in her hands. Somi’s speech was impactful, it seems. So impactful that it has her fingers jotting down a lengthy text message to… the principal? What’s that for? The speech was great!

Your classmates have filed out to go to computer shops or study. They tell Somi she did great with her declamation, which you’re pretty sure is intended to humiliate her, but Jeon Somi only ever thinks of anything said to her as a compliment. That’s why she blows them kisses and flirtatiously cocks her brows. Yep, that’s her. Nancy’s a different story—always quiet and reserved, but daring enough to hold Somi back before she causes more chaos. But the lid of Pandora’s box has already been lifted.

You three are already far behind your classmates when they go out, but you don’t mind. You like it when it’s just you. No computer shop or mall could compare to being in the hallways with your best friends, trading jokes and stories.

"Killed what? Poverty?" Nancy asks, still in a dilemma over the drama in the social studies classroom. "Somi, you really have to start minding your words."

Somi blows a satiric raspberry. She raises her hands in dismissal as she walks faster then turns around anyway to face her. "Blah blah, who cares? It was an awesome declamation."

Chuckle. "I feel like that's up for debate," you say. "Did you see miss Kim's face?"

It was a look of judgment and disappointment. While everyone cheered and whistled for the other half of the McDonie-Jeon duo, your teacher had a look on her face that could be likened to the one you make after smelling something bad. Laughs were passed around the classroom but her eyebrows and squinted eyes etched an expression of real concern. 

"What if someone recorded that?" Nancy says. She has a hand on her shoulder to try and make her see the darker but truthful side. "You could ruin your chances of getting to a good college forever."

In these four walls of the corridor, your heart twists. Right—you only have a few months until you’re done with senior year. That means having to choose a course and college to go to. You didn’t think time would pass by that fast. By then, would you still be friends with Somi and Nancy?

You hope so. You look at their pretty faces and their hands in yours and wish high school would just last forever. You’d choose them over your standing, your popularity, everything. Sure, being friends with them brings inescapable attention, but you’d be fine without it if it means you could still be with them.

You sit down at the bottom step of the staircase. They follow, too. Open your textbook to skim through it, hoping that your stock knowledge for science would suffice.

“Ugh, college schmollege,” Somi says, crossing her legs and throwing her head back. When her pretty face comes back to view it’s mocking your other friend already. "Have you seen student debt? College just makes people poor. How’ll that help with poverty?”

You wonder how Jeon Somi could sound so knowledgeable yet so insensitive at the same time. It’s a feat that couldn’t be done by others. It’s like it’s her trademark: to be the wealthy girl who always says the wrong and right things that therefore blends into one, confusing mixture. Should you be offended? Happy? Anything?

Nancy leans on your shoulder with a sigh that blows the runaway strands on her face back with their kind. Sometimes Somi could be too much for her. It’s like she trades places with you and realizes how a beautiful girl could be a handful. That’s why you two are particularly close: you understand each other. You’re close with Somi, too, but you just have a deeper bond with the calmer girl. You still don’t know how it happened when she hated you at the start for filling her schedule because of your troubles. Some things just change as time goes on. 

“You just can’t be fixed, Somi,” you tell her. “You’re always going to be insane.”

You know you’re right. She knows it, too. It would take years and years of maturity for Somi to grow out of her flirtatious personality. She’d be the girl in college whose laughable questions somehow also awaken strange inquiries of your own. She’s a little weird, to be honest, but she’s pretty and confident. Smart, too—she just has her own way of showing it.

“I’m a simple gal, what can I say?” She stops before she could go on, as if she’s just caught a memory in the slip of her hands. “Oh, and I forgot to do something.”

“And that is?”

Somi lifts a fist and heavily plows it into your crotch. You yowl in pain as opposed to her grin that could reach the ends of the earth. Where did she learn that? That hurt like hell!

Nancy’s jaw drops to the floor. “Somi!” she says, genuinely shocked.

“What the fuck was that for!” you screech in the midst of your laughs, clutching your core and glaring at the convict of the crime which is assaulting your balls.

The fact that the criminal’s too pretty is an unfair advantage. “I did say I was gonna punch your balls earlier.”

“You owe me one, Jeon Somi!” 

“Hey, I wouldn’t have had to do it if McDonie here wasn’t a grody teacher’s pet.”

Nancy blushes. She's forgotten she's involved in the mess, too. “I’m sorry,” she says in a small voice. 

“I bet you are.” Somi shoves her shoulder playfully. “Cause and effect, Nance. C’mon, if you didn’t want to be a good girl so bad, I wouldn’t have declaimed or anything. Not that it wasn’t amazing.”

What a ridiculous conversation to have. You place your arms around both girls and pull them close. “Alright,” you declare, still wincing, “fuck, you’re both at fault. Nancy made a butterfly effect that ended up getting my balls aching. I’m the poor girls’ guy that got pulled into everything. What’re you gonna do about it?”

Somi floats her fingers on her cheek, thinking a little. It’s like a bulb lit above her head when her eyes suddenly brighten. You hope that it’s a good idea this time because when she makes that look, it isn’t for any good at all. 

“Nancy and I will discuss this, if you don’t mind,” she says, rising to her feet and tugging Nancy up, too.

“Me?” 

“Yep!”

She pauses. “Jeon Somi,” the latter sighs halfheartedly, “what are you planning now?”

Yeah, what is she planning? You have no idea and honestly, it scares you. Somi can be unpredictable with her quick wit and schemes, but with Nancy’s added ideas? Whatever she’s dreaming up, it can’t be anything you’d expect.

“The perfect apology. Meet us at my house after school. See you later, cutie.”

-

Your classes are filled with sprites of anxiety that are unusual when compared to your daily jokes and butt-ins. Your head’s filled with plenty of questions, and you try to answer them as you go about the rest of the school day:

First of all, why did the apology have to take place at Somi’s house?

Maybe they’ll buy a cake for you from the bakery she cited in her speech. She has plenty of money to go around so a cake might actually be possible. If it weren’t a cake, maybe an apology combined with balloons and confetti that you’d laugh about years from now. All these possibilities you sift through and yet they don’t seem to be what’s in store for you.

Second, why did the planning that had to occur without you?

They might be planning a big surprise. Perhaps that’s it. But then—

Why such a big surprise for an apology that could’ve been done simply?

That’s where your mind goes blank. You don’t know. You have no idea, not even the tiniest bit. You’ve been friends with Nancy and Somi for years but they still have that mystery around them. You know everything about them, from their interests to what makes the three of you click, but never what they plan to do. That always remains shrouded.

So, when Nancy texts your group chat the plan’s done!!! ♥ ️ be ready & meet us where youre supposed to :), you move like a snail. You take your time playing and talking to other students, buying food from the cafeteria, everything. When you get on the bus to commute from your school to Somi’s home, you’re wrecked by hesitation. All this anxiety and nervousness for a damned apology. 

Maybe it’s because you’ve never had friends like them before, especially that pretty. 

You would never intend to act on your feelings for them if they don’t want you to, even if you’re hormonal as fuck, but what if that’s what they’re planning? To have an intimate night with them, just like in the movies? 

Or, hopefully, finally let you have something deeper: a love that fits three?

Nope, two wishes that’ll never come true, whatever star you make them upon.

Drag your heavy feet down the road. Sounds like Somi’s rich-ass neighbors are partying again. Take your precious time leering at them, noticing the manner they hold their wine glasses and the music only being stolen off Spotify’s Most Popular Songs playlist. It’s all a headache, honestly. You’ve never connected well with rich people, not until you met the girls. That’s where it all starts and ends, right? Them: Somi and Nancy, the yin and yang?

“You’re here!” shouts Somi gleefully, throwing her arms around you. She’s dressed in this tiny shirt that looks cute and simple but you’re sure costs more than a few thousand won. It also shouldn’t be worth that much when it’s too little for her anyway. “Why did you take so long?”

Nancy goes in for the kill. She comes in with only a camisole and the undershorts of her uniform plaid skirt, and it hugs right where it maims and shoots you. No, keep your mind holy. She’s your best friend. Also your crush but that doesn't matter here. “Bet he was scared to come.”

“Was not,” you reply too quickly. Tighten your jaw. “I—I got held up by traffic.”

“It’s a Wednesday.”

“Yes, but—” Pause. You realize you don’t have a proper justification. “Just get to it, will you? The apology?”

“‘Kay ‘kay,” says Somi, wrapping an arm around your waist, literally keeping you at arm’s length just in case you try to scamper away, “the apology is a girls and boy’s night. Here. Just to get away from everything. We all need it.”

“Who’s ordering the soju?”

“Soju?” Nancy asks indignantly, eyes all round and wide like she was a deer caught in headlights. You and Somi are like that to her: flashing lights, crashing into an unsuspecting her with a brightness a notch too much. No apologies when you don’t plan to change. This is what makes you young.

“What’re you, a nun? We’re adults, Nance!” Somi says. Her thumbs tap away at her phone screen, the familiar pink lights flashing back at her indicating she’s already ordering. “It’s on me.”

Of course. Who other than Jeon Somi? Of course, you can’t let that moment slip away without a snarky remark from your end.

“Must be nice having access to your billionaire dad’s bank account.”

Somi twirls her fingers in her hair and squints her eyes at you spitefully. “I’m using my mom’s, poophead.”

“Oh wow,” you reply, your statement blank of any emotion.

“Guys,” cuts in Nancy. Her voice is strained. She feels like a mother trying to contain two kids who just know how to push her buttons. “We can’t have soju delivery. Or beer. Or whatever alcoholic drinks there are. We can get in trouble. Think about our grades. The suspensions!”

Ah, sweet Nancy, always the one to pull you back down to sense. But when has that ever worked?

“Alright.” Somi clicks her device shut and throws it on the sofa space you’ve left empty beside her. “Fine.”

Wait—what?

Her best friend twists her head in shock. “Really?” 

Nancy simply can’t believe that this girl, whose whole trademark is being a spoiled brat, actually follows sensible orders. You're surprised yourself; you can’t believe it more than she does. Is it finally time for Somi to perform her arc of being the mature, behaved girl she simply isn’t?

“Yep. You won.” Somi rises and waltzes her way to the exit of her mansion. “I’m just gonna buy some myself from the convenience store.” 

“Somi!”

“Hey, you only said no delivery! You didn’t say I can’t buy some face-to-face!”

“Well, now I’m making it official. No—”

“See you later, alligators!” 

The door slams shut. 

Nancy groans loudly. Of course, the little brat. 

She lets herself fall to the floor in defeat. The massaging of her fingers on the sides of her head doesn’t do enough to cast away the stress. How in the world is she going to control Somi? She knows the two of you are practically twins, the same in every way when planning schemes to make her freak out. She has to play babysitter again. How many nights has it been since the start of her unpaid duty?

On your end, you're thinking. You’ve been friends with her for longer than you think yet you don’t know how to say the right thing in situations like these. Maybe with Somi it would have been easier to say the comforting words. After all, she’s the most extroverted and blunt person you know. But with Nancy, it’s different. Nancy McDonie is never blue. At least, not to the point where she’s on the floor and moping.

It’s always different between the two of them and you still remain unable to pick who you love more.

It takes a while to get the words out, but better late than never. God, you’re such a bad friend. Do you even deserve her? “It’s fine, Nancy,” you say, sitting down beside her. You rub her knee. “Like she said, we’re adults.”

