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#the first one is from during the filming of top gun

zreamy · 10 months

Text

spf 23

pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader

summary: for as long as you can remember, your summers have been much the same, largely spent in your hometown, relaxing by the local pool. when you get back home this summer, things seem like they'll go the same way, until you get to the pool that is — when did the lifeguard get so hot?

genres: smut, fluff, people that kinda know each other to lovers, summer au, lifeguard au..

warnings: minors dni, MENTIONS OF UNIVERSITY DURING SUMMER, sunghoon in water, sunghoon on ice, sunghoon

word count: 31,818 .. even more sorry than last time.

playlist: kiss nct dojaejung, obvious ariana grande, safety net ariana grande

author's note: lmk ur thoughts (positive / negative / sunghoon) i'd love to hear. to beta bestie @asahicore u da best MUSIC DJ EMMAAA. i hope u have a good time reading, lord knows this has been a long time coming.. ok enjoy <;333

It’s the hottest day of the last summer of your life.

The sun’s rays coat your skin in a film of sticky sweat and sunscreen. Crisp white clouds hang in the sky, drifting overhead. Yunjin complains about the temperature as if you and Chaewon aren’t outside with her.

If you strain your ears over yelling children and raucous laughter, you can just about hear a Top 40 playlist looping Cupid and Dua Lipa songs through age-weakened speakers. What holds your attention the most, though, is the blond by the pool. He leans back on his hands with pretty fingers spread out behind him. He’s been lifeguarding at the public pool for more summers than you care to count but he’d never looked like this while he did it.

Park Sunghoon seems relaxed as he sits on the pool’s edge, kicking his legs in the water and scanning the space. Presumably watching out for kids drowning, or diving, or.. whatever it is lifeguards get up to at work. His voice is deep as he (half-heartedly) yells at a group of kids with water guns to stop running. When did he get so buff?

He’s always been attractive. Always. But this is outrageous. The bleached hair. The toned arms. The sliver of skin you can see peeking out from under his cropped vest. It’s almost too much to take yet you can’t bring yourself to look away. Given the way he turns his head when you catch his gaze — with flushed cheeks and upturned lips — you assume his glow-up has been purely external.

“Can you believe this might be the last summer we spend here together? Like, this time next year we’ll be graduates.” Yunjin’s sudden statement makes you wish she’d go back to talking about the weather.

Chaewon’s jaw drops. “Whoa.”

“Is it bad that I’m looking forward to fall?” Yunjin asks. “No offence, YN.”

This isn’t the first time she’s shared such a sentiment. Last summer and the one before, she’d said something similar before clarifying. She’s excited about her new classes, not about you going back to your apartment a few towns over.

You’re only looking forward to your shared two-bed and Minjeong’s dinners. It pains you to have to thank university for anything, but thank university for giving you something to miss over the holidays.

“None taken, YJ, but break just started last week.”

“Our last finals were five weeks ago.”

“Well, you know break doesn’t really start until our girl gets back.” Chaewon leans up in her seat to grin at you. She raises her cup, the tiny puddle of melted slushy shaking a little. “Here’s to the best summer ever!”

Needing all the affirmation you can get, you entertain her, raising your own cup so the three of you can toast properly.

“Cheers!”

The next few hours do nothing to affirm your belief in the effectiveness of toasting. Recently hot Sunghoon hasn’t taken his shirt off yet and you’re not sure how many more times you can beg your friends to stay for another half hour in hopes something will happen that causes him to tear the thing off. At this point you’d settle for a simple conversation or even the word hey.

“I’m begging, like, actually, let’s go.” Yunjin groans, sitting up.

“Just let me pee first,” you grumble, attempting to buy more time as you stand up from your lounge chair, packing up your towel and the magazine you never bothered to look at.

On your walk to the restroom, you see him leaning in the doorframe of the changing rooms with his toned arms crossed over his chest. Perfect. There’s a smile on your face as you approach him and unexpectedly he speaks before you do.

"He—" He clears his throat, thick brows coming together as he places a big hand on his chest. "Hey."

You let out a breathy laugh. “You okay?”

He straightens up his posture and nods his head, blond hair shifting over his forehead from the movement.

The sounds of the public pool fill the silence stretching over you, though it’s not enough to distract you from the way his eyes trail over your body, landing on your chest as his tongue darts out to wet his lips.

“I’m Sunghoon,” he eventually introduces, extending a hand for you to shake.

A smile stretches across your lips when you do, noticing how much bigger his hand is than yours when his fingers wrap around it and cover the whole thing. “I know,” you nod.

“You,” Sunghoon pauses, tilting his head to the side as if considering your words. “Know?” His brows quirk up.

You hum in response. “We had Spanish together. You sat with.. that kid,” Your hands come up to gesture around your chin and neck. “With the jaw, Jay, was it?”

He looks at something over your shoulder for a bit while you worry that he didn’t take Spanish and you’ve got the wrong guy, but a laugh rises out of him instead. “Yeah,” he grins. “Jay.” Nods his head.

Despite stuttering his way through the conversation, Sunghoon makes you laugh as he tells you about how he didn’t realise he’d have to swim on the job and almost drowned trying to save a kid in the deep end. He seems more confident after seeing that his story was well received though he still fidgets with his hands, and can’t hold eye contact for more than a second at a time, always looking away and clearing his throat.

The story was a bit of a ramble, and it might be the most words you’ve ever heard him say all at once before falling quiet, though his pretty lips open and close a few times as if he’s stuck on what to say. “How-” He’s cut off by the sound of someone yelling his name.

In the pool, a cute (and very tall) kid waving his arms above his head yelling: Quickly! Quickly! makes you laugh, and the way Sunghoon rolls his eyes makes it clear he knows him.

Much to your dismay, the yelling doesn’t stop and you realise you’ll have to make your exit. “I’ll let you get going, but, uh, say hi to Jay for me, okay?” you say, grinning at the way he nods his head, mumbling yeah, of course before you turn around to leave.

Sunghoon’s still standing in the spot you left him in, hands crossed over his chest as he eyes you. Head snapping in the other direction when you look back over your shoulder to call out a: Later, Hoonie, with a wave of your fingers.

Chaewon watches you over her sunglasses with a smirk on her face as you approach. “Who is that?”

You crinkle your nose. “Park Sunghoon.”

At the sound of his name, Yunjin gasps, abruptly sitting up in her chair. “The figure skater?”

“The what?”

At home, you type his name into the search bar and find that the shy boy you’d only met properly some hours ago is something of a celebrity in the skating world.

You watch YouTube videos of his short programs and feel a swell of pride with each jump he lands. The tiny Sunghoon on the screen carries an air of confidence as he glides across the ice — nothing like the Sunghoon you’d met at the pool today. And definitely nothing like the quiet Sunghoon who’d sit in the back of your 9th grade Spanish class conjugating verbs as his friends got into trouble for talking over the teacher.

It’s not hard to trip down a rabbit hole, and suddenly every video with his name in the title has a little red bar under the thumbnail as a mark of your affection. It doesn’t take long for you to find Instagram user smartblond, and the blue follow button on his page greets you with the option to follow back, which leaves you feeling a little bad as the pad of your thumb falls onto it unthinkingly.

Sunghoon’s feed leaves much to be desired. A modest 1 post he’d made 4 years prior, a square photo of himself and Lee Heeseung with bros as the caption. The only comment is from Heeseung who wrote ma boiiii. The tagged photos however tell a different story.

Thankfully.

You spend longer than you’d like to admit scrolling through these pictures, grinning and ignoring the way your stomach flips at the sight of the seemingly outgoing boy captured in the pictures posted by his closest friends with wide smiles and middle fingers while trying not to hit like on any of them. Even though you do like them. A lot. Except for the one of him and Bae Sumin at the pool with pretty smiles on their faces, and their arms around each other that she posted 15 weeks ago with the caption lifesaver. A smile spreads on your lips when you see Sumin’s (way more populated) page and the post she made yesterday to celebrate two years with her boyfriend.

Distraction only reaches you in the form of an alert from your university’s portal app. The words you’ve got new correspondence in your inbox wipe the smile from your face in an instant. While chewing at your lip, you click on the notification and wait for the email to load.

A pit forms in your stomach while reading four paragraphs offering advice for people who’ve failed their final exams. At the end is a link that you click with squinted eyes. A countdown appears and there are 8 days, 12 hours, 2 minutes and 17 seconds until results are out.

During your next trip to the pool, you hear Sunghoon before you see him and his voice comes out in a cute whine when he speaks. “Why do you guys only wanna hang out here when I'm working?”

Looking over your sunglasses, you see him running a hand through his hair, looking up from the water at a group of boys you recognise from both high school and his tagged photos, including the very tall kid who’d cut your conversation short the other day. With a wide grin on his face, he slings a towel over his shoulder and calls out something about the concession stand before running for the changing rooms and ignoring Sunghoon’s cries to stop.

His back flexes deliciously as he wades around the mostly empty pool, chatting to his friends, and in all of your staring you notice Jay’s eyes on you, looking back to Sunghoon after a while and nodding his head not so subtly in your direction.

You look at Yunjin in the lounge chair next to you, who stares at the remnants of your blue raspberry slushy with disgust on her face, finishing off her cherry-flavoured one. “I said thanks when you came back with them, it’s abnormal to want this much recognition over a £1 purchase,” you say defensively, sighing and thanking her again anyways.

“You should thank Sunghoon’s giant friend,” she says, nodding in his direction. “He came over to me in the line, asked how I knew you, and gave me change when I told him Chaewon introduced us.”

“Huh,” you say, taking a refreshing sip, the last, before putting your cup down between your chairs.

“I don’t understand what you see in that insane flavour.” She leans over to put her now empty cup next to yours. “It’s.. unnatural,” she says, shuddering dramatically.

“It’s the only flavour I like,” you say simply, watching in your peripheral as your new favourite lifeguard (not that you have an old favourite) climbs over the edge of the pool.

The sight of Sunghoon’s lean figure coming out of the pool only makes you regret ever wanting to see him with his shirt off. Water slips from every part of his body in droplets, running from his broad shoulders down his veiny forearms before falling from his pretty fingers onto the ground. This must be the fittest-looking person you’ve ever seen, and Kazuha can do push-ups (one) with you and Chaewon on her back.

With his wet hair stuck to his forehead, he laughs at something one of his friends said and it’s only when he looks over at you that you’re able to tear your eyes away.

You miss the sight as soon as it’s gone.

“That’s absurd,” Yunjin says after a moment. You have no idea what she’s talking about. “Can I open the Skittles?”

You’d forgotten about those. “Go ahead.”

While rummaging through your bag, Yunjin tells you quietly that Sunghoon’s coming though you barely have a chance to look at him before his shadow casts over the two of you, stark and vivid. With his arms crossed over his chest, Sunghoon towers over you. His red shorts cling onto his hips, so low you can see every inch of muscle definition spanning his stomach where little beads of water stare you dead in the eye. By the time you manage to look up at his face, he has a huge grin stretched over his pretty lips. “Hey, stalker,” he says.

Though his smile falters when you crease your brows, pulling your sunglasses down your nose. “Stalker?”

“You, uh,” he pauses to sniff, less sure of himself than earlier. “I saw that you followed me on Instagram last night.”

“You did? And no DM?”

No DM, he repeats under his breath, visibly confused, and the—“Ohhhh, you wanted to talk to me?”

“Yeah, that’s why I followed you.”

“Right.” A nod. “And no DM?” Sunghoon seems to like the way you laugh, uncrossing his arms, and puffing his chest out. “So what did you wanna talk about that just couldn’t wait until you saw me again?”

“I wanted to catch up.”

A sceptical look crosses his face. “Really? Anything specific you wanted to talk about?”

“Not really. I just think you’re interesting.”

“Me? Interesting?” The mixture of amusement and surprise on his face makes you laugh.

“Yes, you, interesting.” A saccharine smile spreads across your lips as you swing your legs over the side of your chair. Sunghoon apologises when your ankle grazes his calf. “Very interesting.”

Sitting like this, your face is so close to his hips you can see the loose thread at the top of his shorts. He seems to notice, taking a step back. Down the bridge of his nose, he watches you through squinted eyes, furrowing his brow and letting a beat pass. “How so?”

“There’s a lot of reasons, but, for one, you’re the only figure skater I know.”

So quickly you barely see it, Sunghoon’s lips curl into a frown before he presses them together, nodding. “How’s summer treating you?” He changes the subject.

You let him. “Pretty good,” you say, bringing a hand up to the tied strap of your swimsuit to pull it to the side. “And I’m tanning pretty well, right, Sunghoon?”

A massive cloud glides across the sky, casting a welcome shadow over the scorching sun. The transition is gradual but relief is immediate and even Sunghoon sighs. You push your sunglasses up to rest in your hair, taken aback, like always, by how bright it actually is outside. Even with the sun covered up, your eyes sting a little without the tint making you squint up at Sunghoon who watches you with an amused smile.

“Is there something on my face?” you ask.

“No, nothing like that.” He shakes his head. “It’s just.. nice catching up with you.”

“Yeah. It is.” You return his smile, liking the way his widens. “So, how’s summer trea—” You’re cut off by the same kid as yesterday, yelling “Sunghoooooooooon!” At the top of his lungs.

“What were you saying?”

“Uh,” you start, distracted by the kid pointing at Sunghoon, who waves frantically when he realises he’s caught your eye. “You, uh,” you pause, using a finger to point over to the pool. “I think your friend might need you.”

He turns to look over his shoulder, the sun shining directly on the side of his face when he does, highlighting the pretty mole on his nose that you’ve somehow never noticed. Sunghoon shakes his head and freezing water splashes onto your stomach, making you flinch. A non-committal sound comes out of his mouth as he shrugs, facing you once again. “It’s just Riki.”

Just Riki doesn’t let up. Instead, he enlists the help of a cute cat-eyed boy, clambering onto his shoulders and balancing precariously as he yells and yells at the top of his lungs.

“Okay, yeah, I gotta,” Sunghoon sighs, using his thumb to motion towards the pool as he walks backwards away from you. He points a long index finger at you before turning around. “I’m coming back,” he says.

With a huge splash, Riki falls from his friend’s shoulders unceremoniously, his form disappearing for a moment, replaced by a mess of bubbles and long frantic limbs until he resurfaces.

“I’m not here to play, I’m here to work!” Sunghoon calls out, walking right off the coping and into the water, swimming towards his friends anyway.

He doesn’t come back.

That night you stay at Chaewon’s, rifling through old teen magazines and taking quizzes to determine who your ‘celeb bezzie’ is. Answering mostly C’s, the two of you squeal at the prospect of a friendship with Lindsay Lohan.

Jaehyun’s complaining when you reach the pool and you figure Yunjin and Kazuha must be nearby. Your hunch is correct when you round the corner by the water slide and see the two of them splashing each other in the small pool. He’s standing with his hands on his hips and yelling something about the literal sign that says they can’t be in there right now. The sign is a bright red fold-out thing, saying in bold white letters that the pool is closed for swimming lessons starting at 1:30 p.m.

“It’s 1:20, you can’t be in here,” Jaehyun groans, raking a hand through his hair. “I know you guys think because we’re friends you can do what you want but the other lifeguards kicked me from the group chat and Sunghoon said it’s all your fault.”

The mention of Sunghoon makes your ears perk up, and you decide to insert yourself. “What did they do wrong?”

Jaehyun practically jumps at the sound of your voice next to him and Yunjin calls out for you to get in! “Don’t you dare,” Jaehyun mutters, cutting his eyes. “Whatever it is was bad enough for Mark, Yeri, and Chaeyoung to decide I’m not worthy of LIFESAVERS 2.0 swimming guy emoji, ring float emoji.”

“If you got kicked because of them, I don’t see why Sunghoon gets to stay.” You tilt your head, stepping back a little when you feel a splash hitting your feet. “His one million-man friend group takes up half of the big pool every day, competing for who can laugh the loudest, and these two are pretty much doing the same thing.”

“Yes, but Sunghoon’s friends aren’t breaking the rules.”

“I saw Riki take an ice cream cone from a kid yesterday.”

“That’s not against the rules,” Jaehyun sighs. “And Chaeyoung thinks Sunghoon’s cute, so.”

“She does?” you ask too quickly.

“What do you care?” Jaehyun spares you a glance, arching his brow. He seems to undergo some kind of revelation, gasping a little and nodding his head. “So that’s why you guys are here all the time! You totally like that loser.”

“Sunghoon’s not a loser, he’s hot.”

“Interesting thing to dispute.”

You roll your eyes. “Do I need to worry about Chaeyoung?” you ask quietly.

“If you’re trying to hook up with Sunghoon I wouldn’t worry about her.”

You hate his response; hate that instead of really answering you, he’s just left you with even more questions.

And you hate Chaeyoung for falling into your line of sight just as you mention her.

She leaves the locker room, laughing about something with Yeri, and making you wonder what exactly she wants with Sunghoon. And why she suddenly feels like your competitor.

“And if I’m not?”

Jaehyun cackles at your suggestion. “You? Not trying to hook up?”

You can’t come up with a reason for why his words make your chest ache so you shove him with your elbow before jumping into the water with the girls. The sound of Jaehyun groaning and begging you guys to get out of the pool only dissolves the ache and puts a smile on your face.

Yunjin and Kazuha gang up on you for taking so long to join them but the water feels so cool against your skin you can’t help but enjoy it.

The sound of what you think is Sunghoon’s voice makes you freeze in your spot. “I can’t keep defending you, man,” he sighs.

At the sound of a whistle blowing, you raise your hands to cover your ears and all three of you whip your heads in its direction. Sunghoon stands next to Jaehyun with a whistle in his mouth, coughing around the metal when he sees you. He smiles, dropping it to rest against his chest. “Oh, hey.”

“Hi,” you greet, swimming over to the edge of the pool and resting your arms on it, letting your chin find a home against them. Looking up, you see Jaehyun rolling his eyes before walking off in the opposite direction and Sunghoon stares down at you with a smile on his face.

“How are you?” he asks, fidgeting with the whistle like a charm on a necklace.

“I’m good, how are you?”

“Good, me too. Uh-your friends,” he pauses, clearing his throat. “I’m teaching lessons here, in five minutes, so I was wondering if you guys could maybe hang out in the main pool or by the slides instead?” he asks. It seems like he’s asking. “Only if you want.”

“What if we’re here for lessons?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, you guys must be the six-year-olds I’m teaching this afternoon, my bad for assuming.”

You can’t tell if he was trying to be funny or if that was just something he said for the sake of saying it, but it makes you smile anyway. “You don’t do lessons for grown-ups?”

Sunghoon shakes his head. “I teach 6 to 12-year-olds, but Mark teaches adult classes on Saturday mornings if you’re interested.”

You nod, lifting yourself out of the pool, dripping water on the concrete. You’re close enough to Sunghoon to clearly see his jaw tensing, and the way his gaze shamelessly falls to your chest for more than a few seconds.

“What if I’m interested in a one-on-one lesson?”

Close enough to see the goosebumps that rise on his skin. He licks his lips, holding your gaze. “I guess we could work something out,” he says, clearing his throat when you rest a hand on his wrist, though he doesn’t look away from you.

It seems like it’s just the two of you and the sun beating against your skin. And his pulse racing against your fingers.

An excited wail grounds you, brings you back to the pool. “Sunghoonie! Sunghoonie!” You hear over his shoulder, as a tiny girl with pigtails and a huge grin comes rushing over to you. “Look, I got new goggles, look at my new goggles!”

You take a step back and Sunghoon gasps, holding her Hello Kitty goggles in his hands, inspecting them carefully while crouching down to her level. In his absence, you see more, equally excited, kids plodding along, babbling to each other, followed by parents with small character backpacks slung over their shoulders.

Sunghoon chats animatedly with her, nodding and gasping and saying really? at all the right times, in a way that summons butterflies. She giggles and holds her belly laughing when he holds her baby sized goggles over his head, asking if he can try them on, and you need to leave before you burst into tears at how sweet he’s being.

Yunjin and Kazuha beam at you when you look over at them, winking dramatically and giving you silent rounds of applause. Your cheeks burn at the sight, mumbling at them to come on, before turning around to walk away.

“Hey, YN!” Sunghoon calls out, stopping you in your tracks. He’s standing with his arms crossed over his chest, and a small smile on his lips. “See you later, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nod.

The girls have caught up to you by now, Yunjin’s eyebrows waggling suggestively as she links her fingers with yours. “Oh, he is so into you,” Kazuha whispers, wrapping a dripping arm around your shoulders. “Chaewon was right, summer really doesn’t start until you get back.”

In the main pool, you play around with the girls until you’re tired from swimming and the heat, and if it wasn’t for what Sunghoon said, you would have gone home already. You lay back in a lounge chair and close your eyes behind your sunglasses. You could probably fall asleep out here, feeling an odd comfort in the blood-curdling screams and mix of music playing from tiny bluetooth speakers all over the place.

About five minutes later, you use your fingers to pick out a few pieces of Oreo from Yunjin’s ice cream, deciding they’ll be compensation for having to deal with the sticky dessert trickling down the cone and onto your fingers. Though in this heat, it doesn’t bother you so much.

On your trip back to your seat, you see Heeseung and Sunghoon by the locker room entrance. Standing in the shade, the two of them talk while Sunghoon lets a chunky pair of sunglasses rest on the back of his head, a sight that makes you clench your fist so hard the cone crunches under your fingers. You watch Heeseung’s face split into a grin while he throws his head back laughing, though Sunghoon presses his lips together in a straight line, clearly unimpressed.

Yunjin jogs over to you, thanking you for the cone and complaining about how stingy Jungwoo’s being with the Oreo pieces these days but taking an appreciative lick anyway, letting her head fall back and a long hum of satisfaction buzz against her lips. “Just go over there and talk to him,” she says after a while.

“Wow, YJ, thank you. I hadn’t thought of that.”

She flips you off before walking away.

You don’t mean to catch his eye but he smiles when he sees you, waving when you wave. Heeseung waves too. If Sunghoon had been standing on his own you’d have no problem approaching him, but something about interrupting their conversation puts you off. Heeseung nods at you and calls out your name, inviting you to interrupt them.

“It’s funny, we were just talking about you,” Heeseung says. You’re not sure how he wants you to respond to that, but Sunghoon looks at him with wide eyes, using his elbow to nudge his oversharing friend. “All good things, of course,” he adds on, raking a hand through his hair.

“Who could have anything bad to say about you?” Sunghoon asks.

Out of genuine concern, you ask if they’re okay, which only makes the two of them burst out laughing. Awkward laughter in the form of robotic ha ha has and forced applause. You’re not sure what to make of this, looking back and forth between them with a crease along your brow. High school was probably the last time you talked to Lee Heeseung, but besides the piercings and muscle definition he doesn’t seem to have changed much.

“How have you been? How’s college?” Heeseung asks after wiping his left eye with the back of his hand.

“I’ve been good. I saw you graduated last week, congrats!”

He looks delighted at the mention of his own studies, missing the fact that you’re trying to avoid talking about yours. “Thank you!” he says, beaming. “Do you know what classes you’re taking this year?”

“No.” You shake your head. “You studied music, right?”

An impossibly brighter grin spreads across his lips, eyes shining with genuine happiness as he nods. “Yeah, I majored in production actually. Best thing I ever did.”

For a while, Heeseung talks about his course though most of it goes over your head as jealousy burns in your stomach. The last three years have gone well enough for you to know that you’re more than just good at your major, so why, like him, can’t you enjoy it too? Right now, you want nothing more than for stupid Heeseung to shut up about his stupid career choices.

Sunghoon interrupts the conversation, seeming to notice your mild irritation. “Hey, are you okay?” he asks, resting a hand on your shoulder.

He doesn’t seem convinced when you nod your head belatedly, clearing your throat. You do your best to focus on the burn of his hand on your skin and not your jealousy.

Sunghoon looks over at Heeseung, giving him a look that the older boy takes as an invitation to leave, smiling at the both of you before waving goodbye.

“What’s the matter?” His voice is much softer now that you’re alone, so comforting that you’re tempted to fall into his chest and tell him everything that’s ever upset you.

“What makes you think something’s the matter?”

“You were staring at Heeseung like you wanted to wipe the stupid smile off his face with a bullet.”

“Actually, I think he has quite a nice smile,” you admit.

“Yeah,” Sunghoon agrees. “But it’s a little annoying, right? Like how everything just seems to go so well for him no matter what. Perfect guy with a perfect major, it’s a little hard not to be jealous of him when he talks like that.”

“You don’t like what you study?”

“It’s not my major I’m struggling with.” He lets out a dry laugh. “What about you?”

A deep sigh rolls out of you, pulling your shoulders down. “I’m good at it so why stop, you know?”

“Plenty of people stop things they’re good at.” The response comes quicker than you expect, in a defensive tone that makes you want to slice open his brain and take a look inside. “Sorry, I just mean if something isn’t making you happy, then it’s okay to stop. Right?”

It doesn’t feel like he’s talking about you. “Right,” you affirm anyway. “It’s just that I only have a year left so the way I see it, I should just deal with it, graduate, and worry next summer instead. Uni sorta freaks me out is all,” you explain, shrugging in a way that you hope looks nonchalant. “I don’t like my course, and I don’t like talking about it, so let’s not talk about it.”

Sunghoon nods. “No talking about uni, got it,” he says, holding an imaginary pen and making a note of your words in the palm of his hand, with a tiny smile on his face that makes your stomach twist. “So, what do you like talking about?”

“Literally anything else.”

“Look at us, so much in common.” There’s a hesitant look on his face, like he’s questioning his word choice but he smiles when you do, letting out a breathy laugh at the sound of a chuckle slipping out of you.

“Hey, Sunghoon?” you ask after a beat, tilting your head and continuing when he hums. “Do you work here every day?”

He shakes his head. “Just Monday through Thursday.”

“So, if I wanna see you, I could just come to the pool on those days?”

“Yeah.” Even in the shade, it’s hard to miss the way his cheeks flush pink, and he scratches at the back of his neck while stifling a smile. “Exactly.”

“And if it’s Friday or the weekend, and I wanna see you, I could just text you?”

“Yeah, I think I’d like that.” That same smile curves on his lips, gentle, happy.

You think you’d like that too.

Sunghoon puts his number in your phone and you send a text so he has yours too.

The sun doesn’t set until late that night, and you spend the better part of the evening in the garden with your mum, catching the last moments of the sun’s rays from a blanket in the grass. The sound of her fingers against the keyboard is like a perfect mechanical OST for the summer romance you’re halfway through. Though knowing that the countdown in your email is set to strike zero in a matter of hours makes it difficult to concentrate on what’s going on in the made up beach town you’re reading about.

After a late dinner, you click the link to watch the countdown hit zero before refreshing the page. The stark white background of the login page stings your eyes in your dark room as you wait for the results page to load with a held breath. All three of your course titles are marked with MP for merit pass. A weight falls from your shoulders only to be replaced with another.

The family group chat doesn’t seem to share your distress. Your dad hearts the message and sends a gif of Michael Scott clapping, your mum texts back that she’s so proud of her baby, and your older brother says KNEW U COULD DO IT! You throw your phone across the room, hiding your face in your pillow to muffle a scream.

That night, you dream of graduation. Of crossing the stage and seeing the culmination of four long years on a flimsy piece of paper. The ceremony ends and behind closed eyes, you watch yourself sign your life away to a 9-to-5 in a field you hate, the same your brother had done. Drenched in a cold sweat, the nightmare jolts you awake.

You spend all day in your room for fear of running into your mother and having to discuss your future.

The day after that, the familiar smell of coffee hits your nose as you walk by a cafe you used to frequent in high school, drowning yourself in hot chocolate in the winter and in sweet frozen lemonades in the summertime. If it wasn’t for your plans of seeing Chaewon you might’ve picked something up for nostalgia’s sake.

Right when you think about her, she calls you. “Bring me a coffee,” Chaewon says.

“What?”

“Can you get me some coffee?”

Looking over your shoulder, you fully expect to see Chaewon standing behind you or perched in one of the bushes across the street with a pair of binoculars. Her voice rings down the phone at you, at a volume you’re sure you would be able to hear if she was watching you from somewhere. “Hello?”

“Yes, I’ll do it,” you say, ignoring the chill that runs down your spine and hanging up.

A bell rings above your head when you open the door, the cafe greeting you warmly like it always has. You admire its familiar green walls and the organic curves of its interior, from the sweeping archways to the round tables and chairs. Back then, you must have sat in each of them.

You think you’re going crazy when you hear Sunghoon saying thanks, and you know you’re going crazy when you actually see him leaving the counter with his fingers wrapped around a vibrant orange iced drink. He doesn’t see you, focusing on the phone in his hand and the straw in his mouth, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat with each sip. Sunghoon turns his back to you, walking towards a table in the far corner, his head moving to the beat of whatever song he’s listening to. He sits in the seat facing away from you, and you stare for so long that the barista has to say excuse me to get your attention.

After apologising, you order Chaewon’s latte, giving her name over to the barista when she asks and waiting off to the side while she makes it. The whole time, you watch Sunghoon, willing him to look over at you. It doesn’t work.

Not in the way you’d been expecting, at least. Your phone vibrates against your palm.

sh: hey yn! are you doing anything nice today?

You grin at the back of his head.

yn: seeing chaewon later :) hbu

sh: oh cool i hope you guys have fun!

sh: working later.. closing shift :/

When it’s ready, you collect Chaewon’s drink and approach Sunghoon’s table. He’s staring at his phone screen, where you see your conversation over his shoulder — even though it’s been five minutes since he texted you — and have to bite back a smile.

“Hey, you.” The words come out like you intended, light, pleased.

Sunghoon jumps in his seat anyway, slamming his phone face down on the table and looking up at you. “YN,” he breathes. “Hey.” He wipes his palms on his pants. “What are you doing here?”

“Same as you, I guess,” you grin, raising the cup in your hand. “Can I sit?”

“Of course.” A beat passes while you take your seat and Sunghoon’s eyes don’t leave you once.

It’s been a while since you last had a vanilla latte but it’s just as sweet as you remember when you try it, the ice doing a good job at keeping you cool. You tilt your head at the boy in front of you, checking the date on your phone. “It’s Friday today.”

“Yeah…” Sunghoon squints at you, nodding his head slowly. “Oh, it’s Friday,” he says, seeming to figure out what you were getting at despite the lack of context. “There’s a girl I normally coach on Mondays at the rink, Hyein, but she couldn’t make it this week so we moved her session to this afternoon. To be clear though, I don’t normally work on Fridays. At the rink or otherwise.”

You nod, taking another sip of Chaewon’s coffee and angling the cup so he can’t see her name written on the side of it.

“So, if you wanted to see me, on a Friday, or over the weekend, you could still text me about that.”

Smiling, you nod. “Good to know. Do you work Monday to Thursday at the rink as well?” you ask, curiosity getting the better of you.

Sunlight spills through the tiled windows, warming your skin through the glass. Over his shoulder, the bell by the door rings incessantly and under the sun’s rays, flecks of amber glow in his eyes that crinkle at the corners, a dimple peeking at you as he shakes his head.

“I have my own training at 6 on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, and then I teach kids classes on Monday and Tuesday nights, and I see Hyein on Monday mornings.”

“6 a.m.?”

“No, our sessions start at 10.”

“I mean your training, you start at 6 in the morning?”

“Oh.” He nods. “Yeah,” he says, shrugging.

“Fuck, that’s so early, I could never.”

“I mean, that was just my training block during school. 6 to 7:45, so I’d go to the rink, back home to shower, and go to school when I could.” A beat passes before he speaks again, using his straw to stir his drink. “But that was mainly during, like, off-season. If I had competitions coming up then I’d spend entire days at the rink, or dance class, in the gym, so I missed a lot of school.”

You nod. “I remember.”

Sunghoon’s eyes flash with something, as his brows knit together for barely a second. He smiles. “Anyway, I did try later sessions when I started college but I was so used to my early sessions that I’d still wake up at 5 a.m. even though my classes didn’t start until the afternoon.”

There’s a sparkle in his eyes when you ask about Hyein, and excitement in his voice while he tells you all about her. About how much potential she has, even though she doesn’t seem to realise it; about how much better she’s gotten in the year since they met and how similar she is to him at her age.

After a very slow walk with Sunghoon, you reach Chaewon’s place. It doesn’t hit you that you’re empty-handed until she opens the door and frowns at you, asking where you’ve been and what happened to her coffee.

It starts to feel like you’re running out of friends to take to the pool when, a few days later, the entire girls chat is too busy to come along, and Lee Jeno from an engineering lecture you took two years ago sits in the chair next to you, lazily flipping through an old copy of Dazed Magazine. Even if only as a last resort, Jeno makes good company seeing as you like the funny Tiktoks he shows you and the way he sneaks vodka into your slushy behind your towel.

For a while, you pretend not to care about Sunghoon’s absence in hopes he’ll spawn from the pool’s deep end. Surprisingly, he does not. And just like that, an ugly pattern is formed: you go to the pool, wait all day for Sunghoon, and eventually, stumble back home in a daze from alcohol or sunstroke.

It takes four and a half more, uneventful, Sunghoonless visits to the pool to leave you trying not to tear your hair out at Chaewon’s dining table.

Kazuha serves as a good distraction though, making you quiz her on the details of Kim Yeri’s driving licence so she can come out to the club with you guys. Between the two girls looking nothing alike and Kazuha thinking a March birthday makes her a Sagittarius, you’re not hopeful.

When she goes to the toilet, you check your phone just to be sure Sunghoon hasn’t texted in the twelve minutes since you last checked. And like before, the only messages you find are from Yeonjun asking if you’re “tryna slide” later. You aren’t, and haven’t been for the last two weeks he’d been asking. Completely unrelated to a certain blond lifeguard, of course. You sigh, thinking of Sunghoon again and why he hasn’t texted yet.

