#youngmiko

"porque eres tan linda, que siento que te puedes llevar a zhamira sin tener que hacer nada." (because you're so pretty, i feel like you could take zhamira without even trying.) his voice was teasing. you watched as miko laughed and shook her head at her old friend, knowing the statement was nothing more than a compliment.

"no, no, jay, nunca." (no, no, jay, never.) "lo sé, amor, te estoy jodiendo, te quiero mucho, mamita." (i know, love, i'm just joking. i love you a lot, mamita.) he spoke genuinely, not as jay wheeler the singer but more as josé ángel, her friend. there was something about the comfortable vibe, the cozy atmosphere, that made her feel so at ease that without thinking she responded.

"ya tengo la mía, estoy bien." (i already have mine, i'm good.) the words caught both you and jay off guard. he had seen you both hanging out a lot over the past two years, but had assumed you were simply part of miko's team, especially knowing how professional you usually were.

"¿qué tú me dices?!" (what are you telling me right now?) he asked, very much invested in the gossip despite being a straight man. you sat still, holding your breath as if everyone might suddenly acknowledge your presence. miko just chuckled. "so, tengo pareja." (so, i have a partner.) jay's eyes widened in disbelief. "¡acho, chica! ¿cuándo me ibas a decir eso?" (damn, girl! when were you gonna tell me?) vicky kept laughing. "eventually! it's been under wraps." she explained with a soft smile, glancing over at you. your face was slightly flushed. there was nothing wrong with her confession. you had both talked about things like this getting out eventually, you just never imagined it would happen this way.

"baby," she called out. it took you a second to realize she was talking to you. looking up, you locked eyes with her and flashed an awkward smile, giving a small wave. "¿quieres salir en el video?" (you wanna be in the video?) her tone was soft and sweet, almost protective. it made you blush harder, she had always been so considerate. jay quickly waved you over. "¡sí, sí, ven pa'acá!" (yes, yes, come over here!) that encouraged you to get up and move your chair into frame beside vicky. you offered a shy hello to the camera before turning to jay. it was his podcast, after all. the hard lights and the camera on you felt uncomfortable. yes, you worked in the industry, but you were the one behind the so-called magic of it all. never in front of cameras, your face practically unrecognizable to the public despite all the song credits you had racked up in your late twenties.

"le vamos a dar la bienvenida a y/n! letrista, productora, e ingeniera de sonido. ha trabajado con muchísimos artistas, y probablemente ha trabajado en una de tus canciones favoritas." (i want to welcome y/n to the pod! lyricist, producer, and sound engineer. she's worked with tons of artists and has probably worked on one of your favorite songs.) jay introduced. you couldn't help but feel shy, no one ever introduced you quite like that.

"wow, that's so nice," you chuckled. vicky noticed your stiffness in front of the camera and cut in to ease the tension. "she's worked with jay before, too." "sí, en el último álbum. pasamos mucho tiempo juntos y la aprecio de verdad por eso. tú eres una dura, y/n." (yeah, on my last album. we spent a lot of time together and i truly hold her close to my heart for it. you're the best, y/n.) he praised.

"diablo, pero ninguna de las dos me iban a decir que estaban juntas, mano!" (damn, but neither one of you was going to tell me you two were together, man!) he teased. you laughed. "no, no- yo te dije que tenía pareja, jay." (no, no - i told you i had a partner, jay.) "¡cabrona, pero nunca dijiste que era young fucking miko!" (bitch, you never said it was young fucking miko!) the room erupted in laughter and the conversation kept flowing, the awkward tension in your body easing as the podcast started to feel like a chat between friends.

"tú no sabes cuántos tipos me han preguntado por y/n." (you don't know how many guys have asked about y/n.) vicky tilted her head slightly, as if turning something over in her mind. "¿quién?" she asked jay, her tone edging into something more serious. you could already feel her jealousy building.

"ay, casi todos, cada hombre soltero que entraba a mi estudio con ella salía de allí enamorao." (oh, almost all of them. every single guy that walked into my studio with her left falling in love with her.) all you could do was chuckle. you knew exactly how possessive and jealous your girlfriend could get, and you weren't even a public figure. with men, women, regardless of gender. she wanted everyone to know you were hers and she was yours, and moments like this were exactly why.

"pues se jodieron, tiene novia." (well, they're fucked. she has a girlfriend.) she cut in, the smile on her face fading just slightly. you rested a hand on her knee, a quiet reassurance. "shit, sí, y celosa." (shit, yeah, and a jealous one.) he laughed. you both cracked up. vicky blushed a little at being called out for her reaction to the idea of random men asking about you. even if deep down, she knew you were completely hers.

the podcast wrapped up not long after, the crew beginning to break down equipment around you while jay pulled vicky into a separate conversation, something about a feature he'd been sitting on for months. you slipped back behind the camera out of habit, fingers absently tidying the cords near the monitor even though it wasn't your setup to manage.

zhamira caught you doing it and laughed softly. "you can't help yourself, can you?"

"occupational hazard," you admitted with a smile.

it was another twenty minutes before vicky broke away from jay, and the moment she did, her eyes found you immediately, almost like a reflex. like you were the first thing she looked for whenever she entered a room, which you had slowly come to realize over the past two years was exactly the case. she crossed over to you without a word, arms slipping around your waist from behind as you were zipping up your bag. her chin came to rest on your shoulder, and you felt her exhale. long and slow, the kind she only let out when it was just the two of you. or close enough to it. "lo hiciste bien." (you did well.) she murmured against the side of your face.

"i barely said anything."

"exactly." you could feel her smile against your cheek.

"you were perfect." you laughed quietly, turning in her arms to face her. up close, away from the lights and the camera and the version of herself she performed for the world, she just looked like vicky. tired eyes, the little crease between her brows she got when she was finally coming down from social mode, lip gloss mostly worn off.

"you could have warned me," you said, though there wasn't any real weight behind it. she had the decency to look at least a little guilty. "i know. it came out." she searched your face for a moment.

"are you upset?" you thought about it. genuinely considered the question. the camera, the lights, the sudden spotlight on a life you'd carefully kept quiet. jay's wide eyes. the clip that was probably already being edited into something viral. "no," you said honestly. "i'm not upset."

the crease between her brows softened. she brought one hand up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear the way she always did when she didn't quite have the words. a small, practiced tenderness that she'd never once done for a camera.

"te amo," (i love you) she said simply.

"i know you do." you leaned in, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

"y yo a ti." (i love you too.) she pulled you in the rest of the way, and the kiss was unhurried and quiet, nothing like the loud, bright evening you'd just survived. when she pulled back, her forehead dropped against yours and she let out a soft laugh.

"jay is going to send me that clip every day for the rest of my life."