“I know, but…” Her voice trails off, and she lets out another groan that twists as it reaches your eardrums. “It’s just so scary.”

“Tell me.”

“What if someone posted photos of us drinking? You know the school handbook, right? All that talk about maintaining a good and clean self inside and outside the school. If someone finds out—”

"Yeah? Well, nobody will."

"Yeah, but there's always the possibility…"

You sometimes pray that Nancy's allowed a day without worry, that she doesn't stress over things for once. She's precious—you don't want her to feel bad about anything. This strange protectiveness always takes you when you're with her. 

“Hey.” You massage her shoulder. She whines, and it’s so cute hearing her unusual sulking that you just want to wrap a blanket around her and kiss her on the forehead. Again, urges. Simply urges. Don’t mind those. “There’s only three of us here. As long as we don’t post pics online or boast about it, we’re safe. So don’t worry about it.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Not when you’re with a dreamboat like me.”

You just humiliated yourself with that. Hell, you probably gave everyone who knows and will know this story of yours secondhand embarrassment. It’s worth it all, however, when Nancy smiles. And oh, could you get lost in it. Her eyes curl up at the corners and emit all this gorgeous, positive brightness that you think everyone should get a chance to see. She’s so serious and reserved in school that a smile from her is closer to impossible than thunder coming before lightning.

“God, you’re such a gigantic ass sometimes,” she mutters, bumping your shoulder with hers.

“Did you just say I had a huge ass?”

“Keep your mouth shut.” She pushes you, joining you in your laughs, then opens her arms invitingly anyway. “Oh, forget it. Come here, you.”

You can’t even pretend to not want a hug when it’s all you’ve ever fantasized about: being in the warm, filled embrace of Nancy McDonie. You’ve fantasized about things that extend deeper than that, but you could settle for this. There’s Nancy burying her head in your neck and her hold being a little too tight for it to be a casual touch between friends. You’re delusional, but who wouldn’t be when you had a best friend this pretty? This… curvaceous?

God, you don’t know how to say that you like this girl without sounding like another one of the weirdos who stalk her at school. Are you just like them? No, you can’t be. You’ve liked Nancy and known her more than they could. It’s what you tell yourself to keep your sanity. 

“You know,” she says, still rocking the two of you side to side, “they did say not to trust first impressions. ‘You better take advice. Never trust first impressions.’”

“Didn’t Michael Jordan say that?” 

“Did he?” She looks up curiously. 

“Never mind,” you say, waving it off. You pull away. Lean against the curve of Somi’s sofa so that your ass doesn’t slide like a mop on her floor. "What’s with first impressions? What was your first impression of me?”

“You really want to know?”

“Why not?”

“Well, for the first reason…” Nancy hugs her knees and looks at you pointedly. “Not a lot of people would love to know that they were a real fucking pain in the ass.”

You burst out laughing. There’s chances as slim as a ballerina that Nancy curses, but when she does, she sounds hilarious. She doesn’t even say them a certain way; it’s just the instance by itself of her daring to use words deemed as bad that gets your tears of laughter flowing. 

To add to that, there’s that matter-of-fact statement she made that’s as honest as Somi’s everyday talk that makes you think they switched souls for a second. You laugh harder with that in mind. The next thing you know, you’re curled up on the floor busting out cackles that reach pitches you can’t even shout in.

“Seriously!” she says. She’s laughing as well as she shakes her head in disbelief. “I was always trying to keep the seniors in place, you know, being president and everything. And then I found out this new kid just spammed middle finger emojis to sir Fernandez in the Zoom chat after he made him answer a question. And I was like, ‘Hooo boy.’”

“Well, he shouldn’t have called on me while I was playing a game!”

“You’re so immature, he’s a teacher and you’re in class! He’s supposed to do that!” Nancy squeals, a hand on her mouth to muffle her rambunctious cackles.

“Fine, fair point.” You somehow manage to make a successful attempt to halt your laughs. “And then what happened?”

There's a lot of secret lore between you and her. You want to uncover all of them, especially knowing that Somi's gonna tease you to hell about if she heard. Her getting soju was a blessing underneath another blessing—you got alone time with your crush and some nice alcohol to ignite your system.

Nancy looks around at her friend's house. She admires every perfect painting bought for millions, every chandelier that mistletoes whoever stands beneath all its glory. They help her form her next statement.

"To be honest," she says, choosing her words carefully, "I thought you were in it to blackmail money out of Somi. To manipulate her. I love the girl, you know. She acts like she's all that, and she is, but she's… fragile. So I never let her be alone with you."

"Damn.” You admit that your heart sank a little, like a ship doomed by the ocean. “Am I really an ugly creep?" 

"No, it wasn't that. I was just afraid you were a player. Like one of the jocks who bully Somi but don't ever get to her because she's too naïve to see that they're doing it. And you're not ugly, you know. You're…"

She's looking at you strangely, in that strategic little way she locks on artwork flashed in a Powerpoint from a projector in school. She's looking at you as if you were a complex, layered painting she couldn't wrap her head around. But being unable to pick you apart thrills her; there's a smile on her face.

"I'm what?" you ask, ever the dumbass. Or poophead—you take whatever.

"Don't make me say it. You're so full of yourself already."

"Respectfully, Nancy,” you declare, “I have no idea what you're saying. How can I when I didn't even know what a dodo was before eleventh grade?"

"You're handsome, okay?" Her cheeks get into this furious red color that she tries miserably to hide with her palms, hide with a dismissive laugh. "Good-looking. Attractive. Whatever."

Chew at the end of your lip to fight back a giddy grin. Did she really say that? A star out there in the looming night just granted your wish. "Well, you gave me the makeover back at Jessa's."

"Look at you being the patron saint of humility."

"I'm serious. I looked like a loser before you came in like a storm and rained that magic in my life."

“And now you’re Shakespeare.”

“When a girl like you comes into a guy’s life,” you say, leaning forward, “who wouldn’t be?”

"Well." Nancy huddles her chin into her palm. Her voice is as soft as cotton. "With a guy like you, you could say I never looked back."

But her voice dips, and there's a hidden subliminal message in it that causes you to look up. You could read it clear off her face there, off Nancy, off her soul that's never looked more clear.

Nancy, with her chestnut brown hair, ever the princess of autumn.

Nancy, with her comforting eyes full of resoluteness, as if she's wanted this to happen.

Nancy, with her lips barely a breath away from—

“Who the freak locked the door?” shrieks a familiar voice from outside. Well, not too outside when its volume closes in on the interior vicinity of the large mansion. “This is my house! Let me in or else I’ll call the cops—”

Sigh. Fucking cockblocker brat. You rise from the floor and approach the doorway. This time, you spare no time—you don’t want to look back and identify the look in Nancy’s eyes as you walk away.

“Calm down, the neighbors could hear you,” you laugh as you let the blonde girl in. You’re a little disappointed that she interrupted what was beginning to happen, but there’s time for that later. Can’t spare her an annoyed look, though. It melts when you see the cans of beer in plastic bags.

Nancy takes a bag from her sullenly. “No drinking past twelve.”

“No promises.” Empty a can into your open mouth. Somi claps her hands happily and almost drops all the alcohol she bought.

You help the girls stock the cans and bottles into the fridge. It’s the large, two-door one that could fit an entire person. Wait, it can contain all of you three? You’ve been to Somi’s so many times and only noticed it now. 

But that’s the last thing you take note of, for here's what's new: ice cream overflows Somi’s freezer, yet a lot of them haven’t even had a crumb consumed from them. Somi says it’s because she keeps them for cheat days. 

“Is today considered a cheat day?” you wonder out loud.

“Go crazy.” Indifferent, Somi gives you a tub each. Chocolate. Vanilla. Double dutch for her. “It’s not like Walmart’s gonna disappear unless the aliens come to Earth and have the bright idea to go wacka over there. Nope, Walmart’s always gonna have some more.”

“Aren’t you the best, Somi.” Ruffle her hair fondly while you scoop a humongous chunk of ice cream into your mouth. Alcohol and ice cream are delicious together, but your stomach turns around. It strangely stays intact, as if preparing for what might happen later tonight.

“Of course I am, are you buggin' or what?” 

Somi licks the spoon of its sweetness, staring right at you. You don’t know how to react—her tongue’s gliding all over the utensil perfectly, collecting the studded white with nothing but clean performance. Her eyes don’t let up in their strong, connected gaze. Your breath gets lost somewhere in your airway.

Nancy watches amusedly. Okay, so maybe she does smile more than you think—it’s unlike any other one though. This one of hers is lined to the edges with smugness. “There’s our princess,” she remarks.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The spoon catches somewhere sandwiched between Somi’s words. 

Nancy shrugs with a serene calmness. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

She walks away without another word or gesture. Suddenly tense in the bones, you and Somi close up together for reasons unknown.

“Is that just me being majorly freaky,” says Somi, eyes following her best friend with a new, imminent gaze, “or was that kinda hot?”

You don’t answer, but you think she knows. The two of you bond over shared experiences, and this one is about finding out how hot Nancy McDonie truly is. It’s not an unknown fact, but it’s the way her pupils settle over someone and linger just long enough to have them wondering; the way she commands a classroom; the way she rarely is vulnerable—it’s all that which leads to the very moment she leaned against the fridge door and watched silently, attracting the two of you even without the need for many words.

You’re droning again. Drowning, too, in her. In both of them—as you walk behind Somi, you can see that there isn’t a bra strap lining an imprint on her shirt and her ass is sticking out under her shorts. You barely could get yourself out of the waves as you wade your way to the stairs. 

At least that’s a familiar high place you could seek refuge from: the loft. It’s kind of like an attic, but you don’t really care. It’s where you hang out and watch all the movies with them from a crappy projector. You don’t care about the films due to your conversations with them eventually proving to be more interesting.

“Roof?” Somi asks. She peeks out of the triangular window pane. “The stars are pretty tonight.”

Never been there before. Not that you aren’t willing to try. “Just don’t fall off,” you warn, though you’re nervous yourself to get there. 

She slides a chair to you and then you’re climbing through a square-shaped gap at the low ceiling. You help the girls up onto the roof and become literally starstruck because—

Whoa.

Feels like a different world. The night is as vast as it is beautiful. Shining lights are embedded into the sky, the gray clouds barely visible with how they blend in with the color of the atmosphere. Each star has their own glimmer, but all of which share a common brightness—when partnered up with that large, pot-bellied moon, they become more perfect. The soft yet distinct sounds of the cicadas echo in your ears.

“Will anyone see us up here?” asks Nancy. Her vision is filled with shining galaxies, and her tone sounds dreamy. She says it in a way that isn’t out of concern for possible consequent trouble, but an appreciative one, as if she were wondering if anybody else could see how pretty it is up here.

“No one.” You shut the trapdoor and sit upon the curved edges of the roof. “It’s just us.”

“It’s just us,” she repeats this thoughtfully. You think that she’s smiling again, but you can’t be too sure.

Yes, it’s just you three. This intimate moment includes only you and the girls who turned your life around. Nobody else could get to bask in the simple happiness of hanging out all the way up here. This is for you, and no one else. Nobody could ever be friends with the girls the way you are.