There’s nothing stopping you from sending the first text (today) — except for the fact that you’d been texting back and forth until you accidentally aired him at the start of the week. Unless you’re trying to hook up, you never send the first message. And as much as you would like to hook up with Sunghoon, there’s something about him that’s too endearing to only experience in the quiet of a backseat at 3 a.m., or in your room when no one’s home.

Four shots and a lot of egging on seem to be all you need to make your way to Sunghoon’s DMs. You let Chaewon and Kazuha debate over what your opening message should be, and with shaky thumbs, you type out something simple. Much to your friend’s (and your own) disappointment, you eventually settle on hey handsome.

sh: hiiiiiiiiiii

For a while, you watch as Sunghoon types and stops and types and stops before his message comes through.

sh: pretty

You can’t help the giggle that comes out, clearing your throat when Chaewon raises a brow at you. The two of you hold eye contact for a beat before erupting into a fit of laughter.

you: i haven’t seen you at the pool in a while and i was wondering if you’re ok..

sh: yn.. have you been at my workplac e waiitng for me to show up again ???

you: are you ok.

sh: i think it’s cute that you did that, my friends tol d me they saw you there every day this week

you: why are your friends reporting my whereabouts to you..

sh: i asked them to, also im good i just took some days off

sh: back monday am i gonna see u then?

you: or we could just see each other on one of your off days?

On the left side of the screen, you watch animated ellipses dance above the keyboard before halting, though no message comes to replace them and it doesn’t take you long to figure out that the message hasn’t come through because your phone is frozen.

Right?

You let out a laugh at your stupidity while Chaewon looks at you like you’re insane, turning off your phone and letting it sit for a bit before turning it back on. Wasting no time, you go straight to Instagram and pull up the DM thread where the word seen sits underneath your last message, laughing at you.

Perplexed by what seems like your first rejection ever, you’re not quite sure how to move on so you send a text to the group chat (mainly for Yunjin, the only one who isn’t present). Yunjin replies with a message suggesting Sunghoon’s phone died. In the chair opposite, Chaewon suggests maybe he died. Jaehyun brings you more shots to cope with your heartache and you clutch your stomach laughing when he squirts lime juice into his eye.

Because your friends don’t respect you, you end up in the middle seat when the Uber arrives; sandwiched between Chaewon and Kazuha, drinking as much vodka as you can stomach from the younger girl’s flask while she mutters March 5th, Taurus over and over again.

All that hard work was done in vain, though; when you reach the club Kazuha insists on being the first to go up in line, and tears start streaming when the bouncer asks what part of Seoul she was born in. Yeri’s ID gets confiscated and the four of you pile into another Uber and head to your backup plan, which you only learn about when the car pulls up.

Living in another city for uni means you’ve never partied with Sunghoon’s friends before — beyond walking by each other in a club — and some combination of excitement and alcohol makes your stomach heat up as you think about seeing him again.

Nishimura Riki’s family home is a giant structure that takes up more room than what’s probably necessary. There’s a massive fountain in the middle of the driveway shooting a stream, out of the mouth of what you think is a lion, into its main bed of water. The grand front door has banners criss-crossed over it saying HAPPY BIRTHDAY KIM SUNOO! Before you reach it, the door swings open and Jay’s jaw is even sharper than you remember when you see him so close. He grins at you and your friends, whooping obnoxiously at the sight of Jaehyun, dapping him up before waving awkwardly at you, Chaewon and Kazuha. You watch him lean over to Jaehyun and ask if that chick’s okay, while not so subtly pointing at the youngest of you all.

When you look at her, black streaks of mascara tear through her blush like a knife though she wears a bright smile as she eyes Jay like a predator. You nudge her in the ribs and make a mental note to find a bathroom to help her fix her makeup. She frowns when you take her hand and enter the house, leaving Chaewon with Jaehyun and Jay, the three of which chat easily with one another.

Upstairs in the main bathroom, you kneel on the floor between Kazuha’s legs, gently running a makeup wipe over her face while she sits on the lid of the toilet babbling about Jay. “He’s the one,” she says determinedly. “I mean, he was worried about me.. he barely knows me and he was asking if I was okay. Like, how did he know I’d been upset?” You wonder if Kazuha has seen her face in the last half hour. Or if she knows why you insisted on taking her makeup off.

“Right,” you nod, knowing it’s easier to agree with a drunk Kazuha than face an argument.

“It’s a feeling. Like, sometimes you just have to look through the eyes of your soul, and everything will work out.”

It’s amazing to you that she can say the things she says without laughing. But there’s a finality in her tone that makes you hope she’s right.

With Kazuha all cleaned up, you’re able to focus on how crammed the house actually is. There are people in every room of the house, sitting on the porch, in the backyard. People are everywhere and you’re not sure you’ll ever manage to reunite with your friends. In favour of getting to know Jay, Kazuha presses a kiss to your cheek and runs off in the opposite direction. You head for the kitchen knowing that Chaewon will most likely be in there somewhere, batting her lashes at a tall graduate in hopes to score a free smoke.

People are grinding and hanging off one another in the hall and the living room, making out by the stairs, and in what looks like the only empty spot in the kitchen Sunghoon leans against the counter, taking generous gulps from something in a red cup. Judging by his smart trousers and pretty black cardigan, Sunghoon has also developed a personal style in the time since you’ve last been home. A dent forms in Sunghoon’s cheek when he sees you, a sweet crinkle in his eyes as he says hi!

You can’t figure out whether you should hug him or not but he looks so sweet with his wide smile and flushed cheeks that your arms widen of their own accord. His embrace is gentle, wrapping you up in a mixture of toned arms, soft cotton, liquor, and something light, floral, you think.

“Can I fix you something to drink?” Sunghoon asks quietly, you only just hear him before he lets you go. “I didn’t think you’d be here tonight,” he says, reaching over the counter to grab a cup for you.

“Yeah, I didn’t either.”

“I was your backup plan?”

“Oh, come on.” You nudge his shoulder with your hand as he screws the cap back on a bottle of lemonade. “I wouldn’t use those words. If I’d known about the party you would’ve been the plan.”

“I thought you wouldn’t use those words.”

“You’re using those words,” you say, grinning when he laughs.

You both go back and forth on it for a while, as Sunghoon tries to find Malibu in the mess of bottles cluttering the countertop. A wide grin spreads across his face when he does and you watch him fill the empty space in your cup before handing it to you.

The first sip is syrupy sweet on your tongue, forcing an appreciative hum out of you. “So good,” you say through a dreamy sigh, shaking your head before taking another gulp.

From his nose, he lets out a breathy laugh, his lips quirking up at the corners as he watches you. “It’s good to know my bartending classes are paying off.”

“Have you ever considered a recipe book?” you ask, putting the cup down next to your phone, looking up at Sunghoon who seems to seriously consider this for a while before nodding.

Almost experimentally, he rests his hand on your hip. “I’m sorry about earlier,” he tells you, holding you a little closer when he sees that you’re okay with it.

You tilt your head at him, pretending not to remember the way he’d left you on read. “What happened earlier?”

“On.. iMessage,” he starts, trailing off at the end though he continues when you nod. “I’m not good at talking to pretty girls.”

Despite not fully believing him, there’s a sincerity in his voice that makes your stomach flutter. “Lucky for you, I’m very good at talking to pretty boys.”

You can’t tell if he’s flustered or drunk, but his cheeks redden after you speak.

“Pretty boys, me?”

“Who else?”

Sunghoon’s laugh comes out in ha ha ha’s, and if you couldn’t see the way his eyes crinkled up you might have thought he was faking it.

For a moment, his gaze flickers between your eyes and mouth, his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and he speaks. “I don’t want you thinking I’m not interested or anything.” His voice is low, almost too quiet for the cramped space where Me and Your Mama bounces off the walls and rowdy kids constantly bump into you.

With his hand still burning through your dress, he nudges you, turning you both around to take your place. Your ass rests against the edge of the countertop and the drunk students bump into him instead. “I’m just.. still figuring out how to stop being so shy all the time,” he says, using his thumb to lift the fallen strap of your dress.

You’re having a tough time believing him. If this is what being so shy looks like for Sunghoon, you’re terrified to see him being confident.

The heat of his lingering hand against your bare shoulder only leaves you drawing a blank. Part of you feels silly for saying that you’re very good at talking to pretty boys. You’re way out of your depth right now.

“But you,” he trails off, looking between your eyes and lips again. His hand starts to tremble against your waist. “You make it so hard.”

“I do?” you ask dumbly, at a complete loss for words, trying not to read too much into his word choice. Why, anyone could say that word, hard, and not mean anything by it, it’s a word after all. An adjective, you think.

Get out of your head.

“Mm,” Sunghoon nods solemnly. “You have no idea.”

Three people nudge past you, each one shoving into him harder than the last; he looks thankful when you suggest going outside. His fingers brush against yours before he pulls them away, turning around to head for the garden immediately.

The smell of smoke spikes through the fresh air, strong enough to make your head swim as Sunghoon closes the back door behind you. “Wow,” you whisper, looking around. It’s like stepping into a whole new party, with slow R&B pumping out into the summer heat. The garden spills out way beyond what your eyes can see, glowing with twinkling fairy lights and excited chatter.

“I know, right.”

There’s a two step staircase in the centre that you follow Sunghoon up, mumbling an apology to the couple whose makeout sesh you had to break up to do so. Both of your footsteps crunch against the stone path that splits the grass, and — at Sunghoon’s request — you tell him everything that led you to this party tonight. Leaving out all of the overthinking that went into the text you eventually sent him of course.

“Wait, how old is Kazuha?”

“21, she’s just waiting on her new ID coming in the mail.”

“What happened to her old one?”

“I think she’s like.. 13 or something in her old photo, and we didn’t get in last week either ‘cause the bouncer didn’t think it was her,” you pause. “Or she just looked too young in the photo. I’m not sure.”

You can hear Sunghoon humming along to the SZA song that’s playing, tilting his head at your words. His brows knit together for a beat, and he has to grab you by the forearm to keep you from tripping over your own feet. Sunghoon’s eyes meet yours, as he maintains his grip on you. “Thanks,” you say through a breath, trying to focus on anything other than his touch.

“Let’s sit, yeah?”

Sunghoon rests his arm around your shoulders when you nod, keeping you upright as you walk slowly towards the back of the garden. “I don’t know where you guys go out, but one time, we put Riki in a dress and gave him Hwang Yeji’s ID.”

“And then stayed home?” The mental image makes you cackle, getting funnier with each second you dwell on it, but your breath catches in your throat when you look up at him, shaking his head as best as he can while laughing. The way his head falls back, showing off the column of his neck and angle of his jaw forces you to screw your eyes shut to stop the thoughts of kissing him there.

“And then took him to the club with us and got him to buy our first round.”

With each thing he shares about that night, it grows more and more unbelievable, leaving your jaw on the floor as he leads you around a timber shed (that houses a hot tub) to a big swingy chair thing. “I’ll find the photos in a sec,” he smiles. “Let me hold your cup while you sit.”

The spot provides about as much privacy as you figure a packed house party could afford. Not that you need privacy to be endeared by Sunghoon or anything. You take him up on his offer, sitting down and watching as he ignores the phone ringing in his pocket, handing you back your drink. Even though you’re not thrilled about the interruption, you tell him he should at least check who it is.

“Jungwon?” He flinches, yanking the phone away from his ear. Jungwon’s voice is so loud you can hear him despite the distance. “Yeah I got it, I’m at the swing outside.” The call ends there and Sunghoon still doesn’t sit down and neither of you speaks.

Blinking fairy lights are strung neatly around the swing’s frame. Only a few of the bulbs are working, but together they produce enough light for you to see the sun-bleached blue of the cushion you’re sitting on, and the way Sunghoon’s looking straight at you. You smile. He doesn’t budge. Instead, he worries his bottom lip with his teeth for a while, completely spaced out, until a broad-shouldered child arrives.

Sunghoon daps him up and your brows raise when he pulls a short, flat bottle of vodka from his back pocket to give to Jungwon. “How much do I owe you?” he asks, taking the bottle.

“For the drink or for the lifelong tab you and Riki have been racking up?”

Chuckling, Jungwon shakes his head and points his thumb at Sunghoon. “Don’t you just love that sense of humour?”

The two boys share a look, and Jungwon nods in understanding. He affectionately pats Sunghoon’s bicep, face lighting up in awe. “Wow!” he gasps, turning to glance at you. “Have you felt the muscles on this guy? I wanna be just like him when I grow up.” With wide eyes, he nudges Sunghoon in your direction.

Despite his apparent indifference towards Jungwon’s attempts at hyping him up, Sunghoon comes closer to you, letting you feel his arm anyway. He flexes his bicep — all firm, sculpted muscle through his soft cardigan — under your fingers in a way that spreads fire in your stomach. Unintentionally, you catch his gaze and your breath gets stuck in your throat. A quiet laugh slips from his lips as he puts his arm down.

It’s hard not to think about what Jungwon had said about growing up, and even harder not to study him to figure out his age. His outfit is similar to Sunghoon’s; loose pants and a knitted cardigan which does nothing to help you make an estimate. Not being able to buy his own booze tells you that he’s not your age, his wide eyes and round cheeks only make him seem like a child, but his height and broad shoulders throw you off.

“How old are you?” you ask, giving in to your curiosity.

“21,” he says, too quickly. “.. in two years.”

He lingers for a bit to hype Sunghoon up some more; not so subtly bringing up his great qualities, like his considerate nature and unwavering dedication. Though Sunghoon’s “never ending” patience wears out and he asks him to leave. With a nod, Jungwon waves goodbye before sprinting back towards the house. Sunghoon laughs watching his friend and sinks into the seat next to you, his thigh pressing against yours for a beat before he closes his legs and rests his arms over the back of the chair.

“Wow,” you grin, leaning into his side. “Figure skating legend Park Sunghoon buys alcohol for kids.”

He shrugs. “I’m not a legend.”

You raise a brow, a smirk playing at your lips. “That’s the part you’re disputing?”

“Well, the other part is true,” he says, chuckling though unable to hide the flash of discomfort in his eyes. “If you consider a 19-year-old a kid.”

“You’re way too humble.”

“Anyone could be good with the right coach, and I have, like, the most supportive parents ever so they help me a lot.”

“Well, yeah, probably, but even then, your parents aren’t the ones skating, you are,” you point out.

Sunghoon deflates, sighing heavily. “Can we talk about something else?” He takes a sip from his cup in a silent plea for you to drop it. When his eyes meet yours, his lips press into a flat smile and the soft lighting brings out the dimple in his cheek.

You nod, using your hand to push his hair away from his forehead. The flat smile spreads across his face as you play with his light hair, that’s somehow silky smooth under your fingers despite the bleach. It’s a little messy when you move your hand, sitting over his thick brows in a way that, when paired with his boyish grin, makes him look younger.

A dull thump startles both of you as a couple jog away from the shed with linked hands and no regard for you or Sunghoon. Neither of you bother trying to hide your amusement when you meet each other’s eyes, laughing hard enough to make the swing sway.

“I’m sorry,” you say after calming down — maybe too late.

He shakes his head. “You don’t have to be.”

The smile on his face is soft, sincere, but does nothing for the guilt you feel over stressing him out — your lips tug into a frown.

“Hey,” Sunghoon whispers and his forehead is warm against yours when he nudges you, grinning at the way you giggle when he pulls away. “I’m not upset or anything.” he pauses. “I don’t think I’m upset or anything, I’m just tired, you know. I spend a lot of time talking about skating during the day and there’s, like, a million and one other things I’d rather talk about right now.”

His honesty assuages your guilt and piques your curiosity. “Yeah?” you ask, arching a brow. Sunghoon nods. “Other things like..”

He hesitates, caught off by the suggestiveness in your tone, by the way your hand grazes his knee before resting low on his thigh. A gulp echoes in his throat. “Uh, like..” His voice trails off.

There’s a flutter in your chest as a smile tugs at your lips. “Why don’t we start with those pictures of Riki at the club?”

“Riki at the club,” he repeats, nodding his head. “I can do that.”

Sunghoon’s arm falls around your shoulders when you nestle into him, close enough now that his scent hits you effortlessly. A tiny square in his camera roll expands under his thumb, showing you Riki in a tight black halter dress with his hair grown out and styled in neat curls. There’s a boxy grin spread across his lips while he holds Yeji’s ID next to his face. In the next picture, he crouches between Shin Ryujin and Lee Chaeryeong while the three of them make kissy faces for the camera. “And then he had two shots of Fireball and passed out in a booth so we had to carry him home.”

A laugh bubbles in your throat at the sight of Riki hunched over in a booth with his head on the table, and tears start to spill when you watch the video of Heeseung stumbling down the street, accidentally letting Riki slip off his back and onto the concrete.

Out of nowhere, Sunghoon’s eyes practically bulge out of his head; an expression you’ve only seen on Kazuha whenever she suspects she left her flat iron on at home. Dread settles in your stomach as you brace yourself for what he might say next. “Just give me a minute,” he says, his words holding an urgency that only fuels your nerves. “I need to text someone.”

Sunghoon thinking about talking to someone else while you’re trying to get to know him isn’t your favourite thing. In fact, it feels worse than what you imagine might happen if Kazuha actually does leave her flat iron on one day — because it shuts off automatically after 15 minutes.

You try hiding your disappointment but you can feel your lips drooping at the corners as he angles his phone away from you, deep in thought about this message he so urgently has to send. Whatever, you think. Couldn’t care less.

At long last, he finishes typing and pulls air through his teeth before putting his phone back in his pocket, drumming his nails against the seat until your phone goes off in your lap. In a fit of Kazuha-inspired absurdity, you want Sunghoon to feel bad about his lack of manners, so you ignore the notification despite your burning curiosity.

“Aren’t you gonna get that?” he asks, his gaze fixed on you expectantly.

You shake your head. “It can wait.”

A frown creases Sunghoon’s brow and you hate it; checking your phone immediately to find two texts from the boy sitting next to you.

sh: hey yn! sorry i took so long

sh: if it’s not too late do u wNt to go on a date with me next saturday?

After six days of exchanging Spotify links with Sunghoon over text, Saturday rolls around, and the doorbell chimes earlier than you’d been expecting it to. You call out that you’ll get the door, grab your bag and bolt down the stairs. With a hand on the door handle, you catch your breath, an act that seems pointless when you see Sunghoon through the glass. The door creaks open and his neck snaps in your direction, jaw falling to the floor.

He waves.

Your greeting is followed only by silence, your Hey, Sunghoon, dissipating into the sticky summer heat as he chews on his cheek, letting his eyes scan your body over and over. If he didn’t look so nervous you might have offered to pose for a picture. “How are you?” you ask, locking the door behind you and double-checking that you did lock it before tossing your keys into your purse.

“You’re so pretty,” he sighs, pushing his hand through his hair. “And I love your dress,” he adds. “Very pretty.”

“Yeah?”

Sunghoon nods and suddenly, your group FaceTime call with Chaewon, Minjeong, and Yunjin feels like two hours well spent.

While you tried on every summer outfit in your wardrobe for them to judge, Minjeong gave enthusiastic reactions to Sunghoon’s tagged photos, or, rather, to Mark in Sunghoon’s tagged photos but even she was struck by the outfit you settled on. The pretty floral dress that sits at the middle of your thighs that Sunghoon can’t seem to look away from. Hopefully, you’ll remember to thank them appropriately.

You follow him to his car where he opens the passenger door for you. Struck by the fact that this is the first time anyone’s done that for you, and the sound of his hand rattling against the metal, you sit down, beaming up at him as he closes the door. Sunghoon’s car is neat, and tidy, and smells pleasantly of the new car scent Little Tree that hangs, completely still, from his rearview mirror. Through the clean windscreen, you watch him walk around the front of the car with pursed lips.

“You like ice cream, right?” he asks when he sits down, looking over at you nervously.

“Who doesn’t like ice cream?”

Sunghoon takes you to a little old diner themed ice cream spot with checkerboard floors and a handful of plush vinyl booths. Some of the walls have cursive LED signs that you can’t quite make out and a great big jukebox in the back corner plays What Makes You Beautiful.

It doesn’t surprise you that Sunghoon is quiet when it’s just you guys, but you can tell that he’s trying his best. He listens attentively to everything you have to say, nodding his head and asking thoughtful questions at all the right times; he makes you laugh more than you ever have. He practically lights up when you bring up his friends.

“Your friends are so cute,” you say with a smile, thinking of the change Riki had given Yunjin to buy those slushys the other day.

“If you knew my friends you wouldn’t think that,” Sunghoon says, a fond smile that goes against his words spreading on his face at the mention of them. “Except Jake,” he corrects. “Jake is so cute, yes.”

“I don’t think I know which one he is,” you admit. “I know Heeseung, I know Jay, Jungwon, and Riki..” you trail off, looking up at him and the smudge of ice cream on his lower lip.

“Jake is the cute one,” he frowns. “You’ll know him when I show you.” Sunghoon takes his phone from his pocket, scrolling for a while. “I’m sorry, I can’t find a normal photo of all seven of us.”

“Just show me whatever,” you say, looking up at him and the smudge of ice cream on his bottom lip.

Without thinking, you reach over the table, using your thumb to wipe it away. Sunghoon’s cheeks immediately flush with pink and he gulps watching you suck the ice cream from the pad of your finger.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, shy, while turning his phone towards you to show the most absurdly staged photograph you think you’ve ever seen. “So, uh, Jake is.. he’s the one holding Heeseung up by his hair, and Sunoo’s posing in front of Jay.” Sunghoon hands you his phone when he’s done talking.

You use the opportunity to examine the picture.

Jake (so cute) really does hold Heeseung up by his hair, and Sunoo (also so cute) shows the camera his pretty side profile and a thumbs up. Some other things stick out to you in the photo, a laugh making its way out of you as you notice that Jungwon isn’t there but Jay holds up a printed picture of him in his right hand. Riki sits between Jay and Jake, wearing a concerned expression about something going on off-camera. Sunghoon is in the back, holding what looks like a yoga pose on the back of the couch they’re sitting on.

Happily, you let Sunghoon tell you more about his friends until the sun starts to set and the backs of your thighs stick to the vinyl seat. Not quite ready to say goodbye, you ask Sunghoon if you can go on a walk together. He seems into the idea, nodding his head and smiling down at you.

Walking aimlessly, the two of you maintain a neutral silence (not uncomfortable, not particularly comfortable either, just quiet), and pretend not to notice the way the backs of your hands touch, each bump longer than the last though amounting to nothing.

It’s not until comforted by the smell of chemically treated water that you realise how close to the pool you are. You follow Sunghoon around a corner and see the locked gates, wondering if he’d brought you this way on purpose or just out of habit.

“Wish it was open,” you say off-handedly, not really meaning anything by it. Like telling the person you sit beside on the first day of class that you’re so tired even though you had the best night of sleep in your life.

Sunghoon isn’t beside you when you look over at him, he’s a few paces behind you, standing by the gates. A mischievous smile spreads on his lips as he holds his keys in his hand, dangling them. “It could be.”

“Are we allowed to do this?” you ask nervously, watching Sunghoon twist his key in the lock.

“Allowed to?” he repeats, tilting his head as though the concept is foreign to him. “No, I don’t think so.” A satisfying click sounds as the lock comes undone and Sunghoon pushes the gate open with a huge grin on his face as he gestures for you to go inside first. “After you.”

He follows you in, shutting the gate behind him and holding out a hand for you to take; you lock your fingers with his and decide that you never want to let go. Not even after a thin layer of sweat forms between your palms.

The space seems so large when it’s empty like this, with the parasols closed and the lack of screaming children. Streetlights cover the area in a dim orange haze, turning it into a fuzzy dreamscape. The pool itself seems so small when you see it covered up, nothing like the ocean-wide abyss you remember it being when you were young, racing with Chaewon, or pretending like you were only playing around when you tried to drown Jaehyun.

“Do you wanna get in?” Sunghoon asks, his soft voice interrupting your thoughts.

You don’t hesitate to nod.

One night a week, the pool stays open until after dark, but you’ve never been. So when the mechanised pool cover whirs open after Sunghoon flips the switch, you’re shocked by the lights that illuminate the still water. It makes sense that the pool would have some form of lighting for safety, but you hadn’t expected the yellowing fixtures set in the tiled walls to shine so beautifully.

“Come on,” he says, taking you by the hand again, approaching the water.

A part of you wants to protest when he lets go, but the words catch in your throat as he pulls his shirt over his head. Having spent the better part of most summers poolside, the sight of shirtless Sunghoon isn’t a new one though you find yourself breathless all the same. It’s different tonight but he doesn’t seem to notice.

Worried you’ll break the spell, you can’t bring yourself to speak. Worried you’ll open your mouth and the moment might slip out from under you. These worries, however, are no match for Sunghoon’s slim waist which leaves your mouth forming an O at the sight.

“Wow,” you whisper, awestruck.

Sunghoon laughs, nervously, running a hand through his hair and using the other to hold his shirt over his stomach. “Don’t do that,” he says under his breath. He drops the shirt. The rest of his clothes follow, quickly leaving him in only his tight-fitting black boxer briefs that you struggle to look away from.

An odd feeling starts to creep in, causing a fire in your belly — obviously from the sweet cider you had earlier, nothing at all to do with Sunghoon. Or his sculpted torso. Or his face, with his soft smile, and sparkling eyes. No one’s ever looked at you like this before.

“What are you thinking about?”

Those shoulders. Those lips. Kissing those lips. You gulp. “Nothing.”

Even though he doesn’t look like he believes you, he doesn’t press you on it. Instead, he smiles. Sunghoon turns his back to you, walking towards the pool’s edge to dip a pointed toe into the water. You like the way he hums, nodding his head as if it’s just to his liking.

“Feels good?”

“Perfect,” he grins, stepping into the pool.

A splash makes the water ripple around him — you’ve never noticed it’s so clear, you can see everything. From the mosaic-like blue tiles on the pool floor and walls to the way Sunghoon’s hair moves around his head. It’s a dazzling blue, shifting brilliantly through the whole spectrum under light from the moon, the pool, and the lampposts.

Considering the way you’re sweating in the sticky heat, the water even looks refreshing, so you’re not sure why you don’t move to pull your dress off; or why you can’t shake your nerves. Sunghoon’s seen you in skin-tight dresses, and skimpy bikinis, so you’re not sure why the thought of him seeing you in your underwear is spooking you so much. It could be your lack of a bra. But even then, Sunghoon isn’t going to be the first person to see your bare breasts.

Interrupting your thoughts, he bobs to the surface with closed eyes and straight lips; his dimple shows. Pushing hair from his forehead, he asks if you’re going to join him though he seems to sense your apprehension, shaking his head. “You don’t have to take anything off,” he tells you gently. “Except maybe your shoes and socks.”

You nod, stepping out of your shoes and pulling your socks off almost robotically.

“It’s okay,” he smiles, comforting, reassuring, as he swims up to the edge of the pool and extends his wet hand to you. “I got you.”

You tell yourself to get out of your head, looking into Sunghoon’s sparkling eyes and feeling at ease from the way he looks up at you like you’re God’s gift. When you reach for the bottom of your dress, he gulps, his arm falling limply against the coping. You turn away from him to pull the light fabric over your head, letting it fall in a heap next to your shoes, and Sunghoon’s looking in the other direction when you turn back around. Even with the ‘privacy’ he’s afforded you by looking away, you can’t help but use your arms to cover your chest as you make your way over to the pool, sitting down on the edge and slipping into the water.

It is refreshing. The water is the perfect temperature as it envelops you, soothes you.

Just more than an arm’s length away, Sunghoon’s form is broad. His shoulders are so wide and his back so toned that your head starts to swim. His skin, sunkissed, glowing, is dotted with pretty moles that you’ve never noticed before but can’t look away from — suddenly feeling as though you could point to each one with your eyes closed.

With an odd half step, you reach him, letting your arms fall around his waist and pressing your chest to his back. You don’t know why you do that.

He draws a sharp breath. “Hi,” he whispers after a beat.

“Hi.”

A quiet falls between you until Sunghoon mumbles, over there, while pointing towards the deep end of the pool. You swim poorly behind him and he only stops when you call out his name. Sunghoon breaks out into laughter when he sees you. For him, who’s well into the deep end, the, now still, water might tease his chin if disrupted. For you, almost 2 metres behind, the water tickles your nose even when you stand on your tiptoes.

“Whoa,” he whispers.

You tilt your head back to speak. “What?”

“You’re just..” He pauses to gulp. “So short.”

Offended, you scoff. “I’m the tallest out of all my friends,” you say defensively. And untruthfully — hoping he’s never seen you standing next to Yunjin.

“Are you friends with the Lakers?”

You drift away from him, laughing as well, until the water just about reaches your armpits. He follows you. As more of his body breaches the surface, water slips from his chest, droplets and streaks glowing under the white light of the moon, completely breathtaking.

“I was so nervous about today,” he says, pushing some water towards you, his lighthearted tone gone.

“Oh?” You pause, continuing when he nods, and push water back in his direction. “How do you feel now?”

Sunghoon’s pouty lips jerk up the corners, playful, boyish. A soft laugh slips from the space between his teeth. “I’m absolutely terrified.” His honesty draws you to him, and has you actually drifting closer in the water.

“What’s scaring you?”

His breath seems to catch in his throat. He tilts his head while eyeing you. “Are you asking because you really don’t know?” If you’d still been splashing each other you doubt you’d have heard him talking over the water.

“Does it matter?”

Sunghoon seems to consider this for a moment, to consider you. Despite sitting just high enough to cover your breasts, the water doesn’t do very much to conceal them and his eyes get stuck on your chest for more than a little while. He clears his throat, looking back up at your face. He doesn’t answer. Instead, he raises his hands and smacks the surface of the water between you with open palms. A big splash hits you in the face.

It’s on, you think, doing the same thing to him with all the force you can muster and laugh at the yelp he lets out. Something of a splash fight ensues, both of you doing everything you can to create a bigger mess of water to attack the other with.

The rain starts so subtly that you don’t even notice it at first. You’re both too busy laughing and trying to splash the other harder to think about anything else. Only when you stop to catch your breath, to rest your aching arms, do you catch the faint ripples skating across the pool’s surface. Sunghoon doesn’t relent, taking the opportunity to gain the upper hand. And the rain gets heavy fast.

“Sunghoon, it’s raining, stop!” you call out, turning your face away from him. His raucous laughter makes your stomach flutter as you grab his wrist. “Come on, we’re gonna get wet, we have to go!”

When you look back over at him, his smile is so wide, so sweet that you almost feel faint. Sunghoon doesn’t stop laughing, the sound is so contagious you can’t help but join in. His arms fall around your waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world to do while he cackles in front of you, you let your hands rest on his firm triceps.

Large droplets start hitting your lashes, clinging to them, obscuring your vision, so you bring a hand up to act like an awning above your eyes. He calls you so cute under his breath though his laughter doesn’t seem like it’s going to stop anytime soon.

“Hoon, come on. What’s so funny?”

The rain is cold against your shoulders but the boy in front of you doesn’t seem to share your concerns about the sudden downpour. You lock eyes with him, and his laughter seems to get caught in his throat. He’s still smiling but seems nervous, as though he’s only now become aware that he’s holding you so close that your naked chest is pressed against his.

Sunghoon clears his throat. His smile returns, as a breathy laugh makes its way from his nose. He lets his face come down towards yours, slow, cautious, and too desperate to wait, you meet his lips halfway; they’re every bit as soft as you’d imagined.

As if relieved, Sunghoon’s shoulders sag and his body seems to melt into your own. Desperation, hunger hits you from all angles, lighting up your insides and leaving your skin burning under his touch. Unthinkingly, you link your arms around his neck to pull him impossibly close, almost whimpering when his tongue grazes yours.

Sunghoon tastes light and sugary, like the perfect combination of artificial strawberry and sweet coffee as his tongue moves against yours. From your mouth into his slips a dreamy sigh, while he holds onto you gently, like you’re the most delicate thing in the world; like he’s the most delicate thing. Why haven’t you been kissed like this before? So slowly, so softly, as if he means it. As if he’s kissing you for no reason other than simply wanting to kiss you.

Only when he pulls away to catch his breath do you regain your senses and notice how much heavier the rain has become. But your brain short circuits at the sight of him. His breathing is ragged, his chest rises and falls against yours. Water darkened hair clings to his forehead, letting beads slip from its ends to his cheekbone before slipping down the column of his neck.

Shelter is the only word you manage to say and all you can do is hope that he’s able to work out the rest. Like something from the purest depths of your imagination, Sunghoon’s kiss-bitten lips stretch into a wide smile. A giggle, the softest thing you’ve ever come across, slips from his mouth while his fingers squeeze at your hips.

“YN,” he says, breathless. “We’re in the pool.”

Dripping water onto the concrete under your feet, you and Sunghoon walk at snail’s pace from his car to your front door, with your linked hands swinging between your bodies.

The porch light diffuses dramatically over Sunghoon’s features, and somehow, even under the stark lighting, he’s still beautiful. His wet hair drips water onto his shoulders, darkening his shirt in abstract splashes around the neckline. A grin splits across his lips when he locks eyes with you, his face scrunching up and his shoulders racking up and down as he laughs to himself.

It’s impossible not to join in. “What’s so funny?”

He only shrugs in response, struggling to keep a straight face. “I’m just.. happy,” he says eventually, a tinge of uncertainty hanging from his words.

With shaking hands, Sunghoon grabs you by the waist and holds you close, leaning down to kiss you. As your lips move with his, the only thing you can think about is how badly you want to feel this moment forever. To feel the tremble in sweet Sunghoon’s hands as he holds onto you gently, to feel his soft hair under your fingertips, and his hard chest pressed against your body. To feel his lips curving into a smile, his forehead resting on yours as his breath fans your lips. “Are you happy too?” he asks.

You think you’ll die if you ever forget the way it feels to like Park Sunghoon.

“Yes. Very.”