"probably," you laughed, knowing how jay loved to terrorize your girlfriend with embarrassing moments of herself. adding this jealous burst to the roaster was probably gold for him, and you, reminding yourself how cute vicky would get when jealous.

⋆˙⟡ miko is the type of girlfriend who falls asleep listening to your heartbeat with her nose nuzzled in the crook of your neck syncing her breathing with yours ᰔ ⊹˚₊

⋆˙⟡ miko is the type of girlfriend who wears your hoodies because they "smell like you" and "feel warmer" even tho you know that's not the real reason, you let her. because you know that you bring her comfort, your scent, your presence and your warmth is enough for her to feel loved ᰔ ⊹˚₊

⋆˙⟡ miko is the type of girlfriend who whispers a little "i love you" right before falling asleep while you brush your fingers through her hair ᰔ ⊹˚₊

⋆˙⟡ miko is the type of girlfriend who helps you take care of your hair whenever you're too tired, fingers gently massaging shampoo onto your scalp while you lean back against her chest dozing off to sleep while she takes care of you ᰔ ⊹˚₊

⋆˙⟡ miko is the type of girlfriend who studies your facial expressions, falling more and more in love with every little smile you show or every time you roll your eyes because of her playtul teasing ᰔ ⊹˚₊

⋆˙⟡ miko is the type of girlfriend who tucks you in your blanket when you're too sleepy to move, laying behind you pulling you close to her body so you can peacefully fall asleep feeling protected and adored ᰔ ⊹˚₊

⋆˙⟡ miko is the type of girlfriend who wakes up before you every sunday to make your favorite pancakes and bring them to bed to wake you up with a smile ᰔ ⊹˚₊

The first indication that agreeing to appear on Kai’s stream had been a mistake came before Solana even entered the house.

Her SUV had barely reached the end of the driveway when dozens of phones rose behind the barricades, flashes firing through the tinted windows as the fans gathered outside began shouting her stage name. A group of girls had pressed themselves against the metal fencing with handmade signs held over their heads, one reading SOLMATES REPORTING FOR DUTY, another decorated with an entire solar system and a photograph of Solana’s face pasted over the sun. Somebody had even taped yellow battery-operated lights around the edges, which would have been impressive if the girl holding it had not looked approximately two seconds away from fainting.

Simone glanced up from her phone and followed Solana’s gaze through the window. As her manager, she had developed the unnerving ability to treat almost any level of chaos as an administrative inconvenience. Fans camping outside a streamer’s house did not surprise her. Neither did the security guards attempting to stop several people from stepping into the driveway.

“They’ve been waiting since noon,” Simone said, returning to the email she had been reading as though that information were perfectly ordinary.

Solana looked at the time displayed above the driver’s console. “It is almost nine.”

“Yes.”

“That doesn’t concern you? Can you please get them some water or let them know I can’t come out ”

“fine your wish is my command BUT What concerns me is that you still haven’t posted the stream link.”

“There are six hundred thousand people watching him sit on a couch and scream. I don’t think my Instagram story is what’s holding the evening together.”

“You were specifically invited because your audience doesn’t completely overlap with his,” Simone explained, still typing. “He wants your fans watching, your label wants his audience hearing the new single, and I would like you to cooperate with one simple promotional request without behaving as if I have asked you to sell your organs.”

“My audience is already standing outside his house.”

“Your audience would stand outside a closed Walgreens if they thought you might be inside.”

Solana looked through the window again just as one of the girls recognized the outline of her face behind the glass. The girl began striking her friend’s arm so violently that the friend nearly dropped her phone, and within seconds the entire section of the barricade was screaming.

Simone lifted her eyes just long enough to say, “See?”

The driver stopped near the entrance, where security had begun clearing a path from the vehicle to the front door. Solana turned her phone toward herself for one final inspection. Long dark curls fell past her shoulders in deliberate waves that had taken nearly two hours to make look unplanned. Her vintage baby tee was fitted enough to show her waist without seeming as though she had dressed for the cameras, and the low-rise jeans her stylist had argued over all afternoon looked significantly better now that she was not standing beneath fluorescent dressing-room lights. Gold hoops, several thin necklaces, a collection of rings, and the glossy neutral lip she wore whenever she wanted to look effortless completed an outfit that had required an unreasonable amount of effort.

Simone finally set her phone aside and caught Solana’s wrist before she could reach for the door handle. “One thing.”

“There is always one thing.”

“Please don’t fight with anybody.”

“I have never fought anyone on a livestream.”

“You argued with a twelve-year-old during your last Twitch appearance.”

“He said Beyoncé couldn’t sing.”

“He was twelve, Solana.”

“He was wrong, Simone.”

They stared at each other until Solana sighed and placed one hand over her heart. “I will behave.”

Simone’s expression made it clear that she had no intention of accepting that promise without further clarification. Unfortunately for her, a security guard opened the car door before she could demand a legal definition of behaving, and the noise outside immediately doubled.

Solana stepped onto the driveway smiling, her public expression settling naturally across her face as she lifted one hand toward the fans. Security guided her toward the house while people called her name, shouted lyrics from her EP, and asked when the album was coming. One girl claimed she had been streaming Solana’s newest single since midnight, and Solana slowed long enough to tell her to protect her hearing before she was gently hurried toward the entrance.

The foyer was somehow louder than the driveway. Music played from somewhere deeper inside the house, crew members moved between rooms carrying cameras and cables, and every few seconds a voice erupted from around a corner as though the building had been designed to manufacture noise. Solana recognized several people immediately. Some were streamers she had met at events, some were musicians, and some were internet personalities whose clips she had watched without ever learning exactly what they did outside of appearing in other people’s clips.

Kai came running toward her before the front door had fully closed, a camera operator struggling to keep up behind him. “Yo! SOL is here!”

Solana laughed as he pulled her into a quick hug, then held her at arm’s length as if he needed to confirm that the person he had invited had actually arrived. “You actually came.”

“You invited me.”

“People say yes and then don’t come!”

“That sounds like a personal problem.”

Kai turned toward the nearest camera with an expression of disbelief. “You see how she already acting? She been here twelve seconds.”

“I was nice for ten of them,” Solana said, glancing toward the monitor mounted near the entrance. The chat was moving so quickly that individual comments were nearly impossible to read, although she caught her name repeating between rows of sun emojis, marriage proposals, demands for the album, and several people asking whether she planned to sing that night.

Kai noticed her attempting to follow the comments and moved closer to the screen. “Chat been asking about you all day.”

“Tell them I’m working on the album and that threatening my producers will not make it arrive faster.”

“It might.”

“It makes them nervous.”

“Same thing.”

Before Solana could answer, a smaller body collided with her side. She looked down to find Rakai grinning up at her with the confidence of someone who believed familiarity could be created through sheer determination.