You three take in the beauty of the night. All the way up here, the hills look higher than they already are. The sound of partying neighbors becomes static in the background. It becomes like foreign words in an uninteresting song—it’s nothing in comparison to the view of sloping roads, tall homes, and the trees swaying to the beat of the night wind. It can try its best to break your immersion and every attempt would be fruitless.

“Care for some double dutch?” Somi asks you. She juts out her tub of half-eaten chunks of ice cream. Appealing.

“As long as you don’t use the spoon you gave a blowjob to.”

Nancy snickers. She shoves your knee in reprimand, taking care not to put in so much force so you don’t topple down the roof and onto the main road. 

“I’ll give BJs to any spoon I want, thank you very much, but alright. Do what you want. No ice cream for you, more for me.”

“I could go for some.” Nancy parts her lips.

“Glad to see we still have someone with a brain around here.” Somi shakes her head at you disapprovingly.

You squint your eyes while she feeds Nancy some double dutch. Note dutifully that she uses the same spoon she violated. Well, that’s one thing you didn’t expect. But they’re best friends—they’ve been there for each other through thick and thin, bad and good. Sometimes simple gestures like that show that there’s something in the midst of them that beats mere friendship.

But then you see the way they look at you, and you’re briefly toying with the idea that whatever they have, they got it with you, too.

“I still remember the first time we brought you here,” Somi says, leaning in front of you so she can get to wiping some cream from Nancy’s lips. “You tried to act cool, but you were really starstruck. Like the house was Zendaya’s or something.”

“I guess so.” You freeze up when she holds your hand. “I mean, I’m not exactly the richest.”

You think of your own house—sweet little place with a tall tree and a low gate, nothing special—then compare it to hers: a mansion with six floors and rooms that could substitute for hotel clients. Nancy’s is amazing, too. But you don’t really care about that. It’s a whole other thing that bothers you about it.

Nancy shakes her head. “Doesn’t matter. You’re our friend. We’ll share it with you as much as you want.”

You’re finally able to name the thing. For months you’ve thought about it, but you never realized until this moment that it’s exactly what keeps you insecure about your friendship with them. That’s another thing they make you find out, besides style and bond.  

“Yeah, I get it. But, but I’m a loser. I was a punk who made school life hell for you. I’m broke. Stupid. I don’t get what made you want to be friends with me.”

Maybe you're like Somi, too. You act like a king in school with a red carpet draped down on the floor for you, but you fear that your crown is undeserved. Sometimes you feel like you're a peasant deluded by dreams of status and strength.

“Besides you being stupidly hot,” Somi says, albeit sincerely—there’s no sarcasm or flirtatiousness in her pitch, “you’re not in it for the cash. You’re not in it just to say you’re besties with us.”

“And trust me,” adds Nancy, “that makes you a prodigy among others.”

They're right. You aren't in it for the popularity, the fame, not even the everyday free treats and outings you get. You just… like them. Somi's bright confidence inspires you; you've never seen a girl more self-aware than her. And Nancy's someone who takes her studies seriously, an example you should follow, while still maintaining a social life. 

"What makes you so sure?" you say teasingly. They might've had some doubts along the way. 

"I dunno," Somi says with a shrug. Her eyes curve north. "We just are."

They just are. Short and simple, but it somehow explains everything.

Stars in the sky, stars in their eyes—they’re truly something else. Shouldn’t they be up there themselves? They glimmer too bright to be left here on earth, with a guy like you who can’t hold a flame to them.

But maybe you’re one yourself. Stars only ever mingle with their own kind. So there's the possibility that the three of you are stardust, simmered onto this world to shine in other places where they need it. It’s a laughable way to put it, almost cliche. But when you look at them, you realize you’re not far off.

"And I guess we know a lot more about you than we think." Nancy twirls her fingertips along your thigh. "Because we want to show we're grateful. And, y'know, sorry for the ruckus we caused back there."

"You already have. The soju, the ice cream… I'm already good."

She smiles. "You really don't get it, do you?"

Your mind can't keep up. What don't you get here? 

Somi leans forward and flashes you a smile that raises your suspicions. "You're completely clueless. Like, if it danced in front of you in a housewife apron, you would still order your dumb poophead ass some chicken wings."

"What? Why the hell would a hint be wearing an apro—"

You don't know why or how, but she's kissing you like you got the point she's been pushing across.

Now you do.

-

"Call this… a friend's sincere apology."

Somi's pushed you down on the old mattress of the loft, with a new look on her face that tells you tonight would be everything you expected and didn't.

"Two friends' sincere apology," adds Nancy. Her shorts are off? You didn't notice in the dark, but you can make out the supple shape of her hips and thighs, full and meaty in all the right ways. "Question is: would you let us do it?"

Your answer is locked and loaded in your throat. Can't pull the trigger when her ass muffles your face.

Alright, perhaps—just perhaps, you aren't saying it's real—you've devoted a few seconds of your time appreciating when the wind picks up her skirt at school. You tried not to be perverted because, of course, she's your friend. Your best friend.

A best friend doesn't push hers down a mattress with the weight of her core on his face. She doesn't let him feel her full cheeks suffocate him, or start to move like she would please a lover.

So what are you and Nancy when she's doing each of those things? 

Definitely not just friends.

"Fuck." The word leaves Nancy's mouth like a prayer. She doesn't pray often, but she religiously grinds her hips to and fro on top of you. The flat of your tongue massages her labia and tickles her prone clit. She's so wet that your lips quickly become coated. She looks back and moves her ass with stressed slides. "Your mouth is so good. So fucking good."

"Already?" Somi chuckles. She's not just your best friend either; her thighs hug one of yours and, like the girl she's always seen giggling and whispering with, she's grinding. Her movements are admittedly more fluid, but who's keeping note? "You talk real dirty for a prude."

Your pants slide off your legs as she finds the bare skin more appealing than denim. You flex and send a moan from her so carnal it might have literally clawed its way out of her throat. It's sharp. Needy. Wanton. Somi doesn’t speak like the rich princess she is when she moans for cock.

"I'm not a prude," Nancy says. Her breath is tinged to the tone with air. She's gasping as you tongue her and lick at her lips. "I just like being chaste."

"Please, sweetheart, you're aaanything but chaste."

"S-says the one who's sucking him off."

Both girls have mouths on them. Somi in particular. It's word-for-word how her lips trap your cock and start off with a strong suction. You moan right into Nancy's pussy. Said girl cries out when your lips strengthen their merciless suction on her pearl.

If you were to consider everything like a butterfly effect, you'd say Somi started it all: the sucking and moans. She's the one who's massaging your cock with those pink lips, effectively causing you to lose control and take it all out on Nancy. Poor Nancy, always the one to take it all. Now it's for good; she's squeezing her breasts and riding your mouth like a saddle. 

"Blowjobs don't count!" Somi quips. You moan again; the tip of her tongue toys with your balls. It's like she lit a fire there no wetness can put out. (Well, you still have to see about that.) "We'll show him how real good girls say sorry later. You know what I mean, right, babe?"

That fucked nickname does things to you, even if it's not meant for you, because it foretells the sight you have to fight to see with Nancy's back blocking it: Somi placing her hands on her best friend's hips and guiding her movements on your mouth. 

"Y-yes." You're surprised at how submissive Nancy sounds. So different from the commanding tone she assumes in morning assemblies. 

You didn’t expect you’d be in this position. Another thing you didn’t expect was how wet Nancy is, and how she tastes. She’s tangy yet sweet, filling your mouth like a new favorite flavor. She also moans a lot, which is strange when she doesn’t really talk much outside of this setting. You’ve changed her, too. Just not in the way like she did taking you to Jessa’s. No, this is your way: keeping her drenched little pussy filled with a soft muscle that’s hard enough to have her legs shaking. 

"That's right. Move that fat ass for him." Somi sits on the side with one hand on one side of Nancy's waist and another on your cock. She jerks you off hard, with a grip that's both too tight and too good. "Your nipples are sooo hard, Nancy. Just a hunch of mine, but I think you want me to suck on them. Make you cum on his handsome face."

Precum dribbles from your cockhead. How could Somi, the girl who speaks in coy accents, talk so filthy? She knows the time and place for that mouth, and it's right now and on Nancy's waiting breast.

Your length goes through bouts of impossible tightness induced by Somi's fist while your mouth (gladly) suffers another burden, which is Nancy's pussy and ass gyrating down on you. Your tongue doesn't know where to go so it goes everywhere: licking a wet line on her slit, diving into her drenched hole, teasing her clit. Nancy's thighs slam with your head in between. 

"Fuck!" Her moans are straight up pornographic. "Oh, oh, it feels so good, don't stop!"

Somi runs a teasing finger on your slit, keeping the heat in one place before resuming having her palm wrap your dick. "Who says we're stopping? Yep, nobody. Just keep moving those hips, lovie. We still got so much to give him."

You didn't think it was possible, but yes. Nancy does sprawl out more, her outed pussy lips all puffy and sore from your doings. You’re ruining her with how you lick and let her push down. Her core must be strong for her to keep a good stance in the midst of it all.

It’s not like you’re left out. Somi’s to thank for that, with her hand not stopping as it pumps and pumps and pumps. The pace is dangerous like a feared waterfall that’s got signs telling travelers to be wary around it. She pulled you into it. It isn’t that you wanted to suffer under the rapidity when you feel comfortable with the descent and rise.

"Ah. Ahhh, please!" 

Nancy never begs. She's above that, just like she is with everything else. But listen to her pleas and begs for more, for you to keep licking and sucking at the right places, for your hands not to pause in their journeys roaming the land of her perfect, curvy body. 

Somi spanks her, and you quite literally feel her cheeks bounce in your face. You'd actually be okay with going out this way. Heaven could be found in Nancy's full ass.

Oh, right, and Somi’s hand. You’ve never taken Somi as the kind to get around a lot even when she acts overly sexual sometimes, but she must have learned those skills somewhere. Her hand is neither too tight nor too loose—it’s just the perfect grip for you to almost cum into her fingers. She’s determined to wring a climax out of you, too, with how harsh she slams her hand down on your core.

It’s a cycle of pleasure that has no means of ending. With Somi fingering herself, you getting the best handjob you’ve ever had, and Nancy having her pussy eaten out, none of you are left to waste away. It’s sin, that’s what it is. It’s an act that, if anyone had caught sight of, would have guaranteed a swift suspension—maybe even the chance of getting expelled.

But in this warm moment, all of you forget about that. Even Nancy has that off her mind when all she’s thinking about is your tongue delightfully fucking her wet hole. 

“I’m… I’m cumming!” she wails. Her riding on your face spirals out of control, and again and again you’re blessed with her ass suffocating you. 

It’s too much for one girl to take: a mouth going crazy on her pussy and another doing the same, if not crazier, on her tit. Your sucks and Somi’s own increasing when she announces her imminent bliss doesn’t help her case either. But maybe it does—she’s never felt this good. Whenever she secretly, scandalously toyed with her pussy under the covers at night, none of those porn videos and literotica made her cum as hard as you and Somi have. It feels like a large bubble has burst inside her when she finally releases, tensing up and freezing similar to if a frostbitten cold finally took its last toll on her.

She sighs heavily while she comes down. Her thighs shake and you have to pin them down the creaky mattress to keep eating of her. She shudders and pushes you down. You stop, like she hinted.