Through the peephole in your front door, you watch as Sunghoon stands outside, bringing a hand to his cheek, fingers grazing the spot where you’re certain your lip gloss lingers. You suppress a giggle with your hand and run up the stairs to your room where you bury your face in your pillow to muffle a squeal. You can’t remember the last time you felt so giddy over something that was happening in your own life rather than something sweet you’d read in a book or heard about from a friend.

With Chaewon’s hand in yours, and butterflies in your stomach, you make your way to the community pool for the first time in about a week. Like always, you find Sunghoon’s friends wreaking havoc in the water until.. something happens. By the time it occurs, you’ve been laying poolside for about an hour, trying to convince your best friend that you liking a guy isn’t going to do anything to your friendship.

“You’re not supposed to like that guy,” Chaewon whines like a child, playing with the frayed hem of her shorts. “You’re only supposed to like me!” A sigh passes from her lips as she uses her arm to shield her eyes from the sun. “And Yunjin!” she adds after too long.

“What about the rest of our friends?”

“And Kazuha, and Minjeong, and Jaehyun, an—”

“Jaehyun’s a guy.”

She seems a little thrown off by your interruption, pursing her lips before speaking. “Well, yeah, but.. he’s one of our guys. A Chaewon-approved guy.”

Suddenly, the noise level reduces by at least half and you can’t help but feel alarmed, whipping your head in the direction of the pool. A quick scan tells you that nothing bad has happened, allowing you to release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. In the corner of your eye, you see Sunghoon’s friends huddled together and quickly realise that the space has only gotten so quiet because they’re chatting at a normal volume. Huh, you think, it almost sounds like the speakers are quite good. Heeseung and Jay get out of the water, sitting up on the pool’s edge while the other four boys all stand in place, all six of them fix their eyes on something in front of them but you don’t care enough to investigate further.

You look back at Chaewon as a pout settles on your lips. “Why can’t Chaewon approve of my guy?”

“When you say that Sunghoon is your guy, do you mean it in the same way that Yeonjun is your guy?” she asks, her tone scathing but her face concerned. “Or, the way that Asahi is your guy, or, even Yoshi?”

“No. This is different. Sunghoon is different.”

You know how trite and naive you must sound, but he is different. You’d never dated a guy who’d pick you up right at your front door; Yeonjun and Yoshi typically sent DMs to let you know they’d parked out front, and Asahi did nothing but honk the car horn because he found it funny. Though to call what you were doing with those guys ‘dating’ would be a huge overstatement. There was Renjun from first year who was nice enough but never wanted to hang out, and Donghyuck who made you laugh but never complimented you.

Chaewon crinkles her nose, reaching out to hold your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I really hope you’re right.”

And now there’s Sunghoon. Sunghoon who tells you that he can’t wait to see you again; who always tells you how pretty you look; who blushes when you hold his hand, who touches his cheek when you kiss it. You can’t imagine him doing anything bad to anyone. Sunghoon is different, and you hope you can be different this time too. In all the time you spend thinking, your guy shows up with a shy smile on his face with both of his hands behind his back.

It’s your first time seeing him in person since your date and the sun glows against his skin, his wet hair tickling his thick brows as he stands at the foot of your chairs, watching Chaewon nervously. “Hi, Chaewon,” he says after a while.

“Hello!” She grins, seeming so bright and happy that you find it hard to reconcile this Chaewon with the one who’d been clutching her chest and sliding down the walls over the fact you have a crush on the boy she’s now being so pleasant to.

“I got this,” Sunghoon says, bringing his hand from behind his back to reveal a strawberry-flavoured slushy. “For you.” He adds on, holding the drink out to your friend. While Chaewon gushes about how much she likes the mix of berries that make up her favourite flavour, Sunghoon hums and nods along while making his way to the other side of your chair. He wears a wider, more confident smile on his face while he stands over you.

“Hi, gorgeous,” he says quietly, bringing his other hand out to give you the blue raspberry slushy he’s been holding. With his foot, Sunghoon drags a spare lounger from behind him next to yours before moving out of the way and using his hands to push it some more, making the armrest touch yours. “Hey,” he smiles, taking a seat.

You take a grateful sip of your drink, surprised at how much better it tastes coming from him. “Thank you, Hoon.” You can’t stop yourself from leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek, liking the way your stomach flutters when his hand flies up to touch the spot you’d kissed.

“I like when you do that.”

“This?” you ask, kissing him again. Through squinted eyes, you notice a dusting of pink over his cheeks and take such a big sip of your slushy that every single part of your body goes numb and your head starts to hurt. Sunghoon only laughs, watching you. It’s quiet between you for a bit until you come to. “I’m not complaining, really, but don’t you have.. lives to guard?”

“I’m on break,” he says. “Do you want me to go?” His brows raise dramatically as the corners of his lips sink to the floor, a glint of something playful in his sparkling eyes.

You shake your head, face alighting with a grin when you remember something. “So can I see the skating videos you promised you’d show me?”

All playfulness is gone. “Did I.. promise?”

“Yes!” You don’t like the way he arches his brow at you. “Two nights ago.. before you fell asleep on the phone.”

He scoffs at you, playfully. “If I remember correctly, you fell asleep on the phone,” Sunghoon says, tone accusatory. “And you snore.” Sunghoon lets his cheek lie flat against the chair, grinning. He’s beautiful. And correct.

“Skating videos,” you repeat. Sunghoon rolls his eyes at you, grinning brilliantly when you laugh. “I’m serious,” you frown.

“You’re cute,” he says quietly, like it’s a correction. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” Sunghoon pauses but takes your nod as a sign to continue. “I have a thing, next Tuesday, and I was wondering if you’d want to come and see me skate in person?” His voice tips up at the end of the question.

Excitement bubbles up inside you, causing you to sit up straight in your seat, turning your body to face him. “You want me to come?”

He nods eagerly.

“I’ll be there.”

The tips of Sunghoon’s ears redden as he smiles at you, his eyes scanning your face. You can’t resist kissing him, and he doesn’t try to stop you, meeting your lips halfway. It’s sweet as sugar and goes on until his friends start to cheer loudly and Sunghoon pulls away, shy. But he looks like he wants to kiss you again. You grab him by the cord of the whistle around his neck and pull him back towards you. Relief floods you when your lips reunite.

“I’m gonna text you later with the details, time and shit,” he mumbles against your lips before getting up to go.

As he retreats, he looks over his shoulder a few times, waving at you and smiling widely while he does. Until he bumps into a small child who practically topples over; Sunghoon manages to catch them in the nick of time and his neck flushes pink.

It doesn’t make sense to you how he could be so cute.

Chaewon watches you as she sips her slushy with an appreciative smile, letting out a long ahh of refreshment before putting the cup down. “Chaewon approved.”

It seems like your mother’s been back from work for a while when you get home. A stretchy white headband holds her hair out of her face while she stands over a pot on the stove, looking comfy in some sweatpants.

Happy to see you, she pulls you into a hug, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Hi, honey,” she grins.

She turns down your offer to help and insists on you setting the table instead, which you do happily, taking a seat when you’re done. Through her phone, she plays the music she listened to while you were growing up and sitting there, watching your mum cook while dripping chlorinated water from your hair to the kitchen floor, makes you feel a bit like a child. Like it’s 2008 and you’ve come home from a day at the pool with Chaewon, who would sit across from you at the dinner table, all blunt fringe and missing teeth, talking about this brand new thing called cheesecake, while your mother made dinner for the three of you with a towel wrapped on her head, drying her wet hair.

As your mum fills your plate, she tells you about her day at work. Her boss was unreasonable, like always, and her office bestie took off on maternity leave. Again. She asks you about your day and pretends like she doesn’t notice the way you smile when you talk about the pool.

You don’t wait to tell her about Sunghoon.

“Is that who you went out with last week?”

You cough around a grain of rice; you don’t remember mentioning him. “How do you know?”

A smile takes over her face. “Because I watched him stand around the driveway for five minutes before he rang the bell.” You can’t help the way you laugh, it sounds like him to a tee. “What’s he like?”

You tilt your head for a minute, thinking. “I still feel like we’re getting to know each other, you know?” Understanding, she nods her head. So, naturally, you talk for the better part of 10 minutes about Sunghoon until your food gets cold and your cheeks hurt from smiling.

In preparation for Sunghoon’s skating showcase, you read up on the sport and audience etiquette, and stay up late the night before making a pretty banner for him. Sleepiness plagues you when you wake up that afternoon but at least you’re happy with the way the sign came out.

While doing your makeup, you start to second guess your outfit choice. It was nice when you picked it last week, and it was nice when you put it on an hour ago and then back on twenty minutes ago. So, out of options, you stand in front of the mirror for the umpteenth time, sending Sunghoon a picture of your flowy off-white dress and asking if it’s okay.

Sunghoon, dramatic as ever, responds with a selfie, all pretty smile and red hearts drawn over his eyes. You almost want to drop dead at the sight of him. And then another message comes through, no words, just emojis. At least 40 silly little yellow faces fill the text box. Some are crying, some have heart eyes, some have starry eyes, and some are drooling. There seems to be no apparent order, and you see sprinkles of white hearts in between them.

sh: you look so beautiful you’re so beautiful baby

Baby, he’d said. Simple, pixelated, enough to make your heart flip in your chest.

sh: can i come over

sh: just to loo k at you or smth

you: please

You want to kiss him.

sh: ok omw .. lying i dont have time :(((

sh: also i fucked up my hair last night don’t laugh when you see me.

you: no promises ..

There’s a short queue at the reception desk when you arrive at the rink. The lobby is full of excited parents and bored teens, all eager with anticipation for the start (and end) of the summer showcase. Sunghoon had been relatively vague about the event until you called him last night, with a list of questions about it. With one question about it. The two of you chatted and laughed for hours until you got an answer.

When he’s not spending the day at the pool, Sunghoon volunteers to teach kids classes at the rink he grew up in. Every year, the teaching cycle runs from April to July, at which point the rink holds the summer showcase, for parents and family members to attend and see what they’ve been funding for the past four months.

“We don’t normally let parents sit in on classes because it’s distracting for the kids,” he explained through a yawn. “And it’s the whole reason I started skating in the first place.” Sunghoon paused. You hadn’t been expecting him to stop speaking but you rubbed your eyes and mumbled oh, really? as you used a pencil to sketch out the outline of your bubble letters. “You know, at first I thought you fell asleep, but I didn’t hear you snoring so I got a little worried,” he said, nervous.

“I’m still here.”

He fell quiet for a beat, speaking nervously. “Just let me know if I’m boring you, yeah?”

“I could listen to you talk forever,” you admitted. “I’m having fun learning more about you.”

Sunghoon’s light laughter made you bite back a giggle. “You make me feel good about myself,” he said quietly before continuing, giving you no time to respond. “But, yeah, I used to play hockey because I didn’t know how to talk to anyone except my parents and my one-year-old little sister, but my only friend on the hockey team invited me to go and watch him at the showcase one year and it was just.. the greatest thing I’d ever seen.”

You encouraged Sunghoon to go on, still reeling from his quiet confession, and loving the grin in his voice while he spoke about skating and the way he laughed through some stories from work. Like how on a quiet day at the pool when he’d been messing around with Heeseung, Jake, and Riki in the water, some random guy approached them.

“And this is so crazy too because we were just, like, fucking around, and the guy goes, “My grandmother can swim faster than you,” like he yelled it and stomped away.”

Worried about waking your sleeping parents, you covered your mouth while laughing, mainly from the offence you can hear in Sunghoon’s voice over something that happened in October. “What did you guys do after that?”

“I was on shift so I clocked out and went home.”

The back of the program has a picture of Sunghoon and some of the other skating coaches, but it’s hard to pay attention to them or the signup sheet at the bottom when you see the wide smile on his face; you love the photo, it’s your favourite. He looks so happy, so radiant. If the scrunch of his nose and eyes is anything to go by, he must have been laughing when the picture was taken. This detail only makes you love it even more.

In the corner of your eye, Jake leans against a wall, scrolling through his phone with a sheet of paper tucked under his arm. Seeing as he’s now (technically) your friend-in-law, you decide to approach him. Through the crowd of attendees waiting to be seated, he spots you as well, rushing over with the widest smile you’ve ever seen on anyone. You could count his teeth.

Jake takes you by surprise, hugging you. “Hey! Hoon’s so happy that you’re here,” he says, somehow smiling even wider. “I’m so happy that you’re here, I finally have company!”

When the double doors to the rink open up, you follow Jake to what he describes as the best seats in the house. “I always sit up here, so our boy knows to look over,” he says with a smile, his eyes never leaving you. “In case you were worried about that. It’s kinda far, and there’s lights, so you might have to wave a little harder than normal but, he’ll see you.”

You nod, smiling too. “Got it.” Jake doesn’t look away. “Are you okay?” you ask him. More out of concern for your own well-being than anything else; you’ve heard of people murdering their best friend’s crushes before.

He chews on his lip, tilting his head. All traces of his welcoming smile have faded, replaced with a more solemn expression as he looks over your shoulder for a beat. “Sunghoon’s my best friend,” he starts, and it’s hard not to picture yourself tumbling to your death down the slowly populating rows in front of you. They seem steeper now than before. “And he’s.. well.. you know him. It’s just that, he really likes you, you know? And I’m not saying this to be rude but I know about Yeonjun.. and—” Jake stops short, shooting you an apologetic look. “Anyway, I know that for some people, for you, for me, even, seeing more than one person at a time isn’t a big deal, but Hoon’s not like that.”

You wait for him to continue. He doesn’t.

A voice booms through the tannoy, telling everyone to take their seats as the show will be starting soon.

Unsure what to say, you look out at the ice while Jake’s words sink in. It might have been easier to come up with something if he’d been any less kind about it. Spoken to you in a harsher tone. You hate the idea of Sunghoon knowing about the others, even if they were before him. Hate the idea of Jake having a similar conversation with him; telling Sunghoon that he’s not trying to be rude but..

“Sunghoon’s..” you pause, nervous. “He’s the best, and I can’t imagine seeing anyone else,” you admit.

Jake beams, trusting you, and nods his head. “He’s gonna love your banner,” he grins. “And that.. angry looking plushy you brought.”

The lights cut and all of the chatter hushes in an instant. Slowly, they fade back on, as a classical piece begins. Jake bounces his leg so hard you can feel the bench rattle under you, he’s practically glowing with giddiness. He’s like a little puppy, a golden retriever with light hair to match.

After a short while, a boy skates out onto the ice, tall, graceful, an—Riki? He reaches the middle of the rink and introduces himself, enthusiastically reading a script from a few cue cards and looking right up into the stands to wear you and Jake sit. Beside you, Jake cheers, raising his banner, and you crane your neck to read it (LUCKY STRAWBERRIKI), and on the ice, Riki hides his face with his hand, quickly looking at his feet before continuing with his intro.

You count eight tiny kids skating towards Riki, followed by Jungwon, and a line of other older skaters, Sunghoon is the last to appear, and your stomach churns with pride. All of them are dressed casually; you like Sunghoon’s straight-cut jeans and open button-up.

As Jake predicted, Sunghoon (and Jungwon, and Riki) look up in your general direction, and next to you, Jake struggles to hold all three posters up at once so you help him, yelling along excitedly. It’s hard to tell from so far away but it feels like Sunghoon is staring straight at you like you’re the only two people at the rink. You feel like standing, like standing and singing HOOOOOOOOOOOON at the top of your lungs. For a moment you wonder if he’d shout back, telling you that right now he can hardly breathe. As if reading your mind, his mouth tugs up at the corners, slightly, before spreading into an ear-to-ear grin that makes your cheeks burn.

The entire show passes by in an adorable whirlwind, as you and Jake applaud and encourage all of the performers, gushing with one another over how cute the baby skaters (including Jungwon and Riki) are. It’s beautiful and exciting, and you’re so happy you came.

But time seems to stop when Sunghoon returns. Jake cheers loudly for him when he skates out; you can’t bring yourself to do the same.

He comes to a stop in the middle of the rink, looking right up at the two of you. Jake waves his poster and raises yours too, seeming to notice the way you’re stuck to the spot. Sunghoon smiles, and somehow, he’s even more beautiful than you remembered.

Graceful, elegant, Sunghoon glides on the ice when the music starts, immediately skating into a jump — you watch with held breath. He spins once, his arms tucked neatly by his sides, his hair fanning out around his head. Another spin, beautiful, clean. In the seats around you, people are cheering, you can hear them clear as day but the only person you see is Sunghoon who’s turning into his third rotation; the last. He sticks the landing, and an eternity has passed by as you let a sigh of relief slip out.

Each jump is more gorgeous than the last, though seems to go on forever — you’re nervous as if it’s you on the ice.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you watch as he skates beautifully, executing smooth spins and controlled turns. You don’t think you could look away from him if you tried — this must be what people mean when they say someone was born for something. Even in the casual setting, he looks like a professional, just as stable and fluid as he was in the videos you’d watched.

The music fades out, his performance is done, and you find yourself thankful for the fact that no one’s sitting behind you as you stand up. Jake does the same. Both of you hold your banners up for him to see, cheering louder than anyone else. Sunghoon raises a hand to wave at you. You wave back excitedly, getting a little flustered by the girl sitting a few rows ahead of you who turns around, smiling dreamily at Jake and rolling her eyes at you.

After bowing politely, Sunghoon looks back up at you, and you can’t help but blow him a kiss, only feeling silly about it when Jake nudges you with a goofy smile. You watch as Sunghoon raises his right hand for a beat, shifting a little on his skates before reaching out ahead of him, catching the flying kiss.

Butterflies run rampant in your stomach when he holds his hand, and your kiss, over his heart.

As the show ends, you chat with Jake for a bit, gushing over the performances together as the audience clears out, and you trudge slowly down the stairs and back into the lobby. It’s nice chatting with him, seeing the way his face lights up as he talks so excitedly and passionately about his friends.

You understand why Sunghoon likes him so much.

Sunghoon shows up at the other end of the lobby space, a vision in purple-tinted hair. You have to tell yourself to keep your feet planted on the spot for fear of literally running into his arms. He doesn’t seem to share the same sentiment, thank God, jogging through the lobby, dipping and dodging people as best and as fast as he can to reach you.

He hugs you. Holds you tight. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he says, quietly, only for you.

In your chest, your heart seems to grow tiny fists that throw a million punches a minute. Your brain scrambles for the words to say but you can’t come up with anything, hoping that the tightness of your arms around him lets him know that you’re glad to be here.

He lets go of you, beaming, and moves to dap up Jake, asking his friend if he’s aware that he’s taking Jungwon and Riki go-karting tonight.

“I’m doing what?”

“Yeah, they wanted me to take them but I’m busy.”

“Busy doing what?” Jake asks conspiratorially, arching a brow. He glances sideways at you, and can’t hold back his laughter.

Sunghoon sets his jaw, punching Jake in the stomach. “Grow up,” he mutters, stifling a laugh of his own.

You laugh too, partially at what Jake said, mostly at the way he keels over, clutching his stomach, a long groan passing from his lips. Sunghoon’s brows raise when you hand him the banner. “Look what I made for you.”

“I saw you holding it earlier, baby, I love it,” he says, beaming at you as he reads over it again. “You did such a good job. Can I take it home?” His eyes sparkle when he looks up at you. Your heart cinches in your chest.

“Of course.”

Next to you, Jake holds out the banner he made. “Do you wanna take mine home?”

Sunghoon doesn’t even spare him a glance. “Recycle it,” he says.

Jake tilts his head, confused. A loud huh comes out as he raises his brows. “I make a banner for you every single year and every single time you turn your nose up at it. But here comes a pretty girl and all of a sudden you love banners. Really, Sunghoon? You love it?” He pauses to let out a laugh, incredulous, seeming not to care about the few people that have turned over in your direction. “I can’t stand you.” Jake’s voice is whiny and hard to take seriously.

“I don’t love banners, I love this banner,” Sunghoon corrects, using his hand to shove Jake’s shoulder before holding the banner up over his chest.

Amused, you watch the two boys bicker for a bit before Jake cuts Sunghoon off mid-sentence, raising his hands, muttering the word whatever.

Sunghoon seems sceptical of Badtz-Maru when you hand him over. He holds the plushy in his hand, eyeing it suspiciously before wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “He’s cute, baby, really, but why’d you pick the world’s unhappiest penguin?”

“He reminded me of you.” Sunghoon’s jaw drops, brows knitting together as he tilts his head, all while Jake struggles to stifle a laugh. “Because he’s from Gorgeoustown,” you add, your heart singing when Sunghoon kisses the top of your head, and you can’t resist letting your arms wrap around his waist.

Compliments flow out of you like water from a fountain when Jungwon and Riki join your little group outside. Jungwon, with deep dimples and flushed cheeks, shyly mumbles variations of thank you, and I appreciate that while shifting from one foot to the other. Riki glows with pride, standing up straighter, and asking you what else you liked about his performance.

The sun feels nice on your arms as you watch the two play a very intense, high-stakes game of rock, paper, scissors for the front seat of Jake’s car. They’re playing best of five and getting ready to begin the third, and possibly final round. Riki has two wins under his belt, it’s not looking good for Jungwon whose breathing has become heavy. He’s taken off his hoodie and is stretching his arms in preparation.

You start a countdown from three and laugh so hard your stomach starts to hurt when Jungwon throws a losing rock against Riki’s paper, the oldest boy falling to his knees on the pavement and holding his head in his hands. Riki jumps higher than he had on the ice, embracing Jake in a tight hug, overjoyed by the victory while Jungwon groans.

“Let’s hang out,” Sunghoon says as you walk to his car.

Squeezing his hand, you nod and try not to melt on the concrete when he opens the car door for you. “What do you normally do after skating?”

Sunghoon seems to think about your question for a while, tilting his head to the side as a fond smile pulls at the corners of his lips. “My parents would always take me out for dessert after competitions, or the next day if it was too late.”

“Well, what do you think, Hoon? Is it too late for dessert?”

Giddy in a way you’ve never seen him, he shakes his head in response. And in his car, he hums along to the radio, gingerly resting his hand on your bare knee.

Sunghoon takes you to a dessert spot by Chaewon’s house, a fairly popular family-owned establishment that serves her favourite cheesecake. You sink into your seat over the table from him, in a slightly stiff booth with a tall back that makes it seem like it’s just you two and a coffee shop chatter Youtube video playing on a loop.

“What are you having, baby?” he asks, drumming his fingers against the laminated menu.

Knowing that Chaewon is coming over later, you let your eyes fall to the ice cream selection, reading the names of all 27 flavours and still settling on the only flavour you ever order here. “Cookie dough,” you say, reaching across the table to point at it on his menu.

“And?”

“And nothing.”

His brows furrow. “You’re only getting ice cream?”

“I mean, it’ll probably come in a cup, with a spoon,” you say, liking the way Sunghoon laughs at your stupid comment. “Chaewon’s staying over tonight so I don’t wanna fill up too much before dinner. I’ll order some cheesecake to take away when we’re done though, it’s her favourite,” you explain.

He nods his head. “We can share my tiramisu.”

It’s only after a conversation with Jake later on that you realise how big of a deal this is.

The two of you only manage to stop chatting and laughing when a girl with a cute bow in her hair and a smile on her face comes to ask if you’re ready to order. Across from you, Sunghoon orders a slice of tiramisu and a 3-scoop cup of coffee-flavoured ice cream. He runs a big hand through his hair and clears his throat, cheeks covered in pink as he asks if it would be okay for us to get a milkshake, to share, so, like, one milkshake, but then with two straws? Her eyes flick between the two of you and she grins, nodding her head but Sunghoon doesn’t go on.

“A strawberry milkshake, please,” you say, watching the waitress take note of it before saying she’ll be right back.

More than anyone you’ve ever met, Sunghoon loves tiramisu; he adores it. He lets you take the first spoon, and it’s delicious so you don’t have to fake your reaction when you try it. Sunghoon lights up with childlike excitement as he tries the second spoonful, his eyes widening as he hums around the dessert, shaking his head a little out of genuine enjoyment.

Surprisingly, he’s able to tell you about the origins of the word (stems from the Italian tira mi su or pick me up), and shares a fond memory of the first time he tried it — he was 9 years old and choked on the cocoa powder on top.

Sunghoon takes the first sip from the tall glass that sits between you both, you gulp at the sight of his lips wrapping around the straw and need to try it too. Your noses bump a little when you lean in, and, with sweet strawberry coating your tongue, you can’t help but giggle.

As you’d been expecting, your cookie dough ice cream is delicious and after a while, you use your tiny plastic spoon to scrape the sides of your cup and ignore the way Sunghoon laughs at you. Even when he’s mocking you, he still makes your stomach flutter.

“I can get you more if you want,” he offers with a wide smile.

You shake your head. Sunghoon frowns, watching you collect the last pitiful scrapings before eating them. “You were so pretty today,” you tell him around the spoon.

“Did you think I was ugly before?”

“Extremely.” His face scrunches up with laughter, showing off his dimple and his fangs. “You must have practised forever,” you add, distracted.

Sunghoon shrugs, reaching his hand across the table to play with your fingers. “In a way I did but not really,” he says vaguely, using his nail to draw a circle in the palm of your hand. “I don’t plan anything for the showcase, it’s just meant for fun, you know? I just go out and do what feels right on the day — so, I guess I’ve been practising for the last 13 years.”

Completely awestruck, you utter a quiet “wow” and giggle when he pinches your hand.

“What’re you and Chaewon gonna do later?” he asks, changing the subject.

You let him. At the mention of your best friend, a smile teases at your lips and Sunghoon matches it, beaming sweetly at you, looking forward to what you have to say. “I’m gonna cut her hair.”

“Really?” Your heart thuds at the genuine interest in his tone. “Do you always cut it for her?”

“No,” you pout. “I’ve never cut anyone’s hair.”

“Not even your own?” Sunghoon laughs when you shake your head. “Wow, she must really trust you.”

It’s your turn to shrug. “We’re best friends.”

“She’s lucky.”

A chuckle slips out of you and you scrunch your nose. “Me too.”

When he sees the waitress approaching, Sunghoon stacks your dishes to help out, handing them over to her with a soft smile. “Would we be able to get two slices of cheesecake?” he asks. “To go?”

“Sure, what flavour?”

“Vanilla, please.”

Eunchae, as you read from her nametag, makes a face, pulling air through her teeth. “The vanilla’s gonna be about an hour wait.”

Sunghoon pales, looking at you. “That’s alright,” you say, smiling.

“Is there anything else I can get for you?”

Sunghoon shakes his head, asking only for the bill. The two of you go back and forth on it and you practically beg him to let you pay. You put up a good fight, only backing down because he renders you speechless, shaking his head and saying: I’m not gonna take my girl on a date then make her pay.

His girl hides her face with her hands, flustered.

He laughs.

A beat passes before he stands up, holding a hand out and asking you to go with him to the photo booth. With a smile, you slip your hand into his, allowing him to tug you towards it. Behind the curtain, he wraps his arm around your waist, leaning forward to pay. The two of you agree that you’ll take a set for him to keep and one for you. On the screen, a countdown starts from 4, and you almost feel under pressure.

Posing for the first picture is a little awkward; you watch as Sunghoon puffs out his cheeks, poking one, and suppress your smile to copy. The second isn’t much better; you both grin and hold up peace signs. As you pose for the third, you can feel Sunghoon’s eyes burning holes in the side of your face, can see him on the screen, staring as you look at yourself ahead but can’t bring yourself to look at him.

The countdown reaches 2 and he holds you closer. His lips touch your cheek when the screen says 1 and you grin when the picture is taken. Sunghoon’s gaze is soft when you look at him. His hand touches your cheek, heavy on your skin, as he leans in to kiss you. You’ve never been kissed in a photo booth before and your heart beats in the back of your throat when the screen flashes, taking the last photo.

He sticks his head out of the curtain to collect the 4-cut and cringes a little. “God, we look so stiff in the first two,” he complains.

“I love them,” you say, taking the photo set from his hand. “They’re perfect.” You mean it. The visible awkwardness that you can feel through the frame is endearing to you, and you like the gradual transition into comfort as the photos progress.

He looks at you with disbelieving eyes and pays for the next set.

When you reach your table again, Sunghoon slides into the booth next to you, letting his arm rest over your shoulders, and he’s just as sweet as the tiramisu you tasted on his lips.

With full bellies and two slices of cheesecake packaged in a pretty yellow box, you head back to his car, where he clips his photo set to the sun visor. You can’t help but lean over the centre console to kiss him again. When you pull away from him, you swear his eyes dart to the backseat, but the moment goes by as quickly as it happens so you must have been imagining things. He drives you home with the radio playing lowly, and his fingers locked with yours.

On your doorstep, Sunghoon kisses you goodbye, biting at your bottom lip and grabbing your ass. He’s never kissed you like this before. You don’t think you were making things up earlier. “I really like your dress,” he tells you quietly, his lips brushing yours.

Suddenly nervous, you mumble a thank you.

“I like everything you wear, but this dress?” Sunghoon pulls away from you, just enough to rake his eyes down your body before holding you close. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, holding your cheek in his palm before kissing you again.

A few hours later, Chaewon stands on a towel in the bathroom, between you and the mirror while your right hand shakes over a pair of scissors. “Are you sure about this?”

She nods her head. “It doesn’t need to be neat, it just needs to be short,” she assures you, smiling at your reflection in the mirror. Despite only just passing her shoulders, Chaewon’s hair is the longest you think you’ve ever seen it. “I wanted to grow it out, like Kazuha’s, but I hate the way it feels on my skin.” Freshly washed, her hair is just beyond damp and darkening her pink t-shirt.

You gulp, nervous. “How about you sit down?”

She nods, saying it’s a good call.

Chaewon sits on a towel in your bedroom, between you and your full-length mirror while your right hand shakes over a pair of scissors. Before you grab them, you move her hair over her shoulders just so she can tell you once more to give her a chin-length bob.

She does. You nod.

Releasing a deep breath you make the first cut, and the sound of the blades slicing through her hair leaves goosebumps forming on your arms. Wet and slightly clumped together, the remaining hair falls from your hold and smacks her ear. You hold your breath as she runs her fingers through it.

“It’s even!”

“I only cut one part, Wonie.”

“Yeah, but you did good!” Her eyes meet yours in the mirror and she grins. “Keep going, keep going!”

The other three sections generate similar reactions, and you keep having to tell her to sit still while you try to trim her hair.

Chaewon claps her hands when you finish, running her fingers through her “new” bob. “I love it!” she squeals, beaming at your reflection. “It’s perfect.” She turns around on the spot to fling her arms at you, appreciative, wrapping you up in her familiar, soft scent.

The two of you sit on the couch, as Gossip Girl plays on the TV. For the duration of an entire episode, Chaewon turns her head gently from left to right, her short hair fanning out around her, with a light smile on her face as she does so. You only manage to look away from her when you remember the cheesecake, getting up from your seat abruptly, and excusing yourself.

As you enter the kitchen, you check your phone, grinning at the sight of a few texts from Sunghoon. You open the fridge as you unlock your phone, clicking on the notification as you take the box of dessert out. Giggles fall out of you at the first message: a cute bed selfie, with his plushy tucked under his arm.

sh: no way

sh: he smells like you :o

sh: are we seeing each other tmrw?

sh: (say yes)

It doesn’t make sense to you that Sunghoon is as cute as he is — you have to put the cheesecake down to relax.

you: noooooooooo ur so cute

you: i gave him some perfume :o and i’m w wonie tn and tmrw but another time

you: talk later hoonie!

The sight of the box in your hand makes Chaewon spring out of her seat, covering her mouth with her hands as she does a cute happy dance, prompting you to set the cake down on the coffee table to join her. Tired out, you slump back onto the couch after a while, smiling when she hands over your plate before sitting next to you.

With a fond smile, you pull your knees to your chest, watching as Chaewon says: You know you love me, xoxo, Gossip Girl, in perfect sync with Kristen Bell. She grins to herself before taking a forkful of cheesecake to her mouth, moaning around the utensil.

You’ve never known anyone to like dessert as much as her, and a grin forms on its own as you remember the way Sunghoon had done almost the same thing with tiramisu only hours earlier. Being an avid hater of tiramisu, you wonder how Chaewon might react if you told her, before focusing on your slice and the gorgeous face of Leighton Meester.

The two of you must sit through four episodes, before you sleepily lean into her, telling her she can finish off your piece of cake that she’s been eyeing hungrily since she finished hers approximately 15 Gossip Girl blasts ago. She watches you from the counter while you wash the dishes, thanking you again for the cake.

Later that night — when she thinks you’re asleep — Chaewon presses a soft kiss to your cheek. “I’ve never had a friend like you before,” she whispers, turning over in bed and grabbing your hand. You don’t know what to do when you hear her sniffling next to you.

Salt air and sun cream skate around you — the only things you can smell over the oil soaked chips you share with Chaewon at the beach. Heavy trainers weigh down each corner of the fitted bed sheet underneath you and Chaewon as you watch the wind push clouds through the too-blue sky. Drunk on cider, she laughs to herself, pointing above you. “That one kinda looks like Sunghoon’s friend, right?”

“Which one?” you ask, moving your head to see exactly what she’s pointing at. You’re not sure if you’re asking which friend or which cloud.

“That one, like Jay.”

Laughter hits you immediately. She’s absolutely right. A triangular mass in the sky leaves you both cackling and rolling around.

Same as the sand through your fingers, three weeks slip by. You and Sunghoon take more pictures in photo booths and struggle to stop kissing each other. He clasps your necklaces, and puts sunscreen on your back; you hug him from behind and take naps in the park with your head on his chest. Sunghoon makes daisy chains to sit in your hair, and puffy paper stars to fill a jar in your desk. You take his little sister for ice cream and braid her hair when she asks you.

Tonight however, completely spent from a day of shopping with your mum and Chaewon, the three of you sat on the couch, all eating your bodyweight in cheesecake and crying over the ending of How To Lose a Guy in 10 Days.