“You remember me?” he asked.

“I remember you trying to tell me my own lyrics.”

“You got them wrong.”

“I wrote them.”

“That don’t mean you remember them.”

Solana placed a hand over her heart and looked toward Kai. “This is the disrespect you allow in your home?”

“This is his home now,” Kai said, pointing at Rakai. “I can’t control him.”

Rakai had already taken Solana by the hand and begun pulling her toward the main room, where Ray and     madi   were sitting together near the center of a large couch. Several people were arguing over a game controller while somebody attempted to connect a microphone that did not appear to belong to the sound system. Ray and     madi  greeted Solana warmly when she approached, and she perched on the arm of the couch while Kai attempted to explain the schedule for the evening.

It sounded less like a schedule and more like several unfinished ideas fighting for dominance. There would be food, a game of Mafia, something in the movie room, Uno if they found the cards, karaoke if enough people agreed, and possibly animals later in the night. Nobody seemed capable of explaining what kind of animals were coming or why they had been invited, but Kai insisted they were part of the plan.

    madi  was halfway through explaining where everyone had been told they could sleep if the stream continued into the morning when the volume near the entrance changed. It was not necessarily louder, but the energy of the room shifted toward it. Heads turned, several people began smiling, and Kai stood before the new guest even reached the main room.

“Miko!”

Solana did not turn as quickly as everyone else. That was intentional.

Young Miko entered with two members of her team and the relaxed expression of someone who had never once questioned whether a room would be pleased to see her. She wore an oversized gray jacket over a white tank, dark jeans sitting low on her hips, and sunglasses pushed into her hair despite the fact that the sun had disappeared hours earlier. A thin chain flashed at her throat when she leaned forward to hug Kai, and the chat on the monitor became a blur of capital letters before he had even finished welcoming her.

Solana had met Miko before, technically. There had been a label dinner in Los Angeles where they exchanged perhaps eleven words, most of them about the temperature inside the restaurant. At a fashion-week party, Miko had complimented Solana’s dress and disappeared into the crowd before Solana decided whether the tone had been friendly or flirtatious. Most recently, they had stood several people apart during an awards-show photograph while photographers demanded that everyone move closer, smile wider, and stop looking in different directions.

Miko had been pleasant each time. She had also seemed amused by Solana in a way Solana had never been able to interpret.

That same amusement appeared now when Miko’s eyes found her across the room. Recognition crossed her face first, followed by a slow smile that made it clear she had been wondering whether Solana would be there.

Solana raised two fingers in greeting. “Miko.”

“Sol,” Miko replied as she crossed the room. When she stopped in front of the couch and realized Solana had no immediate intention of standing, she glanced down at her with a slight tilt of her head. “No hug?”

“You didn’t ask Kai for permission before hugging him.”

“He’s friendlier than you.”

“You’ve known him longer.”

Miko looked down at her for another second, the corners of her mouth lifting as though Solana’s answer had confirmed something privately entertaining. “That’s your excuse?”

Before Solana could respond, Kai forced himself into the small space between them and looked from one woman to the other with immediate suspicion. “Hold on. Why it feel like I missed something?”

“You didn’t,” Solana said.

Miko answered at the same time. “She doesn’t like me.”

Solana’s eyebrows rose. “I don’t know you.”

“That wasn’t a denial.”

Kai clapped his hands together as if somebody had just announced the evening’s main event. “Oh, this about to be a good stream.”

“It’s not about to be anything,” Solana told him, but Miko had already leaned down and wrapped one arm around her. The hug was brief enough to remain casual, although the hand Miko placed at the center of Solana’s back settled there with a familiarity she had not earned. Her perfume was warm and clean beneath the colder scent of the evening air, and when she pulled away she remained close enough that only Solana could hear her.

“Now you know me a little better.”

Solana stared at her, mostly because she could not decide whether the comment was genuinely flirtatious or whether Miko simply spoke to everyone as if they shared a private joke. Miko walked away before Solana reached a conclusion and took the open space beside Ray as though she had said nothing unusual.

The worst part was that Solana almost smiled.

Kai spent the next few minutes arranging everyone into positions that supposedly made sense for the cameras. Miko ended up diagonally across from Solana, one ankle resting over her knee while she listened to Ray describe something that had happened earlier in the stream. Every few minutes, however, her eyes shifted back toward Solana, and Solana noticed despite making a point of looking elsewhere whenever it happened.

The comments noticed too.

WHY MIKO KEEP LOOKING AT SOL

both my wives in one room omg

SOL ACTING LIKE SHE DONT SEE HER

nah this setup is crazy

KAI KNOWS WHAT HE DOING

Solana caught the last comment before it vanished and turned toward Kai. He was sitting on the floor near the center table, attempting to answer questions from the chat while also arguing with Rakai about who had moved a controller.

“So you invited both lesbians in music on the same night?” Solana asked.

The reaction was immediate. Ray covered her mouth,     madi  began laughing before Solana had even finished the question, and Kai turned toward her with both hands raised as though she had accused him of a federal crime.

“Whoa! What that got to do with me?”

“I’m asking a question.”

“You saying it like I planned something.”

“You didn’t?”

“No!”

Solana looked directly into the nearest camera and gestured between herself and Miko. “He invited two openly queer female artists, put us across from each other, and has seven cameras recording every angle. What are you trying to make, a music stream or a porno?”

The room erupted. Kai fell backward against the couch, Ray bent forward laughing, and     madi  hid his entire face behind her hands. Even the crew reacted behind the cameras, one operator shaking badly enough that the shot briefly tilted toward the ceiling.

Kai pushed himself upright and stared at Solana as though she had personally betrayed him. “Why would you say that?”

“Because I believe in transparency.”

“You been here five minutes.”

“And I have already identified the plot.”

“There is no plot.”

Miko, who had been watching Solana with her tongue pressed against the inside of her cheek, finally joined the conversation. “Maybe she’s disappointed.”

Solana turned toward her. “About what?”

“That there’s no plot.”

The laughter in the room changed, several people reacting before Solana had decided exactly how she wanted to answer. She tilted her head and let her eyes move deliberately over Miko’s face.

“You always insert yourself into conversations this confidently?”

“When they’re about me, yeah.”

“I said two lesbians. Interesting that you assumed you were one of them.”

Miko’s lips parted with surprised amusement, and she glanced around the room as though checking that everyone else had heard what Solana said.

Kai began shouting before Miko could respond. “Nah, nah! She came ready. SOL came ready tonight.”

“Texas,” Miko said, nodding slowly.

Solana narrowed her eyes. “What about it?”

“I forgot you were from there.”

“You remembering where I’m from is already more attention than I expected from you.”

“I pay attention,” Miko replied. Her voice was quieter than it had been during the rest of the exchange, not soft exactly, but matter-of-fact enough that Solana could not immediately dismiss it as part of the joke.