“You alright, Nancy?” You remember Somi asking a similar question earlier, in a situation that’s nothing compared to this. Yep, far from it. A continent away. You weren’t eating her out like a last meal in the classroom, were you?

Well, you would have wanted to if you’d discovered prior that her ass is really as nice as it looks.

“Yes,” she replies weakly. 

You’re glad.

“I might have to try and get you to eat me out, too,” Somi says to you. She helps Nancy to get off your face after you got her off. “She was screaming, did you hear? You’d think somebody was like getting killed and– oh, wait, of course you couldn’t hear. Her thighs are just the perfect things to have wrapped around your head, right?”

Nancy blushes and looks away..

“But I think we should take the lead." Somi stops jerking you off. What quickly washes away your disappointment is when she takes her shirt off. "We’re the ones giving back.” 

The recoil of her large chest is amazing; it rises as it’s hindered by the tight hem of her clothing, and settles back into its natural position after she rids herself of the fabric. Her rosy nipples are things work gawking at; they’re as stiff and hard as diamonds, telling you of how much she wants this. And you think you’ve seen a few of Somi’s diamonds she could purchase a whole mine of, but you’d still have a desire similar to the blonde’s: you want her more.

“I’ve seen you looking at them. Don’t pretend and go all ‘oh nooo, that’s not true.’” She gives her own gifted bosom a firm grope. Her head throws back due to the pleasure. “You stare all the time. It makes me kinda assume that you want me to do something with them.”

“And what could that be?” you ask in a futile attempt to match her cockiness. Should’ve known that it’s a losing game trying to beat Jeon Somi in being a brat. It’s a god-given gift, a skill that needs no honing. She’s just like that.

“Duh. Like I said, I’ll show, not tell. This isn’t primary school.”

She shows a hefty amount, you’ll tell her that. Your mouth falls out at what happens. She takes her tits into her hands and leans down to envelope your cock in them. She seals it tight around your girth. 

Fuck.

She then starts to move. Up and down she goes, toying with her nipples on the way. It makes her core more drenched than it already is.

She’s the master of eye contact. She picked it up with her natural confidence. Why do you think she walks the hallways with a gaze that’s only directed straight ahead? Talks to new kids like she already knows them? She’s never seen weak, and tonight is no exception. Her fierce eyes speak of lust and strength of knowing she’s having her way. 

Jeon Somi always gets what she wants.

Again, this time is no exception. 

“Fuck, Somi…” you say in quiet groans. 

Someone needs to pinch you. This can’t be real. Never did you think what you’ve been dreaming would actually come true. The nights you touch yourself to the frequent sight of her tits practically bursting out of her uniform, you think of this same exact thing. You think of using her breasts like a toy, and now you’re experiencing it for real.

Perhaps one of the stars out there really took one for the team and granted two of your wishes at the same time.

Are you in wonderland? The movement of her tits provide a solid pace that’s hard to keep up with. Its warm, slick embrace has you on the edge of the mattress. You don’t ever want to run away from this feeling. It’s slick and tight yet rough, giving you a pleasure that’s confusing just as it is enjoyable.

“How’re you doing there?”

“I like it. More than like,” you breathe. Swallow what’s already been said.

Somi’s tits are a dream. They might as well have been made out of clouds with how soft they are, even when hugging your dick. You see yourself disappear between them and moan. Look up at Somi and see her seductively bite her lip; moan harder. Who knew all that barky flirtatiousness had a bite to them?

“Really?” she asks. She stops for a regretful moment to slap your cock against the side of her boob. The curve of your length heats up. “Couldn’t have guessed.”

She resumes, and you couldn’t be more thankful. The friction is everything to live for, and you’re a man who’s had no wish to die. Somi’s pale chest, guided by her hands trapping your cock between the massiveness in front of you, propels you to a close orgasm.

You switch your focus briefly to Nancy. She hums from afar. You notice that her fingers are in between her legs. She’s enjoying it as much as you are. “Could you stop being a brat for like, one second?” she chuckles, though it twists between her moans.

She’s sitting on the floor with her well-eaten pussy splayed to welcome her digits, and they definitely are welcome visitors. Her mouth is open though no more words come out.

“What? He likes it.” Somi jumps the pace to a rapidity you cry out for, and smiles that smile. The smile she only does when she’s doing or will be doing something she shouldn’t be. Explains a lot—if you two were just best friends, she wouldn’t be titfucking you. “And this is an apology, right? I’m saying sorry for punching him in the balls.”

“God,” you laugh out loud in spite of it all. “If this is the way you apologize, I’d have you punch my balls everyday.”

“I could do that. Say your apologies, too, Nancy. The way you’ll know he likes it.”

It’s as if she made your wet dream and worst nightmare come true. Can you even take more? It’s a question that apparently is disregarded of its answer; Nancy crawls over to the edge of the old, discarded mattress to suck on your swollen balls whenever Somi’s tits rise. 

They’re arsonists, and your whole body is the unfortunate victim. Although they attend only to your crotch except for the here-and-there brushes on your stomach and legs, your toes and arms burn. Somi and Nancy are sending heat waves everywhere. You twist and turn and propel and cry—none of those banish it. And it’s for the better because you’ve never felt closer to paradise.

You have to groan loudly. It can’t be muffled when the sensations are coming at you all at the same time. You can feel Nancy’s tongue dragging its edge along your sensitive flesh and her friend’s tits bouncing around you; see the two students’ sultry looks never breaking; hear one girl’s grunts as she fucks you with her bosom and the other’s moans; touch the mane of Nancy’s autumn hair to pull her deeper into your crotch; taste an orgasm that couldn’t really just come now when it’s this close—

“Oh shit, fuck!” The most senseless of curses come out of you after Somi’s titjob provokes a messy, violent orgasm. You’d be more coherent than that if she were letting up. Not possible when she doesn’t; she keeps bouncing up and down to jerk your cock off with her deep cleavage.

Somi hums delightfully at the never ending spray of cum on her tits. Nancy stops suckling harshly at your left testicle in order for her to be able to do it instead to the rod beside it. 

“Nancy, fuck, so good—” you say, hissing as your hips rise up.

You’re inadvertently facefucking her like this. Your hips move with their own will. They push up hard into Nancy’s beautiful lips. She in turn reacts with spontaneous downward drives of her head, welcoming you into her tight throat and letting you savor her mouth.

Somi fixes the girl’s hair into a ponytail of brown. She could see the bulge you’re making on her throat. She nods her on whenever Nancy looks at her with hesitation, and rubs your thigh to get your sensitivity levels to an all-time peak. She certainly got what she wanted and expected, as per usual, for you’re moaning with the tone of someone who gets paid to do it; shivering though it’s anything but cold here in this loft that’s gotten warm for other reasons besides the fireplace.

Nancy gags as she pulls away. Now she’s poured on by the white rain, too; some get into her hair while the others find a landing place on her shirt. God, that must have been expensive. You’re not here to make reparations, just to remind yourself; this is for you. They gave you this opportunity.

However, your heart pumps with anxiety hearing Nancy hack and cough. You quickly get to the floor, knees shaking on the way. “Hey,” you start, with a thumb on her chin, “you want to keep going?”

It doesn’t look like it for a second, but then those beautiful dark eyes connect with yours and suddenly all the discomfort is away. She smiles.“Y-yeah!” she says with a half-giggle. “All okay here.”

“Awesome.” Somi pats her back repeatedly and strokes her hair. “I was beginning to think I wouldn’t get you to suck on my tits.”

You look at said tits and gulp. Yeah, that beautiful chest covered with your release is tempting to be gawked at. But still, time and place even for jokes. Nancy’s about to have a goddamned asthma attack.

“You are so out of line sometimes,” you say to Somi disapprovingly. 

“It’s alright.” Nancy grins. Wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Nobody said apologies weren’t hard to do.”

The look of defiance and mischief softens on Somi’s face. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I’m sure he won’t mind, right, oppa?”

“Yeah,” you butt in, something you would have done even without Somi’s jab at your shin. Dear god, is the girl a bodybuilder in disguise or something? That hurt almost as much as the punch to your balls. “Nancy, I appreciate it and everything, but if you want to back out—”

Look, this is everything you wished for. You wanted to have intimate moments with them probably since  just a few months before the friendship was sealed. They’re beautiful girls, and you love Nancy especially closely. However, if they want to stop, you have to. Not to become a white knight or anything, but that’s natural law. You don’t force anybody into it.

“It’s okay, seriously.” Nancy’s relieving words now pass more smoothly through her lips. “Are you liking it so far?”

Alright, another thing to analyze. What else is there to answer? “Yes” is a painfully obvious reply to her question. You’ve had her ass on your face and Somi’s tits screwing an orgasm out of you. This is what wet dreams are made of, except that the white leak doesn’t end up on the fabric of your sheets anymore. 

It ends up on Somi’s amazing chest. Any man would die to catch sight of them. They’re round and full, settling at the perfect position whenever she breathes while covered from areola to nipple with your sticky load. Your semen even slides down to her midriff. You’re more convinced that she’s a bodybuilder—for this, it’s more obvious: her abs are hard and firm. You’ve worked out a lot and have not once gotten to that point of solidness.

Your cock can’t say the same.

“I loved it. You?”

“I liked it, and, and I—” 

“You want to answer him, brunette-ie?” Somi asks mockingly, swirling white on her collarbone. Yet another wonder to gawk at.

“That doesn’t work for other hair colors,” points out Nancy with a giggle.

“It does when I say so.”

Nancy tilts her head. Her smile suddenly doesn’t look too playful anymore. “Not everything’s gonna go your way tonight, blondie.”

“Is that so?” Somi curls her hair from her shoulders and tilts that pretty little head they hold. “Because if I have to say it again, McDonie, it’s—”

Nancy knows there’s no point arguing with her. It’s not the right occasion today. Fortunately, she has better ways of making Somi shut up.

It’s not completely shutting her up when all it does is make her create more noises. These are more pleasant to the ears in comparison. When Nancy attaches her pretty lips to her best friend’s tit, Somi’s words freeze in midair. You could see all her brattiness melt drop by drop. Her eyes are wide and she lets out a whimper. 

If your cock was flaccid already from the raunchy sex (because you started it all off with a bang, literally,) it isn’t now. It perks up hard upon seeing the most beautiful girls you know engaging in such obscene acts. Nancy’s already shown you how talented her mouth is, but she’s only hanging the knowledge out for everyone to see with how she cleans Somi’s right breast of your cum. The nipple she performs on is stiff, and she takes special care in gently guiding her teeth along it. 

“Fuck,” Somi says, voice breathy. All those little signs—her breathing shortening whenever Nancy dares to suckle a little bit harsher, bite a little harder; her legs suddenly shaking and weakening—lead you to a conclusion: they’ve done this before. Whether for rehearsal for this moment or for just mere curiosity, it’s hot nevertheless.

“Now will you shut that dirty mouth up?” Nancy uses that exact voice in the classroom, and hearing her use it in this moment makes her sound so much sexier. Gone is the passive prude that she is (or is pretending to be? That voice can’t be birthed from just leadership skills)—she knows how to put a brat in her place.

“If you think,” says Somi, with a laugh that’s too pitchy to be genuine in its sarcasm, “that sucking my boobs’ll make me a good little bitch, then you’re wrong.”