After you’ve all recovered, your mum watches from the car as you hug Chaewon on her doorstep and you fall asleep in the passenger seat on the ride home. No longer small enough to be carried up to your room, you drag your feet to the bed where you fall asleep as soon as your body hits the mattress. But a phone call from Kazuha disrupts your slumber.

“Are you going to the pool tomorrow?” she asks, sounding alarmingly awake for 4:57 a.m.

“Tomorrow, today, or tomorrow, tomorrow?”

“Like,” she pauses, you can picture her running a hand through her hair as she thinks. “In a few hours, I guess.”

You hum down the phone.

“We can go together!” The smile in her voice is audible. “Oh, Jay likes YJ. Did I tell you? And fuck, Lee Heeseung is so annoying.”

“No, he’s not,” you say defensively, slightly rattled by the fact that she woke you up in the middle of the night to shit on your boy’s best friend.

Kazuha scoffs. “Sure.” The line falls quiet for a beat. “He’s not actually annoying, I was just trying to announce that I have a crush on him.” Of course she was.

“Heeseung seems like a great guy and I’m really happy for you, but let’s talk at the pool, okay?”

“Talk at the pool!” she chirps, cutting the phone.

You don’t manage to get back to sleep.

At the pool, Kazuha says you’re beautiful when you pull your t-shirt over your head and cuts you off before you get to thank her, going on a tangent about how badly she wants to nap but doesn’t want to tan unevenly. Or sleep for too long that her face gets puffy. You take your mission seriously, using your phone to set timers and waking her up each time it goes off despite the way she grumbles at you.

Riki runs over to tell you to watch him before running away and flipping into the water. Your praise doesn’t seem to get old, but the flips don’t either, each one just as clean and impressive as the ones before.

Kazuha’s on her 4th rotation when you find yourself wandering over to the concession stand, in the mood for something sweet after being tempted by the scent of baking dough wafting over the pool. But as you get further and further ahead in line, you eventually decide you only want a lollipop, and there are only two people in front of you when you realise you left your phone in your chair and won’t be able to pay.

As if sent from heaven, someone taps you on the shoulder, but you’re met with no one when you look to your left; Sunghoon’s laugh is adorable on the other side of you, contagious when he bumps your hip with his.

“Hi, baby,” you say, looking up at him. He has a white towel on his head, covering his forehead and tucked behind his ears. “Is there a reason you have this on?” you ask him, touching the damp fabric that sits on his shoulders.

“What, I’m not allowed to dry my hair?”

“I’m not allowed to be curious?”

Sunghoon gently flicks your forehead and you pretend it hurts.

Like Hannah Montana, he hooks his fingers under the front of the towel, pulling the “wig” off to reveal his luscious (and soaking wet) locks of dark hair. A gasp falls from your lips as your hand flies up to cover your mouth. Having essentially grown up with Sunghoon, or rather, grown up adjacent to Sunghoon, him having black hair isn’t anything new. But it’s definitely something you’re fond of. Fond of him and the way his dark hair only brings out his features, matching his thick brows and the hard lines of his face.

“Do you like it?” he asks.

You love it. “What are you gonna do if I don’t?” you ask, pushing some of his hair from his forehead.

“Buzzcut.”

With a worried look on his face, he lets you use both hands to cover his hair and imagine it. “Are you laughing because I’m so devastatingly gorgeous with black hair or because I’m about to buzz my head?” Laughter bubbles in your chest, as his hair flops back over his forehead. “Wait, baby, no.” A deep pout settles on his lips. “You actually don’t like it?”

“I love it, you know I love it.”

Sunghoon lets you compliment him until you reach the front of the line when he talks with the person on shift. He uses his phone to pay for what you want, and seeing your smiling face on his lock screen makes your cheeks burn while you hide your face in his back, arms locked limply around his waist.

The two of you only leave the stand when the line behind you builds up, standing in the shade next to it. He watches you unwrap the candy and raises a brow when you hold it out to him. “First lick?”

He shakes his head.

“Come on, Hoonie,” you tease, letting your hand rest on his arm, liking the way it tenses under your touch. “I know you want a taste.”

His eyes drop to your chest for a split second, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he lifts his gaze. “You have no idea,” he mumbles before opening his mouth a little, leaning down towards you. His lips are slightly parted and very tempting as they wrap around the lollipop.

“Good?”

Sunghoon’s eyes lock with yours as he sucks on the candy. “Very,” he says, the word coming out kind of garbled around it before letting you take it back. You watch him chew on his lip, humming to himself at the lingering taste of your lolly.

The cola flavour hits your tongue immediately and you like the way Sunghoon gulps as he watches you, struggling to maintain the eye contact you’d had a moment earlier. You don’t take nearly as long as he did, pulling the lolly from your lips with a satisfying pop before smiling up at him, sickly sweet. “Very good indeed,” you echo him, letting the candy rest between your lips before you turn to walk away. Sunghoon follows, thankfully. Heading back over to where you’d been sitting, you find Kazuha’s chair empty.

A shriek over your shoulder locates her like a pin on a map.

In the pool, you see her sitting on Heeseung’s shoulders cackling as she pushes Sunoo over so hard that Jay, whose shoulders he’s sitting on, falls too. Gleefully, she leans back, falling into the water only to resurface and find her way into Heeseung’s arms. You stop walking when she tilts her head up to kiss him. Oh? Sunghoon walks right into your back. The kiss is short, not much more than a peck really, she pulls away with a grin on her face, swimming to the edge of the pool and Heeseung’s ears turn red as he watches her.

Against your own, Sunghoon’s skin is warm, slick almost from what you think is a combination of pool water, sweat, and sunscreen. You hate yourself for liking it. His hardening dick presses against you, and your heart swells — some frenzied mix of feeling flattered, and horniness, you assume. A flame burns in your stomach, hot, blue. Neither of you moves for a while, long enough for Kazuha to walk over to your seats and scrunch her hair with a t-shirt.

Sunghoon exhales shakily when you lean into him, resting the back of your head on his chest and holding the lollipop by the stick. “You okay?” you ask, voice nothing more than a whisper.

His head dips, breath fanning your neck as he kisses your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles against your skin before standing up straight. He wraps his arms around your shoulders, holding you close. “Do you wanna come over tomorrow?” he asks, words coming out as one. “My family’s on vacation.” His cock twitches against you when he says it.

“They are?”

“Mm, they leave tomorrow morning.”

A breathy laugh comes from your nose as you step away from his body, turning around to look at him. Not so subtly, he takes the towel from his shoulder and holds it in his hand, covering himself. A proper laugh falls from your lips, your head tipping back a bit.

“What if I wanna come today?” you ask, raising a brow. “Tonight even?”

“Tonight? I can call you if you wanna come tonight.”

You have a feeling that the two of you are talking about entirely different things.

“Pick me up?”

“Always.”

Sunghoon’s bedroom is exceptionally neat. Everything on his desk (his PC set up and a notebook) is placed precisely, and there’s nothing on the floor except for his furniture and a giant 8-ball rug. His off-white walls are completely bare, save for three posters above his desk; your favourite is a handmade (you think) white poster that reads There’s No Planet B in slightly messy block capitals, which sits between blown up pictures of Childish Gambino, and SZA. Underneath the perfectly aligned posters, stuck right above his monitor are the words: Figure skating prince, Park Sunghoon! You’re the best! with a bright red lipstick kiss in the corner; your heart does a triple axel at the sight.

He stands in the middle of his open doorway like he has been for the past two minutes, watching you admire the medals that sit in a display case on a floating shelf. In 2015 he took home a gold medal from the Lombardia Trophy, and another from the Asian Open Trophy. The two silver medals beside them tell you that he continued to do well at the Asian Open Trophy in the two years that followed.

Along with the Sunghoon you saw today, tiny Sunghoon skates through your mind, so impressive and so young. The quiet boy who often missed class. Who’d fall asleep with his face in a textbook during the classes he did attend. Who you’d let borrow your notes after days of absence, and who wordlessly thanked you with a carton of banana milk each time. How didn’t you know about all of this? Beyond awestruck by his accomplishments, you look over your shoulder to ask him about it.

Sunghoon only shrugs. “I was okay.”

“You were okay?” You can’t help but scoff at him. “I’ve seen the videos, Sunghoon. I’ve seen you in person, you’re.. amazing.” The word feels like an understatement. “I don’t know very much about skating but you’re breathtaking.”

“Thank you,” he says, looking at his feet.

“Have you thought about the Olympics?” you ask seriously. You get ready to apologise when you watch him purse his lips to the side, making you worry you’ve touched a nerve—But Sunghoon speaks before you have the chance.

“I used to train with the Olympic team but it was too much pressure for me, and I much prefer coaching nowadays, it’s, like, the perfect way for me to feel all the joy of skating and absolutely none of the stress.” The fond smile on his face makes you think he means it.

It almost feels wrong to sit on his neatly made bed but you take a seat on its edge anyway, desperate for one of you to at least look comfortable in this situation. BaMa sits between his pillows and you can’t help but smile at the penguin who stares back at you, unimpressed. Sunghoon stays in place. From where you’re sitting, it’d be difficult to miss the way his eyes widen, stuck on you as he chews on his bottom lip. “Are you okay?” you ask him after a while, starting to feel awkward under his stare.

For a split second, Sunghoon presses his lips into a straight line that shows his dimple before shrugging. “I’ve never brought a girl to my room before. I don’t know what we’re supposed to do,” he says, fixing his gaze on the wall behind you.

“The only thing we’re supposed to do is whatever you want. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Sunghoon looks at you, thinking. “We should kiss,” he blurts out.

“That’s what you want?”

“Badly.” But he doesn’t move.

You wait it out a little, counting thirty whole seconds with no sign of movement from him. “How’re you gonna kiss me from over there?”

A gorgeous grin takes over his face. Sunghoon closes the door behind him, crossing the room in a few paces to sit beside you. With some hesitation he pats his lap, struggling to meet your eyes while he does so. Your insides feel like a shaken bottle of Coke when you straddle him, and you can hear him exhale shakily at the way your dress hitches up, showing off your bare thighs. Sunghoon’s thighs are firm underneath you, his pants soft against your skin. It’s no use trying not to think about riding his thigh or riding him. But try as you might, your efforts don’t stand a chance against the feeling of him hardening under you.

His lips catch yours in a gentle kiss. You can feel the way he smiles, feel a giggle, light, airy, passing from his mouth into yours. It’s hard not to smile too. His fists clench behind you, bunching up the fabric of your dress in his palms desperately. Hard and thick, his cock presses against your core. You moan and Sunghoon all but freezes, his hands releasing your dress.

Barely a second passes before he grabs you again, leaning back against the bed without breaking the kiss for anything, until you need to catch your breath and you pull away, sitting back in his lap with your hands resting on his toned stomach. You instinctively grind down on him when his cock twitches under you.

From your seat you can see the way his eyes widen when you do, see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat when he gulps. Or maybe the gulp came first; it’s hard to say. Either way, you don’t think you care. He sighs, relieved when you rock your hips against his for a second time.

Sunghoon looks like sin the third time you do it, groaning and sitting up on his elbows, looking at you through lidded eyes, sighing through pouty lips. “I’m not ready to have sex yet.”

You freeze in place. “That’s okay.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, there’s nothing to be sorry for. I’m ready when you are.”

“I just feel bad that you came all the way over here for nothing.”

Looking down at Sunghoon with all of the uncertainty on his face makes your stomach twist. You wish he knew how much you like being with him; like spending time with him. Wish he knew how nice it was to spend the day sitting by the pool and just getting to look at him. How nice it was to eat fruit in the park with him. To talk about nothing on the phone before bed. You rest a hand on his cheek, melting when his fingers wrap around your wrist and his thumb strokes the back of your hand. “Hoon, I’m not here because I wanna have sex with you, I’m here because I like you.” This thing you’ve felt for weeks, lived with and nurtured seems so foreign now that you’ve put it into words.

The smile on his sweet face almost has you saying it again, and again, if for no other reason than seeing the way his fangs peek out at you, or how his eyes crinkle up into crescents, or hearing how he laughs, breathy, happy. Sunghoon moves his head to kiss your palm. “I like you,” he says into your skin, mumbling like it’s a secret. “And I like being with you.”

Even though Sunghoon saying he likes you feels a bit like a toddler telling you they can’t read, the statement shocks you. You knew he liked you, there wasn’t a shadow of a doubt this entire time, but hearing the words, feeling the shape of them against your palm makes his feelings for you seem tangible; so vivid; so thick. Like moisturiser sinking into your pores.

He moves his head a little so your hand cups his cheek again. He smiles, soft, shy, Sunghoon. “You do.. eventually want that though, right?” The way his brows knit together when he asks is so cute that you can’t help but laugh a little. “Like, to have sex with me,” he adds.

“Yes, when you’re ready.”

“I’m ready to do.. other things,” he says, voice dwindling into a shy whisper.

Curiosity piqued, you arch a brow. “Yeah?” Sunghoon nods. You press on. “Other things like..”

A beat passes, and Sunghoon doesn’t speak.

Instead, he opts to pull you down close to his chest, turning the two of you over. My God. His thin silver chain slips out of his shirt, swinging over your face just a bit, his light hair tickles your skin. You think you’d be happy if you died like this. With his bottom lip pinned between his teeth, his eyes scan your face, locking on your parted lips. His fingernail traces shapes on your hip, you immediately notice how blunt it is now compared to yesterday at the pool and can’t help but smile. Sunghoon moves his hand, his fingertips ghosting over your skin until he reaches the top of your panties.

“Is this okay?” he asks.

You nod, smiling, eager. You think you might die like this.

His finger is long and thick, rubbing devastatingly slow circles on your clit through your underwear. Sunghoon puts a little pressure on it, just enough to please you yet still leave you wanting more. He slips a finger into your hole, pressing a kiss to your lips and catching your gasp in his mouth.

“What got you so wet, baby?”

There’s something about hearing these words from Sunghoon that makes them sound new, makes them sound fresh; alluring. Makes you want to cum on the spot when you answer. “You did.” Quickly, you learn that the way his lips quirk up into a smile also makes you want to cum on the spot.

You try to focus on the feeling of his tongue on yours, on the loud, wet sound of your lips smacking together, on anything other than how much better one of his fingers feels than two of yours. How much better he fills you up. How quickly he finds your spot and presses on it. A surge of pleasure licks down your spine, causing you to yelp. Kissing becomes hard fast, but if the way he moves his head to your suck lightly at your neck is anything to go by, he doesn’t mind.

He bites and he nips and he kisses the tender skin to soothe you, all while pushing a second finger into you. Time stops at the stretch and you arch your back towards the ceiling. He passes a breathy laugh; calls you cute. Your thighs press together around his hand.

Leaning up from your skin, he makes a scissor motion with his fingers to work you open, studying the way your eyes screw shut, liking the way you gasp. His head dips back down beside yours, hair tickling your face. You can feel his lips graze your skin, breath fanning your ear.

“I can’t stop imagining how you might taste,” Sunghoon whispers. “You gonna let me find out?”

Your dress is bunched up around your waist, and if it wasn’t for all the material, you might have been able to see the trail of spit and love bites that Sunghoon had left on your stomach. You’ll have no choice but to wear one-pieces and full-length shirts for at least a week. There’s a smile on his face as he looks up at you from between your thighs.

Sunghoon kisses the dark spot on your panties, holding the wet fabric between his lips, tasting you. A quiet moan slips from him, and your body jolts involuntarily, a chill inching up your spine. His fingers hook on the sides of your underwear and he looks up at you, smiling when you nod your head, pulling them down when you lift your hips. With all that material out of the way, he can finally see your pussy, and the word fuck comes tumbling from his lips before he groans. “So pretty, you’re so pretty, YN.”

He buries his face between your thighs to press light kisses to your clit, pecking it sweetly. Your body buzzes from the contact. “Shit,” you sigh at the feeling of him licking a strip from your dripping hole back up to your clit.

“My God,” he whispers, licking his lips. He presses his tongue against you, lapping up your wetness and humming appreciatively. Sunghoon’s eyes flutter shut when he holds your swollen clit between his lips, sucking on it, licking at it, slowly, passionately, the way he kisses your mouth. His movements make you jolt and he chuckles against you, a delicious vibration running along your cunt.

Unable to fully express how you feel, you settle with saying so good through a whine. A match strikes a flame in your stomach when Sunghoon moves his head down a little, letting his tongue tease your hole, his nose bumps your clit and he moans into you when you clench around the tip of his tongue. You can’t help but grip his hair to hold him in place, hoping he’ll never stop.

Shamelessly, you hump his pretty face as your orgasm quickly approaches, reminding you how long it’s been since you were last eaten out — not that anyone has ever come close to making you feel this good.

His lips focus on your clit again as he presses a thick finger into your hole, curling it up towards your belly button a few times before adding another. Immediately, your toes curl up, everything flashes white behind your eyelids while your orgasm rips through you and Sunghoon moans when you finish. You’re thankful for the way he slows down, letting your cum slip out onto his lips and chin for a beat before sucking and licking your slit to clean you up, holding you down as you squirm against his sheets from the sensitivity.

Looking just as spent as you feel, he leans back on his heels. His eyes are blown wide, his chest heaving, and his lips are swollen, glistening in your arousal that’s spread all over the lower part of his face. Spellbound and unblinking, he stares straight ahead at your cunt.

“Hoon,” you say, breathless, leaning up on your elbows.

“Yeah, baby?” He doesn’t look away when he speaks. The trance seems to break at your lack of a response and he seems to want to cuddle just as much as you do if the way he scrambles off the floor and crawls over the bed to you is anything to go by.

Save for Sunghoon’s coaching sessions, the two of you are practically joined at the hip for the entire weekend. In the mornings and before bed, you brush your teeth together and don’t even separate to shower, stuffing yourselves in the cubicle to make out and lather shampoo in each other's hair or soap on each other's backs.

It’s this excess time together that makes waking up to nothing but a note in Sunghoon’s absence so disturbing. His handwriting stirs something in you, the short and sweet: miss you already, please come visit me at work :)

None of the girls want to go with you, so you find yourself trying on different swimsuits and figuring out what you’ll do at the pool on your own. With four magazines you’ve already read, a book, and your laptop just in case, you make your way there, enjoying the sun on your skin as you walk.

“Hi!” A chirpy voice makes you flinch when you reach the pool. Sunoo’s whole face is curved into a grin when you look at him. “I’m Sunoo!” he says, extending a hand for you to shake. His grip is firm, not matching his smile at all. “Do you wanna hang out with us?”

Equal parts excited and scared to say no, you nod. Dumping your bag in a locker, you meet Sunoo out by the changing rooms’ entrance, and he smiles when he sees you. You follow him over to the smaller pool where the rest of the boys are, Sunghoon included, and introduces you.

The boys look around at one another, wondering if Sunoo knows that all of them have already met you. He doesn’t pay it any mind, jumping in and joining them. They all continue bothering each other while you sit on the edge, dipping your legs into the water.

Sunghoon, who’s been grinning at you since you arrived, swims over to you and stands in the space between your legs. Cool droplets hit your thighs when he lifts his arms up to wrap around your waist in an embrace that might leave others wondering how many years it’s been since you last saw each other. After promising Jungwon that you won’t make fun of his armbands, you card your fingers through Sunghoon’s wet hair, giggling to yourself when he presses a kiss to your stomach.

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

“Well, yes,” he says, looking up at you with a pout on his lips. “I’m just on duty at this pool today. Are you unhappy to be spending time with me?”

“A little.”

Sunghoon pulls you into the water with him. “Even as a joke I don’t like that you said that.” There’s a crease in his brow that you want to kiss away but he’s already calling the boys over when you have the idea. Before you know it, all seven of them are splashing you with so much vigour that you don’t even bother fighting back. Even Riki who’s taken a liking to you shows no mercy.

As much fun as you had, you can’t help but feel a little drained when Sunghoon takes you home at the end of the day. You end up spending the week with him and his friends, and Riki seems crushed when you politely decline his invitation to poker night on Friday but his spirits lift when you say you’ll treat him to ice cream if he wins. On Saturday afternoon when you get out of the shower, you spend the better part of an hour wrapped in your towel texting Sunghoon, grinning at the messages he sent you while you were catching up on the girls’ group chat.

sh: riki didn’t win anything last night so don’t let him lie to you, ok baby?

sh: plus im kinda mad at him ngl ..

sh: i wanna see u today

sh: only you

sh: need it :(

sh: if i find out you’re making plans w riki rn i’ll kill him

sh: babyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

sh: i miss you can i take you out

you: why are you beefing a kid ur 500

sh: you’re older than me ???

you: yes and ur my baby bubu bear

sh: ..

sh: picnic baby

sh: ?

you: yes when

sh: rn..

you: uhm..

you: let me go get ready i miss u so bad

Your picnic quickly turns into an evening nap session for Sunghoon who, full on pizza and cider, lays down on his stomach with closed eyes and his cheek on his forearms. Meanwhile, you slowly sip cider from a sun-warmed bottle and pick off bits of pepperoni to eat, knowing Sunghoon will be annoyed about it later. The setting sun shifts the sky through warm oranges and purples, casting its hues over the park and Sunghoon’s sleeping form.

“Quit watching me,” he mumbles, blinking his eyes open and yawning as he sits back up. Soft hair is all flat on the side he’d been lying on and his lips rest in a pout that, when combined with his eyes resting in a permanent squint, makes him look confused.

You watch with a grin on your face as he sits back on his hands, crossing his legs. “I have something for you, actually.”

“For me?” you ask, shocked, your brows raise, and butterflies go crazy in your stomach. The thought of Sunghoon seeing something and thinking of you drives you crazy; you’re in way deeper than you could ever have anticipated.

You hear the bikes whizzing past you, zipping down the cycle path over to your left, you can see the people walking dogs, pushing strollers, jogging, walking. But it still feels like you’re the only people here. The only two people left in the world, sitting on Sunghoon’s blanket in the middle of this park you’ve come to frequent.

“For you. Do you see anyone else here?” Sunghoon chuckles, though you can see his nervousness peeking through the joy on his face. “Well, kinda for us I guess, to put it properly. You know what? No, it’s dumb. Forget I spoke.” He covers his face with his hands, embarrassed.

“Something for us?” Even though it’s not a new development, the thought of you both being an us, in any capacity, still makes you giddy, and the butterflies in your stomach are bordering on feral. “Baby, come on. If it’s from you it’s not dumb. I promise I’ll love it.” You nudge his knee gently.

“You promise?”

“Promise.” Your pinky finds his, linking together for a little while longer than you’d expected.

“There’s some stuff I have to say first though, is that okay?” he asks, continuing when you nod. “I know you don’t like talking about it, but we should probably have some kind of conversation about what’s going to happen when you go back to uni, you know?”

The thought of leaving unsettles you; of leaving him, but you’re desperate not to show it. “Yeah,” you say, aiming for calm but hitting upset instead.

Sunghoon chews on his lip before he speaks again. “And you’re happy, right? Like, with me?”

You nod. Of course, you want to say but the words get caught in your head, how could I not be?

“Good.” Sunghoon smiles. “Because I like you, so much, and I hate the idea of you going back and telling all your friends about the totally awesome, smokin’ hot, mega babe you hooked up with over the summer.” He continues when you nod. “So I’ve been thinking it might be nice if, when your uni friends ask about your summer, and you feel comfortable talking about me, that you tell them about me as your boyfriend.” The uncertainty in his tone doesn’t match the widening grin on his face while speaking, and the word boyfriend comes out as nothing more than a whisper but you hear it clear as day.

Head spinning, you meet his eyes, a hopeful glint behind them as he watches you. “Do you mean my totally awesome, smokin’ hot, mega babe boyfriend?”

“It wouldn’t upset me if you said that.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Hold that thought,” he blurts out, opening his backpack.

Drawing a deep breath, Sunghoon pulls out a pink box with your name written neatly on it before placing it in your lap and asking you to open it. He chews on his lip while he watches.

WILL YOU BE MY GIRL ? is written on little chocolates that span three rows. The word girl is followed by six empty slots that you can only assume held the word friend. Between the shy look on Sunghoon’s face, and the gesture as a whole your heart leaps jaggedly in your chest. “Will you be my girl?” you read, unable to keep from grinning like a fool.

“I picked them up yesterday before the guys came over, and Riki..” he pauses to sigh, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “He ate part of them. I think he shared them with Jungwon actually — not that it matters. Anyway, the store’s closed on Sundays so I wasn’t able to replace them or anything, and I didn’t wanna wait any longer to ask,” Sunghoon says in a partial ramble.

You look down at the pretty pink box in your hands and giggle to yourself. His friends are cute, you think. “I mean, they could’ve eaten the girl part.”

Sunghoon nods his head, grinning. “At least the sentiment still stands.” He eats a raspberry before looking up at you expectantly. “So, will you be my girl?”

With a smile spread on your face, you nod. “Yes, Hoon, I’ll be your girl,” you say, hoping he knows you’ve always been his girl.

You cuddle in the grass with your boyfriend until the sun goes down, giddy from cider and the joys of summer romance when he walks you to your door. The two of you stand under the light at the doorstep, grinning competitively at one another. Reluctantly, Sunghoon bids you goodnight with a kiss and — just like after your first date — he stands there beaming brightly long after you’ve gone inside.

A few nights later the two of you have your first sleepover as a couple and Sunghoon seems to take the idea in stride, showing up at your door with an overnight bag stuffed with his skincare, actual pyjamas, and snacks. Plus a bottle of wine he brought for his first meeting with your parents, despite having already had an awkward meeting with your mum at 3 a.m. in the hallway two weeks ago.

With his face glowing under the lamp on your desk, Sunghoon makes a show of bringing up the time he’d talked at length about his friends and says he thinks it only fair that you talk about yours. Your college friends. A blush coats his cheeks when you tell him he doesn’t need an excuse or justification to ask you things he’s curious about.

This results in him sitting cross-legged on the bed in front of you, asking you silly things like what kind of Youtube videos you like to watch (his ears burn red when you say Park Sunghoon skating compilations), and more serious — to him — things like what your first impression of him was (he covers his face when you say I thought you were the cutest boy I’d ever seen, and it upset me that you missed so much school).

“Do you think we would’ve dated if I was in school more?”

“We are dating.”

“I mean back then.”

“When we were five?”

Sunghoon nods.

“Even if we did date back then, we’d have broken up by lunchtime.”

His jaw drops. “But it’s us,” he says like it’s the simplest thing ever. It takes a while to console your pouting boyfriend but when he moves on he gets back to asking about your friends.

“They’re like.. the only reason I don’t completely regret picking my major.” The words come out before you can help them. You rarely talk with Sunghoon, or anyone, about your major, never mentioning much more than what results you got or the classes you’re taking if someone asks.

So it doesn’t surprise you that he sees this as an opportunity to ask you about it. “Why do you hate it so much?”

“It just makes me unhappy.” You feel your lips sagging at the corners when you finish speaking. “And the thought of working in that field forever, or, at all, makes me feel physically sick.”

“What are you gonna do after graduation?”

A tightness occupies your chest. You think about your brother, on the other end of the country, favouring texts over calls so no one has to hear the sadness in his voice when asked about work. You think about the future, all the unknowns awaiting you once you leave the familiarity of the education system. “I don’t.. I don’t know.” You hate how small your voice sounds when you say it.

You don’t even realise that you’re crying until Sunghoon mumbles hey, no, baby, it’s okay, and cups your cheeks with his hands, using his thumbs to wipe your tears. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “I’m on your side, okay? You know that. I’m not trying to upset you, baby, just trying to understand. To help.” Wrapping his arms around you, he pulls you into him, letting you cry into his shirt. “If I’m going about it the wrong way you can tell me, I never want to make you cry.”

For a while the two of you sit in silence while Sunghoon rubs your back and kisses the top of your head, only speaking when you’ve stopped sniffling. “How about you finish telling me about the girls? Minjeong, Jimin, Aeri, and Yizhuo, right?”

You don’t even remember telling him their names, besides maybe mentioning missing Minjeong. “You remember their names.” It’s not a question, not really. When you pull away from him, looking up, your heart snags in your chest at the sight. Of lovely Sunghoon and his small smile, the Kuromi headband holding his hair back. You want to cry again.

“I remember everything you tell me.”

Everything about him is lovely, from his soft cheeks to the Piplup pyjama pants he’s wearing and the way he’s looking at you with literal heart eyes.

Knowing that Sunghoon has his last competition coming up, you savour every second with him. Barely sleeping that night trying to prepare for the lonely nights to come, memorising the feeling of his arms and the steady beat of his heart against your ear.

His training schedule is rigorous and he’s had to stop his shifts at the pool to accommodate it, committing his days to skating and his nights to you when he can. Though he’s always so tired by the time he gets to your house that he can only sleepily sit through dinner with your parents and falls asleep almost as soon as his head hits the pillow.

Like most nights you spend apart, Sunghoon’s face fills your screen, talking about what he did that day that kept him from you. Today’s activity was back-to-back coaching sessions, then going to the movies with the boys, and, now, tired out from pretending to be patient, his eyelids are shut for most of the conversation. He looks so warm and cosy under his duvet that you wish you were there with him, or that he was here with you.

“I can come over if you want me to,” he says, and from the way he sits up, you can tell he means it.

You hadn’t meant for those thoughts to be verbalised.

Looking to your left, at the space in your bed, you don’t trust yourself to be alone with him. Not here. You do want to see him though. Almost desperately. For the good of you both, you shake your head. “Let’s go for a drive?”

Sunghoon smiles and your stomach turns. “Give me 25 minutes.” He cuts the phone.

Sitting in the darkness of his car is way worse than having him in your bed. Having started on your knee, his big hand now rests on your thigh, barely an inch away from where your shorts start. A cold sweat breaks out on your skin. Leaning your head against the window, you let your eyes fall shut while Sunghoon sings SZA quietly. Eventually, the car comes to a stop.

“We’re here.”

It’s too dark out to see anything properly until Sunghoon opens your door for you. “The park,” you say, looking around at the now familiar street. “Wouldn’t be my first choice for a murder.”

“If you think about it, it’s sorta perfect. Who would hear you screaming for help at 2 a.m. on a Wednesday?”

Sunghoon pulls his backpack and a fleecy blanket from the backseat, and, with a ridiculous grin, you watch him put the blanket down in the grass, not too far from where he’d parked the car. You leave your sandals to the side and sit down next to him.

“The store was closed, so we’ll have to deal,” he explains, taking out some fruit and two bottles of water.

You shake your head. “It’s perfect.”

Sunghoon lets you feed him strawberries, humming appreciatively around your fingers. You take a few sips of water before shifting on the blanket, turning around in the space between Sunghoon’s open legs and leaning back on his chest. He hums the same SZA song from his car and you can’t help but close your eyes.

You tip your chin to kiss him, accidentally letting your hand rest on his lap.

Ever since that day in his room, things between you have found a way to turn sexual after a while. Not that either of you seems to mind. Though you will admit that sometimes it is nice to just sit with Sunghoon and watch the sun come up over the hills by his house. Or to watch Mighty Ducks on your laptop with your head on his shoulder.

Tonight doesn’t seem like one of those “sometimes”, but you really can’t find it in you to complain or want to change anything when he slips his hand down the front of your shorts. More focused on the way your lips feel on his, Sunghoon lazily runs his finger through your slick for a beat before pushing into you and smiling to himself as you gasp against the kiss.

You pull away from him, shifting around a little, trying to angle yourself so you can see what you’re doing when you tug his waistband out of the way. The sight of Sunghoon’s cock, of his pretty tip coated in precum that dribbles from his slit down his shaft never gets old. If anything, it only turns you on more and more each time. You stroke him slowly, occasionally letting a finger tease the spot below his head, just the way he likes it.

“Oh, my G—” Sunghoon cuts himself off with a groan, pressing his lips to yours again.

The breeze tickles your arms, keeping you cool despite the way your skin burns under his touch. He’s close to cumming, you can tell in the way his cock twitches in your hold.

“I want you,” he mumbles against your lips.

“You have me.” Sunghoon lifts his head away from yours after you speak, looking down his nose at you. It seems like he’s searching your face for something as he pushes a third finger into your hole. Something clicks in your head, understanding. “Fuck me,” you say, barely short of begging.

His hips buck up into your still hand. “I don’t have a condom.”

“You’re joking.”

“No,” he sighs, shaking his head solemnly. “I wish.” A frown teases at your lips. “Why didn’t you bring one?”

You arch a brow. “Why would I bring a condom when we’re waiting to have sex?”

“Because I don’t wanna wait anymore.”

“Ok,” you nod, trying to think as he separates his fingers. “Well, this is.. this is me finding that out, right now.”

Sunghoon’s never put a fourth finger in you before; it’s a tight fit. Your head falls back and you give up your poor attempt at continuing to jerk him off. “I don’t care if you don’t. About condoms.”

“Oh, you’re on the pill?”

“I ran out two weeks ago, I thought.. you’d give me—” A moan cuts you off. Sunghoon chuckles. “I thought you’d give me notice or something.”

“Notice?” he asks, voice high, incredulous. A beat passes. “I don’t care,” he says eventually. “I need you.”

You nod your head, relieved. Whining a little when Sunghoon pulls his hand out of you, and whining a lot when he sucks on each of his fingers, one at a time. “I’ll get Plan B in the morning,” you say, scrambling to your knees, facing him.

“We’ll go together.” A soft smile spreads across his lips as he holds you by the waist. “And I’ll ask Jake to pray for us.”

Hungrily, you watch as he pulls his white t-shirt over his head. There’s a flash of something in his eyes. Sunghoon has a firm grip on your shorts, barely a second away from yanking them off when he stops, leaning away. “I’ve never..” he trails off, struggling to hold eye contact. “I’ve had sex just not.. outside,” he whispers, his lips pouting through his words.