Solana held her gaze for a moment longer than necessary before Rakai threw a cushion at Kai and started another argument that pulled everyone’s attention away from them.

The conversation moved through music, touring, internet rumors, and the rapidly increasing number of people watching the stream. Kai asked Solana about her album, and she gave the same answer her label had approved for every interview: it was still being shaped, she was experimenting, and she wanted it to feel bigger and more personal than the EP. Miko listened from across the room, occasionally nodding when Solana mentioned learning how to say no to songs that sounded impressive but did not feel like her.

“You gotta stop letting people put too much on the first album,” Miko said after Kai asked whether the process had become overwhelming. “Everybody wants the debut to explain everything about you, and that’s impossible. Pick what you want to say now. You can say the rest later.”

The advice itself was not bad. In fact, Solana had been arguing something similar with her label for months. It was Miko’s tone that bothered her, calm and certain, as if the correct answer had been obvious and Solana simply needed someone more experienced to provide it.

“I know that,” Solana said.

Miko lifted one shoulder. “Okay.”

“I’m saying I already know.”

“I heard you.”

“Then why did you explain it like I hadn’t thought about it?”

Kai looked between them and wisely chose not to interrupt. Miko leaned back against the couch, appearing more entertained than offended.

“You said it was overwhelming.”

“It can be overwhelming even when I understand what is happening.”

“I didn’t say you didn’t understand.”

“You implied it.”

“You heard an implication because you wanted one.”

Solana folded her arms. “You’ve spoken to me for a total of maybe fifteen minutes in your entire life, and you already think you know what I want?”

“No,” Miko replied, looking directly at her. “I think you get defensive when somebody gives you advice.”

“I get defensive when someone confuses advice with instruction.”

Miko smiled at that, although she tried to hide it by looking toward Kai. “See? Defensive.”

Solana let out a slow breath through her nose while everyone around them laughed. She had promised Simone she would not fight with anyone, but Simone had never said anything about calmly proving someone irritating.

“You know what?” Solana said. “Thank you, Miko. I had no idea I was supposed to make choices about my own album before you explained it to me.”

Miko’s smile widened. “De nada.”

That exchange appeared online less than three minutes later under the caption SOL AND MIKO BEEFING OVER ALBUM ADVICE IS TAKING ME OUT, although most of the comments were less interested in the disagreement than in the fact that Miko looked delighted every time Solana contradicted her.

The stream moved into the kitchen nearly an hour later. Someone had ordered enough food for a small festival, but half the containers remained sealed because nobody could remember which order belonged to which person. Solana stood near the island opening boxes while     madi  searched through several cabinets for utensils and Ray attempted to convince Kai that a plate he claimed was his had very clearly been ordered by somebody else.

Solana was reading the receipt taped to one of the bags when Miko entered behind her carrying two bottles of water. Without asking, she placed one beside Solana’s hand and began opening the other.

Solana looked at the bottle, then at Miko. “What’s this?”

Miko glanced at her. “Water.”

“I know what water looks like.”

“You’ve been talking for an hour and haven’t had anything to drink.”

There it was again, that effortless assumption that she had the right to monitor Solana and make decisions on her behalf simply because she was older and had apparently decided that made her responsible for the room.

Solana leaned her hip against the counter and looked Miko over. “Do you monitor everybody’s hydration, or am I receiving special treatment?”

“Everybody else got their own.”

“So you were watching me.”

Miko twisted the cap from her bottle and took a drink before answering. “You really like hearing that.”

“I like when people admit things.”

“What exactly am I admitting?”

“That you pay attention.”

Miko’s gaze rested on Solana while the noise of the kitchen continued around them. A camera near the dining area had angled itself toward the island, something both women noticed without directly acknowledging. Miko set the bottle down and leaned one hand against the counter.

“I already told you that.”

“You said it for the stream.”

“I’m saying it now.”

“We’re still on the stream.”

Miko’s eyes moved briefly toward the camera before returning to Solana. “Then I guess you’ll never know.”

Solana smiled despite herself and reached for another food container. “That sounded better in your head.”

“It got you to drink the water.”

Solana looked down and realized that at some point during the conversation, she had opened the bottle Miko brought her. She considered setting it down untouched out of principle, but she was genuinely thirsty and refused to inconvenience herself merely to preserve an argument. She took a long drink instead, maintaining eye contact while Miko smiled with unbearable satisfaction.

“You are exactly as irritating as I thought you would be,” Solana said when she lowered the bottle.

Miko’s eyebrows lifted. “You thought about me?”

“Unfortunately.”

Before Miko could enjoy that answer too much, Kai rushed into the kitchen and announced that everyone needed to gather in the movie room for Mafia. Solana followed the group mostly because remaining in the kitchen would have meant allowing Miko to continue smiling at her as though she had won something.

The movie room had been rearranged into a wide circle, with blankets and cushions covering the floor and several chairs pulled in from other rooms. The overhead lights had been lowered enough that everyone’s faces were mostly illuminated by phones, small lamps, and camera equipment. Solana took a place between     madi  and Rakai, while Miko sat across the circle close enough that the toes of her sneakers nearly touched Solana’s whenever she stretched out her legs.

Kai attempted to explain the rules while everyone interrupted him. There would be two mafia members, one doctor, one detective, and everyone else would be townspeople. During the night round, the mafia would choose someone to eliminate, the doctor would select someone to save, and the detective would investigate one player.

Miko watched Solana squint toward Kai as he contradicted his own explanation for the third time. “You understand?”

Solana looked at her. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“You looked confused.”

“I was looking at Kai.”

Miko nodded as though that proved her point. “Exactly.”

Kai pointed across the circle. “See, why I’m catching strays?”

“You invited us,” Solana reminded him.

The cards were passed around, and Solana glanced at hers long enough to see TOWNSPERSON written across it in black marker. When she looked up, Miko was watching her face with far too much concentration.

“You’re mafia,” Solana said.

Miko laughed. “We haven’t started.”

“And you’re already suspicious.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“It doesn’t have to. I know your spirit.”

Several people laughed, and Miko shook her head, although the look in her eyes had shifted into the same challenge that appeared whenever Solana openly disagreed with her.

During the first night, Kai instructed everyone to close their eyes. Solana listened to the movement around the circle and tried not to laugh when somebody’s knee cracked loudly enough to reveal exactly where they were shifting. When morning came, Ray had been eliminated, and the accusations began before Kai finished announcing it.

“Miko did it,” Solana said.

Miko’s head snapped toward her. “Why me?”

“You’ve been watching Ray all night.”

“I’ve been sitting next to her.”

“So you admit you had access.”

“Access?” Miko repeated with a laugh. “What is this, a murder trial?”