Is Nancy wrong? Probably. Somi’s the most defiant, outspoken girl you know. Nothing has stopped her from getting her way. You bet if Armageddon came into reality and all the world went to shit, Somi would be commanding the demons to get her a pumpkin spice latte and the angels to call her a limo.

“So you don’t want to be good and get on his cock?” 

Nancy stands up. You’re once again reminded of the eternally truthful fact that her ass is amazing. She shimmies it on your cock, slipping it between her cheeks but never really allowing penetration, and afterwards starts to bounce her butt beautifully for you. 

You can’t help but run your hands all over the perfect fat thing. You  lift the cheeks to let them ripple photogenically as they settle down, going as far as well to give her a few spanks. You’re lost in this sex-filled dream. You’re in a coma seeing the too-good-to-be-true ass of Nancy McDonie.

Somi twitches her mouth to one side. “I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t want to feel his big fat cock inside you,” and Nancy’s more dangerous than you think—she takes your cock and starts to tease its head on her lips and asshole, “and really get a taste of how he stretches you out?”

You bite your lip, enjoying what she’s doing to you and Somi. Your other friend has never looked more needy—large, rabbit eyes peer jealously at Nancy getting to have you for herself. Or is it the other way around? The looks she gives Nancy’s drenched pussy and your solid cock are equally full of hunger. 

“You want to answer, blondie?” An echoed statement, but it doesn’t lose its effect on Somi.

Nancy smirks. She’s a natural-born leader, often managing to fight her way to be in charge. It isn’t the same for the other, who’s been raised to have everything her heart desires. Right now, seeing you hint to fucking her best friend is making her needy. Really needy. She wants you for herself, too.

Nancy shrugs at Somi’s continued refusal to answer. “Suit yourself,” she says. She twists around to face you and commands, in a loud whisper, “I want it in my ass, oppa.”

“No!” Somi finally breaks. Her cheeks are pink. “I mean, like, not yet. Fine. Whatever, f-fine, I’ll be good. Just let me have him, too.”

“That’s more like it.” Nancy kisses her, a feat that has you blushing regardless of you not being the recipient of that gesture. “He and I can do that later.”

Somi scrambles to her feet the second Nancy leaves your lap. With no hesitation whatsoever, she plops herself down on you, filling herself to the hilt all at once. Her toned back is turned, but you can paint a picture of her face as she moans. Her mouth parts widely to cry out, and you could imagine her staring at the black insides of her eyelids as the wonderful filling results in getting her to see stars.

“Ohhh my god,” she drawls out. Her legs shake. “You were gonna fill your ass with something this big?”

You reach up from behind her to squeeze her tits. You can’t believe your dick had the chance to feel them before you did—they could do a role as stress balls; they’re soft, large, and you’d love to squeeze them any time of the day. Yep, also on the times you aren’t stressed in the first place. That’s how perfect Somi’s alluring breasts are.

Her pussy is the main attraction to all of this, however. She’s obviously so turned on—her wetness is like an avalanche of need on your cock for it floods your shaft without the need for an orgasm. Not that you aren’t gonna give it to her. When her pussy’s this snug and warm, this wet and tight, how are you going to do anything but make her cum?

You start to hump her rabidly. Your hips send her bouncing up and down on your lap, making it so that whatever happens, her starting point and ending point is always your cock. Somi’s moans cut and break into emphasized cries. In your hands, her tits make gravity look so appealing; they bob high in the air and rest heavily into your palms. There’s always a sharp rebound, a sharp cry from her. Her moans just make fucking your school’s signature brat a five-star experience.

“What did I tell you? I’m not a prude,” Nancy replies smugly. She spreads Somi’s legs to the point that she’s technically doing a split on your dick. “I also know how to suck on this little nub right here. Like I did to your big tits, remember?”

At first, Somi doesn’t get what she means. But then Nancy licks quickly at her vulnerable clit, and she understands it fully. “F-fuck, Nancy unnie!” she cries out.

She tenses up in your lap. As an effect, she gets impossibly tighter. You fight it with sharp thrusts, but she always ends up closing around you. You pierce her tightening walls and find that no amount of wetness and slick could get her to part her walls. 

“‘Unnie’?” Nancy licks up and down. In the face of it all the run of her voice remains gentle. You splay Somi’s pussy lips to help her out. “You never call me that. Do I have to suck your clit everyday to get you to have some manners?”

Oh, but Somi can’t be taught manners. Just a few licks around and on her bundle of nerves has her forgetting to use a proper inside voice. It’s hopeless when she’s screaming and writhing all over the place. That’s what the combination of your thrusts and her fellow council president’s tongue does to her: it turns her into this crazed nympho just begging to be touched and used.

She’s lucky to have friends like you and Nancy who are willing to be patient in teaching her. Your methods aren’t the most orthodox, you’ll admit—what kind of friend would team up with another in ruining her cunt?

“The princess here needs to learn a lesson, after all,” you whisper in her ear. Your hands on Somi’s wide hips, your fire pumps harshly into her without daring to slip out. Nope, you’re staying inside her forever. “You’re gonna be a good girl, aren’t you, Somi? You’re gonna let us fuck you into being a good girl?”

“You sound so stupid, you know that? Like you came from friggin’ Fifty Shades of Gray or something.” Somi sticks her tongue out at you, then it idly hangs from her lips after you reprimand her with a few scolding thrusts. She begins to whimper, eyes filling with tears of need. 

“Tell us to stop then.” You aren’t fazed. You know what that face she makes means too well. 

You propel up into her with the force of one who almost hates her to be fucking her like that. You spread her legs wider. Bury your face into her hair because she’s your blondie.

She says nothing.

You toy with her nipples, flicking and pinching them.

She utters not a single word.

Nancy slips her tongue inside for a brief moment, joining you, then places kisses on her inner thighs. 

She finally makes a noise, and it’s a couple sounds stringed into whines. 

It’s not the childish one she makes whenever she’s refused something as miniscule as a bite of a doughnut, but one of real weakness. She just showed the two of you where her Achilles spots lay. She’s a sucker for this, and all the same, you’re a sucker for her neck and shoulders that always smell of lilies. Take it all in before leaving love bites all over the pale, prone skin.

She takes deep breaths.

Nancy asks her if she’s cumming, and she screams—

“Yes yes yes! Just keep eating me out, Nancy unnie, keep fucking me, oppa! I’m gonna cum so hard!”

Nancy makes a show of licking the underside of your entering and exiting cock all the way up to Somi’s pussy lips. The two of you groan ecstatically. This she repeats until your precum starts to wet Somi’s walls and Somi’s clit is practically quivering from the abuse. It doesn’t stop there. She grabs Somi’s tiny waist and pushes the girl’s core into her mouth. 

“Shit, Nancy!” Somi gasps lewdly. The new position gives you ample space to take time in withdrawing then slamming every inch into her aching body. “I’m gonna cum, gonna c-c-cum, please—fuck!”

There she goes. She falters heavily into you as her orgasm takes over. 

You caress her rising and falling midriff, suddenly wrapped into the need to help her come down. You kiss the back of her ear and her neck. Whisper sweet everythings there (because you mean each one: you’ll take care of her all the way). Nancy stops eating her and rubs her thigh comfortingly. 

Through it all, Somi’s still your baby. The girl you tend to because you know she loses herself sometimes.

This is the calm after the storm. For a moment, it’s all soft. Somi may remain with her pussy filled with your length, but it doesn’t change the tenderness you have for her. For Nancy. For the relationship the three of you have.

“Are you all bright and happy there?” 

“Fuck you, of course I am.” That tells you she’s not tapering off lust-induced insanity that much. If she were, though, she’d still maintain that feistiness. “I can’t believe we did that. And I can’t believe you didn’t cum inside me.”

“Safe sex, princess.” Nancy’s back to her serious yet half-joking self. She brushes Somi’s nose playfully. “Didn’t you listen to sir Lars?”

“I’m safe today, though…” 

“Hmm. Next time?”

“Next time,” replies Somi with a bit more satisfaction. “For now, I want to see you get your ass fucked.”

Maybe it’s going too fast, like an amateur author’s prodded pacing with a debut novel, but in the flash of the moment you find that you don’t care. You and Nancy share one look and just know tonight is going to be different than all the other ones with hookups, exes, everything. This one runs deeper—it’ll define who you are for the rest of the evening.

Somi sits down at what used to be the headboard of the mattress. She’s good with just watching after the violent orgasm she had. Nancy really went all-out. Must have still been thinking about that speech she made.

Your mind stalls on Nancy right now. She’s on her hands and knees, and she’s looking back at you with this nervous yet crazed desire. It’s written clear on her face. Then there’s the rest of her beautiful body—that back, her full thighs, that ass. You knew she was beautiful with a great body to go with it, but you didn’t really figure it was an unfiltered truth until now.

“I—I brought lube,” she says timidly. She looks away, and it’s so unlike her to be this meek that your instinctive reply is a laugh.

“You came prepared.” 

Somi throws you the bottle, and while you lather some of its content on Nancy’s asshole, you’re faced with millions of questions. “I assume you planned this? Or do you just bring lube whenever I’m around?”

Nancy rolls her eyes. God, do you love to make them do that. You were born to. You were made to make her roll her eyes at you between her laughs. “Stud,” she whispers.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” She still hasn’t figured out it isn’t derogatory with you. Or with any guy for that matter. You chuckle softly. Love how her hole closes tighter the second you wipe some of the handy liquid on it. “Ready?”

She nods. There’s hesitation, but the upward perk of her ass can’t mean anything else than transparent want. 

“Boooring!” Somi yells out, arms in an “X”-sign in front of her. You’re the actors, and she’s the disapproving film critic. And god knows how insufferable film critics are. “Ever heard of porn without plot, you absolute doodooheads?”

“Porn without plot? You read way too much fanfiction, Somi. Like, way too much.”

“Hello? Peepee in the poopoo hole now, if you please.”

You give her a tired look in spite of your small laughs. “Can you make it sound any less sexy?”

“She’s right,” Nancy says in a tiny voice. “I want you now.”

There’s the (with a trademark after that) look again, somber and wide. She needs you. You need her. So why are you stalling? Idiot. You need to put yourself together.

Slip past the defiance of Nancy’s asshole, and curse immediately. It isn’t even halfway in and you’re already close. She’s too tight that it almost beats the tightness of Somi’s pussy. You’re not sure you’re ready for this. Run your hand along Nancy's back and feel the sweat stick to your hand. She’s nervous. In pain. At least, you assume so.

“Need to breathe?”

Nancy winces and nods. “A few seconds.”

It’s hell itself trying not to give in to your instincts and pound away into her ass. It’s just so perfect, the way it trembles and shakes and unintentionally sends vibrations your way. Sends those full cheeks bouncing.

Even in a state of need-to-get-it-together, Nancy still looks her prime. Her hair, all those chestnut locks, sticks to her back as she pants. Her face has never looked prettier. She’s gorgeous as could be, and you realize that it’s these moments—not her beauty pageants where she’s all dolled up by attending stylists, not when she manages a glow-up (when she already is the most beautiful woman you know) weeks before class pictures are taken—that take your breath away. She’s just there, just existing, and you maintain your preposition: down bad.

“Tell me if you lovebirds need to stop,” says Somi. “Because what I’m seeing here is– oh my.”