Despite your desperation, you can’t help but feel like maybe this shouldn’t be the moment you two have sex for the first time. You almost can’t believe yourself, having Sunghoon here, hot, sweaty, with his kiss-plumped lips, and lidded eyes; his groans, and his sighs; his wandering hands and hard cock pressed against you, yet thinking that maybe you should wait a little longer.

“We don’t have to do this now.”

“I do.”

“Okay,” you whisper, relieved, pressing your lips onto his. You shiver in Sunghoon’s hold, cold and chasing his kiss when he pulls away, shuddering at the feeling of his fingertip grazing your collarbone.

“You’re cold, baby.”

You shake your head. “I’m not.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, your body betrays you and your teeth chatter.

Sunghoon frowns at you, playing with some of your hair beside your ear. “You have goosebumps, and your teeth are clattering. I’ll take you home, come on,” he says, letting go of you.

“I have goosebumps because I’m horny, and I want you to fuck me,” you admit, feeling your need for him in every part of your body. “And I don’t want you to be nice about it either, I’m already your girlfriend.”

You watch him gulp. Sunghoon’s eyes scan your face. He leans into your touch when you let your palm cup his cheek, his skin is burning hot, if it was any lighter outside you might have been able to see the pink on his face. He wraps his thick fingers around your wrist, letting his thumb stroke the back of your hand, and his pretty eyes find yours.

“I want to, so bad, but you’re freezing.” He kisses your palm. “How about I take you home and fuck you there, hmm? I won’t be nice, I promise.”

Oh, God, you think, clenching around nothing.

Dazed, you almost agree until something clicks. “Take this off,” you say, practically begging as you tug at his knitted hoodie. His brows knit together. “Let me wear it.” Without hesitation, Sunghoon pulls the jumper over his head and slips it over you. “Please, Hoon,” you all but beg, as you put your arms through it.

The two of you are close enough that you can see his pupils dilating as his eyes trail over your body. “I like my clothes on you.” Is the only thing he says before kissing you again.

Sunghoon’s hands are all over you, eventually settling on the top of your shorts, as he does his best to tug them off. You raise your hips to help him out before settling back into his lap, whining at the feeling of him under you, touching your pussy for the first time. He throbs against you when you grind down on him.

It all seems so real now. He’s so big; so hard, that you start to worry. Suddenly you remember the ache in your jaw every time you suck him off and how much of him is left over, even when his head inches its way down your throat.

Flustered, you start to stall a little, rocking back and forth on his length, coating him in your wetness. You take him in your hand after a while, jerking him a little to spread his precum and your slick all over him. He doesn’t seem to notice that you’re whiling up time, and if he does, then he doesn’t seem to care, simply moaning when you lift yourself off of him to stroke your clit with his tip and tease your slit.

Sunghoon’s teeth worry his bottom lip as you try to take him, his head falling forward, eyes trained on the spot between your bodies where you connect. His hold on your waist is so firm you can practically feel bruises forming under his fingertips and the sting of his cock pushing into you makes you draw a breath. “Just take your time, yeah?” he mumbles. “No rush.”

No rush? you think, he must be crazy. You don’t think you can wait any longer, trying hard to sink down on him despite the pain of the stretch. You like it, that sting, the heat, you don’t want to go without it ever again. You must be crazy. Fuck, and Sunghoon are the only things you can bring yourself to say.

“I know, baby. I’m sorry,” he tells you. “It’s okay,” he says, though he doesn’t look like he’s doing any better than you are.

Sunghoon’s head falls forward once you’ve taken all of him, his teeth sinking into the skin at the base of your neck as he lets out a broken whine. Everything feels a little too much to bear. It’s so hot, when did it get so hot? With the last few crumbs of your brain power, you tell yourself to take the hoodie off, but you feel like you can’t move.

He fits so well, fills you up just right.

With a shaky breath, he lifts his head to look up at you. “So beautiful.” Sunghoon pushes some of your hair from your face. “Good girl,” he coos, using his thumb to wipe tears you hadn’t even realised were there. “You’re doing such a good job, baby. Taking me so good.”

Sunghoon asks if you’re okay. It sounds like Sunghoon asks if you’re okay.

Your fist balls around the fabric of his cotton shirt. “Warm,” you whisper. “Too warm.” He loosens his grip around your waist, moving his hands to your hips to pull the hoodie off of you. You lean back a little to let him take it off and feel as if you’re being split open, the angle only pushing him deeper.

With the hoodie off, the cool summer breeze makes you feel a lot better; makes taking him a lot more manageable. So you move. His pretty face scrunches with pleasure, as a long, heady groan comes from his throat. “You feel so good. So tight.” There’s something in his voice that you don’t recognise, desperation, need. Sweat beads along his hairline, the flush in his cheeks so prominent you can see it despite the dark.

You want to see him like this all the time. Need to.

His hips buck up towards you, seeming to catch you both off guard if the way you gasp simultaneously is anything to go by. He wraps his arm around your waist, his trembling hand beating against your skin, and lets his other hand rest on the blanket behind him, leaning back on it.

“You’re so good at this,” you sigh. “How are you so good at this?” You practically clamp your mouth shut, not letting yourself say any more lest you propose to him, or worse, expose your breeding kink.

Sunghoon only gives you a languid smile before kissing you.

It’s more than a little hard to focus on coordinating the movement of your lips and tongue when he’s fucking you the way he is; lifting you off of him so only his tip stays inside, then thrusting all the way back in, deep and slow, trying to feel every single part of you and doing a good job hitting that spot that has you seeing stars. So the kiss is messy and loud, an exchange of spit and moans but you’re way too turned on to care.

Before long, he uses his hand to pull down the front of your vest, attaching his wet mouth to your nipple instead and your brain short circuits. He moans into your skin when you clench around him, his body stuttering under you.

“Baby, I don’t..” Sunghoon sighs, lifting his head from your chest to look at you. He’s the picture of desire, of lust, with his messy hair and parted lips, the sweat slipping from his brow bone. “I don’t think I’m gonna last much longer,” he admits, thick brows pulled into a furrow.

At this rate, you don’t think you will either. His words only make you dizzy, they spur you on as desperation sets in; to see him cum, to feel it. Like always, his sounds are just as pretty as the rest of him, his grunts and his groans, and the ragged breaths that catch in his throat. And you quiver in his lap at the feeling of a knot forming in your stomach, immediately unravelling when his finger catches your clit again.

Your head falls back. “I’m—” Is the only thing you can say.

“I know, baby, don’t hold back. I wanna see you make a mess.”

His words send you over the edge, forcing your orgasm out of you while Sunghoon moans and fucks you through it. So good, baby, he mumbles over and over, stuttering through the words when you cum, though you barely hear him over the sound of his cock squelching up into you.

A shaky breath and the word fuck tumbles from his lips.

Sunghoon’s thighs tense and his stomach does the same. Shuddering under you, he cums hard, filling you up completely. You’ve never had a guy cum inside before, let alone been fucked without a condom, so you weren’t sure what to expect. But nothing could have prepared you for this.

Heat courses through you everywhere, and you’ve never been so warm in your life. You can feel every last drop of his hot cum spilling into you, can feel it leaking out around him, slicking up your thighs. Shaking in Sunghoon’s lap, you’re full in the best way, eyes rolling back as your mind goes completely blank.

Both of you try to catch your breath as he holds onto you tightly, his arms hugging around your waist. You’re having a hard time calming down with him still inside, but you don’t think you could move if you tried, and it seems as though he feels the same, only being able to bring his head away from your chest. With heaving shoulders and a dazed look in his eyes, he smiles up at you, sweet, contagious. Drunk on him, a laugh starts to bubble in your throat, forcing its way out. Sunghoon laughs too, and breathy chuckles slip from you both, happy, delighted.

He reaches for some napkins, cleaning up what he can with you still in his lap before reaching for his hoodie. You watch as he folds it up a couple of times before putting it down near the blanket’s edge, shifting over a bit to hold you in his arms and lay you down, the hoodie under your head like a pillow.

You think he must be an angel.

Gently, he separates your legs to clean you up properly before pulling his boxers and shorts back up. You watch as he looks around the space for something, returning to your feet to help you put your underwear and shorts back on, sniffling a little and making his way to lie down on the grass beside you. Sunghoon reaches over your body and uses the remaining blanket behind you to cover you up.

Sleepily, you rest your head on his chest, feeling his heart race against your cheek. “You’re so big, Hoon,” you whisper, mind still reeling.

A beat passes. “Ok, baby, thank you,” he says a little awkwardly, you can feel his chest stutter as he chuckles and you can’t help but smile.

The stars above you beam brightly and you don’t think you’ve ever seen so many at once, peeking through the few dark clouds that drag lazily through the sky.

“You did so well tonight, YN,” Sunghoon tells you after a while. “You always do so well.” Your heart beats in your throat as he kisses the top of your head.

“Really?”

“Mm,” he hums.

Curious, you look up at him. “What did I do well?”

“Should I fill out a performance review?”

“I just wanna know what you’re gonna tell your friends later.” Your heart rate picks up when Sunghoon laughs, sweet, contagious. “I’m serious.”

Into the air above, he huffs a long, dramatic sigh. “You really wanna know?”

“Desperately.”

He leans up on his elbow, looking down at you. Butterflies flutter in your stomach, already nervous about what Sunghoon might say. It’s as if he’s the only person in the world, the only one that makes a difference. You can’t help but feel special under his gaze, grateful that you’re the one who gets his attention. His hand is big on the side of your face, his thumb grazes your cheek.

Sunghoon opens his mouth but closes it before speaking, then brilliant, bright, he smiles. “I think I’m gonna tell them I’m in love with you.” Your breath hitches in your throat. “And, ask Jake to pray for us.”

And, ask Jake to pray for us, you repeat as if bound by a spell and he nods his head. Overwhelmed, you hide your face in his shirt. “I love you.”

Back at your place, Sunghoon does a good job of living up to what he’d promised you earlier. Leaving you to wake up that morning in his t-shirt, with your head on his chest and a dull ache between your thighs — though not before, for the first time since primary school, you (and Sunghoon) kneeled by the side of the bed to perform the sign of the cross. He’d stumbled his way through a prayer first and you followed, watching as he sent a text to Jake before eventually drifting off to sleep, tired and sore.

The duvet is bunched at the bottom of the bed, leaving your bare thighs victim to the light breeze rolling through your room. Sunghoon’s mouth is slightly ajar and he snores sweetly. Even in his sleep, his stomach is tight and his soft penis rests cute and limp against his thigh in a way that leaves you stifling a giggle. You want to kiss it.

Regrettably, you don’t.

“Stop looking at me,” he mumbles, half-heartedly lifting his arm to cover your eyes, though, with his still shut, it ends up resting on your neck.

“I’m not.”

Sunghoon pries open one of his eyes, catching you. He follows your gaze down his body, groaning when he realises what you’re looking at. “You’re worse than I thought,” he says, sitting up to pull your duvet back over himself, resting over his waist. “I’m never sleeping naked next to you again.”

You open your mouth to quiz him but he covers your lips with his hand. “Or anyone else, relax.”

“Good boy,” you mumble, the words muffled against his palm.

“Ew,” he whispers when you lick his hand, wiping it on your t-shirt before pushing some of your hair away from your face. “How are you feeling, baby?” His voice is soft when he asks, eyes scanning your face for even the slightest sign of discomfort.

“I’m kinda sore, but I’m good.”

“You are?” There’s pride in his voice when he asks, eyes lighting up for a beat before pressing his lips together, trying to hide a smile. His broad shoulders betray him, trembling with silent laughter. Fuck off, you mumble, just as amused as him.

Sunghoon clears his throat. “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispers. “I’ll be gentle next time, promise.”

Next time. The simple words and all of their hopefulness leave your mind reeling. Laying next to Sunghoon, you grin at the thought of all of your next times with him. Through the seasons of the year; through autumn; through winter, spring, and back to summer again.

“What’s on your mind?” he asks through a yawn.

You love him. “I love you.”

You’re expecting him to kiss you when he starts to lean in, but he pulls you tight against his chest instead. He smells faintly like sweat when he hugs you. Like sweat, and sunblock, and peonies. Like kisses during sunset, and late-night swims. Like the happiest you’ve been in a long, long while.

“I love you, more.”

permanent taglist: @asahicore

#sunghoon smut #enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen scenarios #sunghoon scenarios #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon smut #park sunghoon #park sunghoon x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen oneshots #sunghoon oneshots #sunghoon imagines #enhypen hard hours #fic.sunghoon

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makncheese12 · 1 year

Text

Top Shelf

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Jenna Ortega x fem!reader

Masterlist

Summary: being the kid of a well-known book store owner was easy, so was running into famous people. But being book smart doesn’t make everyone people smart.

Warnings: my writing, language(bad words😯), my attempt at being funny, mention of gun shots and head shots, mentions of my favorite book(literally love Ruta Sepetys sm omg.

A/N: part 2? I am going to make you all suffer through the most oblivious slow burn. R if going to be so dumb/oblivious it’ll hurt you all🫶🏻

Word count - 3.6k

Credits: @novmoth (my friend from school who feeds into my delusions and gives me more ideas for this story🫶🏻)

(bare with me English is not my first language🥲 I’m getting help from my friend to edit it)

You were born to it.

The books. The films. The music and video games.

It was your life, literally. With your parents being owners of the infamous establishment called ‘top shelf’, you had no choice but to.

And you wouldn’t ever change.

Books upon books, movie after movie, games old and new and music that could last you weeks. Who would want to change such a life?

Your father was the first to start it.

He was poor man in Washington but had just enough money to buy it from the man who owned the small movie shop before he retired. He slowly started added book shelves and video games to the mix. Getting few customers but enough to survive day to day during the time of his early years

Your mother was a wealthy run away. Wanting something different and new in her life when she met your father. The man was playing on his game boy behind the counter before he saw her.

The poor boy and his run away wife, a classic really.

The rest after that is history.

As soon as they found out your mother was pregnant with you, they used the rest of her money they saved and went to New York where they bought the huge abandoned apartment complex.

They broke all the insides down and built what you now know as your second home. Hundreds of video games, films and music in one section and thousands of books in another.

Thus, Top Shelf was born only two weeks after you.

You met many friends there in the comfort section where students and business people worked as you all goofed off.

Your had also met your small friend group during your younger years, the four of you all never letting your father have the peace he wanted and dragging him all over New York.

With the thousands of books and hundreds of video games and films your parents sold, you had money. Lots of it.

But your mother made sure you never let that get the best of you, never. It went against everything she went for when she ran away.

She would make sure you would work for and earn everything you got, always.

She never let you have too much online activity, in case her family found you and made sure you were both street smart and book smart.

Your neighbors made sure you were street smart more than anything but you still gave her credit for trying.

Though, the book store was beautiful in every season. Winter was a favorite and when it was busiest. It was too your favorite.

Your father lighting the public fire place, your mother setting soft seasonal music, hell even the cheesy Christmas cartoons on the TV’s set the mood for the perfect bookstore vibe.

The lights dim just enough to where it almost felt like dark academy yet the plants that grew down the upstairs railing made the entire place feel more alive.

————

“Bullshit!” You yell out as you throw your head back onto the head rest of your chair, groaning loudly as the photo sound of your death snapped in your ears.

“Man, he’s fucking using cheats!” Dru calls out through the mic before his name pops up above to yours in dark red on the screen as you respawn.

“Of course he is, he’s a pussy.” Mj says, as her name, too, pops up on the screen.

“Oh come on, guys!” Lyle says through his staticky mic. “You all just suck.” He laughs

“Now I know your cheating, dude. Your mic is acting up again, just like last time!” Dru says, the sound of his voice booming louder than needed and you roll my eyes.

“DD, just because you like to replay games without using cheats doesn’t mean the rest of us do.” Lyle says in a matter-of-fact tone.

“It’s multiplayer, stupid! It’s meant to be fair for everyone!” Dru says making you snort. “Says the guy who chases around little kids and steals their horses making them cry.” Mj says making Dru blow into his mic making loud, unnecessary noises.

“Quit that!” You say taking one head phone off your ear. “Tsk tsk tsk,” Lyle starts. “Such a sore loser.”

“I’ll show you sore loser, get on Elden ring and we’ll test your irritation.” Dru says, mic now muffled by his own spit.

“Your tank build is not enough to stop me, comet azur will always save the day.” He says in a sing-song voice.

“And you call me a try hard, yet you’re the one always using a broken spell.” Dru complains. “Theres nothing I have to try hard at when I can just hold a simple button.” The sound of Dru’s groans become louder as his spit clears out from his Mic. “Same thing!”

You laugh once again before picking up your phone and looking at the time.

“Shit!” Your eyes go wide at the sight, 8:48 AM.

You quickly throw the head set off and push yourself out of the chair, opening your closet grabbing a quick pair of jeans and a hoodie before rushing to put it all on.

Your cat skids across the floor, startled by your sudden movements before a crashing in the your pile of books and out the door.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you mumble as you jump up and down to put on your shoes, failing at not falling and race toward the door. “Sorry!” You call to your cat who yells at you next to his food bowl.

You grab your keys and rush out the door before slamming it shut and locking it.

“Ay, y/n!” Your neighbor, Rosa, shouts from beside her door. “Quiet will you! I just put Nona to sleep!” She yells raising her news paper tapping your head with it.

“Sorry! sorry, Señora Rosa.” You whisper yell as you try to push her weaponized hand away. “I’m just a little late.”

“And I just got a moment of peace! Quiet!” She says giving you one last wack making you try and shrink away from her as you rush toward the stairs.

“You got your pepper spray, right?” She calls and you raise your key chain to show her the attached small can. “¡Buena niña!”

You rush down the stairs and push passed the glass door, almost slipping on the ice before running down the street.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket making you quickly take it out.

“Hello?” You ask without knowing who it was.

“Arthur Morgan would be very disappointed at your sudden disappearance from an important mission.” Lyle says before sighing.

“It’s multiplayer, there are no main missions.” You say, trying to avoid the ice on the ground before stopping at the red hand across the street. “Plus, we were in the middle of four way 1v1. He’d be more upset that we were going against each other.”

“Loyalty is everything in such a game,” he says, sarcasm in his voice and you imagine him shaking his head. “Of course he would be upset at my bullet in DD’s head.”

“Why’d you call me exactly?” You ask watching the hand turn into a green man walking before taking off again.

“Well, you just yelled ‘shit!’ Before disappearing on us, had to make sure someone didn’t break in and kill you.” He replies casually as if he knew that weren’t the case. “But after hearing you continue on your ‘shit’ rant and the door slam I figured it was okay, just had to call and make sure, y’know?”

“Ever heard of a text, loser?” You ask, barley missing a man walking and looking down at his phone. “Gross,” he says before making a gagging noise. “why waste such time typing when I can simply just hit one button?”

“You’re so lazy.” You laugh out loud as you run across another street. “Work smarter not harder, Y/N. You should know this with that big brain of yours.”

“What if I want to work both smarter and harder?” You ask, running up to the glass window to see the books lined up. “Well, then your just weird.” You roll your eyes.

“Just kidding. I guess you can do both, I just personally prefer the alternative.” He says as the sound of guns shooting fills the phone. “Yeah, also sorry about leaving.” You say pushing into the store being greeting with the familiar smell of books and the warm smile of my mother.

“I forgot I had to get ready for work.”

“You’re at top shelf?” He ask and you reply with a ‘mhm’. “I might stop by later to say hello actually, I need a new game anyway.” He laughs as the sound of Dru yelling in the back ground becomes more prominent.

“Sounds good, see you loser” You say as you take your sweat shirt off, leaving you in your tank top you hand before leaving. “Later,” you hear him say before hanging up.

“Good morning,” you hear your mother say as you pull the staff sweat shirt over your head and pull up your sleeves. “Mornin’,” you reply before kissing her cheek.

“Wheres dad?” You ask looking around before your eyes setting on the woman stack a pile of books into one pile.

“He’s going to be out of town for a few days,” she says carrying the pile to the check back station. “A vacation, I insisted as I continue your training.” She says making you smile.

“We both know he needs it, he’s getting older.” She says and your smile fades as you nod. “So are you.” You mumble and she, too, nods.

“You know him getting old is different from me getting old.” She states, sighing quietly.

“What’s todays task?” You ask, quickly changing the subject at the sight of her sad frown. She looks at you for a moment before smiling once again.

She moves to storage closet and unlocks it, allowing you to see the boxes upon boxes along with stacks of different other things.

“To be a good store owner, you have to know your customers.” She says returning with a large box that you quickly take from her.

“Just put it on that table — and to know your customers, you must socialize and help them throughout the store.” She finishes as you take the box to the table noticing the label romance written across it.

“That also means having to work while helping the customers, so you’ll be on stock duty as well.” She says with a smile.

Yes.

You mentally say to yourself. Stock duty required work of you finding the places of different books, movies and games which also meant finding new things you didn’t know about before.

“One more thing,” you mother says as she walks behind the counter to finish opening up the store. “No head phones.” Your eyes go wide.

“But ma!” You call out to the lady who switches the sign from closed to open. “What else am I supposed to do when I stock!” You call, holding onto the white cords and swinging them around.

“Help the customers and socialize.” She laughs out making you frown. “I should call CPS.” You mumble carrying the box to the sorted area before hearing the woman’s laugh.

“Sure, call ahead but don’t be disappointed when they decline a twenty year old.”

You roll your eyes before continuing down the aisle.

“And after you sort those, get the others out of the storage closet!” You huff quietly as you glance back with a small playful glare on your face.

“If I wanted to work out, I would have gone to the gym.” You say and she rolls her eyes. “You’ll be just as sore in the morning, trust me.”

————

Hours hand passed, since you last seen the romance box having moved on to the horror section of the films.

You search through their placement areas, looking at all the old cinematic master pieces, the many Dracula films placed neatly next to each other, in order of both year and name.

Horror was one of the favorites when coming here, your father being a collected through his years he had many people couldn’t get their hands on.

Sure you could watch it online now but where’s the fun in that when you have a real copy with the static noises and written voices on screen. Some people still had some class left in them.

You hear a book hit the floor making the library echo as heads turned toward the cause of the sudden interruption of their silence.

“Shit—” You hear someone say quietly, making you roll your eyes as you place the rest of the CD’s in their rightful places before making your way toward the aisle the noise came from.

You subtly make your way toward the aisle while acting like your checking the books before taking a peek around the corner.

You see a rather short girl — shorter than the third shelf — craning her neck to look up at all the books in front of her.

Just to your luck, your mother placed a box for that genre next to the end of the shelf and you picked it up.

You make your way down the aisle and set the box toward the middle before looking up the girl who was already staring, and boy was she something.

Freckles littered across her tan skin, strands of her short hair fell from her half up half down style, her eyes — damn her eyes — they were the prettiest brown you’ve ever seen.

You smile lightly before picking up the first book and reading both the authors name and the title while trying to slow down your racing heart.

Who was this girl? Matter of fact, what was she? She wasn’t a regular, that’s for sure but you always get random people coming in so it didn’t exactly matter.

After putting away a few books, you glance up to see the girl a few feet away and on her tippy toes, reaching for a book on the fifth or sixth shelf.

You snorted quietly catching the girls attention making you quickly look away to keep yourself from laughing.

“You think this is funny?” She asks and you begin shaking in quiet laughter.

After a few moments, you compose yourself and stand shaking your head.

“No, not at all. Would you like some help?” You ask taking step toward her. She narrows her eyes. “Are you making fun of me right now?” She asks, both amusement and annoyance in her voice.

“Why would I do that? It’s poor customer service.” You say with a smile before watching her own smile grow.

“It’s poor customer service to laugh at a customer.” She mumbles before stepping back. “Please.” You walk up and grab the book.

“Look how easy that was.” She says, taking the book you held out for her. “Being six-foot-two does have its perks.” She says looking over the back of the book.

You roll your eyes but your smile only grows. Looking down at the book you nod and raise your eye brows, “that’s a good one, read it a few years back.” You say, making your way back to box of books.

“I’d hope so, for all the work I had to do to try and get it.” She mumbles making you smile and shake your head. “Anything else good?” She asks, looking down to you.

“You’re asking me if there’s anything else good in here when there’s just by the look of it thousands of books here?” You ask, smirking at her when she rubs the back of her neck.

“Yes, there is, I’ve read more than I can count. My recommendation board is up by the front desk if you want to check it out.” You say before placing crave by Tracy Wolff into the slot.

“You must have come here a lot before working then? If you’ve read so many books from here.” She asks, following hot on your trail with the book tucked between her arm. “Oh, for sure,” you say nodding. “The owners and I are real close, we were together a whole nine months before I was born.”

Her eyes widen slightly at the information. “You’re parents own this place?” She asks, gesturing to the entire book store and you nod, smiling.

It felt like you were a teenage boy, flaunting his muscles to a girl he finds attractive.

“Wow,” she says looking around once again. Book still tucked tightly into her arm as she did so. “Just wow. Your parents have taste.”

“More like their people pleasers.” You say shaking your head. The real other reason why horror is so popular in the movie section is because of their request.

Every week they check their request list and buy everything people ask for. New books, new movies, new music and games, there’s always something new. You’re surprised there’s still room, then again the place would be as big you supposed.

“They like having their customers choice their number one priority. It’s good business.” You say looking up to the girl who had a look of wonder in her eyes as she stared down at you but there was also something else. Something you couldn’t quite place.

She stares at you for another moment before speaking again, “do you.. know who I am?” She asks and your furrow your eye brows in question.

“Should I?” You ask tilting your head. She stares for another moment again, eyes scanning your face and it’s features as if searching for something.

Her smile then grows, as she shakes her head. “You shouldn’t, or rather shouldn’t have to. It’s just a surprise.” She says, tucking her hair behind her ear.

You knit your eye brows together in confusion.

She walks out of the aisle and you catch the light smile on her face as she does.

What the hell? You wonder to yourself as you place the last few books away.

You were pretty sure that was the last section, unless your mother put out some more stuff you didn’t notice. You’d just check out the to-do list.

Your mother and father always had one for both you and their own sake. Adding things so no one would forget.

As you made your way to check out, you see the girl walking in the general distraction as well.

“All set?” You ask, placing the box inside the others, moving past the small door attached to the low counter.

“Yep,” she says once again staring at you.

You take the book you got for her earlier along with another you recognize almost immediately. “Between shades of gray?” You ask, looking at her as if she were serious.

“Your description seemed trust worthy enough to make me interested.” You glance over to see your board clearly flipped through before nodding.

You scan both books. “Careful, it’s sad, dark and traumatic. It’s one of my favorites though.” You say looking up at her, she pauses for a moment, staring at you once again and just smiles and shakes her head.

“I think I can deal with a few of those.”

“Bartering or buying?” You ask. “Bartering,” she replies and you nod. “Good, I need to get a review on what you think.” You say with a smirk and you see a glint of something in her eyes.

“Name?” You ask and she looks at you a little confused. “We have to know whose using our books, how else do you think we send emails threatening to charge or get them back?” You snort.

“Oh, your totally right.” she says quietly before taking out her credit card.

“Jenna Ortega..” she says and you nod, typing in the name before reaching for the credit. Her grip on the card tightens at your lack of response.

You pull the card gently but her grip is to hard for you to take.

“Can I… get the card?” You ask, looking around slightly uncomfortably with the stone like stare she was giving you.

“Are you sure you don’t know who I am?” She asks letting go allowing you to swipe the card.

“Again, should I?”

You both stare at each other, both confused and entrapped by the other.

You find is strange how she thinks you know who she is or why you don’t know her.

Maybe she was some big deal somewhere off and you still have yet to hear about her.

Her name did ring a bell but you weren’t sure. Was she a person you knew from your child hood? An old friend trying to reconnect? Maybe some relative on your moms sent by the older ones to investigate if it was really you.

“Miss Ortega?” You’re both broken out of your thoughts as two large men stand behind her. “Time to go.” he says gesturing to a few people who were standing and staring in your general direction.

One grabs the bag off the counter before quickly walking towards the door.

“Looks like I gotta go,” she says, smile now suddenly shy with others watching. “Don’t worry, I’ll return your book Y/N.” She says before walking toward the door, one of the men right behind her.

“Yeah, you bet-“ you pause after the the realization hits you. “Wait, how’d you-?” You begin to ask before watching her gesture to her chest.

You knit your eyebrows together, you look down to see the name tag right under the library symbol.

She was strange.. cute.. but strange

Read next sort here!

A/N : Some parts once again rushed🧍🏽‍♀️This is just an introduction I suppose, the details will get better I tried my hardest🥲

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #celebrity x reader #top shelf #book store #book store owner #scream #Wednesday Addams #Vada Cavell #tara carpenter #scream 5 #scream 6 #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega fanfic #jenna ortega x you

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writerswall26 · 2 months

Text

First Time In Years

Synopsis: Y/N is an action star who's dubbed as Tom Cruise Jr. she was in a relationship with Jenna for a while before the two of them broke up due to Jenna's uprising status in the industry. The two of them happened to bump into each other at an award show and time stopped when they saw each other again.

Warning: Bad writing, Feels.

Words: 1.1k

Masterlist

A/N: I was feeling a bit bored then this popped in my head so I thought I'd share it to you guys. Happy Reading!

You've been away from the entertainment lime light for a couple of years because of an accident that happened in a production you were doing a few years ago.

During those times you were down and under, one person stuck by your side and supported you, from recovery, to therapy, to getting back in shape. You'd never ever forget that person, she was the one for you, you believed that. But fate had something instilled for the both of you. She was an uprising superstar, you did not want to hold her back. So you did what you thought was best at the time, you broke up with her.

A few years back, you were not so sure you're gonna be back into doing action films due to an accident you had on a set that left you bed bound for at least 3 months. You thought your time in doing actions was done by that point. But here you are, leading a sequel from one of the best action films of all time, Top Gun: Maverick. Your Godfather pushed you to be in this movie, quoting "you're gonna be my successor, I want you in this movie". So yeah, what Tom Cruise asks, he shall get. And today, you're back in an award show with your castmates.

Today, you're gonna have to face that person again. You're not entirely sure what would happen, or if anything would happen at all. You haven't seen her since you two broke up, but you did follow her activities. Watch her series, movies, anything that would update you of what she's been up to. And you couldn't be more proud of what success she'd had. She was becoming a household name and she's still getting bigger and bigger as the time goes by.

So, when you saw her being interviewed wearing a wonderful dress, you could not help but stare, you're shameless about that, but can you blame yourself? She was looking beautiful. She looked more mature now, her long hair cut shorter, she looked more of a woman now, it's crazy what time did to her. She looked more beautiful, she's always been beautiful in your eyes.

"Stop staring and start approaching, kid." She heard Miles whisper in her ears.

Y/N turned to her castmate and gave out a chuckle. "I don't think that's a wise idea."

Miles looked confused. "Why is that?"

Y/N shrugged. "Let's just say we want to leave it where it was left." She said before she walked on. Miles was still confused as he followed her inside with their team.

"So, who's that girl you were looking at lovingly outside?" Glen asked as soon as they got to their table.

Y/N groaned, not wanting this topic to be the talk of the entire night.

"She's just... some I used to know, okay?" She told them, pleading for them to stop asking questions.

The older men and women got the signal as soon as they heard her frustrated voice, and thankfully, they did not continue to ask.

The entire show, Y/N would steal glances to look at the girl she's watching outside. She couldn't help it. It's been so long. Of all the places, she never thought she'd be seeing her here, with a guy she knows has been linked to the girl.

"I'm gonna go to the toilet real quick." Y/N told her mates and went without waiting for a reply.

She did her business and was about to leave when she stopped on her track as she was face to face with the girl she's been eyeing the entire time. She looked as shocked as Y/N, her eyes widened.

Should've tried to hold it in. Y/N thought.

The two of them stood there, in the middle of the comfort room, staring at each other with wide eyes. No one made an attempt to move, or even to speak. It's like they're stuck in a dimension where they're just there, standing and staring at each other.

Y/N was the first to move, to get back to her senses. She gave out a small chuckle, thinking how dumb they probably look inside the toilet room, just staring at each other.

She cleared her throat, getting the attention of the girl in front of her. "Well, you look extremely lovely." Y/N said genuinely, smiling.

The girl in front of her giggles as well, her dimples showing. Y/N always loved those cute dimples, and she most definitely loved the sound of those cute giggles.

"It's so weird that the first time I see you after so long, we're in a comfort room." Jenna said, giving out a giggle again, lowering her head, shaking it lightly.

Y/N laughed with Jenna as well. The two of them looked like madmen inside the comfort room.

"How have you been?" Y/N asked when they finally calmed down.

Jenna's smile never left her face. "Good. I've been good. You?"

Y/N nodded. "I'm getting by. Trying to get back on my feet."

Jenna nodded, then she looked at Y/N from head to toe. She never thought she would see the taller girl again. Ever since they broke up, Y/N seemingly went under the radar, like she was hiding, not wanting anyone to find her. But here she was, standing tall and healthy.

"I saw the film. I thought you weren't gonna get back to it. Was afraid I'd heard on the news that you broke something again." Jenna admitted, making Y/N's heart jump at the thought that Jenna was still worried about her after all these times.

"I wasn't expecting to get back in action as well. Just tried to bring back the old me, but did not expect to get back."

Jenna nodded. "What made you take the film?"

Y/N grinned. "Tom Cruise."

Jenna giggled again. "Ah, of course. Can never say no to the godfather." She said, causing the both of them to share a small laugh.

"You realize we're really catching up inside a freakin' comfort room, right?" Y/N said, giving Jenna one of those weird looks she loves to give.

"Yeah, I know it's weird, and disgusting."

Y/N just shook her head. She stared at Jenna for a moment, taking all of her in. She's still as beautiful as before, maybe even more. But one thing's for sure, she's still the Jenna she knows, nothing has changed.

"Congratulations on everything you've achieved. I'm extremely proud." Y/N turned serious, but the smile on her face never left.