“You have motive and opportunity.”

“What motive?”

“You wanted her seat.”

Ray looked between them. “Why would she want my seat?”

Solana looked at Miko before answering, pleased when she noticed Miko already anticipating the joke. “Better view.”

Miko’s eyes narrowed slightly while Kai caught the implication and screamed loud enough to interrupt several conversations at once. The chat surged across the screen mounted behind him.

BETTER VIEW OF WHO

SOL IS INSANE ; )

MIKO BLUSHING 

THEY ARE FLIRTING BADddddddddddd

Miko pointed at Solana. “She’s mafia.”

“You’re accusing me because I built a strong case.”

“You said my motive was a seat.”

“A strategically valuable seat.”

“She talks too much,” Miko told the group. “That’s how you know.”

“Talking is how the game works.”

“No, you’re distracting everybody.”

“From you.”

“From yourself.”

The vote split between them, and neither received enough to be removed. Miko continued watching Solana during the next night round until Kai reminded everyone that their eyes were supposed to be closed.

When morning came, Solana had been eliminated.

The announcement had barely left Kai’s mouth before she opened her eyes and saw Miko smiling across the circle. “Oh, absolutely not. I know she did that.”

Kai held up both hands. “You’re dead. Dead people can’t talk.”

“I know she did it.”

“You don’t know anything. You’re dead.”

Miko placed one hand over her chest and arranged her face into a look of false sympathy. “This is sad.”

“You are a terrible actress.”

“And you are dead.”

“For now.”

Miko glanced toward the others. “Is that a threat?”

“It is a promise.”

The camera zoomed close enough to capture the smile Miko attempted to hide behind her hand. She was not mafia. Rakai was, which Miko reminded Solana of several times after the game ended, although Solana refused to apologize on the grounds that Miko had been behaving suspiciously for unrelated reasons.

After Mafia came Uno, mostly because Solana demanded a game that relied less on deception and more on actual skill. Everyone relocated to the large table in the main room, and Kai placed Solana and Miko beside each other while insisting that the arrangement was necessary for the camera angle.

Solana sat down and looked at him. “You are not subtle.”

“I don’t know what you talking about.”

“You have known exactly what you were doing .”

Miko pulled out the chair beside hers and waited until Solana looked over. “You scared?”

“Of Uno?”

“Of sitting next to me.”

Solana turned in her chair and gave Miko a slow once-over. “You’re going to have to become significantly more intimidating.”

Miko sat down beside her. “That can be arranged.”

The first game lasted six minutes and ended with Miko placing a draw four on Solana when she had only two cards remaining. Solana stared at the card in the center of the table while Miko leaned back in her chair, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

“You changed it to blue,” Solana said.

“Yeah.”

“You don’t have blue.”

“You don’t know what I have.”

“I know you’re lying.”

Miko gestured toward the pile. “Challenge me.”

The table began chanting before Solana made her decision. She challenged Miko, certain that the confidence was a bluff, only for Miko to lay down a blue card and force her to draw six.

The room erupted. Miko leaned closer, lowering her voice enough that Solana could still hear her beneath the shouting. “You were saying?”

“You’ve been cheating since we started .”

“At Uno?”

“Generally.”

Solana lost the first game, and Miko came second. This was somehow worse because Miko behaved as though defeating Solana personally mattered more than winning the actual game. She spent the opening minutes of the second round reminding Solana how many cards she had drawn, which only made it more satisfying when Solana placed two draw-twos back-to-back after Kai declared that stacking was legal.

Miko collected the four cards slowly, her jaw tightening while the rest of the table laughed.

“You look upset,” Solana said.

“I’m good.”

“You should drink some water.”

Miko turned her head toward her, and Solana smiled sweetly enough to make the entire table react. The moment would later become one of the most replayed clips from the stream, not because anything especially dramatic happened, but because Miko stared at Solana for several seconds as though she had been both offended and impressed.

By the fourth game, nearly everyone else had stopped caring who won. The stream had become an extended study of Solana and Miko attempting to ruin each other’s lives with colored cards. Miko blocked Solana’s turns whenever possible, while Solana reversed the order each time doing so caused Miko a problem. Miko challenged every wild card Solana played, and Solana watched Miko’s hands closely enough to recognize when she was hiding a useful card near the back of her stack.

At one point, both of them reached for the discard pile after Kai played out of turn. Solana’s hand landed on the card first, and Miko’s came down over hers less than a second later.

Neither moved immediately.

Miko looked down at their hands before lifting her gaze to Solana’s face. “Move.”

“You move. I was here first.”

“My hand is on top.”

“That’s generally what happens when someone arrives second.”

Miko’s thumb shifted against Solana’s knuckle, a movement small enough that Solana might have believed it was accidental if Miko had not repeated it while maintaining eye contact. The conversation around the table continued, but Solana became uncomfortably aware of the camera positioned across from them and of how easily viewers would turn even a stupid argument over a card into evidence of something else.

“You think you can talk your way into being right about anything,” Miko said.

“Not anything.”

“No?”

“Just the things I’m right about.”

Miko’s eyes moved down Solana’s face for a second, stopping near her mouth before returning to her eyes. Solana noticed and immediately disliked that she had noticed.

Kai slapped one hand against the table. “Yo, are y’all gonna play?”

Solana pulled her hand away, partly because she wanted the card and partly because she refused to let a game of Uno become weird in front of nearly a million people. Miko picked up the card with a victorious smile.

“Cheater,” Solana muttered.

“You let go.”

The final game ended shortly after midnight, and Solana won. She did not win quietly or graciously. The second she placed her last card on the pile, she stood with both arms raised while the room groaned and Miko dropped the cards still remaining in her hand onto the table.

“Skill, patience, perseverance,” Solana announced, looking toward the nearest camera as though she were accepting an award. “This is what happens when talent meets discipline.”

“You won once,” Miko said.

“History remembers the final result.”

“We played five games.”

“And who won the last one?”

“You lost three.”

Solana rested both hands on the table and leaned toward her. “Who won the last one?”

Miko looked up at her with open irritation, although her mouth kept threatening to smile. “You are so annoying.”

“Say congratulations.”

“No.”

“Be mature. You’re older.”

The room went quiet enough for Solana to hear somebody on the other side of the table whisper, “Oh, shit.”

Miko’s expression sharpened. She did not appear offended so much as newly interested, as though Solana had finally said the thing she had been waiting for all evening.

“You’ve been wanting to say that all night,” Miko said.

“Was I supposed to pretend I didn’t know?”

“You think eight years makes me ancient?”

“I think it should make you better at Uno.”

Kai stood from his chair and walked out of frame because he was laughing too hard to remain seated. Miko continued staring at Solana for another second before she rose from her own chair. She was shorter, but the way she stepped closer made the difference feel less important than Solana had expected.