Nancy starts to fuck herself on you. She wants to do this—Somi’s words are her motivation. Her ass constricts tighter and tighter as you penetrate her, but you make it work. Make it fit. She’s so stretched out but she doesn’t stop. It makes you temporarily heed the idea that a glitching robot is controlling her. The recoil and push of her ass are too rough.

“Fuck,” she whispers, eyes squeezed shut firmly. “Feels so fucking good.”

If you’re making Nancy curse, it’s either really good or really bad. You’re betting on the former. Her ass rotates and circles before you, welcoming her into its depths, and you can’t find your breath again. You must have lost it, lost it somewhere in the atmosphere that smells of sex and sweat.

There isn’t even any foreplay to go by. She simply pushes back and takes every inch of your dick. While you lost hold of your breath, Nancy’s found hers, and puts it to good use with her moans. 

“You’re… opening me up so much,” gasps Nancy. She looks back to see that you’re forming a steady reciprocal rhythm that’s starting to gape her hole. 

“Should I go slower?” you ask hesitantly. You slip a hand to her mound then settle a thumb over her clit. It throbs, still sensitive from the sucking.

“No, god, no. Go faster. Please.” Her words are broken off like blunt phrases, but you catch on to her meaning. She wants it fast even for the first time.

It’s lucky you took your time rubbing lube on your shaft and her hole. As time goes by, Nancy’s ass only grows tighter. It clings to you, afraid to let go. Her legs shake yet they’re strong enough to push and pull, receiving you into her backside.

The mattress starts to creak. Its old springs are resurrected and the first thing they do is make squeaking sounds. It’s drowned out by the sound of Somi touching herself. Her wet pussy is slick as her finger rubs firmly on her own clit and her mind runs with the idea of her being in Nancy’s place. Her toes are already curled tightly.

Nancy’s words don’t lose their eccentric tone even if she’s being plowed from behind. The broken mirror discarded to the corner reflects her expressions. One minute she’s smiling drunkenly, and the second minute her eyes are dazed, as if she were taken straight out of an 18+ anime magazine. The next minute she’s suddenly gasping for air. No, air isn’t what she needs. Everything that’s essential is hidden right inside your cock, and she’s going to get it.

“Need it, need it, need it.” 

She squeezes tighter, and you wince. It feels good. Too good, in fact, that you chase after the feeling with quick pumps. 

“H-hah, I know you want to do it,” she says, turning to you. She kisses you and smiles weakly. “So cum in me. Cum in my ass, I need it so fucking bad—”

She interrupts herself with a sharp draw of breath. Your fingers have entered her and are frantically moving, filling her over and over and jabbing at her walls. You take advantage of her sensitivity more than you should, and she loves it. 

Nancy cries out. She folds herself over the mattress more, muffling her face in its olden softness. She feels so full. With your cock stuffing her sweaty ass and your fingers wiggling around inside her, there’s only one path this is destined for. But she wants to make the journey last. She doesn’t want it to end too soon.

“P-please, I can’t take it,” she whines.  She muffles a scream. It doesn’t help; her next words are shouty. They don’t sound so intimidating when they come out pitchy and needy. “I’m going to cum all over you, for you, just please do the same. Please. Please, oh—”

Perhaps it’s your natural way of catering to whatever Nancy requires, which is to mean what you do everyday, but you end up exploding inside her. She moans happily, and you feel her drip a little as she comes to her climax as well. The little leak grows stronger as you firmly rub her clit. Your thighs soon suffer the damages of her flood.

Whimpering and overstimulated, Nancy’s screams almost make the windows shatter. Through all this, she pounds herself back into you, and you do the same. None of you want this to end.

Be that as it may, nothing lasts forever. It could be that it’s a gift, for when you pull out of your crush and spray the remaining shots of cum onto her beautiful back, you realize you’re stark exhausted.

-

“Cinnamon rolls, anybody?”

Here’s how it goes after that: the three of you showered and are ready to go rest. You couldn’t try for shower sex, not when all of you are spent. You’ve sprayed and fucked and came too many times to count that it’s for the common good that you take a break. 

Bruises litter your jaw but it’s alright. Nothing a little makeover can’t fix. Nancy still worriedly brushes it with a tender finger.

“I swear, Nancy,” you laugh, “I’m fine. You should be worried about yourself.”

Nancy nods obediently, but her eyes still linger on the purple spot.

“God, get a room,” says Somi with a groan, handing you your dessert. Is this her way of aftercare? “Oops, you already did. Silly me.”

You’re all wrapped in comfortable bathrobes. They’re the ones with the really silky fabric, the kind that feels like clouds dropped from heaven and onto you. They settle comfortably on your sore bodies. You go to the roof even with only those “clothes” on. Not one of you cares for decency; considering what you did earlier, it’d be hypocritical to try and salvage some self-respect.

Oh, who minds anyway? Not you three. All you want is some rest.

“Not funny,” Nancy says. She takes a careful bite of her roll, licking her lips with a glare.

“My bad. Should try again the next time we stop fucking.”

You stop chewing. “Wait… so you’re saying we’re doing that again?” you ask, suddenly flustered. 

You’re not complaining. It only took a few minutes for you to discover that sex with the duo is the perfect mix of soft and rough. Exactly your kind. Okay, so maybe the rough part outweighs the other, but you aren’t turning back. Your concern is your friendship—would you still see each other as reliable people, or would that be warped by lust?

You’re young. Nothing is permanent—that’s what you’re taught. What if that counts for the relationship you have, too?

“You don’t want to do it?” Somi asks in a voice so small you barely could make out the words.

“No, no, I do.” Scratch the back of your neck. How do you say this without sounding super attached? (You are.) “But… are we still friends? Are we still good with each other?”

Nancy gives you an amused look. “Why wouldn’t we be?” she inquires, genuinely curious.

“I—I thought—”

“Look, we all know what we feel.” Somi takes your hand and presses it to her thigh. Her face portrays a solemn yet caring look. It feels foreign seeing such a serious face on such a spunky girl. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends along the way. You’re still our Frankenstein. We made you.”

“Is the alcohol plus hot choco combo doing something to you or what? Frankenstein is the name of the crea—”

Somi groans and mashes you in the face with her cinnamon roll. “Get outta here with your nerd BS,” she says. She’s smiling, though. 

“Get out of here with your own dodo BS, bottle blonde.”

“Dodos are essential knowledge, not some facts about a stupid ass mon—”

“If you two don’t stop,” says Nancy, knowing when a playful fight starts and how to stop it before it does, “you’re both getting out.”

Are these the girls you fucked in that small loft just a few hours prior? They don’t ever change, do they? They might be hot as hell, but they’re still Jeon and McDonie, the girls you’re friends with. Your hearts remain in the places they were before.

But maybe deeper, delving into the core of your chests.

Somi directs her eyes up at the moon floating in the night sky and smiles. You’ve always loved it when she smiles, menacing as it could be sometimes. She looks like a giddy girl who was just taken to a candy store. There’s this pure, sweet grace to it that infectiously makes you grin, too.

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” she says dreamily.

“It is,” Nancy agrees. She’s looking cute herself; her cheeks are stuffed with cinnamon rolls. 

You look up as well. They’re right. The moon does look prettier tonight. You’re no selenophile, but you swear the large spots of gray and black on its rounded curves make it look more serene. It feels like a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

“Well,” you say, smiling, “I can die happy.”

It was supposed to end like that. You all know what you meant. This was supposed to be a memory you’d keep stowed in the drawers of your minds to look fondly at later in life. But you just had to ruin the moment by suddenly sitting up straight and staring with wide eyes at your hands. What have you done? You can’t believe you could do such a thing.

“H-hey, Nancy…”

“What’s wrong?” Nancy asks.

“You know that quote you said earlier about first impressions?”

“Yeah?”

“And how I said Michael Jordan was smart for saying it?”

“What are you getting at here?”

“I remembered it wrong.” You gulp. “Michael Jackson said it, not Michael Jordan.”

“Are you in your right mind? How could you even think that?” asks Somi, cackling. She almost topples down the roof. “Like, seriously, oppa, are you okay? Are you okay? Are you okay, opp—”

“For fuck’s sake—”

[ichatake]

Yandere Obito and Yandere Kakashi with the same girl 👀👀👀 I loved it. Can we get a part 2 when they are older?

Request are open! Request rules here!

Part. 1 Here!

Pairing: Yandere! Obito x reader x Yandere! Kakashi

Warning: Yandere themes, obsessive behavior, slight manipulation, mature content and slightly suggestive content.

A/N: thank you for requesting a part. 2, I love it when people like my works so much they ask for a second part! I hope you enjoy it!

As Teenagers:

✧ Obito was a very charming boy around you after he had warmed up to the idea of you staying on his team for the rest of your lives. You had now become the light of his day, completely replacing Rin. It was ironic how the last thing he wanted to happen was actually the first thing he’d come to love. Sure, he missed Rin, but you were there now. He surrounds you with his presence and surrounds himself around you at all times. That means that his pictures of Rin he had so dearly kept up in his room were suddenly taken down and replaced by your lovely face. If you compared the amount of pictures he had of Rin with the ones he has of you now, you definitely win. Apart from completely revolving his life around you, he makes sure to always be there for you; asking how you are, if you need anything, if you ate, etc. He wants you to enjoy his presence as much as he loves yours, and he wants you to feel loved by him. He doesn’t hide his growing crush, and it makes a certain silver haired boy boil inside. 

✧ Kakashi gets fed up with Obito easily, as always, but when it comes to you, he can’t help but let his mouth move on his own. He always tries to embarrass Obito in front of you, and make himself seem better than his friend. Although you quickly shut Kakashi off and tell him that what he had just said wasn’t nice, he rolls his eyes and mutters a small apology just so you’re not mad at him. Thankfully, you never stay mad at him for too long, which he deeply appreciates. Like how he appreciates how naïve you are sometimes, because he loves to lie. He had never lied before, but once his feelings for you began to blossom, it became a habit of his. It started off as a small, harmless lie. When you asked him if he had seen your lovely bracelet that Obito had gifted you, he said no, while stuffing his hands in his pockets nonchalantly. Your disappointed frown made him slightly smile as he clutched that stupid bracelet of yours. He could always give you a new one. From then on, he began to lie more constantly, and he couldn’t stop himself from doing so. He lied to keep you interested in him, or to make you look for him. He liked when you needed his help, and he wasn’t shy to sabotage a few things just so you asked him for help. 

✧ Both Kakashi and Obito knew that they were in love with you. They hadn't mentioned it to each other, but it was pretty obvious for the both of them. At first, they didn’t mention anything about it, but as they fought for your attention, it became obvious they needed to get this sorted out. At least, that’s what Kakashi thought. The boy knew Obito wouldn't be very flexible with you, considering how possessive he was, but once he caught said boy pressing his lips onto a framed picture of you while he passed by his house, he found that as the perfect opportunity to either blackmail him or make a pact. “If you don’t want (Y/N) to think you’re a total freak, then you’ll listen to what I have to say,” Kakashi’s threat made Obito sit still and quiet. There was no way he could live with himself if you ever thought he was a weirdo! So, with much irritation, he hesitantly listened to what his rival had to say. Kakashi explained that he knew Obito had feelings for you, and unfortunately, he did too. Of course, Obito wanted to speak and argue, but Kakashi shut him off immediately. “Let’s make a deal. We don’t have to fight over her. On the contrary, let’s work together. It’s obvious you want to keep her safe just as much as I do, and I don’t want her to end up like Rin,” The mention of Rin made Obito tense. At the end of their talk, they decided to put their rivalry aside when it came to you. They trusted each other enough to ‘share’, and they were very selfish kids, so that was surprising. 