"Congratulations on getting back to the screen, I'm extremely proud." Jenna replied.

The two of them stared at one another, before Y/N broke their eye contact.

"I'll see you around, Jenna." She finally spoke.

"See you around, Y/N."

And they both left it at that. Their hearts are full knowing the sacrifice both of them made blossomed into something bigger than they both expected. That would stay in both their hearts forever.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x fem reader #jenna ortega x you #tara carpenter x reader #wednesday addams x reader #cairo sweet x reader #tara carpenter #wednesday addams #cairo sweet

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sehnsuchts-trunken · 1 year

Text

Jake Seresin And The Unfortunate Hat Situation

jake seresin x fem!reader 3k words

summary: You’re visiting Jake’s family in Texas for the first time and so far, it’s been going well. Just that Jake may have forgotten to mention the hat rule.

another cowboy fic because i fucking can

disclaimer: strong allusions to smut. im not kidding. this is basically straight up dirty talk all the way through

a/n: i’m warning you once about all the inaccuracies in here and thats it. read at your own risk. i have literally no clue whatsoever about texas and/or cowboys and did not have it in me to research cowboy history for hours on end, like- i tried, okay? i really did try. i know facts about cowboy hats now that i never felt the need to know (though “dont sleep with your cowboy hat on”, um... yeah? thanks? i totally would have done that otherwise) but i still do not have the information to back this shit up lmao

top gun masterlist

(yes i did have to use an everybody wants some gif. during the past week ive rewatched this film more times than i can count and i will take every opportunity i get to talk about it)

“Enlighten me”, you chuckled, spreading your arms, a bottle of beer in your right hand. “Why are none of the cowboys wearing cowboy hats? Isn’t that kind of their thing?”

You were visiting Texas for the first time - a week off of work, away from the Navy and the Dagger Squad for a bit, to meet Jake’s friends and family back home. You’d talked to most every one of them over the phone whenever he had found the time to call, but you’d never actually met them in person before this. So it had been an adventure from the start: getting on a plane in San Diego to take you to Texas where Jake had grown up, being picked up at the airport by his mother, driving two hours to the farm they owned (”You grew up on a farm?”, you’d asked when he’d told you, wheezing at the mental image of teenage Jake herding sheep), meeting his dad, being surprised by both his sisters, getting to see his childhood bedroom.

And then, to top it off: the sound of his alarm at the crack of dawn this morning to go teach you how to ride a horse.

Needless to say that you’d been buzzing with nervous energy for the past few days. Not that you weren’t happy - it was just all a bit much at once.

After lunch he’d taken you into the city and you’d gone shopping for some real cowboy boots. He’d planned to take you to a bar in the evening, to introduce you to some friends. After all you only had a week here and neither of you felt like missing out on something.

When you’d wanted to try cowboy hats in the store too, Jake had snatched them from you and grabbed your hands, pulling you close to him, telling you that you’d get one when you’d become a real cowgirl. Since you doubted that would ever happen, you’d pouted and tried to convince him with kisses and, when that hadn’t worked, half-hearted threats, but he wouldn’t be persuaded even the slightest. He’d only looked down at you with raised eyebrows until you’d caved and satisfied yourself with cursing under your breath.

So here you were: Cowboy boots, jeans shorts and a button-up and no cowboy hat in sight.

Actually, there was one in sight. Jake was wearing his, in all his Texan glory, laughing with some of his friends at the bar. The thing was, he was the only guy wearing his hat. There were some cowboys strutting about with them on their heads, but most of them didn’t have one - hat hair, yes, but no hat. Hence your initial question: “Why are none of the cowboys wearing cowboy hats?”

“Shit, Jake didn’t tell you?”, Kendra - one of Jake’s only female friends here, who’d immediately decided she liked you and pulled you to one of the tables for some girl talk - let out a laugh. “No wonder it’s still on his head. We were getting worried already.”

It was pretty clear to everyone that you weren’t from around here, so you saw no reason to hide your confusion.

“Now you’ve lost me entirely. What?”, you asked, masking your frown with a laugh. You’d been here for hardly two days and you didn’t think you’d felt as embarrassed ever before. You knew about literally nothing. At least you’d done somewhat well at horseback riding, which could’ve been because of Jake’s arms around you and his hands over yours as you - he - held the reins, but either way you were proud of yourself for not falling off and landing on your ass.

“It’s like this: Ladies didn’t wear hats for a really long time. Cowboys wore the hats. So when you saw a lady with a cowboy hat on - that was her man’s. A sign that she belonged to him. Property shit and all.” She waved it off as if dismissing the concept. “Changed over the past few decades, of course. Better that way too. Ladies can wear whatever they want now. But the thought kind of stuck. You see a guy without a hat, he’s probably taken. You see a girl with a hat, that’s probably her man’s. And before you ever steal a hat, you should know the hat rule.”

You raised your eyebrows. Your stomach did weird little flips as she talked. Jake hadn’t explained any of this to you.

“The hat rule?”, you asked. Kendra grinned and leaned in, pretending to let out some big secret.

“You wear the hat”, she said and paused for a second for dramatic effect, “You wear the cowboy.”

You breathed out.

“Oh.”

Oh my ass, you thought.

Jake hadn’t let you buy your own hat for a reason. And then he’d gone ahead and not given you that reason. What the actual fuck.

You would’ve loved to wear his hat. You would’ve loved the thought of him claiming you like that, letting you wear his hat, showing everyone that yeah, you were Jake Seresin’s girl. But no. He’d left you completely in the dark, hadn’t let a single word slip. And he was still wearing that goddamn hat himself.

Like a single fucking guy, not a man in a loving relationship.

Somehow, now that you knew, you were more annoyed by the fact that he was wearing it than that he just hadn’t told you at all. God, he could’ve left it at home. He could’ve taken it off. He could’ve just put it on your head without telling you why if he didn’t want to.

And right there, that was the part you just didn’t understand. Why hadn’t he told you? He should have known you well enough by now to realise that you would absolutely adore wearing that hat. Not only because you wanted to wear a hat (which you did) but also because you wanted to wear his hat (which you did even more). After all, it wasn’t only him claiming you - it was you claiming him as well. And as horrible as the history of that hat rule was, in this present day you felt like it would only have been fair of him to tell you. You wanted to have that chance of showing him off. Of him showing you off, which he did so happily back in San Diego.

“Hey”, Kendra said, her expression a bit more serious as she put a hand to your arm and pulled you from your thoughts. “I’m sure Jake didn’t mean to hurt you. He may seem like a bastard, but he’s actually a real sweetheart.”

You snorted at her, nodding along.

“He is”, you agreed. “Which is kind of why it hurts even more. I don’t get why he wouldn’t just tell me. It’s not like he’s ever been scared I’d say no to him or something.”

Kendra smiled and squeezed your arm reassuringly.

“Try not to worry about it too much. Just ask him when you get home later, yeah? Communication is key.” Her smile turned into a grin. She winked at you. “And hey, you can always wear my hat if you’d like.”

You forced yourself to smile as well as you took a sip of your beer. “If I actually were single, I’d definitely take you up on that offer, but I’m not, and I don’t think Jake would like it much.”

Her grin only deepened. She had dimples, you realised, and the hat on her head matched her eye colour. You were glad to have her here with you. She was someone you were sure you could become good friends with over time.

“That makes it even better”, she said conspicuously. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her ankles over the edge of the table as she tipped her hat back. “He never told you about the hats. You don’t know anything in his eyes, honey. Use it against him.”

There was a twinkle in her gaze that told you she was looking for nothing short of mischief and you had the distinct feeling that she’d been the ‘bad influence’ on Jake in high school that he’d talked about so often. She seemed like a troublemaker. But she also seemed genuine. And she was right - in Jake’s eyes, you were getting to know one of his friends, talking about some girly stuff (which he probably assumed was himself), having a nice night. Not learning about cowboy customs that he’d just so forgotten to mention.

Jake usually didn’t get jealous. He trusted you the same way you trusted him. But he got possessive nonetheless - always with a hand on your back when you were talking to someone he thought was flirting with you, kissing you at the most inappropriate times, making sure that everyone knew you were his. Now he’d had the goddamn chance and hadn’t taken it. And you didn’t fucking know why.

But you were damn determined to find out.

Kendra slid the hat off her head and offered it to you. You took one deep breath before you reached for it.

You let your fingertips skip over the rim for a moment. Were you really about to do this? Then you put it on your head.

Alright. If Jake wasn’t going to tell you about the way this worked on his own accord, you’d make him tell you.

Kendra emptied her beer and you followed suit before the both of you got up. She grabbed both bottles in one hand, turning to you to send you another of those winks.

“I’ll bring these back to the bar and get us new ones. The dancefloor’s all yours.”

With a nervous smile, you adjusted your newly aqcuired hat and made your way onto the dancefloor. There was soft music playing in the background - country, of course, loud but not loud enough to disturb conversation. It wasn’t late enough for that just yet. Which was honestly a relief, since you had zero clue whatsoever about line dancing or whatever it was they did down here. This way there were only a few couples twirling each other back and forth and some people moving to the beat all on their own. You let out a breath and closed your eyes, allowing yourself to really feel the music: the guitar, the steady drums, the vocals.

Slowly, you started swaying - from one side to the other, turning, twirling, one step, then the next, heels here, toes there. A grin was making its way onto your face. The music grew, not as much in volume as in pace, and you didn’t know just when you had started to forget about everything except your movements (like the people watching, for example), but then the song changed and you gasped as you realised you knew it. Eyes fluttering open, hands coming together to clap, lips twisting into an actual laugh as you sang along, catching Kendra’s gaze and waving her over.

She joined you with a laugh, grabbed your hand to twirl you around, and god, her voice was heavenly. For just a split second you wondered how Jake hadn’t ended up falling for her. You certainly would have.

And speaking - more like thinking, but whatever - of the devil, you felt an all too familiar hand on your shoulder. You turned at the same time that Kendra let go of you, allowing you to admire your boyfriend in all his furious glory.

Not that he actually looked furious. Not to anyone but you, not with that facade he wore whenever anyone got under his skin. But you, well... You’d been with him long enough to understand that twitch of his jaw, that tension in his shoulders, that flicker in his eyes. And yet - the cowboy hat still sat on his head.

“I got it from here, Kendra”, he said, eyes fixed on yours, as you held your breath. She snorted, but still made to move away, muttering something under her breath that you didn’t catch. Then Jake spoke again. “Take your hat, Kendra.”

He grabbed it from where it rested on your head and threw it at her without looking away from you. She sucked in a breath.

“If you throw my hat again, I’ll kick your ass, Seresin”, she said and you could tell that even though they were friends, she wasn’t kidding. Shit, the people here were really fucking serious about their hats. Another reason why you were mad at Jake for not telling you about any of it.

“Next time, don’t set it on my girl’s head”, he growled - growled, really, you didn’t know what else to call it. She scoffed and walked off.

“How could she know I was your girl?”, you whispered, challenging him even though he already looked like you’d crossed some line that he’d drawn without telling you. “How could anyone?”

For a few moments, he kept quiet. You defiantly stared up at him. Should he think whatever he fucking wanted to, this was entirely his fault.

Then something changed in his expression.

“You found out about the hat rule”, he said, “And the first thing you did was go and put on somebody else’s.”

“Well if my boyfriend doesn’t want to have me wear his hat-”

You couldn’t react as quickly as Jake had gripped you by the waist and pulled you close to him, forcing you to tip your head back to keep looking at him. He was, in fact, so close now that you could just kiss him and honestly, you were tempted. Just as tempted as you’d been when he’d come out of the bathroom looking like that, just as tempted as you’d been when you’d left the house, just as tempted as you’d been in his truck. But you were also stubborn. And you had good reasons not to kiss him right now (even though they were getting harder and harder to remember by the second).

“Darling, I’d go wild for you with my hat on.”

You swallowed. Hard.

“So why am I not wearing it?”, you asked through gritted teeth. You couldn’t quite believe just how easily this whole situation was getting under your skin. But it seriously hurt your ego - and not just that. The fact that Jake hadn’t told you about something so important in his hometown, some, as ridiculous as it may be, piece of culture, something that would so clearly show everyone that you were dating him, really, actually, seriously dating him, stung more than you wanted to admit. It was like someone had asked him outright if he was taken and he’d said no.

“‘Cause I told you to wait”, he drawled, “Didn’t I? Wait ‘til you’re a real cowgirl.”

Curiosity and frustration were mixing in your stomach, a weird, dangerous combo. You grabbed for his collar, pulling on it just a bit too hard - nothing he couldn’t stand his ground against. You were feeling insulted by all this and you found that you should let him know.

“What’s a girl like me gotta do to become one in your eyes, hm, Hangman?”

Hangman. You only called him that when you meant business. It was like a mother using her child’s full name whenever it got in serious trouble. Jake stiffened, fingers digging into your hips so firmly that you were sure you��d be able to see the marks in the mirror later on. You’d hit a nerve. Always did when you called him by his callsign. No more Jake, no more baby, none of that.

“Behave”, he said, eyes fixed on yours, that one word carrying so much more meaning. You didn’t care. For once, you really didn’t fucking care. You wanted him riled up, wanted him furious, wanted him right at this breaking point. So you smiled.

“Like a dog?”

He’d smashed his lips on yours before you could react.

All teeth and tongue, decisive, possessive, angry. You didn’t want to give in as quickly as you did. But he hardly left you a choice - he was everywhere, arms wrapped so tightly around you, chest pressed so firmly against yours, not giving you the option to escape, to duck away, to tease him any further. So instead of doing that, instead of making him run after you more, you let him have the control. All of it. Instead of turning, instead of making him chase you, you pulled him close to you by his collar with all the force you could manage, pulled him into you, pulled him with you as you stumbled backwards from the sudden change of weight, put your entire trust in him to keep you upright. You couldn’t breathe. You didn’t want to if that meant letting go.

Not with how much emotion you were putting into this fucking kiss.

Jake was the one to break away first. Pupils blown, cheeks reddened (you were sure you looked even worse), panting. You loosened your grip on his collar and ran a hand through your hair instead.

Somewhere in the back of your head, you remembered that you were still in a bar, still in the middle of the dancefloor, still under the watchful eyes of his friends. A different part was screaming at you to fuck it and fuck him right here, right now.

“Shit”, he breathed, resting his forehead against yours. His hat let a shadow fall over both your faces. “You’re gon’ be the death of me someday.”

“Hopefully not too soon”, you teased, a smile playing on your lips as he pulled back just a bit. “I still gotta find out how to become a cowgirl after all.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up as well. He raised his eyebrows, examining you for a second.

“You really wanna know, sweetheart?”

You let out a laugh. “Fuck yeah.”

He leaned in close, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear, and you had to swallow. This felt intimate, somehow.

“You’re gon’ be a cowgirl once you rode your cowboy.”

Your breath caught in your throat. He pulled back with a grin. Smug, you realised. He was so fucking proud of himself for this - for having caught you off guard like that. You couldn’t let him win that easily. Not with that already inflated ego.

“All of this just to get me into your bed?”, you chuckled. “Damn, Seresin. Lotta work for no reason, hm? I’m in it at the end of every day anyway.”

He shrugged - as best as he could with his hands still on your waist.

“What can I say? I aim to please.”

You couldn’t help but grin too. The angry, sizzling tension had dissolved into something much more pleasant, much more dizzying. Something that set your skin ablaze and your mind on fire. You grabbed one of his hands from your waist and intertwined your fingers with his.

“Want to get out of here?”, you asked. He leaned in and kissed you with a smile - slow and steady and sensual, wholly different from before.

When he pulled back, you were breathless again.

“Always.”

#top gun #x reader #top gun x reader #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #hangman #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #cowboy fics

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coconutcordiale · 2 years

Text

up to no good

pairing- bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x female pilot!reader (callsign clutch) no use of y/n

an- my first fanfic ever! and it's just filth (lol) so 18+ minors DNI. top gun has a hold on me y'all. haven't even opened a word doc since college but the entire film basically lives rent free in my head and I had to write some obscene rooster so I could get back to functioning like a normal person. anyways *nervous sweating*

warning- seriously 18+, not beta’d, swearing, pwp (dogfight football is just an excuse for foreplay they knew what they were doing with that damn scene), unprotected sex, choking, edging, orgasm delay/denial, overstimulation, dom!rooster, oral (f receiving), rank kink if you squint, bruises, praise kink, dumbification, rooster is a leg man fight me, mentioning hangman during sex (yes this is a warning because jake seresin is sinful), the whole nine honestly I can't believe I'm posting this

length- 3.3k ish words

You silently curse Maverick for introducing the team to dogfight football as everyone trudges down towards the beach. Now, instead of working on your tan or napping on the beach for your one and only day off, you're being forced into athletic competition masquerading as a fun beach game. You like working out as much as the next pilot, but with one day off? You’d much rather spend it horizontal with your boyfriend than sprinting after him in the sand. Your gorgeous, half-naked boyfriend who's currently smoothing out his mustache in annoyance while he argues with Hangman about how they’ll split up the teams. You’re not sure who decided to make these two idiots team captains, but suspect it was born out of making sure they wouldn’t kill each other on the same team.

Rooster ends up choosing first, much to Hangman’s chagrin.

“Payback.”

“Wow,” you joke, your hand over your wounded heart for theatrics. “I see where your loyalties lie, babe.”

“Don’t be mad,” Rooster smiles into your hair before kissing your temple.

Pulling you into his side by the waist, he lightly skims his fingers across the part of your hipbone that always makes you shiver. The part that already has a bruise forming from his unrelenting grip this morning, while you were falling apart on his cock.

You glare up at him as if to say silently, don't change the subject, and he pointedly looks above your head to Seresin, pretending he’s not having flashbacks of your wanton moans.

“Hangman, go.”

The blonde flashes his signature smirk, stupid mischievous twinkle in his eyes, and reaches out to tug you from Rooster’s grasp, “Clutch, you’re with me.”

It’s surprising, of course. You weren’t actually mad at not being picked first, and definitely didn’t think Hangman of all people would be the one to do so.

“Bro,” Coyote grumbles. “No offense, Clutch, but what the fuck?"

Hangman shrugs in response, trying to maintain his poker face and not laugh out loud at the way Rooster’s jaw clenches. He knows having you on the opposite team is a huge distraction for mustache boy and well, he’d be remiss if he didn’t take advantage of Rooster’s ridiculous misty-eyed love for you, wouldn’t he?

Phoenix and Bob end up with Rooster too while Hangman manages to snag Coyote and Fanboy, punching Coyote in the shoulder for being so grumpy about not being picked first.

Not long into the game, Rooster has the ball, looking around for an open teammate and you see your opportunity.

As he knew there were no limits to your competitiveness no matter how much you complained about having to play, Hangman suggested you cover Rooster, so you’re already face to face with his very shirtless, very tanned body. You trail your hand across his abs, barely dipping your fingertips below his waistband. Subtle enough that no one else clocks what you’re up to, too consumed defending each other, but suggestive enough that Rooster’s attention snaps to you immediately.

“What’re you doing?” He asks, eyeing you suspiciously, hands still firmly planted around the ball that’s well out of your reach.

You flash the most innocent smile you can manage, “Sorry, babe, you just look so good. Couldn’t help myself.”

He beams down at you, completely disarmed and blushing a little despite his best efforts to maintain a healthy level of skepticism.

“Am I making it hard for my girl to concentrate?” He teases, arms faltering slightly.

“Something like that,” you grin, like the cat that got the cream, before taking advantage of his momentary lapse in judgment to snatch the ball out of his hands, swiftly turning and throwing it straight to Hangman by the makeshift endzone. He sprints through, throwing the ball to the ground in victory.

“And that,” Hangman shouts, practically banging his chest, “is why you’re never stupid enough to pick Clutch second, fellas!”

“Ruthless,” Rooster feigns hurt across his tanned features, fighting a smile at your cheesy finger guns. “Didn’t know we were playing dirty.”

“What, you think this is a fuckin’ game, Bradshaw?” You taunt.

“Oh, it’s on.”

You know you have to up the ante the next time around, without the element of surprise it’ll be harder to shake him.

You absentmindedly play with the bruise forming on your hipbone before the ball is anywhere near you and you can feel his eyes raking over the spot where your fingers touch. Fighting a smile, you adjust your workout shorts next, tugging them down the inside of your thighs where they’ve ridden up, fingers dancing a little close to your hot center for the public setting, but hey, hopefully no one’s paying attention. Besides, he’s always been a sucker for your legs, evident by how much time he spends between them. By the time he’s done staring and lifts his eyes to yours you’re smirking.

“Bradshaw, my eyes are up here.”

He doesn’t even bother looking ashamed, instead meeting your gaze with that filthy glint in his eyes. It takes everything in you to remain focused on the task at hand. You’re supposed to be sidetracking him, not the other way around.

You manage to sneak around him and catch the ball as Fanboy throws it your way, but you’re a little too far from the endzone to make a break for it without Rooster catching up to you. His dog tags are reflecting in the sunlight, resting against his hard chest and you smile, leaning in to grab them with your free hand.

Pulling him towards you by his chain so you can keep these words between the two of you, you adopt a comically casual tone, “I’ve always wondered what it’d be like if you choked me with these, babe, I mean your big hands are more than enough but—”

“Nope," Rooster cuts you off tersely as he picks you up and tosses you over his shoulder before marching in the direction of the parking lot.

You giggle, arching your back to toss the ball towards the group as best you can while still mostly upside down, and throw them a sloppy two finger salute, “See y’all later.”

“You guys are the worst!” Phoenix shouts after you and everyone yells in agreement.

He doesn't set you down until you're in the parking lot, immediately pulling you back against his front.

“You’re gonna pay for teasing me like that, princess,” he breathes in your ear, right hand sliding up your chest and to your neck as his left digs for his car keys.

“Oh no,” you drawl sarcastically, “That wasn’t what I was aiming for whatsoever.”

He can’t help but chuckle, even with his hand practically engulfing your throat you’re still playing him like a fiddle, teasing and pushing his buttons until he aches to put you in your place. He knows exactly what you’ve been playing at, but he still can’t help his primal response to it.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’m gonna wipe that bratty little smirk right off your pretty face.”

“I don’t know what you mean, Lieutenant Bradshaw,” you respond cheekily. “Was just admiring my gorgeous boyfriend all day. Always makes me smile, how beautiful he is.”

His fingers tighten almost unconsciously at his rank tumbling out of your delicate lips. And now it’s his turn to smirk, as he hears your breath hitch and feels you grind back onto his growing bulge. He unlocks the car and pulls the passenger side door open with his free hand, turning you around for a searing kiss before picking you up and setting you in his Bronco. He buckles you in, and you roll your eyes at the babying gesture, still in a fiery mood.

Shooting you a warning look for the eye rolling, Rooster gets in the other side and you begin running your hand up his arm, stopping to appreciate his bicep flexing as he turns the keys in the ignition. It’s almost innocent, really, but he sees right through you.

“No touching me or yourself until we get home.”

He bites back a laugh at your pout and settles his hand on your knee as he starts to drive. Which, you find out quickly, is much worse than not being touched at all, although you imagine that’s purposeful. He always knows how to wind you up while barely lifting a finger. You feel his hand burning on your leg, rubbing affectionate circles just south of where you want it. You shift in the passenger seat and the movement subtly urges his hand up your thigh, thinking he won’t notice as his eyes are decidedly fixed on the road.

As soon as he pulls up to a red light, he immediately removes his hand from your thigh to grab your jaw roughly and pull you into a kiss.

“You have to learn to be patient, baby. Keep trying to rush me and I won’t touch you at all,” he mutters against your lips. “Be a good girl for me.”

Your breathing shallows and you nod, both of you knowing as soon as that phrase comes out, you’re done for.

You’re crawling out of your skin by the time he pulls up to the house, mind on an endless loop of please touch me, kiss me, please do something, anything.

“I hope you remember your colors, because if I don’t hear the word red I’m not stopping,” he promises darkly, possessive hand around the back of your neck as he leads you into the house and to the bedroom.

He all but throws you on the bed, making quick work of your clothes. Stepping back and taking his time with his own while he admires you, naked and squirming for him. He watches patiently as your thighs press together, hands fisting in the comforter.

What feels like eons later, he settles on the bed, pushing your legs apart to fit his wide frame between them. Peppering kisses up the inside of your thighs, he refuses to put his mouth where you really want it.

You whimper in frustration and Rooster snickers at your exasperation before licking a stripe up your dripping wet slit. The sound that comes out of your mouth is positively filthy, doubling in volume when he slips one of those thick fingers in without warning.

“Fuck, baby,” It’s his turn to groan now. “You’re so wet. Surprised you didn’t soak through those tiny little things you call shorts.”

“Thought I was going to, been ready for you all day,” you grit out.

As much as you love his mouth on you, it’s not what you need right now as your cunt is aching to be filled. You untangle your fingers from the comforter to pull him up by the shoulders and attach your lips to his. Reaching down to palm his hard cock, you run your thumb across the slit that’s leaking with precum. He drops his head to your shoulder, panting as his control wavers.

“Need you in me,” you beg between kisses. “Please.”

You immediately wish you hadn’t said anything when raises his head to look at you, pupils blown but with newfound resolve and a smug grin on his lips.

“Greedy,” he teases, taking your hands from his cock and lifting your arms above your head.

He easily pins both wrists down with one hand, while the other traces down your body, taking his time palming your tits one by one, touching your hipbones with surprising gentleness, before settling between your legs once more. His fingers slide through your wet folds, pad of his thumb circling your clit and your head falls back against the pillows, body arching at the feeling.

He’s building you up, exactly how he knows you like, your inner walls already beginning to shake with anticipation, clenching around nothing as you get closer to the edge.

And then suddenly, he pulls his fingers away and you want to cry with how quickly you feel your climax disappearing into thin air.

“You’d let me do anything I wanted to you right now, wouldn’t you baby girl? You’d do anything to get my cock in that needy pussy.”

“Yes sir,” you whine submissively, even surprising yourself at how desperate you sound.

“No more Bradshaw and babe now, huh,” he mocks your cheeky tone from earlier. “Told you I’d fuck that bratty attitude right out of you.”

You wish you had the wherewithal to come up with a witty response about how he hasn’t even fucked you yet and could he get to it already, you really do. But before you can formulate half a thought, he’s finally pushing his thick member into you and no matter how many times the two of you do this you always, always forget how much he stretches you. How each time you wonder if he’s going to fit.

The only indication he gives that he’s as affected by this as you are is that there’s no time to adjust to his size before he’s thrusting, hard and fast and rough. It’s right on the line between pleasure and pain.

The moment he swipes the pad of his thumb over your bundle of nerves again you’re close, embarrassingly close. You feel your body tensing, winding tighter and tighter.

“Please, I’m so close, please let me come.”

You’re pushing hard against the grip he has on your wrists, to no avail.

He smiles against your skin, nipping at your neck before bringing his mouth to your ear.

“No.”

Tears immediately spring to your eyes as he pulls away the hand that was on your clit, slowing his pace to an unbearable speed and you feel your peak slipping farther and farther away.

“Please, Roos—" you start, trying to pull him closer with your legs.

“You know my name, princess,” he growls, pulling back.

“Bradley,” you moan, the hard edges in his words sending another wave of heat through you. “Sir—plea—I need—harder, faster. Ohmy god, please.”

You’re barely coherent and the evil part of him wants to push further, to see how long he can keep you like this, if he can make you lose your words completely.

He completely ignores your pleas, releasing your wrists so he can run both his hands down your body, stopping again to rub circles around the bruises on your hipbones.

“You think they’d believe me? If I told everyone how needy you are for me?”

You don’t answer, can’t answer because all you can think is please, harder, more. Instead, you’re gripping his biceps for dear life, mind still reeling from how infuriatingly slow he’s fucking into you.

“The team would never expect strong, hard-headed Clutch could act like this. Putty in my hands, whining and begging for me like a depraved slut.”

A loud moan leaves your mouth at that and he rewards you by picking up the pace, putting his weight behind his thrusts again. You’re staring up at him with glazed eyes, mouth parted and breathy mewls coming out in a constant stream as he continues.

“Seresin definitely wouldn’t. Can you imagine if I told him how pretty you look fucked out and dumb for my cock? He’d probably think I was lying, thinks you dominate the hell outta me. If only he knew the truth.”

You clench around him involuntarily and he smirks when he sees the blush rising on your cheeks.

“God, I do love having you all to myself, but it seems selfish not to share someone as perfect as you, darlin’.”

You tuck your face in his neck, unable to meet those playful dark eyes. He pulls out and flips you over, pulling your ass into the air and sliding back into you in one smooth motion.

He’s hitting that spot deep inside you, and you shove your face into the pillows to muffle your moans. You feel fingers tangle in your hair, tugging and arching your back as he pulls you up towards his chest, pace unrelenting. Bradley slides that big hand up around to your neck again, finally getting to pound you from behind like he wanted to outside of his Bronco. That seems like days ago, now. His other hand is circling your clit, quickly bringing you right to the brink once more.

“Come for me, baby, come all over my cock like the little slut you are.”

You feel like a rubber band, pushed to its limits and snapped. White-hot pleasure courses through you, finally releasing all the tension in your body.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl for me,” Bradley’s breath is hot in your ear. You barely register his praise, still shaking. “Wanna come inside your tight pussy and fill you up.”

You can’t help the obscene noises spilling out of your mouth, even louder than before as he continues to fuck you, relentless, while you try to come down from your high. It’s overwhelming, his thick length pounding your trembling, slick walls. His grip impossibly tight on your hip as he empties in you. The warmth is spreading inside, your walls spasming weakly at the feeling of fullness. He keeps his hands on you as he softens, fingers starting their dance in maddening circles on your overstimulated bundle of nerves.

“S’too much,” you slur, head falling back on his shoulder.

If you weren’t in such a daze you might be impressed on how he’s managed to make it his mission to continue ruining you only moments after his own climax. He’s completely supporting your weight, any sense of self-preservation having left you long ago.

He shifts, pulling out and you try not to whine too loudly at the empty feeling. You momentarily think he’s done with his torture, but then he lays you down on your back and puts his lips right to your center, fingers pushing his cum back inside you as it tries to drip out.

“No,” he lifts his head to say again, and you hate how that always sends a wave of heat right to your core. “You begged and begged to come. I’m just giving you what you wanted baby."

“Dunno,” you shudder, “if I can take anym—Bradley pleas—”

“You can.”

There’s no room for disagreement in his tone.

“You’ve been such a good girl. I know you can come again. Just one more and I’ll give you a break.”

He’s making lazy circles with his tongue, his pace the only indication there exists a fiber of mercy in his being.

Your skin feels tight as his praise washes over you. He’s fucking you with his fingers now, curling them while slowly increasing his onslaught on every nerve in your body through his touch to your core. You can’t help but grab his wrist, trying to pull him away from you as he blurs the line between pleasure and pain. You’re shaking uncontrollably and shouting his name, as you come again, sure you’re going to black out.

“Shh, baby, I got you,” he whispers as you clench around his fingers. He’s kissing your jaw, lips, forehead.

He gently pulls his hand away and wraps his arms around you, holding you through the aftershocks.

“You’re perfect, baby. Did so well for me.”

You smile up at him a few minutes later as he gently puts a water bottle to your lips. Ever the gentleman, you think, even after he’s absolutely wrecked you.

“We have to wash the sheets and comforter,” Rooster complains jokingly, when he’s pretty sure your mind is mostly functioning again. “There’s sand everywhere.”

“Yeah, you should get right on that, Lieutenant,” you mumble, planting your face in his chest.

He reaches out to tickle your sides lightly, “Maybe this Lieutenant will order you to do it for him.”

“It’s so cute you think you’re in charge,” you yawn, rolling over and settling in, clearly not making a move to get up.

Rooster rolls his eyes, forcing himself not to take the bait this time, instead pulling you tighter.

#rooster top gun #rooster smut #rooster x you #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #Bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #Bradley Bradshaw x you #rooster fic #bradley bradshaw smut #top gun fanfiction #top gun x reader #rooster imagine #top gun #rooster fanfic #Bradley bradshaw fanfic #top gun maverick fanfic

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hee0soo · 4 months

Text

Match with you!

Pairing — Kang YeosangxTattooArtist!gnreader

Summary — You didn´t know what you expected to happen but this was definitly not it...

Genre — Idol! AU, TattooArtist! AU

Warnings — toothrotting fluff and feels

WORD COUNT — 1.9k

Note — This is my Secret Santa gift for @i-luvsang

I hope you like what your christmas fairy came up with...✨

Disclaimer: this fic is written and copyrighted by ©hee0soo on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other plattforms without my permission.

In between recording songs, vocal and dance practice or filming content, it was rare that Yeosang had time to meet up with any friends he had! The fact that most of his friends were also idols who had their own schedules definitely did not help with that in the slightest!

The only person he did have time for no matter how busy his day was, was you!

You who he met during his early trainee days. You who managed to keep his best friend in check with a simple glance in his direction. You who always listened to his worries no matter how early in the morning it was. You who had the Idol wrapped around your pinky finger just by being yourself!

When he had first met you, Yeosang had not approached you for months and neither had you what reason did you have? To you, he was just another classmate of yours!

Only when you were partnered up for a project did you get closer. At first you were apprehensive which he could understand. All of his fellow students knew that he was a trainee under BigHit and While he did his best to stay on top of his classes he could see why you were hesitant to work with him, fearing that he would be to busy to contribute to the project and that you were going to be stuck working on it alone.

He had quickly proven you wrong and with every little snack he brought you l the boy with the heart of gold managed to worm himself into your heart.

From there on the two of you met up regularly to walk home together. Or well, you went home and Yeosang went to the company. It even went so far that you would purposely sit together in class.

That's also how he found out how well you could draw and sketch. Watching you doodle on the side of your note pad while the teacher went on with speech was the highlight of his school day!