“You talk like somebody who’s never had to back it up.”

Solana looked down at her without moving away. “I just backed it up.”

“With cards.”

“You were emotionally invested in those cards ten seconds ago.”

Miko’s mouth twitched. “So competitive.”

“You started it.”

“I brought you water.”

“And then spent four hours antagonizing me.”

“You liked the water.”

“I hated the delivery.”

“You drank all of it.”

Solana glanced toward the empty bottle sitting beside her phone, irritated to discover that Miko was correct again. “That proves I was thirsty. It does not prove I enjoyed being supervised.”

“Supervised?” Miko repeated, laughing as she stepped back. “Nena, nobody’s supervising you.”

“You keep trying.”

“And you keep listening.”

Solana opened her mouth to argue, then stopped when she realized that answering too quickly would give Miko exactly the reaction she wanted. Instead, she gathered the cards from the table and handed them to Kai with deliberate calm.

“I won,” she reminded Miko.

Miko shook her head as she walked away. “Once.”

The stream continued for another hour, although Solana avoided the freestyle challenge by claiming she needed to preserve her voice. She spent part of the time talking with Ray and      madi  near the kitchen, where the conversation drifted from music to relationships to the way viewers created entire narratives from five-second clips.

Solana looked between Ray and Mari, who were sitting close enough that their shoulders remained pressed together even though there was plenty of space on the couch. “So are y’all together, or do you just enjoy making everybody argue about it?”

    Madi  laughed and covered part of her face. Ray looked toward the camera as if searching for legal counsel.

“Why everybody keep asking us that?” Ray said.

“Because you sit like that,” Solana replied, gesturing at them. “And because every time somebody asks, both of you start smiling instead of answering.”

“We’re friends.”

Solana nodded slowly. “Right. I’ve heard that one before.”

“You just met Miko tonight and already spent the whole stream flirting with her,” Ray said. “You shouldn’t be questioning nobody.”

“We were arguing.”

    Madi  looked toward the camera. “That is not what the clips are going to say.”

“They can say whatever they want. Miko is irritating.”

From behind the couch, Miko’s voice appeared without warning. “You talk about me a lot for somebody who doesn’t like me.”

Solana turned and found her standing several feet away with her jacket folded over one arm. “You keep listening to conversations that are not about you.”

“You used my name.”

“That does not make it an invitation.”

“It sounded like one.”

Ray and     madi  exchanged a look that Solana chose to ignore. Miko walked around the couch and sat on the backrest behind Ray, remaining close enough to join the conversation while pretending that she had not come over specifically because she heard Solana talking about her.

For the next twenty minutes, they argued over whether their behavior during Uno qualified as flirting. Ray and     madi  insisted it did. Miko claimed Solana had been flirting because she kept trying to impress her. Solana claimed Miko had been flirting because she had spent the entire night looking for excuses to touch her cards, her hand, or her bottle of water.

“I handed you the bottle,” Miko said. “I didn’t touch it after.”

“You opened it.”

“I opened mine.”

“You put yours down next to mine.”

Miko stared at her. “Now who was paying attention?”

Solana immediately turned to Mari. “You see why she irritates me?”

    Madi  was laughing too hard to provide support.

Later, after the cameras followed Kai into another room and the stream’s attention shifted toward a challenge Solana had successfully avoided, she stood near the front entrance waiting for Simone to confirm that the car was ready. The house still buzzed behind her, but the foyer was quieter than it had been when she arrived, most of the guests having moved deeper inside.

Miko appeared beside her with her jacket still folded over one arm. Without the larger group surrounding them, she seemed less performative, although the confidence remained. She leaned against the wall near the door and watched Solana check her phone.

“You leaving?” she asked.

“It’s one in the morning.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

Solana looked up. “Yes, I’m leaving.”

Miko nodded, and for the first time that evening, she seemed almost uncertain about what she wanted to say next. “You were fun.”

“You say that like you doubted it.”

“I thought you would be quieter.”

“Why?”

“Your interviews.”

“My publicist tells me to think before I speak.”

“You didn’t bring her tonight?”

“She is somewhere having a nervous breakdown.”

Miko smiled. “Because of me?”

“Because I accused the host of arranging lesbian pornography within ten minutes of arriving.”

Miko laughed and lowered her head for a moment. The reaction looked less controlled than most of her laughter throughout the stream, and Solana found herself studying the tired crease near her eyes before remembering she had no reason to do that.

“You made it easy tonight,” Miko said.

Solana slipped her phone into her bag. “Made what easy?”

“The stream. Usually these things feel long, especially when everybody’s trying too hard to make a moment.”

Solana examined her face, waiting for the teasing follow-up that did not arrive. “Was that a compliment?”

“Don’t make it weird.”

“You’ve made everything weird since you arrived.”

“And you’ve been talking to me all night.”

“You kept provoking me.”

“You kept responding.”

Before Solana could answer, the front door opened and Simone stepped inside with her phone in one hand. She looked from Solana to Miko, registered the fact that they were alone near the entrance, and appeared to make a private note she would undoubtedly bring up in the car.

“Car’s ready,” Simone said.

Solana nodded and adjusted the bag on her shoulder before looking back toward Miko. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Sol.”

She had taken three steps toward the door when Miko called after her.

“And congratulations.”

Solana turned, suspicious that the acknowledgment had arrived too easily.

“On Uno,” Miko clarified. “Since you needed it so bad.”

“Thank you, María Victoria.”

The reaction was immediate. Miko’s eyebrows lifted, and her mouth opened slightly before closing again as though she had not expected Solana to use her full name, much less pronounce it correctly.

Solana smiled once and walked out before Miko could recover enough to answer.

By the time she reached the SUV, the first clips had already spread across every platform. One showed Miko bringing her water, edited with slow music and the caption acts of service after knowing her for forty minutes is insane. Another cut together every time Miko looked toward Solana during Mafia, while a third had zoomed in on the moment their hands met over the Uno pile and slowed Miko’s thumb against her knuckle to one-quarter speed.

The largest clip remained the opening joke.

HE INVITED BOTH LESBIANS AT THE SAME TIME? SOL IS INSANE

It had already passed two million views, and Solana had not even left the driveway.

Simone climbed into the vehicle beside her and closed the door with an expression that suggested she had been preparing a speech since the Uno game. Solana held up one hand before she could begin.

“I behaved.”

“You called Young Miko old.”

“I said older.”

“You accused the host of attempting to produce pornography.”

“As a joke.”

“You and Miko spent half the stream arguing like a divorced couple.”

“We barely know each other.”

“That has not helped the internet’s interpretation.”

Simone turned her phone toward Solana. Her follower count had increased by more than eighty thousand since she entered the house. Miko’s name was trending beside hers, and a fan account called solko had been created less than twenty minutes earlier and already had twelve thousand followers.

