#Pro sass

[sadiegirl2021]

Daynight

Gwynriel

Manorian

Chaorene

Nessian

Feysand

Rowaelin

Elorcan

Lysaedion

[lukacouffaineappreciation]

Happy New Year 2025!

Pic text:

2025 - Year of the Snake

January 29th marks the start of the Year of the Snake! Join us to wish Luka a Happy New Year with Snake themed Luka content! 🐍

GUIDELINES:

Please, keep it Luka and snake-themed centered. We don't mind the ships as long as it's Luka centered.

Please mention our blog @lukacouffaineappreciation and have your post tagged #LukaYear2025 and/or #LCAMLukaYear2025

You can submit art, writing, edits, cosplay, etc.

We do NOT allow tracing, editing or reposting of someone else’s artwork. AI created content is NOT allowed.

Please, keep it SFW.

NO HATE!

Have fun :D

We are looking forward to see your creations!

Happy New Year 2025! 🐍

PD: feel free to ask us if you have any question!

-mod airi

[airi-p4]

For @lukacouffaineappreciation The 7 Days of Luka's Christmas

Day 18: Snow

Close-ups under the cut:

[theatreslave]

I fully need you all to realize

in another universe, each and every one of us, is making Severus Snape stutter and blush.

[asilentfrenzy]

"'So this is what you do with your lives? Spare humans from the Treaty and have fine meals?' I gave a pointed glance toward Tamlin's baldric, the warrior's clothes, Lucien's sword.

Lucien smirked. 'We also dance with the spirits under the full moon and snatch human babes from their cradles to replace them with changelings.'"

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

https://www.wsj.com/articles/the-adults-are-still-in-charge-at-the-university-of-florida-israel-protests-tents-sasse-eca6389b

The Adults Are Still in Charge at the University of Florida

By: Ben Sasse

Published: May 3, 2024

Higher education isn’t daycare. Here are the rules we follow on free speech and public protests.

Gainesville, Fla.

Higher education has for years faced a slow-burning crisis of public trust. Mob rule at some of America’s most prestigious universities in recent weeks has thrown gasoline on the fire. Pro-Hamas agitators have fought police, barricaded themselves in university buildings, shut down classes, forced commencement cancellations, and physically impeded Jewish students from attending lectures.

Parents are rightly furious at the asinine entitlement of these activists and the embarrassing timidity of many college administrators. One parent put it bluntly: “Why the hell should anybody spend their money to send their kid to college?” Employers watching this fiasco are asking the same question.

At the University of Florida, we tell parents and future employers: We’re not perfect, but the adults are still in charge. Our response to threats to build encampments is driven by three basic truths.

First, universities must distinguish between speech and action. Speech is central to education. We’re in the business of discovering knowledge and then passing it, both newly learned and time-tested, to the next generation. To do that, we need to foster an environment of free thought in which ideas can be picked apart and put back together, again and again. The heckler gets no veto. The best arguments deserve the best counterarguments.

To cherish the First Amendment rights of speech and assembly, we draw a hard line at unlawful action. Speech isn’t violence. Silence isn’t violence. Violence is violence. Just as we have an obligation to protect speech, we have an obligation to keep our students safe. Throwing fists, storming buildings, vandalizing property, spitting on cops and hijacking a university aren’t speech.

Second, universities must say what they mean and then do what they say. Empty threats make everything worse. Any parent who has endured a 2-year-old’s tantrum gets this. You can’t say, “Don’t make me come up there” if you aren’t willing to walk up the stairs and enforce the rules. You don’t make a threat until you’ve decided to follow through if necessary. In the same way, universities make things worse with halfhearted appeals to abide by existing policies and then immediately negotiating with 20-year-old toddlers.

Appeasing mobs emboldens agitators elsewhere. Moving classes online is a retreat that penalizes students and rewards protesters. Participating in live-streamed struggle sessions doesn’t promote honest, good-faith discussion. Universities need to be strong defenders of the entire community, including students in the library on the eve of an exam, and stewards of our fundamental educational mission.

Actions have consequences. At the University of Florida, we have repeatedly, patiently explained two things to protesters: We will always defend your rights to free speech and free assembly—but if you cross the line on clearly prohibited activities, you will be thrown off campus and suspended. In Gainesville, that means a three-year prohibition from campus. That’s serious. We said it. We meant it. We enforced it. We wish we didn’t have to, but the students weighed the costs, made their decisions, and will own the consequences as adults. We’re a university, not a daycare. We don’t coddle emotions, we wrestle with ideas.