"How can you draw so well?" he had asked in awe the first time he admired the motives on your paper.

You had only shrugged back then, not really knowing what to answer to that.

"I don't know."

And with that you had turned back to the little dragon flying around your notes, ignoring the feeling of Yeosang watching closely over your shoulder.

Time flew by and the two of you grew older. While Yeosang had continued training, meeting Wooyoung and eventually debut under a different label, you had stuck to drawing, starting an internship at an Tattoo parlor...

Fast forward to 2023, your skin was now covered in tattoos and you had a loyal clientele that visited the shop you worked at regularly to add to the collections on their skin!

The hobby you had as a student turned into a job and even when your parents had frowned at you and threatened to disown you, Yeosang had always been supportive! Never once doubting you!

It got so far that even Hongjoong, San and Wooyoung had been on the other side of your tattooing gun once or twice. The iconic soulmate tattoo on WooSan's knees being one of your pieces...

"y/nnn?" the deep drawl of Yeosang's voice broke through the trance you had found yourself in while drawing a commission request from a client. The outline of a snake wrapping its body around a bunch of roses appearing on the paper in front of you.

"Hmmm?" you hummed, not taking your eyes away from the paper as you hunched over it on practice room floor at the company building.

"y/nnn?!" he tried again as he lounged on his back, head resting against the armrest of the couch standing right behind you and more then unsatisfied that you had yet to react to his plea for attention.

Letting out a playfully suffering sigh as you turned your head towards the currently blond man, you shot him an amused scolding glare, finding yourself face to face with your best friends sparkly brown eyes.

"Yes Sangie?"

A pout formed on his lips. In the few hours he had been busy going over some of the groups old choreos, wanting to freshen up his memory a little before the stress of preparing for the next comeback could hit him in full. But as soon as you had wandered in, decked out in bags of snacks, drinks and drawing supplies, all plans of practicing had flown right out of the window and now, an hour later, he found himself in his current predicament.

Bored and unsatisfied as you ignored the puppy eyes he stared at the back of your head with!

Your mouth curved up into a teasing smile when you saw the soft glare that resembled a Maltese more then the Doberman he always tried to be for his fans!

"You're ignoring me!" he stated, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"I'm working." you huffed and turned back to your drawing.

Yeosang grumbled, unhappy about having lost your attention again.

It fell silent again as you returned to focusing on your commission. Your best friend let out a suffering sigh as his eyes followed the movements of the pencil in-between your fingers, glide smoothly over the paper. He trailed is eyes up to admire the profile of your face over the slope of your nose down to your mouth, where your teeth were gently nibbling on your lower lip in concentration.

How your eyes lit up at the prospect of finishing your sketch, how they just seemed to shine brighter doing something you loved...

Oh how Yeosang whished you would look at him like that at least once!

The snakes face grew in depth as you worked on it's slitted eyes and the vocalist was once again stunned by your ability to breath life into something as simple as a drawing.

"Would you give me one?"

*What?*

Whipping your head around to look at his handsome face. You weren't blind! Of course you knew that he was handsome, ethereally beautiful even, always had been even as a young boy! He was, after all, an Idol known for his deep voice, dance ability and statue like beauty!

Still, that had never been the reason why you were so whipped for this man! It was the kindness he radiated that had drawn you to him in the first place. If you had to describe Yeosang in words, they would by kind, hard working, gentle, funny, intelligent and so many more...

The aloof demeanor he put on only being a facade to hide from prying eyes, hiding a man only few got the privilege to see...

His deep brown orbs were starring right back at you as you gaped at him like fish on land, waiting for an answer from you.

"You want a tattoo?"

Yeosang hummed in agreement, his baritone voice sending the butterflies in your stomach flying.

"Have you, uhm, talked to your manager about it? Like-"

"Not really but I trust you."

The statement meant more to you then you would like to admit. The words had left him as easily as breathing.

"I don't want to get you in trouble Sang-ah..."

Yeosang carefully studied your face. Worry for him was written all over your face.

He thought for a moment, remembering the contents of your bag like the back of his hand.

"What about a non-permanent one for now? With body markers?"

You put down your pencil, pushed everything to the side and turned your body to face him entirely.

"Did you have something in mind? Or do you want me to choose?"

"I want to match with you!"

His eyes wandered over your collarbone, down to your arms, littered with ink until he stopped at the small picture of a paw print. It was by far not your biggest or most astonishing tattoo but the one that meant the most to you. The one that was meant to represent the paw of a puppy. The one that was meant to represent him and the one you refused to tell him if it was supposed to be a Maltese or Doberman.

Yeosang sat up on the couch.

"You want a paw print too?" you asked confused.

He shook his head, bright blonde hair falling gently into his face.

"I want to have a kitten, so you have the puppy paw for me and I have the cat for you..."

His ears turned red at the admission and your best friend hid behind his hand, an awkward laugh ringing through the practice room.

"Sorry, it was just an idea and-"

"I'll do it!" you cut him off, giddy to start already. You patted the empty space next to you, urging him to sit there before reaching for the pencil case in your bag where you kept the markers.

"Come here and give me your hand!"

Yeosang did as he was told dutifully. He gingerly put his hand in yours and drew the outline of a tiny cat.

It was only a small drawing so you were quick to finish and looked up only to stare directly into the eyes of your best friend. Just inches away from your face!

Your eyes widened in surprise and his close proximity caused your heart flutter.

*When did he get so close?*

"Uhm? Yeo you-?"

Cut of by his lips softly pressing against your own, dropped the marker still sitting in your hand.

The touch was light like a feather and over again before you could react to his ministrations.

"I'm sorry y/n, I just..." Yeosang murmured as he pulled away, gazing at you with a dazed expression. The man didn't know what to say and neither did you.

Only then did you notice his hand still holding yours while his thumb was gently brushing over your skin there. He tried pulling his hand away but you didn't let him, instead you laced your fingers with his.

"Please don't be sorry!" you croaked, voice almost to quiet for him to hear.

"No y/n, please can we just forget this happened?"

Suddenly much less euphoric then before, you pulled away. His words hurt and suddenly you wanted to disappear. Did he, really think kissing you was a mistake?

"What if I don't want to forget it tho?"

Pain was evident with the way your voice wavered.

Yeosang didn't look away from you for even a second and he swore that he could hear something shatter inside of him. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you in any way but it seemed that he had managed to do exactly that.

The kiss wasn't a mistake in his eyes and while he wished it didn't happen like this, he didn't regret it at all!

"You don't?"

He was unsure if he had heard you correctly but a tiny part of him felt hope clawing, trying to be set free.

You shook your head. Instead of answering you leaned forward to catch his lips with yours. This time it was Yeosang who looked surprised.

"Does this answer your question?" you exhaled, tone breaking at the end.

Your best friend looked completely baffled by the kiss you had initiated and all he could do was nod while a dazed smile appeared on his lips.

"Yes, it does...”

Taglist: @marirose25

#cromernet #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez x you #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez drabble #kang yeosang #kang yeosang x reader #yeosang x reader #kang yeosang x you #yeosang x you #yeosang headcanons #yeosang imagines #yeosang drabble #ateez fluff #yeosang fluff #divider by cafekitsune

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moralesmilesanhour · 6 months

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mad props! 02

summary: Miles catches onto your antics. wc: ~800 a/n: some advanced haterism going on here. this has gotten increasingly fun to write as the plot ramps up! pls don't be scared 2 leave any reactions or thoughts in the comments + tags :) 01 02 03

From then on, you made it a point to ignore Miles during partner work and punctuate it with an eye roll. He tucked his head back in surprise the first time you did it, and you felt like you’d just won a prize.

…That is, until he ignored you back.

Eventually, Miles just turned to the person in the next column to ask for a pen instead, seeming perfectly content with working on his own.

It should've been a relief.

Today, Mr. Sanchez handed out worksheets to write a short composition on, and you struggled to recall the correct word for ‘kitchen’. All of your attempts to remember the pictures at the back of your flashcards came to nothing, finally forcing you to turn around and ask with a heavy sigh.

"Um, hey," you began, wincing at the softness of your voice. "What’s ‘kitchen’ in Spanish? You remember?"

Miles looked at you with only his eyes. " ‘Cocina’."

No puns, no off-hand comment. Not even an offer to help further. He just quietly returned to his work.

Your plan was already falling apart now that he no longer initiated conversations for you to brush off, so you went with the next best thing: competing with him.

“Who was able to solve for the trajectory of–oh!”

The AP Physics instructor pushed back a strand of red hair as she glanced between you and Miles, whose hands had shot up at the same time.

“Let’s go with someone who hasn’t spoken yet. Ms. L/N?”

You smiled as you answered, “24.7 meters per second.”

“Excellent job, Y/N, and thank you for participating today. Now, would anyone else…”

As the woman called on other students, a strategy began to take shape.

It wasn’t hard to tell when Miles was about to raise his hand. His eyes would go wide, with a tiny smile that said he was certain that no one else could get this question right but him. His hand went up so fast that you had to answer before the teacher could even finish their question, but it worked. And it got you a few extra points for participation.

“Now, who can tell me what makes the film ‘Romeo + Juliet’ so unique?” asked the English professor.

Miles raised his hand. “It takes the original play and reinterprets aspects of the original plot for modern audiences.”

As soon as he answered, his eyes flickered towards you almost as if on cue. Sure enough, your hand flew up.

“Y/N, what a surprise! Care to add on?”

“Of course. The director, Baz Luhrmann,” you met Miles’ gaze as you specified the name, “used his over-the-top cinematic style of directing to bring the drama of the original play to life in a contemporary context. He replaced the swords with guns and balls for parties, but kept the dialogue the same so that audiences could better understand Shakespeare without needing to grapple with the work of translating Shakespearean English into modern English. He found a way to make the play accessible without compromising on the text.”

Miles narrowed his eyes at you while the stocky teacher made a noise of approval.

“Very succinct explanations, you two. I’m very impressed with you especially, Miss L/N. I hope to hear your voice more often in class.”

You noticed Miles still glaring, and rested your chin in the palm of your hand.

In a sickly-sweet tone, you whispered, “What?”

He shook his head and turned away.

“Alright, make sure you go home and memorize those formulas! See you Wednesday!”

You neatly stacked your papers and slid them carefully into one of your labeled folders as the bell rang, marking the end of your last class.

The hallway bustled with students rushing like bees to their lockers. On the way to your own, a pop of color catches your eye.

It’s a bulletin board filled with sign-ups for a number of clubs, from cheerleading to student government to debate. Remembering your college counselor’s comment about your extracurriculars “looking a bit empty”, you drew closer. Might as well, right?

You didn’t have the stamina for cheerleading, but speech and debate looked promising. Just as you took out a pen to sign your name, though, you stopped short and frowned.

At the very bottom of the list read the name ‘Miles Morales’ written with a neon highlighter.

Then again on the art club’s flier. And anime club. And music engineering.

‘Miles Morales’.

Guess you weren’t the only one who needed to beef up their transcript.

“Show-off,” you muttered to yourself.

Just as you were about to lose hope, there was one other club that Miles hadn’t signed up for, hanging precariously off of the edge of the board from a single thumbtack:

Theater.

And auditions were the very next day.

#miles morales fic #miles morales x reader #miles morales x black!reader #miles morales x fem!reader #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #moralesanhour

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say-al0e · 10 months

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You Proof

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Bob never imagined the Hard Deck would play such an important part in his life. But after meeting the love of his life there, he can’t imagine his life without it. | Ft. “Do I make you nervous?” Requested by Anon.

Warnings: Drinking, allusion to sex, that’s about it.

Pairing: Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x fem!Reader

Word Count: 3k (a short one? Who am I?)

Top Gun Taglist | Top Gun Masterlist

Robert Floyd never imagined the Hard Deck would become such a large part of his life.

Bars, in general, had never been his scene. He wasn’t much of a drinker, really only indulged on special occasions - and rarely had more than a drink or two - and had never been especially fond of large crowds. Besides, before his return to Top Gun, he’d never really had a group of friends to tag along with and long ago decided that sitting at a bar alone was worse for his reputation than simply not going.

During his initial stint at Top Gun, Bob heard about the Hard Deck. It was almost impossible not to know the place by name as it seemed to be where everyone spent their weekends, a place to unwind and potentially meet someone. Still, as omnipresent as it seemed to be in the lives of his classmates, it was a place Bob never ventured himself.

The place always seemed a little too daunting - too loud, too busy, too full of officers he’d rather not spend time with outside of work. Way back when, he just couldn’t understand the appeal.

Now, however, he found himself seated on a barstool near the pool table at least once a week.

It seemed that now, more often than not, he settled in at the beginning of the night after a text from Phoenix or Rooster beckoned him. As they drank their beers, he nursed a Coke and laughed at the latest petty argument someone seemed to be having with Hangman.

Everyone took turns around the pool table or attempting to run through every trick shot Hangman seemed capable of with darts and enjoyed a few moments of downtime in an otherwise hectic life. And each night, he sat with his friends - a group he’d never expected to belong to but now couldn’t imagine a life without - and enjoyed being a part of something larger than himself.

The friends he’d made were enough to bring him back to the Hard Deck time and time again. They were enough to have him settled on a barstool for hours as they all talked and laughed and commiserated. They were enough to make him happy, content and relaxed for the first time in a long while, and Bob really couldn’t have asked for much more.

Then, he met you.

Somewhere amongst the chaos and the khaki, amidst the beer and pool and laughter, you were thrown into his life. He’d never seen you before - he felt like Hangman even thinking it, but he was so captivated that he knew he would’ve remembered your face - and though you stood out, dressed in a soft blue sundress in a sea of uniforms, he he liked to believe he would’ve noticed you regardless.

A rowdy Friday night crowd sent you stumbling into him, quite literally, and he almost hadn’t heard your immediate apology over the beating of his own heart. If he’d thought you were pretty from afar, up close, he was certain you were the most beautiful person he’d ever seen.

It was a miracle he’d managed to string together a coherent sentence, let alone participate in an entire conversation with you, but he’d somehow managed. He not only managed to captivate your attention long enough to learn your name, he left the Hard Deck that night with your number programmed into his phone and a promise of another meeting.

Since then, Bob rarely ventured to the Hard Deck alone.

Instead of sitting on a barstool alone, a wallflower - by choice now, no longer excluded from the conversation - he had you right by his side. You joined his laughter as Phoenix managed to outwit Hangman once more. You happily listened as Fanboy, well, fanboyed over the latest super hero film he’d seen and Bob asked questions because he knew what it was like to have no one take an interest. You joined in on conversations and never once looked put out by the amount of time you spent in a Navy bar, though he sometimes imagined you’d rather be anywhere else.

Bob spent a significant amount of time at the Hard Deck but now, so did you.

When you told him that you were planning a girls’ night with Phoenix, he figured the pair of you would venture to a nicer bar in the city. There was no shortage of fun places, ones where you weren’t likely to run into someone who only knew you as Bob’s girlfriend, but he’d been mistaken.

The Hard Deck was your top choice and he understood why.

Like Bob, you weren’t one to overindulge. Though you tended to have a drink when you visited the Hard Deck - something light he would occasionally steal a sip of - it was rarely more than one or two. However, it had been a long week for both you and Phoenix so he had an inkling the self-imposed limit would be out the door sooner rather than later.

Any other bar, you would’ve been constantly looking over your shoulder, a little too worried to truly let go. The Hard Deck felt safer - though he knew you would still remain vigilant, as would Phoenix - and gave you both a chance to enjoy yourselves a little more. The Hard Deck was your environment now, a place you felt comfortable, and he understood the need for that space as he encouraged the guys to opt for another venue.

At the beginning of the night, he promised to pick you up. No matter your argument - “I don’t want you to miss out on guys’ night! I can just get an Uber.” - he insisted, always eager to spend whatever time with you he could. You weren’t guaranteed anything and he wanted to be there, in any way he could.

And true to his word, when you called, Bob answered.

The guys were all still gathered at Maverick’s - Rooster, Hangman, Coyote, Fanboy, and Payback, all still sipping beer and listening intently to the captain’s greatest stories, and to a few embarrassing stories about Rooster - but he’d bid them all goodnight and headed straight for you.

Bob figured he could’ve found his way through the chaos in the dark as he wandered through the Saturday night crowd. They spilled out into the parking lot, a mix of locals and officers he’d grown almost fond of, but it was familiar. He knew the place like the back of his hand and had no problem weaving through tipsy crowds in search of your usual table.

Nestled near the pool tables, sat on the barstool he usually occupied, you and Natasha were locked in what seemed to be an intense conversation. The closer he drew, the clearer your words became.

“No,” you insisted, huffing as you swirled your straw in the remnants of your drink. “I think Rooster would win in a physical fight because he’s got a lot of repressed rage. Hangman would be fine for a bit but I think he’d go down quick.”

Bob paused just shy of your table, just out of sight, and did nothing to hide his amusement as he watched Natasha shake her head. “Rooster’s not a fighter,” she refuted, grip on her drink loose as she lifted it halfway to her mouth before thinking better of the action. “He’d start to throw a punch and then realize what he’d done. No one would win.”

“D’you really think Rooster would pass up the opportunity to hit him? I know you’re all friends now but I think he’d still take a swing.”

While Bob no longer dreaded the sight of Hangman entering a room - they really had become friends, brothers, even - there were still moments he would easily admit he fantasized about throwing something heavy in his direction. He knew he wasn’t alone, if Natasha’s rolled eyes and nod of acknowledgement was anything to go by, and shook his head as you grinned triumphantly.

Natasha drained the rest of her drink in one sip, easily downing the rest of a brightly colored drink Bob imagined would leave her with a hangover worthy of complaint the following day, before she fixed you with a grin. “What about Bob?”

“What about Bob?”

It didn’t take the keenest eye or the sharpest ear to notice the way you softened at her mention of him, the way you went just a little lovesick and smiled with just the utterance of his name, and Bob felt his heart beat double in his chest. While your relationship had long since evolved past the honeymoon stage, the softness - the care, the adoration - was still ever-present and he’d started to hope it would never fade.

The friends you shared, however, merely rolled their eyes. “Who’d win in a fight, Bob or Hangman?”

“Bob’s not a fighter,” you declared, immediately and without sparing a moment to think. “He’s a sweetheart.”

“You’re telling me Bob would pass up the opportunity to fight Hangman?” Natasha repeated your earlier argument, grinning when you rolled your eyes, and Bob nearly laughed as you slid your drink to the center of the table and rested your chin in your hand.

“No. I think if Hangman pissed him off enough and Robbie had a bad enough day, he’d go for it. But it’s not in his nature.” You nodded, satisfied with your own answer, before you hummed. A thoughtful frown scrunched your brows and Bob lifted a hand to hide his smile as you amended, “He’s stronger than he looks, though. He could win, if he wanted.”

The declaration was confident, certain, and Bob felt a small glimmer of something - pride, maybe - burn bright in his chest. There were moments that he doubted himself, moments he wondered what he’d done to deserve you, but you were consistently his biggest fan. There was never a moment you allowed him to doubt for long, always eager to build him up, and he appreciated the ego boost more than you knew.

“Not that I want to know,” Natasha began, “but is he always sweet?”

Natasha’s question saw Bob moving once more, hurrying through the crowd to approach your table. While you were just as happy to keep your relationship relatively quiet as he was, the difference between sobriety and a few drinks - the difference between a conversation with everyone and a conversation with just Natasha - meant that you would happily spill everything.

“Not always,” you answered with a mischievous grin. “There was this one time, right after he got back from that last deployment -“

Before you could continue, words that would certainly change the way Natasha looked at him on the tip of your tongue, Bob approached the table. “Hi, sweetheart.” It was a little too loud, a little too abrupt, and he was certain you could both see the scarlet flush creeping up his neck but neither of you mentioned it.

Natasha smirked at the sight of him so clearly flustered - at both the memory and the potential revelation - while you brightened to an almost blinding grin at the sight of him.

“Robbie,” you cheered, reaching out to pull him close. “I missed you!”

Less than five hours had passed since you last saw one another - he’d dropped you off before heading to Maverick’s - but he had no desire to remind you of that. Instead, he nodded and looped his arm around your shoulders to keep you both steady as yours fell to his waist. “Missed you, too,” he assured you, grinning sheepishly as he met Natasha’s gaze. “Hi, Nat.”

“Hiya, Robbie.” He rolled his eyes at her playful taunt, used to the teasing nickname every time you were around - or even mentioned. “Your girlfriend was just telling me how you’re not always a total sweetheart,” she continued, grinning when he winced. “You interrupted what was bound to be a fantastic story.”

“Mm, it is!” Your eager nod made him laugh as he squeezed your shoulder gently. Before he could encourage a change in topic, however, you urged, “Have a drink with us so I can finish!”

“Who’s gonna get us home, then?” The question was soft, fond, and he resisted the urge to lean in and press a soft kiss to your forehead as you frowned.

“Uber.” You spoke as if that was the most obvious answer - he almost expected a ‘duh’ tacked on at the end, just for effect - but you simply fixed him with a frown.

“Maybe next time, sweetheart,” he soothed, fighting the urge to coo as you deflated. As you huffed, disappointed in his refusal, he turned to Natasha. “Want us to take you home, Nat?”

“Nah, my ride’s here.” Bob turned just in time to catch sight of Natasha’s girlfriend, a woman he’d come to know well as the four of you went out together often, throw her hand up in a quick wave. “G’night, Robbie,” she cooed, grinning as she pinched his cheek and earned herself a fond roll of his eyes. “G’night, babe!” She stood from the table and caught you in a quick hug, squeezing just a little tighter than normal, before heading to meet her girlfriend.

Bob shook his head, entirely amused, before turning his full attention to you. His eyes met yours, already trained on his face, and he couldn’t help but smile as he realized what you wanted. Though PDA wasn’t much - or often - he had no qualms about leaning in and pressing a soft, chaste kiss to your lips.

It was late enough that no one paid either of you any mind, everyone either too far gone to notice anyone outside of their group or on the way out themselves, and you grinned happily when he pulled away. “Take me home, please,” you requested, glancing up at him from beneath your lashes.

With a smile of his own, Bob helped you from your stool - steadied your on your feet as you nearly stumbled with your first step - and held his laughter as you smiled sheepishly. “C’mon,” he encouraged, careful to keep an arm around you as he guided you toward the bar, “let’s settle up so we can get home.”

As you stood, waiting for a bartender to close out your tab, Bob’s fingers tapped against your side. As he did so, you felt compelled to ask, “Do I make you nervous, Robbie?”

Bright eyes, just a touch glassy and beginning to grow heavy-lidded, met his as he glanced at you. “Not anymore, sweetheart.” It was honest, as he always tried to be with you, and earned him a soft coo as you tipped your head. But he couldn’t help wondering, “Why d’you ask?”

“But I did?” When he nodded, barely able to contain soft laughter, you frowned. “Nat said I did. Why? I’m not scary,” you insisted,

“No, you’re not,” he agreed, smile softening as he reclaimed your card and began guiding you toward the door. “But you were at first.” As you stepped out of the Hard Deck and into the cool night air, Bob spared you a glance and nearly melted at the sight of you waiting patiently for him to continue. “I thought you were gorgeous,” he complimented, “completely out of my league. I figured you would go for someone like Rooster or Hangman. But then you kept talking to me and I had no idea why but I’m glad you did.”

“You know what’s funny?”

Bob hummed, curious, as he helped you into the front seat. “What’s that?” You waited, patient and quiet, for him to round the car and settle into the driver’s seat before you smiled at him.

“You made me nervous, too.”

That was enough to make him pause, hand on the gearshift, as he frowned. The entire time you’d spent getting to know one another, you’d never seemed even remotely nervous. Even as he fumbled his words and felt as if his entire body would remain permanently flushed in your presence, you looked completely at ease. “I did?”

“Mm.” It was matter of fact, a certain nod before leaning your head against the window and sighing at the cool glass against your heated skin. “I thought you were pretty, too,” you confessed, smile a little shy as Bob’s gaze softened. “And you didn’t really seem like you wanted to talk to me. Know now it’s cause you were shy but I was nervous. I really wanted you to like me.”

“I liked you right away.” Bob felt his entire body soften as you reached for his hand, fingers intertwining with his, and he took the opportunity to lift your hands and press a soft kiss to the back of yours as he stopped at a light. “I was afraid you wouldn’t want me,” he admitted, voice quiet in the silence of the car, “but you did.”

“I always will. You’re kinda perfect, Robbie.”

Bob knew that he wasn’t perfect - he wasn’t even close - but with you smiling at him like that, eyes bright and so sincere, he knew he’d spend the rest of his life trying to be. Regardless of the future you embarked upon, whatever awaited you both down the line, Bob was determined to spend the rest of his life making you happy, however he could.

And as he drove you home, your hand tangled in his even as you began to nod off, he wondered if Penny had ever hosted a wedding reception - or, at the very least, an engagement party - at the Hard Deck. While Bob never imagined the Hard Deck becoming such a massive part of his life, he now found himself thankful for every moment he’d been able to spend there as it all lead him straight to you.

________________________________________________________

Author’s Note: Slowly but surely chipping away at writer’s block. Hangman is likely next. I need to write something that’s not smut and not sad for him. Anyway, I’m knocking out requests so fingers crossed I stay on a roll. Perk of my life falling apart? My writing returns!

Taglist: @lulu-noodles, @holachicos, @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth, @withakindheartx, @ssprayberrythings, @verin93, @totalwitch2, @malindacath, @alexparkxr, @hangmandruigandmav, @alexxavicry, @calicokel, @jaymum, @dracosluvbot, @little-wiseone, @specialk6802, @mandylove1000, @julesclues, @archetypesoflife, @oliviah-25, @benhardysdrumstick, @caatheeriinee07, @yvespoems, @chloereidwayne, @flower-name, @callsignharper, @peoniarose, @hangmanscoming, @rh3tt, @dakotakazansky, @silversprings-mp3

#robert 'bob' floyd x reader #bob x reader #top gun imagine #top gun x reader #bob x y/n #bob floyd x reader #robert floyd x reader #top gun maverick x reader #top gun maverick imagine #robert floyd fluff #robert floyd imagine #v's fics

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worldsetfree · 3 months

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Stardust Crusaders × Reader: Motion Pictures

(+ bonus card at the bottom of the cereal box!)

Finally, you and your travelling band of troubadours have arrived at a hotel for the first time in days. It's early in the evening, everybody's exhausted, so you decide to retire to your rooms early and decompress. But you want to take some time, either with the group or your special someone and unwind with a movie.

(Trying to stay as canon-compliant as possible, so only movies that came out in or before 1988. Enjoy! Feedback welcome.)

I. THE MAGICIAN

Muhammad Avdol hasn't watched a lot of movies tbh. Down for most anything. Spending time with you is the true privilege.

Tbh I am struggling so much with picking a movie for him. His favourite movie canonically is Midnight Run, so maybe he'd recommend something like From Russia With Love?

I think he would let you pick if it was only the two of you and just be happy for the time together. He is the sweetest of men.

Respectfully tender. You want to share a blanket? You want snacks? You want to kiss? He's prepared and willing for anything.

Toasty warm if you want to cuddle. Leaves him delightly flustered.

V. THE HIEROPHANT

Omg this bean. 💕 Kakyoin Noriaki wants you to watch something that is of great personal significance to him but he's fearful of rejection.

He'll pick something a little bit artsy (and maybe pretentious), but something he holds dear to his heart. But it's Kakyoin, and he's also kind of a weirdo. He's gonna pick something a little out there like Blade Runner. The Princess Bride?

Please, bear with him. He's doing his best. Does the movie fit the vibe? Maybe not. But it's about being next to you.

Wants to cuddle, is too nervous to ask. You're gonna have to be the bold one here.

Watch his face flush to match his hair if you pull him in close and kiss his cheek. He's gonna want to do this every night from now on.

VII. THE CHARIOT

Oh Lord, Jean Pierre Polnareff has been waiting for this moment. He wants to fall in love. This is his chance to woo you, mademoiselle.

Already has a running list of appropriately romantic movies. Settles on Dirty Dancing (he is incorrigible). He doesn't actually care about the movie, this is all just a scheme to set the mood.

Chatty as fuck during the movie. Sweet nothings in your ear and distracted commentary on the movie. His stream of consciousness, really. Wants to see you blush.

Offers to let you sit/put your head in his lap. C'est magnifique if you take him up on that.

He is a gentleman, he won't try anything you don't want. He is going to ask to kiss you, though. Even if it's not the first time you've kissed today. He can't help himself.

IX. THE HERMIT

Joseph Joestar is either trying to inspire the group with some big moral lesson or he's leaning on his comfort films in private with you. No in-between.

"Comfort films" means Indiana Jones. That's it. There's a new one coming out next year, you know? You'll go see it with him, right? He's just as handsome as Sean Connery!

He's gonna try the ol' big yawn and stretch into holding you trick. Thinks he's slick.

Somehow he's already eaten the snacks. Pest. Will get more if you ask nicely.

The type of man who waits til you're very engrossed in the movie, then distracts you by kissing your neck. Success may vary. What do you mean Indiana Jones doesn't get you in the mood?

XVII. THE STAR

Good grief, why do you have to do this right now? Kujo Jotaro is tired and wants to sleep. You're so needy.

(He's thrilled by the idea and would love to turn his brain off for a night).

In front of the guys, he wants to watch some cool action movie. Top Gun? Yojimbo? More of a cinephile than he lets on. In private, he is more comfortable being the dork we know he is. Might suggest detective fiction or a documentary.

Adores these quiet moments of respite. Will play with your hair. Pamper him a little bit with soft affection and see his brows finally relax right before your eyes.

Will end up falling asleep on your shoulder, with his arms wrapped around you. Will beat up anybody that tries to tease him about it. RIP Joseph

0. THE FOOL

(He's a dog. Obviously platonic)

You're done. Fuck these guys. Fuck this whole trip. They have tried your patience for the last time today.

You and Iggy will cuddle up on a soft hotel bed and watch a Disney movie or something and have a self-care night.

Do a face mask. Realign your chakras. Enjoy strange flavours of gum. Live your best life.

Iggy is suprisingly okay with this turn of events. He lays in your lap and lets you pet him. Finally, he has found peace.

The men are distraught grumpy about missing out on this. Open the door, please. They're sorry, they promise they won't fuck up and do any stupid shit without listening to you again. Please!

Bonus Card:

IV. THE EMPORER

Baby, he's never wanted to do anything more in his life. He swears! Hol Horse loves taking time to unwind with you!

You already know this man is going to try to charm you with a spaghetti western. Fistful of Dollars it is.

THIS AIN'T HIS FIRST RODEO. He's already got all the pieces together to make this a proper romantic night. Popcorn? Check. Comfy seating? Check. Cologne? Check. Handsome smile? Baby, you're screwed.

Takes it slow, lets you make the first move. Will make you swoon.

Like a bandit, he is gone in the morning, with a note telling you he'll be back again soon and to keep him in your heart. ♡

#jjba #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo's bizarre adventure #stardust crusaders #part 3 #mohammed avdol #noriaki kakyoin #jotaro kujo #jean pierre polnareff #iggy jjba #hol horse #jean pierre polnareff x reader #kujo jotaro x reader #kakyoin noriaki × reader #joseph joestar x reader #old joseph joestar #muhammad avdol x reader #hol horse × reader #ramblingsfromzawarudo

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mastersoftheair · 2 months

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"Masters of the Air detail: Part 2-Dave Littleton

"[...] Dave is a lifelong WWII aviation enthusiast who has worked on a lot of other films in the past. He has a passion for the B-17 that goes back to his childhood. So much so that he has built a super accurate cockpit, from scratch over 20+ years, using a lot of original parts and equipment. The rest he made by hand. He brought his cockpit to the studio, and it was wonderful for sure.

"Dave worked pre-production, hand in hand with BGI, the company that made a lot, if not most, of the B-17 props and the two full-size aircraft. He gave them the drawings, photos and answered their questions. I think he was instrumental in the success of so many aspects of MOTA.

"I was asked to come over to teach the aircrew how to look like they could pilot, navigate, drop bombs, shoot guns, radio work etc., which ended up being a lot more than that. Dave let us use his cockpit for the flight training and top turret gunner/engineer duties.

"The pilots and engineers went through initial training in Dave’s cockpit and then we would rehearse for the specific scenes.

"I thought that some of the actors might have had some sort of prior knowledge of flying from gaming or flight simulators, but this was not the case. None of them had any concept of flying which was perfectly okay. I had to sit them down in a chair and teach them the very basics of the flight controls and how they are used. Grabbing an imaginary control wheel and had their feet on imaginary rudder pedals. Making sure they used the rudders first and then aileron as you would in a heavy tail wheel aircraft.

"We then progressed into Dave’s cockpit to teach them the myriad of engine controls and their basic function. Later when we had a specific scene, we would go through the procedures whether it be takeoff, landing, engine shutdown etc. Just having them know where to look on the panel for power changes, checklist, formation flying etc. worked out well. The “kids” did a fantastic job and it shows in the episodes.

"The biggest item to try and get across to the actors was being a cohesive flight crew. Remember that the original guys had been flying together for a while and that was an important aspect of their training for the filming. There is nothing sweeter than flying with someone for a while where you get to know each other and anticipate what the other needs before he asks for it. We trained the pilot, copilot and engineer together for takeoff so the pilot would be pushing the throttles with the copilot backing him up, doing the fine tuning, and the engineer in between them doing his part too. The copilot or flight engineer reaching down for the prop controls during power changes as this would differ from one flight crew to another. Same with running the checklist as the engineer and even crew in the back are participating over the interphone. And these details made the final cut and it looked great. Okay, I may be biased…

"Dave’s cockpit was so very helpful for the training because it was on the floor and was easily accessible. The main cockpit used for filming was on a gimbal 20 feet in the air! With Dave’s cockpit, I could lean in from a side window and instruct with all three crew in place. The various directors could also come up to each side and see and direct how they wanted the scene to go. It would give them ideas on camera angles to set up.