Solana took the phone and moved closer to the opposite window, pretending she wanted a better angle away from the glare of the passing streetlights. In reality, she did not want Simone watching her face while she scrolled through the clips.

The edits were ridiculous. People had slowed down ordinary reactions, added music beneath arguments, and written entire explanations of what Miko supposedly thought every time she looked across the room. One account had created a compilation titled MIKO FORGETTING OTHER PEOPLE EXIST WHEN SOL TALKS, while another had posted screenshots of Miko’s expression after Solana called her María Victoria.

Solana replayed the kitchen clip and immediately regretted it. The camera had captured Miko placing the water beside her, Solana accusing her of watching, and Miko looking entirely too satisfied when she drank it anyway. The comments were full of people insisting that the conversation felt intimate, which Solana found irritating because it had not been intimate. Miko had been overbearing, Solana had been thirsty, and the internet apparently had nothing better to do than turn basic hydration into evidence of a developing relationship.

She scrolled to the Uno clip next and muttered, “Oh, Jesus fucking Christ,” when she saw how closely the camera had captured their hands. At normal speed, the moment had lasted perhaps three seconds. Slowed down and edited beneath a love song, it looked far more deliberate than Solana remembered.

Simone glanced over. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why are you hiding in the corner of the car?”

“I’m reading.”

“You’re watching edits of yourself and Miko.”

“I am evaluating the public response.”

“That is a very professional way to describe lurking.”

Solana ignored her and returned to her own phone. A notification appeared almost immediately from an unfamiliar number.

You cheated in the last game.

She stared at the message, already knowing who had sent it before the second text arrived.

This is Miko btw. Kai gave me your number.

A third message followed less than ten seconds later.

María Victoria was crazy though.

Solana bit the inside of her cheek and shifted her phone slightly so Simone could not see the screen. The fact that Miko had asked Kai for her number so quickly should not have surprised her after the way she had behaved throughout the stream, but the audacity still made Solana sit up straighter.

She saved the number under Ancient Uno Victim before responding.

Go drink some water. It might help with the memory loss.

The typing bubble appeared almost immediately.

I knew you liked me taking care of you.

Solana stared at the message for several seconds, irritated by the confidence of it and more irritated by the fact that Miko had already learned exactly which kind of comment would force her to respond.

You handed me one bottle and have built a fantasy around it.

Miko answered quickly.

The solar system revolves around you. I’m adjusting to the rules.

Solana read the message twice, then turned toward Simone. “She knows what my fans are called.”

Simone did not look up from her phone. “She probably learned it tonight.”

“She called them the solar system.”

“That is funny.”

“It is insulting.”

“It can be both.”

Solana returned to the conversation.

They’re called the Solmates.

That’s worse.

You asked Kai for my number to insult my fanbase?

The typing bubble remained on the screen longer this time.

No. I asked for your number because arguing through clips would be inefficient.

Solana laughed before she could stop herself.

Simone looked over. “What did she say?”

“Nothing.”

“You keep saying that while visibly reacting to something.”

Solana turned off her screen and placed the phone face down on her thigh. “She thinks the world revolves around me.”

Simone’s mouth twitched. “Doesn’t it?”

“Not the point.”

Her phone vibrated again, but Solana refused to pick it up until Simone returned to her emails. When she finally checked, Miko had sent one more message.

You still cheated.

Solana smiled despite herself and typed her answer.

Goodnight, María Victoria.

Miko did not respond immediately. Solana thought the conversation might be over until another message appeared just as the SUV turned onto the highway.

Don’t start using my government name like that.

Solana looked out the window, still smiling when she answered.

Like what?

Several miles away, inside a house still filled with cameras, Miko read the message and shook her head. She had spent most of the evening convinced that Solana was spoiled, defensive, unnecessarily competitive, and far too pleased with her own jokes. None of those opinions had changed. Solana was also significantly more entertaining than Miko had expected, and Miko already knew she would find a reason to speak to her again.

By morning, the stream had brought both women more than one hundred and thirty thousand new followers. Clips of their arguments had passed twenty million combined views, Solko was trending in several countries

a/n:

hiiii, so how did we like the first chapter? this is my first time writing for young miko, so please be nice to me because I’m still figuring her out lol. I’m thinking about incorporating more Spanish as the story continues, especially when Miko is around her friends and family, but I’ll keep it easy to understand. let me know what you think and whether you’re already team Sol or team Miko 🥹

“Will this be the last time?” you asked, your tone dripping with sarcasm. It was a question you asked every time, knowing damn well what the answer would be. Miko had a way of making promises she never intended to keep, and yet here you were, part of her revolving door.

She didn’t respond, instead lighting a blunt with an air of indifference, the flicker illuminating her features momentarily. She took a long drag, exhaling slowly as she sat on the edge of the bed, her body language closed off.

“Qué? Don’t feel like talking?” you shot back, propping yourself up on one elbow, irritation bubbling beneath your skin.

“I don’t feel like talking to you,” she replied flatly, her eyes avoiding yours.

“So saying dirty things in my ear isn’t talking? Fucking me isn’t talking?” you challenged, feeling the familiar mix of anger and frustration rise within you.

Miko remained silent, her gaze fixed somewhere beyond the walls of the room.

“Right,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Famous Young Miko gets what she wants and walks away without a second thought.”

“If you’re so hurt about it, why do you keep accepting it?” Miko finally replied, her voice sharp, the edge of annoyance creeping in.

You turned your head to glare at her, frustration boiling over. “I could say the same about you,” you shot back, your tone defensive.

“I’m not hurt,” she insisted, though the slight quiver in her voice suggested otherwise.

“Yeah, right. You come running to me every time you’re upset, just to fuck your feelings away.” Your words cut through the tension, puncturing the bubble of denial she’d built around herself.

Miko flicked the ash from her blunt against the wall, the sharp sound echoing in the silence as she stood up to wash her face in the bathroom.

“The least you could do is show some respect,” you called after her, your voice laced with resentment.

“I do respect you,” she mumbled, her voice muffled by the sound of running water.

You rolled your eyes, turning away from her. “Respect? This isn’t respect. This is a transaction.”

After a few moments, Miko emerged from the bathroom, her hair damp and falling into her eyes. She slipped under the covers next to you, instinctively seeking warmth.

“It’s always the same, Vicky,” you said, your voice low and tinged with disappointment, frustration bubbling up alongside the familiar ache.