✧ The boys spend all their time with you. They are there at your beck and call, and you’re glad they’re there for you! You don’t really notice how they’re unnaturally obsessed with you, so you allow weird things to happen from time to time. Like how you let them pick you up and take you home everyday. How you take food or drinks from them, never questioning if they had anything in them, because they couldn’t possibly ever put anything in your food, right? They don’t really show their weird tendencies flat out, since they’re still in denial that they’re actually doing anything wrong. They simply liked you. That’s all. This was a simple crush they developed, nothing else. It wasn’t weird that the only thing they could think about at night was you. How you would take care of them, heal them, help them, feed them. How you were so nice and gentle when it came to them. How they would try to think of different ways to make you smile, because it was the only thing they were looking forward to in the day. Your smile was contagious to them, intoxicating even. To young boys like them, this was completely normal. The most in denial was Kakashi, but to be honest, he was the one who’d act out on his impulses. As stated before, Kakashi would be willing to lie just to get you on his side. If he didn’t like someone, he’d start telling you how bad of a friend that person was because “I heard them making fun of you”. Of all people you would expect to lie, you never thought Kakashi would be one of them. So, you believed Kakashi, and cut ties with a lot of kids because of him. This was a big victory for him, because now you would look for him even more. You invited him to eat, walk, and train. Sure, you would ask Kakashi if Obito would like to go too, but his answer was always “I don’t know, I think he’s out training again with one of his clan members. Let’s just go, just the two of us,” Apart from slowly becoming a pathological liar, he also made sure to go with you everywhere, whenever he could, of course. That includes when you’re not looking. You would complain about feeling watched sometimes, and he’d try to brush your concerns off by saying “Maybe you’re being paranoid. Maybe you’re used to Obito and I walking you home that it feels weird when you don’t,” 

✧ Speaking of acting on impulses, Obito had become a little self aware that his love for you was becoming dangerously weird. Despite Kakashi being in denial, Obito knew that it wasn’t normal to think about you as if he had to. He needed to know what you were doing as much as he needed to eat, sleep, and breathe. He even felt a little guilty, in contrast to Kakashi. He felt so guilty the first time he stole from you. It was a simple hair tie you always kept around your wrist even if you never wore it. You had used it as some sort of bracelet. As he got home and pulled it out of his pocket, his heart dropped to his stomach as his eyes scanned the tie. Shame ran through his body as blood rushed to his cheeks. He couldn’t believe it. He just stole from you! He was such a freak! He considered giving it back and apologizing, but he couldn’t do that! Then you would totally think he’s sick! So he decided to keep it. He promised himself he would never steal from you ever again. He doesn’t steal. He was a good kid! But, you never know where you might end up in life, and he found himself taking other things from you. Everytime he stole, he felt like a total thief, and he was. The guilt would consume him, but his desires were satisfied. So, he stole and stole and stole until stealing small things from you wasn’t enough. He was left unsatisfied, even if he had a drawer dedicated to placing all of the things he had stolen from you.

As Young Adults:

✧ Now the three of you were older, and had matured! Both Kakashi and Obito grew taller and bulkier, making them attractive young men. Meanwhile, you had also grown and developed in every way. Your personality, your face, your body. Everything changed in ways that satisfied them. To them, you were even more gorgeous than before, and they hoped you thought they were attractive as well. You see, despite them obviously crushing on you, nothing really happened throughout the years. You still considered them friends, and showed no sign of romantic interest in them, much to their dismay. However, that doesn’t mean they stopped obsessing over you. On the contrary, it only fueled their desires. Kakashi had grown an interest in very… detailed literature. The ones you wouldn’t really let children read. His desires developed and changed as he grew, and as he entered adulthood, he found himself thinking of perverted fantasies involving you. He didn’t mean to, but his mind couldn’t help wonder off on how your breast grew a little more, or how your hips became wider. He didn’t really feel guilty about it either. He told himself these fantasies and thoughts were normal for hormonal men like him. His eyes would wander on your body a little longer than usual, and when you noticed him looking at you, he would simply smile and tell you how you haven’t changed a bit. But you had. And he loved it. Now that you weren’t kids, you didn’t need them walking you home anymore. You didn’t need him to watch over you, and you were now getting missions that didn’t involve them. Although it disappointed both of them, they tried to keep their calm. Obito would think about following you while you were out on a mission, but he never did it. He considered it an insult to your skill. You were strong enough to protect yourself, right? Kakashi, on the other hand, didn’t care. He followed you on your mission to keep a close eye on you. You were weaker than him, therefore, you needed his protection. The best part was that you never noticed him. He found it to be a win-win for all parties involved, that being you and him. 

✧ Kakashi wasn’t the only one with perverted fantasies, because Obito found himself waking up with a red face and sweat on his forehead while thinking back on the dream he just had about you. He’d be blushing the whole day while being with you, and when you’d ask him what was up, he’d brush it off saying it was just hot outside. What a big lie. Thanks to those dreams, he found himself sitting on the edge of his bed, hand clutching onto a piece of clothing he had slipped into his pocket the day you invited him and Kakashi to your house for your birthday. He felt disgusted at the fact he felt so aroused with you. That the simple faint scent of your perfume intoxicated him. The thought of owning your clothes without your consent drove him insane, much more than he already was. And the fact that he was holding the fabric close to his nose as his pants felt tight and uncomfortable had him questioning what he was doing. He asked himself why he acted this way, but made no effort into putting a stop to it as his hands fumbled with his belt to find peace from the heat and tension building up in his body. His thoughts would wonder what it would be like if it wasn’t your clothes he was holding, but it was you yourself. What would it feel like to have you sitting on his lap, holding onto his shoulders for dear life while you enjoyed how he made you feel? He had no idea how he could look at you in the eyes the next morning after a night full of dirty fantasies.

✧ Obito and Kakashi had also developed jealous tendencies that would annoy you at times. It was hard to deny that they liked you, at least a little more than just friends. And you didn’t mind it. You had also developed strong feelings for them, but that didn’t mean they could act as if they were your boyfriends when they weren’t. You hated the way you couldn’t talk to a guy because Kakashi would suddenly pop out of nowhere to try and slip you away from the guy. It annoyed you even more when he would start trying to insult the guy—not directly, but he would throw sarcastic and degrading comments just to see the guy’s confidence crumble. God forbid Obito ever sees you flirt with a dude either. He was even worse than Kakashi. When you mention how they should stop treating you as their girlfriend, they simply told you you were taking things out of proportions and how “The guy had been with half the village girls already,” They could stop if you wanted, but they were just being good ‘friends’. They were guys and they knew what their intentions were. You needed to believe them, but if you didn’t, that’s fine. If you wouldn’t stop talking to the guy, then the guy would just need to stop talking to you. Kakashi would make sure of it. And when you did come crying to them, saying how the guy was just a total joke and that they were right, they wasted no time in being by your side, “See? You needed to trust us. We told you,”, “At this point, the only guys you need in your life are us,” Maybe they were right. 

✧ Kakashi was the one that took care of all your personal connections. He decided who you kept in your life, and who would need to leave immediately. Obito, on the other hand, took care of your emotional state. Whatever Kakashi did, it would leave you in shambles, and Obito would be there to pick up the pieces. He was well aware of what Kakashi was doing behind the scenes, I mean they both agreed on it. Obito wasn’t innocent, and you didn’t know that the two men you trusted with your whole life, were actually the ones ruining it. Speaking of ruining, you seemed to be stuck in the same rank rank ever since you became a chunin. Both Kakashi and Obito had ranked up and were currently Jonin, but you were still a chunin. You wondered why, because you were doing everything right. All your missions were completed and well executed, yet you still made no progress. You even asked the Hokage, your former teacher, why you hadn’t ranked up yet. “I’m sorry (Y/N), you're just not ready yet,” he’d tell you, making you storm off angrily out of his office. To you, your missions were perfectly executed, but the anonymous reports that would reach Minato were completely different to what actually happened. They would absolutely botch your hard work and explain how you made many rookie mistakes that belonged to a genin more than a chunin. Maybe you weren’t cut out for this. Maybe you were better working at the hospital than the field. This was highly supported by Kakashi and Obito as well “You’re one of the best medical nin I’ve seen! You should put your skills to work,” Obito would say, trying to motivate you to drop trying to complete missions outside. 

✧ Let it be known that if you ever choose one of them, no you won’t. If it’s one of them, it’s both of them. They agreed on this. They both had a ‘right’ to you, so you couldn’t just choose one of them and leave the other. They had always shared you as teenagers, there was no way that would change now. They were insufferable, and they weren’t even in a relationship with you, imagine what it would be like if you actually dated them. Time was running out, and their patience was running thin. They had waited so many years for you to make up your mind, they couldn’t wait more. The more they fantasized about you, the more they craved you. Kakashi needed you to hold him, Obito needed to hold you. They needed you in every way of the word. They needed you in mind, body, and soul. They need you, and they would do anything to have you. 

[heizours]

CHARACTER BANNERS

summary. when you do not plan to pull for their character banner

tags. gn! reader, grammatical mistakes may occur

cw. one mention of 'die' (dottore), petty and sulky genshin men (all of them i may say)

feat. xiao, itto, dottore, venti, scaramouche

note. the head picture is how i imagine their reaction ☠️

< back to event m.list

INTRO.

Recently, you've been saving up primogems for an upcoming new character banner that Hoyoverse is planning to release in the next version of the game.

Gosh you were so excited!

It's not like you wanted to pull for the character just because she was attractive. Definitely not.

Even if it takes a lot of time to earn those gems, you were willing to go through it as long as the system better give you that character you are pulling for.

"I can't wait to pull for Navia!"

You squealed in excitement, logging in the game as her banner awaits for you, ignorant of a certain chatacter just eavesdropping around the system.

XIAO.

Xiao's banner was having a rerun along with the release of Navia's, and while he may not brag it out loud, he had some silent expectations that you were going to pull for him again.

After all, he is proud to be your first five star chatacter, and ever since then he has been on your team and never removed.

To hear you say that you're going to pull for Navia instead of him made him grunt quietly as he let out a quiet huff behind the screen.

"...Well, she is a good character" he admitted while grumbling under his breath, crossing his arms by now as he watched you pull and pull for Navia's banner, only getting the four stars but no sign of a five star yet.

Is he...sulking? oh yes, Xiao believes so as there was a tiny slight pout on his as he looked away, trying his best to not be affected by the fact that Navia might show up at your screen anytime now.

So while you're at it, better save some primos to pull for his rerun banner too, you wouldn't want a sulking Xiao, right?

ITTO.

After pulling a few strings and fails in the wishing system, Itto was celebrating his victory after ensuring that his banner would have a rerun.

However, that satisfaction immediately crumbled down the moment he heard you saying that you are pulling for Navia instead for him again.

What makes it even worse, is he felt confident that you were going to pick him, and now...he doesn't know if he should throw a tantrum about it or blame the system that he had a rerun the same time with a new character.