Third, universities need to recommit themselves to real education. Rather than engage a wide range of ideas with curiosity and intellectual humility, many academic disciplines have capitulated to a dogmatic view of identity politics. Students are taught to divide the world into immutable categories of oppressors and oppressed, and to make sweeping judgements accordingly. With little regard for historical complexity, personal agency or individual dignity, much of what passes for sophisticated thought is quasireligious fanaticism.

The results are now on full display. Students steeped in this dogma chant violent slogans like “by any means necessary.” Any? Paraglider memes have replaced Che Guevara T-shirts. But which paragliders—the savages who raped teenage girls at a concert? “From the river to the sea.” Which river? Which sea?

Young men and women with little grasp of geography or history—even recent events like the Palestinians’ rejection of President Clinton’s offer of a two-state solution—wade into geopolitics with bumper-sticker slogans they don’t understand. For a lonely subset of the anxious generation, these protest camps can become a place to find a rare taste of community. This is their stage to role-play revolution. Posting about your “allergen-free” tent on the quad is a lot easier than doing real work to uplift the downtrodden.

Universities have an obligation to combat this ignorance with rigorous teaching. Life-changing education explores alternatives, teaches the messiness of history, and questions every truth claim. Knowledge depends on healthy self-doubt and a humble willingness to question self-certainties. This is a complicated world because fallen humans are complicated. Universities must prepare their students for the reality beyond campus, where 330 million of their fellow citizens will disagree over important and divisive subjects.

The insurrectionists who storm administration buildings, the antisemites who punch Jews, and the entitled activists who seek attention aren’t persuading anyone. Nor are they appealing to anyone’s better angels. Their tactics are naked threats to the mission of higher education.

Teachers ought to be ushering students into the world of argument and persuasion. Minds are changed by reason, not force. Progress depends on those who do the soulful, patient work of inspiring intellects. Martin Luther King Jr., America’s greatest philosopher, countered the nation’s original sin of racism by sharpening the best arguments across millennia. To win hearts, he offered hope that love could overcome injustice.

King’s approach couldn’t be more different from the abhorrent violence and destruction on display across the country’s campuses. He showed us a way protest can persuade rather than intimidate. We ought to model that for our students. We do that by recommitting to the fundamentals of free speech, consequences and genuine education. Americans get this. We want to believe in the power of education as a way to elevate human dignity. It’s time for universities to do their jobs again.

Mr. Sasse is president of the University of Florida.

==

This is the way.

Never forget that the "speech is violence" people have spent the last few weeks trying to gaslight everyone that their violence is just protected speech.

[safeplacesnupin]

What is your favorite thing about Snape?

[frosti-moon]

Love love love pregcup but also getting interested in seeing Dagur knocked up ngl

[shadowqueenjude]

Bring back book 1 Lucien! He was so much bette-

[rosesncarnations]

I haven’t added his slut jewelry yet

[mintaka14]

WIP Wednesday (depending on your timezone) 19 April 2023

I swear, I’m getting closer to having chapter 7 of Living Arrangements (Lukanette And They Were Roommates! AU) ready to post. In the meantime, here’s a little bit more of it.

               “So Alya’s on her way here. What are you going to do?” Tikki asked.

               “I really don’t know,” Marinette said slowly. She pulled out the scrap piece of denim for Luka’s coat, and smoothed it out on her desk. She’d started marking it up as a test pattern for the embroidery she had in mind, but she wasn’t really seeing it now as she frowned down at it. “Bad enough all the things that Lila did back in collège, but now she’s targeting Luka. And Alya’s falling for her stories all over again.” That cut deep, if Marinette was being honest. “I’m not going to let Alya start spreading Lila’s lies for her this time.”

               Sass was coiled up among the reels of ribbon and wire on one of the shelves, and he was almost invisible against the sea green velvet ribbon that he’d chosen to sleep on, until he raised his head.

               “I do not wisssh to ssspeak ill of your friend, Missstresss, but ssshe hass bad tasste in mussic,” the tiny snake hissed, dismissing the thought of Alya with a contemptuous flick of his tail.

               “I don’t think her taste in music is the problem. She likes Luka’s music. She has his album.”

               “If ssshe would rather lissten to that one’sss empty noissse -” Sass’ speech was becoming more sibilant “- than Luka’ss honesssty, then ssshe hass bad tasssste.”

               Marinette was a little startled by the observation. She knew that Sass was intrigued by Luka, and fascinated by his music, but she hadn’t known that the kwami had become that attached to him. She gave Sass a thoughtful look as he settled back down into the velvet ribbon with an irritated hiss.