“I know…” she mumbled, sounding almost defeated, her voice barely above a whisper as she curled up behind you.

all vicky could do was smile behind the camera as she watched your mouth slowly open in shock. "wait wait- replay it.. i'm not focused on the lyrics." you laughed as she reached over again and hit a key on her specialized keyboard to rewind the video. this time around you were sitting and nodding, analyzing the lyrics. that's when you heard it.

the final line in her first verse. 'pero si algo está seguro, es que a mí me encanta chingar.' (but rest assured, i love to fuck.)

a scream came out of your mouth before your hand flew up to cover it. "MARIA VICTORIA!" you yelled with a soft laugh. your girlfriend had always had explicit lyrics but this somehow, putting it so boldly and plainly out there was new and extremely unexpected. "¿qué pasó? ¿qué hice?" (what happened? what did i do?) she laughed as she reached to pause the video, faking innocence. "¿qué es eso de me gusta chingar, chica?" (what's that whole 'i like to fuck' thing?) you laughed, gently hitting her arm to tease her a bit. you could see her cheeks blush as you continued to bother her about it.

"i wasn't lying i mean..." she spoke matter-of-factly. you continued to laugh and added a nod. "sí, tienes razón." (yeah, you're right.) you finally managed to get out. vicky then hit play once again, watching you intently, obviously very amused. you watched, your head bopping to the beat and smiling once you realized she had also been doing the choreography with the dancers. "¿y ese baile, victoria?" (you can dance, victoria?) you chuckled, nodding along to the chair routine.

"¿la más freaky aquí soy yo?" (i'm the freakest of them all.) you questioned the opening of the second verse, laughing when your girlfriend hid her face in her own hoodie. "eres freaky porque yo te entrené, bebé, no te olvides." (you're freaky because i taught you, baby, don't forget it.) you smirked, laughing hard at vicky's reaction to your statement behind the camera. her mouth opened wide in shock before letting out a loud squeak.

"i can't upload this!" she scolded, which caused you to laugh. "hey, i didn't write the song, you did. i'm just reacting to it." you explained with your hands up. she shook her head and continued to observe her own video while standing behind you. she looked really good in the video with her white baby tee and low-rise jeans. it was a drastic difference from what she had been wearing in that moment with you.

you almost didn't catch it, but once you heard it you couldn't help but comment on the word 'singar'. "¿y eso de singar? ¿te estás juntando con una domi sin decirme, muchacha? lo sé todo." (what's that thing about 'singar'? are you hooking up with a dominican girl without telling me? girl, i see you.) you teased, poking fun at the fact that the slang word used wasn't one native to puerto rico. vicky laughed only to then scoff and shake her head. "mi amor, era para la rima." (my love, it was just for the rhyme in the verse.) she clarified, knowing you weren't serious.

the video went on and the second chorus played. you shook your head at her and chuckled. "ay no puedo, babe, te ves bien jeva." (i can't, babe, you look really hot.) the flashes of her toned tattooed abdomen on the screen as she did a few simple dance moves were really doing it for you. you knew it would do it for her fans as well. at that point you had kind of gotten the lyrics to the chorus memorized as they repeated a few times. "paso paso para ti." (i pose for you.) you hummed along.

as the song got to its bridge, the tempo slowed a bit. usual for most of your girlfriend's title track songs. this was usually where she sang most of her lyrics rather than rapped them, so you listened intently.

'cuando te quiero ver, me pongo sucia y se me va lo de románti.' (when i want to see you, i forget the romance and get dirty.)

you smirked a little and looked at her. "¿y eso?" (what's that about?)

she laughed and shook her head before answering. "who do you think that lyric is inspired by?" her arms wrapping around your shoulders to lean in and give you a sweet kiss on your temple as you continued to watch. you chuckled once more, looking at the camera and pointing at it. "just in case anyone needed clarification, eso lo escribió para mí." (she wrote that for me.)

in the video, rain began to fall over vicky and her dancers. you hummed, vicky's arms still around you as you watched. her voice matching up with the song, "muy sexy yo lo sé~ tu crush y yo lo sé~" (too sexy and i know, your crush and i know.)

you cut her off on the next line, faking outrage. "¿perdóname, qué?" (excuse me, what?) you reached over and paused the song, escaping her hold and turning back to look at her. "say the next line for me." you ordered, to which vicky turned around to face the wall. her soft chuckles audible to you, making you want to drop the facade. you stood firm. "¿too sexy pa' tener una jeva y no dos o tres?" (too sexy to have one girlfriend and not two or three?)

"¿qué es eso, victoria?!" (what's that victoria?)

vicky continued to look at the wall, her body jolting as she held in her giggles. "¡tú eres la única, te lo juro!" (you're the only one, i swear!) she played along between fits of laughter. you laughed, knowing her lyrics were always just fronts with slices of real-life inspiration, nothing to take too seriously but, as her girlfriend you had to tease her even if just a little bit. "¡mi novia cantando de cafrería!" (my girlfriend singing about horny stuff.)

"como siempre, mamí, tú sabes lo que hay." (like always, mamí, you know what it's like.) she responded and it made you burst out laughing as the song faded out. she wasn't someone to speak like that in day-to-day conversation. "ay no puedo, jodia bellaca." (i can't, you fucking horny bitch.) you laughed as vicky made her way over to you, turning the chair you had been sitting on towards her. a small smile on her lips before leaning in and pressing a kiss to your lips. "you love me though." she whispered, your lips feeling her breath against them as she spoke.

"more than anything." you replied in a hushed tone. the mood quickly changing from silly laughs and giggles to something a bit more steamy. vicky pulled you up from the chair gently and connected your lips once more. her hands slipping onto your ass before you pulled away. "apaga la cámara, mi amor." (turn off the camera, my love.) you laughed, reminding her of the camera that had been pointed at the chair. you guys did not need a random leak before the announcement of her deluxe album and tour.

vicky laughed against your lips and pulled back just enough to reach over and click the camera off. the little red recording light blinked out and the studio fell quiet around you both. she turned back to you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear with a gentleness that always caught you off guard coming from someone who could command an entire stage. "¿qué pensaste?" (what did you think?) she asked softly, her blue eyes searching yours, a rare hint of nervousness behind them.

you smiled, looping your arms around her neck. "i think it's one of your best ones." you said honestly. "and i think your fans are going to lose their minds."

the relief that washed over her face was immediate, her shoulders dropping as a quiet, genuine laugh escaped her. she pulled you into a tight hug, her chin resting on top of your head. "gracias, mi vida." (thank you, my life.) she murmured into your hair.

you held her back just as tightly, your cheek pressed against her chest, the faint sound of her heartbeat steady beneath it. for all the boldness she put into her music, moments like this were yours alone. quiet, unhurried, and completely real.

"now can we eat?" you mumbled after a moment. "i've been here for two hours and you haven't offered me anything."

vicky burst out laughing, the sound filling the whole studio. "¡ay, qué dramática!" (oh, how dramatic!) she pulled back and grabbed your hand, already leading you toward the door.