"The other aspect of Dave’s wonderful cockpit was its authenticity and detail. He used so many original parts that it is as accurate as could possibly be. Dave wanted it used as much as possible but frankly was a bit shy about this. Not having ever been known for being shy, I really wanted it used for as many close ups as possible and pushed for this. As a result, you can see Dave’s awesome detailed handiwork in MOTA especially in the close-up scenes showing the magneto switches, electrical, primer use and so much more.

"Dave and I were basically the only two on set who had extensive knowledge of WWII aviation and B-17 information. We were constantly being asked questions and were helping lots of different departments. He and I split up the advising since there were several units filming at the same time. We were both out in the field to start mostly at Abingdon where the full size BGI aircraft were. When the volume or studio started ramping up, I stayed there training and rehearsing while Dave continued the field work. We were trying our best to keep things realistic and authentic, but we were spread really thin.

"Dave took off a lot of time from his day job to do this project, as did I, but with the production over runs, COVID etc. he had to go back to work and sadly missed the last few months of filming. We sure missed Dave, especially out in the field, although he was always available by phone and still helped out as much as he could..." - (Taigh Ramey on Facebook)

#if y'all would prefer the huge chunk of text under a 'read more' lmk!#masters of the air #hbo war #behind the scenes #crew #david shields #austin butler #nate mann #callum turner #elliott ross #louis greatorex #anthony boyle #jonas moore #long post

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justafriend-ql · 1 year

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rewatching my school president with the knowledge that homophobia does in fact exist within the universe of the series is such a crazy experience because it adds an extra layer of meaning and interpretation to so many lines and moments that we often either overlooked or explained away during the first watch-through.

first off: the music club's rule about not having lovers as a kind-of-sort-of metaphor for society not being accepting of LGBTQ+ couples (i.e., main obstacle in tinn and gun's relationship)

the fact that tiwson knows about tinn's massive crush on gun before the beginning of the series (meaning tinn trusted tiw enough to tell him)

gun's stunned silence when tinn admits he's hitting on him during the pool scene and the kind of scared look on gun's face when he gets flustered after looking into tinn's eyes in episode 3

tinn pointedly asking gun "are you okay with that?" after he indirectly confesses his feelings by the pool in episode 5/6

gun saying "you can't control something like this, can you?" after tinn's previously mentioned confession of feelings at the beginning of episode 6

gun's anxiety about what it means to accept that tinn likes him and he likes tinn back (e.g., "has it ever occurred to you that there are things you want to ask, but you're too afraid to?")

the look of trepidation on sound's face after filming the medal kiss scene with win in episode 6 and realizing he has Feelings

everyone in chinzhilla being on board with filming a bl version of the 'just being friendly' music video (because they're all gay or allies lmao)

tinn interpreting gun's mention of the dating rule after his implied love confession as rejection + gun clarifying that "it doesn't mean he feels bad about it" in episode 6 (music club dating ban as a metaphor for homophobia again)

tinn and gun having to hide the fact that they are seeing each other while at the aquarium with yo and nook, who can openly date (ostensibly because of the music club dating ban, which oddly enough doesn't prevent yo from pursuing nook - there's that music club dating ban metaphor again)

gun repeatedly voicing his concern that it would be easier for tinn if he decided to hit on someone else (e.g., a girl)

tinn's out-of-control gay fantasies as a possible coping mechanism for the fact that he can't be open about his feelings with his family or anyone at school (besides tiw and gun)

yak telling sound he has to accept "what he's really into" in order to write a good love song (and sound clearly glancing at win afterwards)

gun telling tinn "be patient. when i win hot wave, everything will get better. at least with our friends" when they hide from tinn's mom outside of tinn's house at the beginning of episode 10 (music club dating ban metaphor again + hints at concern that tinn's mom may not accept their relationship)

tinn feeling comfortable enough with gun's mom to tell her about his crush on gun while keeping it a secret from his own mom

tinn's mom not knowing tinn could sing as an allusion for how she doesn't know about other aspects of tinn's true self (i.e., his sexuality) either

gun telling tinn that after hot wave, "whatever shitty rules there are" can't stop them (foreshadowing the hostile reaction they get to their relationship in episode 12)

there's probably more but these are the ones i can think of off the top of my head. many of these comments/moments could make sense in the context of a universe without homophobia (i.e., due to general shyness/anxiety about relationships, the music club's dating ban, etc.), but it's neat to interpret them through the lens of heteronormativity/homophobia too.

it's interesting to me that we as a fandom didn't really pick up on the fact that there was homophobia in the universe of the series as it was airing despite all these "signs." it's almost like the show was leading us to ignore or explain them away, just like many of the characters do before they're forced to confront homophobia in episode 12.

#my school president #msp #my school president the series #my school president meta #does this make sense or has the brain rot overtaken me

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majorblinks · 1 year

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

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

“So, about that sequel.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think it’s gone up,” you agree.

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

“Sequel?” you offer, again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What, did you skip basic biology?”

“Basic what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, and she deserves it.”

“Yuqi.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

yes? you text back, puzzled. why?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The front door slams shut.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” you say again, struck.

“Exactly,” says Yuqi, seething.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Horny?” Minnie supplies, catching on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyebrows raise involuntarily.

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

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

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

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

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

And that’s-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You ready?” Yuqi murmurs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She turns towards you, and you make your move.

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

Something clatters to the nightstand next to her.

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

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

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

Yuqi grins back, catches the look.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There is something seriously wrong with you.”

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

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

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

“You were saying?” you prompt.

“Go fuck yourself.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” says Minnie, smile growing.

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

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

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

“You said it again,” says Minnie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Completely,” you agree.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cute,” you say.

Minnie grins, somehow flattered. “Right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Masochist,” you prod affectionately.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jesus,” you say, entertained.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s sex-related.”

“Naturally.”

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Minnie says, “Holy fucking shit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you think of this one?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dear God.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fair enough. Not mine, either.”

“Mommy?” you offer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yuqi’s mouth falls open.

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

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

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

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

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

“Minnie,” she says, tremulous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then she just breaks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But that’s nothing like this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Minnie.” It comes insistent, desperate.

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

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

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

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

There’s a long, stifling silence.

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” you say, stunned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck off.”

“You’re so full of shit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But I am?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“All too true,” you agree, sagely.

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

ours <3

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

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

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

“Who?” says Minnie. “Me or him?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The most drunk.”

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

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

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

“Hel-lo.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You would know,” says Minnie, wisely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m aware,” says Miyeon.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Entails is a normal word.”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t.”

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

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

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

“I know,” says Minnie, and she does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fucking obviously.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

“Oh my God.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the hell are you doing here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good,” says Yunjin. “Cunt.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You lean in too. “Sorry?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh - not currently?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, that’s-

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

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

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

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

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

(Oh - and about their outfits:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you get exactly what she means. You’re obsessed with each other and you’re not shy about it. You’ll bicker as often as you’ll fuck, in private, in public. You’ll be fielding queries about the logistics for a while - the three of you? people will say, pulling faces. How? When? Wondering how you turned a habit into a home, a safe place to keep your heart.

“Fuck off,” says Yuqi, muffled by Minnie’s hair. “Jealousy is a disease, bitch.”

“I’m serious,” says Bona, but she’s smiling now. “And - Soyeon’s already in the back asking for you guys, by the way. She sent me out here to get you.”

It’s a lead-in, a prompt: wrap it up. Get it all out; you’re in the home stretch. A quip, a grin, a glance. A hard cut to a happy ending. This is the story you’ve got.

“Well?” says Yuqi to you, eyes narrowing. Affection tilts her mouth. She’ll always let sincerity bleed through, when it’s all said and done. “Any last words before we go on?”

She says it like she’s about to kill you; she’s gorgeous enough to get away with it. Minnie’s giggling openly, lacing her fingers through yours. They look like they could get anything they’d ever wanted and then some. Like they’re about to be put on pedestals and surrounded by snapping cameras, nosy paparazzi searching for a way behind the scenes, a glimpse of a masterpiece in the making. Them through your eyes, extraordinary in every light, every angle. That’s the thing about all the greatest movies, all your best narratives, love behind a careful lens: there’s always something new to discover.

Fine: you’ll learn, then. You’ll stick around to see. It’s the story you’ve got - oh, and isn’t it a wonderful one.

“Break a leg,” you tell them, laughing, and let it all fade to black.

happy very very late bday to minnie! also one of these days i will write a smut that is not actually a love story in disguise but today is not that day <3

#kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fluff #kpop fanfiction #idol x male reader #idol x reader #reader insert #male reader #idol x idol #minnie smut #yuqi smut #gidle smut

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ohmygodtheywereparabatai · 17 days

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i wanted to invite a conversation about this because it’s genuinely been bothering me for a long time. and i in fact wasn’t immune to it either and am just now realizing this is the power of cinematic brainwashing.

but like, tgm is so many bad things. sexist, racist, ageist, to scratch the tip of the iceberg. token characters that meet the bare minimum for diversity, and sidelined women - i’d even say exploited women. a narrative that is so egocentric that it’s miraculous that some characters manage to hold their own instead of being swept under the charismatic magnetism of the reckless bad boy character who can get away with murder because deep down, he’s regretful, and he has a good heart.

what a shallow representation of the military, and what a disservice to those who were inspired to join because they thought the real life experience would mirror even a fraction of what is presented on screen. the reality is that there was never a competition to win a top gun trophy, and in fact today you have to pay 5$ at the top gun school if you even mention the film. that speaks for itself.

tom cruise being a huge part of the production process has made it impossible for me not to hold him responsible for the choices that have been made. to even subtitle the sequel movie with “Maverick”, the same protagonist as in the first one, comes across as insanely egotistical - and honestly a testament to how mav’s story manages to drown out the autonomy and validity of other characters. i’ll explain this terms of ice, penny, carole, and charlie. you’ll notice how i’m gonna be bringing up three women.

ice-

i don’t care that val kilmer gave the okay on using his cancer as a plot point. i care that cancer was not only used as a plot point, but treated like this ^

“i’m dying. you have bigger problems.”

the original script seems to peel back the layers of tgm’s intended messaging, so i’m using several examples. this is what is being communicated. i honestly don’t know what else to add. in or out of context, this is incredibly disturbing - and that it’s played as a self-aware quip from ice, even more so. the bond of wingmen goes both ways, and i just didn’t see that… if anything, that aspect leaned so heavily on the first film (the photo of them smiling at each other) that it just proves my point. it took ice’s death for mav to get up off his ass and do something to keep his career afloat besides get a cop-out from the compacflt. ice in the first movie was a compelling antagonist and voice of reason - now he’s mostly relegated to the role of babysitter, denying mav’s character the growth of accountability by simply erasing his poor choices with a phone call.

it’s why the darkstar scene pisses me off. to stop at mach 10 would have been fine, but to push it just for the sake of it is ridiculous. the fact that earlier mav states “i know what happens to everyone else if i don’t” in regards to his decision only makes this screw-up more laughable, because to me it’s the very contradiction of maverick: his intentions do not balance with his actions. costing the military millions of dollars in a few seconds somehow balances with his heartfelt desire to protect the interests of its workforce.

penny-

shortly before, during, and after this screenshot, i counted a total of 6 times that penny made it clear she would not appreciate mav’s advances. regardless, mav goes on to say “you look good”. this flirtation happens before mav is even aware of her marital status, as he asks amelia “where’s your dad?” in a later scene… which… dear god.

penny also says “it always ends the same with us, so let’s not start this time”, indicating this is a repeated pattern in which her boundaries weren’t respected and moreover, the relationship ended up failing. yet this is framed as the main romance of tgm, a wonderful and nostalgic callback to the original that ends as stereotypically as possible.

i love penny. she’s witty, caring, independent, and of course stunning. so i find her treatment in tgm a disservice to what started out as a rich and compelling character. she later ends up mav’s shoulder to cry on, more or less, comforting him after losing his wingman and his position as instructor. the song “hold my hand” is thematically suited for penny, playing in the background at the bar and in the notes of the score during her scenes - even musically, she is turned into a source of consolation first, and her own woman second. she’s his prize at the end of the film, falling for the promise “i’m never gonna leave you again”, which i don’t buy for a second. they fly into the sunset, presumably signifying a new horizon for their relationship - but i feel so dissatisfied with this arc for her and think she deserved much better.

that mav gets away with this behavior is something i’d like to see more people reflect on. it seems to be a pattern with male protagonists, in which case the function of male and protagonist in hollywood cinema needs an examination.

carole-

top gun (1986):

this is an especially crude exploitation to me. not only is carole the one consoling a young maverick (if a full-fledged 24 year old can be called young, in light of the tendency people have to dismiss his choices in ‘86) after his mistake costs her own husband his life… but her stance, even following a tragedy of that magnitude, didn’t change. goose would have flown anyway, and she knows that well enough - on top of that, it’s easy to see she would have supported him.

it came as a surprise to me that she wouldn’t in turn support her own son, who is clearly committed to a career as a pilot. in the end, i see a cheap narrative device that contradicts carole’s character, undermines her strength as a wife and mother, both in order to serve the interests of the plot. maverick in tgm needs a viable reason to hide a secret, to be tortured by his own consequences, to put further strain on his tension with bradley. there were plenty of other ways to do it, but the fact that it was this leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

charlie-

it’s my understanding that tom cruise’s personal reason (his excuse) for not bringing back charlie was that he didn’t like how their relationship ended. if there’s any source confirming or denying this, i’d appreciate a link.

anyways. yeah. this is… a huge problem with hollywood at large, which kelly mcgillis understands, but i’ll break it down. there’s a simpler reason this pisses me off more than anything. tgm’s entire subject matter is about repairing relationships. penny benjamin was dredged out of obscurity to do it. maverick and rooster’s grudge of 30+ years was used to do it. iceman’s character, as warped as he feels, is another way the film made this its theme. but charlie is out of the question?

that val kilmer could be asked to return, and make an insane amount of money for each second he’s on screen, but such an opportunity is never given to kelly mcgillis, who herself centers on the 1986 poster, speaks volumes to me. tom cruise even planted his foot when it came to reprising iceman, saying he wouldn’t do this movie without val in it.

it’s worth mentioning that viper and slider were also present at ice’s funeral, but this scene was cut out. for a film that’s quite heavy-handed with its nostalgic callbacks, this was an odd decision. until realizing, as my friend put it, that even ice’s death couldn’t be about him, whether it had brought in his own teacher or his rio - his goose. it had to revolve around mav, to catalyze a turning point for him in the plot.

also… a shoutout to the erasure of sarah kazansky, pretty much everywhere. that also tells me a lot.

…

this was just a dissection of the various character portrayals (or absences) in tgm that have bothered me since forever. this isn’t even going into how tgm accomplishes everything that propaganda sets out to do. combinations of stunning visuals, soaring music composed by masters like hans zimmer, the charismatic power of a cast packed with stars… all play a role in the blinding awesomeness of tgm, which has taken me this long to break away from.

consider the white/poc duos in the film: maverick and hondo, hangman and coyote, cyclone and warlock. who has more lines? who plays a greater role? why is that?

i don’t see this as real diversity. it masquerades as inclusion, which i find worse. and to cast an actor of asian descent, and give him the callsign yale? … wow.

framing is powerful. its influence in cinematography is unmatched. a story is being constructed and told not only through dialogue, but sound, visuals, editing… really, nothing can be dismissed as insignificant. i’m not asking for a scholarly interrogation of all media you consume, though, that would be so excellent, and so healthy… but i am trying to raise these questions in the community, of what gets lost when a main character is so overwhelmingly main. when someone like tc has so much control over the decision-making process, since it’s sort of a running joke that maverick is a tc self-insert. my focus isn’t the inclusions, but the exclusions.

and finally, since i’ve unfortunately spent a lot of life writing this post… it’s interesting to me that many viewers in hindsight seem to see top gun 1986 so differently. as kids, they sided with mav over the antagonist. an older audience returning to the first film now seem to side with iceman, seeing him as the rational one attempting to raise important points. i wonder if this will be the case with top gun: maverick in the future. in which case, i’m excited to see more cyclone fans. he’s my favorite character… unsurprisingly.

oh. one last thing.

“the man, the myth, the legend” … the word myth has two meanings:

…

happy reading.

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jselorekeeper · 6 months

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Jacksepticeye's Egos Explained (2/2)

Part one link is here!

As far as canon story goes we haven’t gotten much, over the last seven years there was a little bit of story dropped until very recently as Jack is focusing on Chase Brody’s story! Let us start from the beginning!

When the egos were first introduced both Jackieboy Man and Marvin the Magnificent did not have any story to them, they were just silly little ideas that Jack had which led to the community loving them later on. During Henrik’s story we learn that Henrik used to be married until one day he caught his wife cheating on him with her Tennis Instructor which led to a divorce, now single again Henrik seemed to dedicate his life to his job as doctor, we are unaware of what type of doctor.

Later along we get a video of Chase who slowly spiraled into this deep Depression while filming a video for YouTube as a distraction, by the end we learn that Stacy (his ex-wife) refuses to let Chase see their child despite that is all he wants. Chase took the opportunity and by video's end uses a gun to shoot himself in the head (obviously for story sakes that is real, HE USED A NERF GUN JACK WAS FINE).

Then the first fully body appearance of Anti comes along one day while Jack was just innocently carving pumpkins for Halloween, causing weird noises and strange things to happen Anti managed to freak Jack out properly before taking over him. With the little control he had at the time he grabbed the knife slicing Jack’s throat to kill him, but it led to Jack being in a coma instead. (IT WAS FAKE A KNIFE)

Then things become quiet for a while before we have a conversation with Henrik as he talks about he was the one who saved Chase’s life that day, we also learn that Chase and Henrik are good friends.

Fighting and panicking to save his life Anti took advantage and started to force control of Henrik’s body while rapidly destroying Jack’s body to weaken it, there were points where Anti tried to kill Henrik through strangulation by wires, but Henrik noticed and stopped himself pretending he had no idea what was going on. By video's end Henrik started to panic before fully pleading to the audience to save him and Jack, he acknowledged Anti was doing this which means he knew who Anti was. Corrupting and glitching out the video it went from Henrik pleading to a full on conversation between Anti and the viewers. He went off about his ability to control and how we are hopeless in saving those people before hinting who he was going for next, a glitch layered on top of him which had lines to resemble Chase’s hat, aka his next victim.

It wasn’t long until a new ego appeared named Jameson Jackson, what started off as an innocent video of a man carving a pumpkin took a turn when Jameson accidentally cut his finger. Trying to ignore the pain caused the glitches to start, Jameson easily fell under Anti’s control as Anti had full ability to move and talk through Jameson’s body.

Nine months later and not a word came from any ego, all was silent besides Anti appearing once in a while as if he was teasing us about being in control of this situation and how we have no ability to help the egos. That until one day this fake “Dr. Septiceye” appeared claiming himself as the best doctor and played a variety of surgery related games. It felt like teasing that Henrik wasn’t around until one day on Tumblr we received a vacation card from Henrik…that has blood splattered across it.

No one knew where Henrik went and it caused mass panic within the community and many started going against this “Dr. Septiceye” for being a fake, well during one of his surgery videos we hear a familiar voice. Henrik has come back full force shutting this whole fake doctor down and out of his spot as the doctor we all know and love.

A few months later we had a game appear that dealt with Depression so as per usual it was fitting for Chase to play these games, moments he would be sitting alone in a candle lit room drinking away…that is until he decided to leave the room.

Hearing what went from laughter to screams of terror Chase headed upstairs to an ominous red hallway where he met Anti face to face, Anti was standing in a doorway as if he was watching someone before turning and spotting Chase. In a panicked voice Chase spoke up knowing this entity had done something to his family. Without a word Anti rushed towards him taking control of Chase in a flash, Chase blacked out unknowing of what happened afterwards.

Nothing of the story was revealed until a video appeared where Anti decided he was going to interact with us as the community…well interact as in stare at the camera and say nothing for a few minutes. Every time he did speak it was soft spoken in Jack’s voice…talking about how “phase one” of his plan was completed and now we are onto the next “phase” whatever that means.

Then it was a while after until we got to interact with Chase, a wordless adventure showing that he was recently evicted out of his house making him homeless now. He drove deep into the woods and knelt down a pile of stacked rocks holding a photo of his ex-wife and child, which signifies his family has died. Alone sitting on a rock Chase decided to drink his sorrows away…that was until he suddenly teleported on top of a parking garage by the edge. Panicked, he looked around confused having no idea what happened or how he got there.

Not long after we get to see Henrik, we can see Henrik working on what seems to be an equation, later on, a community member finds that the equation is for time travel! While working hard on the problem Henrik notices his computer begins to glitch out, on his monitor appears this trance-like portal. He was staring into the portal almost at awe that his information has possibly worked!

While Henrik was achieving scientific greatness Jameson on the other hand was not having nearly as much fun, doing a puppet show Jameson sat in his own little show box telling a story of a murder mystery. During the story Jameson notices that strings have randomly appeared on his wrist. With a smile he just brushed it off trying to not panic about it. That until the end of the story Jameson glitches out, the strings are being held by something or someone above him controlling him like a puppet. During the glitches you can see Jameson sign for us to help him as he tries to fight back against the strings and ultimately fails at the end.

Then for the first time within years Marvin has made an appearance, within the video there was not a word spoken as Marvin seemed to be looking over a series of notes and information he had within this journal, to his side laid this glass ball that has a similar portal design to Henrik’s screen! Marvin hesitated for a second before touching the ball. Suddenly he was flooded with information and scenes of what Anti has done to the other egos, Marvin lets go snapping back to reality almost in a shock.

By the end of the short video Marvin was seen standing over a fire of sorts as if he was burning something within the flames.

Then months later we are back to Chase’s story…we are introduced to Dr. Hanson (Arin Hanson from the Game Grumps) who sat in an almost empty room with Chase…cameras recording every single thing Chase is doing during the interviews. Chase is hesitant to speak at first and decides to not say much just going on about how stupid these were…Chase ends up being trapped in that room for seven days.

Within those seven days we see Chase sitting at the table alone staring down at it before he started to hear this noise, it almost sounds like a glitching noise before he grabbed his head, almost swaying a bit as he screamed and begged for “him” to leave him alone. Then it happens again on another day but this time it was someone different, someone speaking with Chase but we cannot hear the conversation of this person called “Echo” and they told Chase he was special but avoided saying anything beyond that.

With constant declining from Chase that he doesn’t know who “ALTR 114209” seemed to start bothering the people he was captured by, Dr. Hanson begins to explain this place is called “IRIS” and their goal is to protect humanity from supernatural dangers that aren’t easily seen with the human eye. In a moment of exhausted emotions Chase started to cry, within his tears he states “I didn’t kill them��

Which refers to his family suddenly dying, implying that after Anti took over Chase and he killed his family. The next day Chase was sitting there before Dr. Hanson and guards seemingly rushed into the room as there were alarms going off in the hallways. Confused Chase was grabbed and dragged up by the guards and they started to walk in the hallway with the guards.

Just ahead the doors were closed and giving an ominous red light, pure panic filled Chases system as he started to thrash about out of the guards grip begging and pleading for them to not take him through that door. Ignored, the guards grabbed Chase and started to drag him despite his protest.

Leading to moments later where every individual besides Dr. Hanson laying on the ground dead, Dr. Hanson was nowhere to be found. Anti appears by the door to Chase’s room floating…as he lands he quietly walks through the hallway of dead bodies and blood maintaining eye contact with a panicked Chase who was kicking off the floor desperately trying to get away from him.

Now just a few feet ahead the two meet face to face again.

Lastly now knowing the story and characters I can now give you the videos that are important and canon to JSE lore!

“JACKIEBOY MAN RETURNS | Welcome To The Game #2” (Unaware if longer canon)

“The Jacksepticeye Power Hour - Marvin's Magic” (Unaware if longer canon)

“The Jacksepticeye Power Hour - Dr. Schneeplestein” (No longer fully canon)

“THE START OF THE NIGHTMARE | Five Nights At Freddy's Sister Location #1” (The entire series is important!)

“SAY GOODBYE” (Unaware if longer canon)

“I’m Sick!” (Unaware if longer canon)

“Chase Brody - The Jacksepticeye Power Hour”

“Kill Jacksepticeye | Bio Inc Redemption” (Unaware if longer canon)

“The Jacksepticeye Power Hour - Jameson Jackson”

“THE DOCTOR IS BACK l Gastric Bypass, Liposuction Surgery”

“TIE - A Game About Depression”

“Dark Silence” (The name was recently changed)

“HOW DID HE GUESS THAT!? | Akinator”

“Quit The Game To Win”

“CHASE”

“You’re Not Ready For These Scary Games”

“JJ’s Jolly Jaunts”

“Argentum Inanis”

“IRIS Presents - WTCHR”

“This Is My 5,000th Video”

“Security Booth is a Masterpiece”

“ANOMALY FOUND - CHASE BRODY”

#jacksepticeye #iris #altrverse #JSE Explained

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call-sign-jinx · 1 year

Text

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw - Her

Summary - you’re Bradley’s best friend and he tells you who he loves which breaks your heart

Warnings - fluff, swearing, drinking

A/N - hiya me luvlys! how r u luvly people doing today? also, for whatever isn't requested specifically, the reader will always have a northern british accent, like a manchester accent. just a preference sorry ahaha xx

bradley "rooster" bradshaw x fem!reader

Bradley has been my best mate since I moved to America. I moved in right next door to him with my mum and dad and little sister Alya. We moved to America because my dad got a new job and thought it was best for all of us.

Bradley then became my best friend very quickly. The first day we met to be more precise. He stuck up for me when I were getting bullied during my first week of my new school. Some bitch decided to take the piss out of me and Alya cause we’re fucking Polish? Okay mate. Anyway, I’m getting side tracked here.

Bradley stuck up for me and Alya right off the bat. He was so sweet and he gave Alya his lunch cause them kids decided to fucking take her lunch which is just classic stupid ass bully shit from films.

Now god knows how many years later, we’re in the Navy, as Naval Aviators, went to different academies, and we’ve both been called to Top Gun. He was the first person I called to tell him. And I was the first person he called. We immediately went down to our favourite bar to celebrate, Alya coming as well cause she’s part of our group. But in all honesty, me and Bradley are closer.

Currently, me and Bradley are sat in his Bronco on our way to the Hard Deck to meet some of the other aviators. Hopefully there’s another woman there, if there isn’t I’m gonna be too overwhelmed with testosterone. I already get enough from Rooster over here.

Anyways, as soon as I got into the Navy, people gave me the callsign Fox (you can change the callsign and why you got it but I’m going to use this 😊) because “I’m a fox”, meaning I’m sexy, according to everyone at my academy. Which consisted of all men and one woman who was a WSO who soon retired to be with her family after a training scare. God I miss her, her callsign was Nyx. She was amazing. Bradley said I got my callsign because “I look cute but I’m a silent killer”. I like that reason better.

Back to the Hard Deck. Me and Bradley walked in talking about some shit we did back in high school. Which I am not proud of because it mostly consisted of making out with lads and getting stupidly drunk at parties which led to Bradley taking me home while I sang California Love.

As I looked around my eyes instantly landed on a woman with military uniform on and my eyes lit up. I quickly made my way toward her, accidentally leaving Bradley, and introduced myself.

“Hi, oh my God, you don’t know how happy I am to see another female aviator here…” I looked to her name tag and saw her callsign, Phoenix. “Phoenix! I’m Y/N. But my callsign’s Fox. It’s really nice to know I won’t suffer with too much testosterone alone.” I was rambling at this point, but she didn’t seem to mind. She smiled and nodded at everything I said.

“It really is a relief, before you came over here I thought I would be alone with all these guys. And I love your callsign. How’d you get it?” Phoenix gave me a inquisitive look and I smiled remembering the day some jackass gave it to me.

“Because I’m ‘foxy’ then everyone started calling me it and it just stuck. Because of some fucking wankstain that gave it to me.” Phoenix then burst into laughter as I said “wankstain”.

“Guys are like that all the time, especially Hangman over there.” She points to a guy and he looks like a real life Ken doll.

“Just this moment I thought he was a 6’2 Ken doll. He looks fucking plastic. Wondered why the Hard Deck would put a Ken Doll display up in here.” Phoenix then began laughing to the point she had to hold her stomach.

As Phoenix gained composure, I felt a hand rest on my shoulder. I turned to look around and saw Bradley. I smiled up at him and rested my head on his hand.

“I see you’ve already met Phoenix.” Bradley stretched his arm across my shoulder and smirked at Phoenix. Does he like her? Why would I care anyway? Do I care? Does he like her though?

“Yep, and I like her more than you already.” I turned my body to face Bradley and he placed his hand on his heart in mock hurt.

“That hurts my feelings sweetheart, how dare you.” The new nickname brought heat to my cheeks. I looked down to my feet quickly then looked back up to him and put a smirk on my face.

“Aww poor Bradley, come on Phoenix we need to give him a hug. He’s having a bad day today.” I made a pouty face and Bradley just stood there with a pissed off smile.

“Shut up Y/N. You know you love me.” I rolled my eyes as Bradley came up and and hugged me by my side.

————————————————————————

“Bro, I can’t be arsed with getting up so early just to meet who we’re gonna be trained by.” I said to Rooster as he took a swig of the shared bottle of Apple Sourz that I got an hour before meeting up with him in his Bronco.

“Best not be some prick who’s full of himself. I swear if he is and he tries anything wiv me, you, Bob or Phoenix am gonna spark him out.” Bradley lets out a hearty laugh and pats my shoulder.

“You British people sure do have a way with words sweetheart.” There it is again. The nickname. It brings heat up to my cheeks yet again and it’s not dark enough to hide so Bradley can see it.

“Are you blushing Y/N?” I immediately look away as my worries were confirmed. Bradley saw me fucking blush. Great.

“No why?” I pretended to be oblivious to the raging red covering my face. It got even darker as Bradley squinted his eyes at me, getting a better look at the rouge covering my whole face most likely.

"You're as red as a tomato Y/N. Is something wrong then? If you're not blushing then why is your face red?" I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me, I may be called Fox but I don't think I can get myself out of this one.

"It's getting a bit hot? That's why. It's getting hot." Bradley rolled his eyes at my answer. But he didn't press on it any more. We sat in silence for what felt like forever. Until I broke the silence.

"Bradley?" Bradley sat up and turned to look at me before nodding his head for me to continue.

"How come you've never had a long term girlfriend? I'm sorry for asking but I've always wanted to know because, not gonna lie you are quite easy on the eyes so I just don't understand it." Bradley's eyes widened in shock. I was lying when I said he was "quite easy on the eyes" he's fucking gorgeous! He's fucking perfect for God's sake!

I immediately regretted what I said and before he could even open his mouth I blurted out, "Shit! Sorry! I don't know why I even said that. Just ignore it, you don't have to-" Bradley cut me off by putting his hand over my mouth.

"It's okay Y/N/N, I'm fine with answering any questions you have for me. We're best friends after all, aren't we?" I nodded in response.

"It's because I never truly or fully like or love them. There's something stopping me from doing that. Because I like that thing so much better and all I do is compare them to her." My eyes widened and heart broke, he was in love with someone? That's why he's never had a long term girlfriend? Because he's in love with another woman?

"Her?" Is all I could say. Tears threatened to come out of my eyes, I couldn't cry in front of him after he said that. It'd make it obvious that I was in love with him.

"Yeah, and she's amazing, I think I love her in all honesty. She's smart, she's funny, she's beautiful and she's brave..." I had to look away so Bradley didn't see me cry. She already sounds so much better than I could ever be and he only named 4 things about her.

"And she's got a Callsign that she hates but I absolutely love..." He grabbed my chin with his index finger and thumb and made me look at him.

"And do you wanna know what her Callsign is?" I nodded my head, wanting to know this amazing woman who made Bradley swoon for her.

"Fox." My heart literally stopped. I couldn't breath. The tears completely stopped and I couldn't help the massive smile that was painted across my face.

"Me?" I just wanted to confirm it. Confirm I wasn't imagining that he said my Callsign.

"Yes you. You're the reason I've never had a girlfriend for longer than a month. Because to me, you're so much better than all of them combined. And before you ask, the reason I didn't tell you is because I thought that if I had told you, you wouldn't feel the same and it would ruin our friendship. And yes I know that that's what every guy says to his girl best friend in most of the movies we've watched. So don't even comment on that." In response to his confession, I threw myself on him in a big hug that knocked him onto his back on the bonnet of his Bronco.

After I pulled away from the hug, I looked into Bradley's eyes and smiled. He loved me. Bradley fucking Bradshaw loves me!

"I love you too Bradley. I always have and I always will." Before he could reply, I connected our lips as I ran my hand threw his hair. His mustache tickled my top lip and it made me giggle slightly. Bradley almost immediately kissed back as his hands trailed down my torso to my waist and pulled my closer. I swiped my tongue across his bottom lip asking for permission and he quickly allowed it. Bradley then squeezed my waist which elicited a slight moan from my mouth.

When we both finally pulled away, Bradley had a look in his eyes that I've never seen before. I furrowed my brows, confused at his expression. "What?" I questioned him and all he did was smile more than he already was.

"I've just realised that my life is perfect now that I have you. And no one else can have you." I rolled my eyes with a playful smile on my face.

"You have to pop the question before you can say that, Rooster." We both now had the same smirk on our faces.

"Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, will you be my girlfriend?" He had a charming mixed with excited smile on his face. One I couldn't say no to of course.

"I would love to be." With that, he pulled my into another kiss.

I finally felt at ease with him. He is basically my emotional support animal but a human. He's always been there for me and now he's my boyfriend. I couldn't be any happier than this right now. Nothing can beat what I'm feeling right now.

#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw fluff #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #rooster bradshaw fic #rooster #top gun rooster #rooster bradshaw fluff #rooster fluff #rooster imagine #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster top gun

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