"What?! Hey, what about me?" He yelled out from behind the screen, which of course you couldn't hear, as Itto let out a dramatic gasp by the revelation.

Is he making this a big deal? Yes, Itto is making this a big deal, because after all Navia is also a geo character, of course he would somehow feel intimidated that she would take his place in your team.

Best believe that when you are finish with your pulls, don't be surprised that he would not budge leaving your team— trying to replace him with Navia, even if you are already clicking the remove button!

DOTTORE.

The doctor was confident that you were saving up those primogems for him considering that his banner hasn't been released yet, nor the gaming system haven't made any announcement about his builds, constellation, marketing drip, etc.

Imagine his reaction when he overheard that you were pulling for Navia, and those primogems for her and not his. He could not hide the disbelief that crossed over his face.

He'll recover shortly after, and just laughed it off strainly as we watched you spending every gem you had saved on Navia's banner, no sign of the blondie woman yet showing up on your screen.

"And here, I thought I was what you are waiting for" He mumbled under his breath, gritting his teeth slightly in the process, keeping a forced smile on his face.

He would rather die than admit it, but this revelation had left a big wound on his pride, and he is a millisecond away of just straight up disrupting the system's controls if it means you get to play him.

Of course that would take some time, but he hopes that you're just as amused as him if he keeps joining you on doing your quests out of nowhere that doesn't even involve him in the first place ;)

VENTI.

It took so long for Venti to finally have this moment again, and he was more than glad to show up on your screen, on your first pull, on his rerun banner.

One second he was smiling and all giddy, but as you dropped the statement that you are pulling for Navia like a bomb, his smile freezed, his whole body freezed as he sweatdropped.

Not just freezed, you know those kind of special effects in an anime series when a character messes something up, does something awkward or expected something but gets embarass instead, and suddenly they turn into a whole block of ice? Yeah, something like that.

"..Oh, right her! I've heard a lot about her!" He stated, trying to keep up with his cheerful-go-to persona, as Venti awkwardly scratched the side of his neck while watching you spend those gems on her banner, still no luck of the five star geo character.

He failed to continue showing jolly facade, because now he is sulking at the corner as if it is the end of the world, almost as if a big tub of water was dunk upon him.

Please forgive him if he'll be out of character and maybe acting a little petty on your end for the next few hours or days while playing the game. It's not his fault you didn't also pulled on his rerun!

SCARAMOUCHE/WANDERER.

Scaramouche carries himself with such confidence and prides himself being a part of your team after you pulled on his first banner.

He was smirking with boldness, and eyes closed in satisfaction as he awaits and is all ready for you to pull on his rerun this time. That is until his mouth twitched downward, as he opens his eyes in suspicion right after he heard that you were pulling instead for Navia.

He could not hide the displeased expression painted on his face, as he continues to watch you behind the screen, spend all the primogems you saved up only for her, and like an open book— he doesn't even realized that he is scowling. So far, you're only getting the four stars.

"What about me?" He mumbled under his breath, as he scoffed lightly and by now instead of continuing to frown, there was a slight pout forming on his lips, as he huffed and turned his head away, facing a corner refusing to watch further your pulls on the geo character.

He rejects to believe that he is mopping about as something as this, but his actions says otherwise. He doesn't even know why is so affected by this.

Whether you get Navia or not, make sure you also give him the attention he seeks! We wouldn't want a petty Wanderer disrupting your team's gameplay, no?

[shotmrmiller]

this is for you, @ttsbaby01

here's the piece that inspired this

1.5k words because who knew i needed to write something like this today. i kinda edited it, just a quick skim, though.

simon x f!reader,

tw: explicit smut, p in v, the usual, MDNI

Simon teaches Johnny some new tricks

The moment Simon saw you wince when Johnny pushed himself inside of you, that was all he needed to see. Incredible. For someone that brilliant, Johnny is obtuse when it comes to sex.

Maybe he's blinded by lust, who knows, but Simon almost grimaces at the pace he starts off with, and when he sees you flatten your feet on the bed to meet Johnny's thrusts, Johnny simply pins you down with his weight, forcing you still.

Poor you. All you wanted was to come, and Johnny couldn't even tell, too focused on pistoning his hips into you to meet his own end.

How greedy.

And when Johnny does come, Simon chuckles when he sees your face. It’s mildly disappointed but unsurprised— like you’re used to it.

He watches Johnny kiss you before he pulls out and immediately gets up to shower. That's his cue— the sorry excuse of a show is over. Simon's about to shut his laptop when he sees your hand slowly travel down to your aching pussy and circle your neglected clit with your fingers. Oh?

When he hears your pleasured moan again, he sits up on his chair, pupils expanding as he takes you in. Now this is what he wants to see.

Every delicious whimper and mewl that slithers out of your throat makes his cock twitch in his trousers. He can't help himself. Simon takes himself out and starts to pump according to the rhythm you've set.

Oh, you take it slow, sensual, for a bit, and then pick up the pace. Your moans start to get a little louder as you circle faster and press much smaller fingers into your abused cunt. He knows that his one finger could stuff you better than two of yours.

He knows that he could pull those sweet sounds out of you with his tongue flicking your clit, his stubble scraping your inner thighs raw, his fingers curling inside to find the rough patch of skin on your slick walls.

His eyes are shut as he squeezes himself, precum dribbling onto his knuckles, and when he hears you climax— airy, high-pitched moans that's a bloody symphony to his ears— he also comes. Simon spills all over his hand and stomach, seed sticking to his happy trail, and he couldn't give a fuck less. You're the best thing he's heard in a very long time, and he's debating replacing the classical music he usually listens to at work with your voice.

Simon languidly opens his eyes to look at you on his screen, and the fucked-out, blissful look on your face is something that'll be engrained in his head forever.

He watches Johnny step out of the bathroom with a towel around his trim waist and lowers himself onto the bed to kiss you.

Simon shakes his head, and with his clean hand shuts the laptop. It seems he's gotta teach Johnny how to treat his girl right.

--

"How was it, LT?" Johnny gloats.

Sighing, Simon pulls him into his office and takes out his personal laptop. "You tell me, Sergeant."

Johnny looks gutted when the video gets to Simon's favorite part.

"Yer jokin'." He sounds miserable, and Simon would feel bad if Johnny hadn't been a braggart about how he fucked you in the beginning.

"'Fraid not' Johnny. I gotta admit, I didn't take ya to be tha' selfish."

Johnny opens his mouth to defend himself when Simon silences him with a swipe of his gloved hand. "I can help ya, though. Let me teach ya how t'please her so tha' this embarrassment doesn't happen again, yeah?"

Johnny's eyes, colour a mix of sea and sky, shine brightly as he looks up at Simon. "Are ye serious?"

"Wouldn't offer if I wasn't."

Simon clenches his jaw painfully tight when Johnny agrees.

Only once Simon stands alone in his office does he let his emotions show. The sound of his fist hitting the desk fills the room, first with one resounding thump, then with another, leaving his knuckles throbbing. He's going to bloody ruin you.

Maybe Johnny will be willing to share you after all of this is said and done.

--

Johnny came to him later that day, letting him know that you had also agreed, but no mask at home. You won't sleep with someone whose face you can't see.

Simon almost took his mask off in exhilaration on the spot.

--

Simon has your legs propped on the edge of the bed as he lapped at your sopping cunt.

"Johnny, ya gotta focus here," he pointed his tongue and circled it around your swollen clit, making your back arch, and Johnny has to tighten his hold on you. He sat behind you, your back to his chest, his arms around you as he looked over your sweaty shoulder to watch Simon eat like a man starved.

"And gently curl your fingers inside, you're looking for..." he paused, the tendons in the middle of his wrist fluttering as he prodded until you were squealing, dripping slick down his hand. "That. You're looking for her sweet spot," he instructed.

Simon keeps rubbing your walls, and every movement has the obscene squelching of your drenched cunt getting noisier. "She's about t'come, I can feel her startin' to squeeze my fingers. Look at her, Johnny. That's the face ya wanna see," and then he turns his attention to you. "Come f'me, pet, let me hear ya."

He encircles your clit with his lips and sucks, and you shatter in Johnny's arms— head thrown back onto his shoulder, trembling violently, loudly dry sobbing at the toe-curling ecstasy that's searing through your veins, stealing the very oxygen in your lungs. Simon doesn't stop thrusting his fingers, prolonging your pleasure, taking every bit of it for himself. It's the only time he'll be selfish.

Your head is clouded with arousal, numb from pleasure, and you can vaguely feel yourself being laid flat on the bed, limp legs hooked over shoulders, feet resting on a strong back— muscles rippling with each movement.

There's a buzzing sound in your ears, and you can see Johnny's lips moving, talking to you, and then he's stepping away. You lazily turn your head to the side, and watch Johnny kneel by the side of the bed, gaze intense as he looks towards where Simon is. Then there's something hot, heavy, and thick pressing into your entrance, splitting you open, sensitive walls stinging at the stretch, and it goes deep, and even deeper still— it seems never-ending until there's a pinch in your lower stomach.

"Atta girl, love." Simon grips your jaw with one hand, and commands, "Eyes on Johnny, sweetheart. Let him see ya and let me hear ya."

And starts to pump his hips. The depths that he's in are devastating, it feels like he's rearranging your insides, which is strange because Johnny's got a monster in his pants as well, but this.

This is different.

You're so sensitive from your prior orgasm that it feels so much more intense, and you can't even try to hold back the keens that are being wrenched from you. Your vision is blurry with tears from overstimulation, but you keep your gaze on Johnny, and he looks painfully aroused. His cheeks are bright pink, his mouth slightly open as he pants, eyes molten as he looks at your cunt swallowing up someone else's cock.

God, he's so pretty.

You're brought out of your musings when Simon places a pillow underneath you, lifting your hips and changing the angle.

The way Simon fills you to the brim with his cock, pushing you to, if not past, your limit is just plain disrespectful.

And then he grabs your legs by the ankles, your thighs touching your chest, folding you in half like a napkin to start thrusting shallowly— the tip of his head gently jabbing into your g-spot.

Your head goes blank, vision white, and your mouth opens into a silent scream, or maybe not so silent, who knows who cares.

Simon thrusts 4 times before that coil in your stomach snaps like a pencil. Your cunt clamps down on him like a vice, unwilling to let him move, but he only grunts and starts to slam his hips into your soft arse— spine rattling from the strength of him. He unrelentingly fucks you through your climax, hips never losing their rhythm.

He's bottoming out now, and you swear you can feel him in your throat, and he starts to pound into your used cunt. When you hiss from how tender you feel, Johnny cups your cheek and leans in to give you a soul-stealing kiss. It's sloppy, you can hear the slick sounds your mouths make, and when you moan into him, Simon's thrusts turn sloppy, choppy. Then he pulls out with a loud snarl to spurt thick, viscous cum directly over your puffy slit, coating your mons with it too— only to push himself back inside, head dripping with his seed, and slowly thrusts until he's overstimulated.

Simon gently lowers your legs back onto the bed, and you groan at the ache when you feel your blood rushing back to them.

"Fuck me," you mumble tiredly, and Johnny chuckles in response.

"Simon already did tha', bonnie." Johnny presses a kiss to your sweaty forehead and looks at Simon.

"I now ken what ye mean, LT. This was a different beast altogether."

You huff out a laugh because beast indeed.

Jesus.