[diariodeunrincondemi]

En la habitación

Se sentó en la silla del escritorio de la parte izquierda del cuarto, de frente a la puerta. Había pasado tanto tiempo en aquella habitación que se la conocía de memoria, especialmente el lado izquierdo, la parte correspondiente a Luka. Contra la pared del fondo estaban las escotillas, con un espacio intermedio lo suficientemente amplio como para poner un escritorio doble flanqueado por dos estanterías. Pegadas a las paredes laterales estaban las dos camas, con un cajón bajo cada una y un baúl a los pies de cada una de ellas. En el espacio libre que quedaba en las paredes laterales, antes de unirse a la pared del frente, en donde estaba la puerta, había dos armarios, uno en cada lado. Y en la pared frontal, al lado de la puerta que daba paso entre la habitación y el pasillo, había un tocador de madera en color blanco y con bombillas a lo largo del marco del espejo, de forma ovalada y articulado. Y aun así, aunque la habitación fuera amplia y simétrica, era fácil saber qué parte pertenecía a cada hermano: la parte con la pared en azul pastel, sábanas en beige y peluches, perfectamente ordenada, era la de Luka; en cambio, la parte con la cama de sábanas negras de encaje, pared en un tono malva pastel y llena de cosas y con la otra silla de escritorio cubierta de ropa, pertenecía a Juleka. Sin embargo, todos los muebles de la habitación estaban pintados de color blanco.

—¿Recordando viejos tiempos? —La voz de Luka la devolvió a la realidad. Estaba recostado contra el marco de la puerta, brazos cruzados sobre el pecho, con la camisa, de color azul marino, remangada por el antebrazo y un par de botones desabrochados; los pantalones eran negros y de vestir, de tiro medio y por el tobillo; iba calzado con unos zapatos negros de cordones inspirados en un estilo militar. Parecía que ya se había recompuesto de la caída. Marinette le sonrió, una sonrisa suave y pequeña y menos extraña que el intento de hacía un momento.

—Hay días en los que el peso de la nostalgia se vuelve mi todo. —Desvió la mirada, posándola de nuevo en la cama de la izquierda. Entre todos los peluches, se destacaba el de una serpiente verde sobre la almohada. —

—Aun la conservas. —Le volvió a mirar.

Luka descruzó los brazos y, en pocas zancadas, se sentó en la cama, hundiendo ligeramente el colchón. Cogió el peluche de la serpiente y, moviéndole la boca como si hablase, la dirigió hacia Marinette.

—El primer peluche fabricado por Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng, por supuesto que lo guardo. —Le acercó más el peluche a la cara e hizo el amago de morderle una mejilla. Marinette se empezó a reír.

—Para, para —Le dijo, entre risas, intentando arrebatarle el muñeco.

Poder oír la risa de Marinette y cómo le llegaba a los ojos aligeró su corazón, y saber que además era por él, le aportaba una sensación de calidez que se expandía por su pecho. Aun recordaba cuando le había regalado esa serpiente: había sido por el decimosexto cumpleaños de Juleka y de él; un tiempo después de que Ladybug le hubiera otorgado, como portador temporal, el prodigio de la serpiente.

—¿Estás mejor? —Le preguntó, colocando de nuevo la serpiente sobre la almohada.

Marinette asintió, secándose las lágrimas que se le habían formado en las esquinas de los ojos por la risa.

—El Liberty siempre ha sido como un refugio en la tormenta. Cada vez que me sentía como un náufrago, saber que podía venir aquí y dejar volar mi imaginación, suponía un alivio enorme.

[xamassed]

⟬ @apprehensivities ⟭

" it's my bad attitude that keeps me young. " | to taishiro!

A deep, hearty laugh left the massive hero. He couldn't fault the young man for being honest. These days, it felt like a right of passage to be loud and abrasive. Taishiro wouldn't argue with him, and neither would be attempt to guide him with a heavy hand.

"It's all well and good lookin' young, but it's gonna come and bite ya later. No one's gonna believe ya when ya say you're past your thirties once ya reach that milestone. I might'a had it a little easier. Ain't thirty yet, but my size kind'a helps me out."

[oappleofmyeye]

Do you think Bakugou would be instantly hooked on some sass? Like you’re some civilian who’s just really feeling themselves that day? Confident and on top of the world?

“Think you’re some hot shit, eh?”

You flutter your eyelashes. “I am, thank you for noticing.” And you flip your hair around and saunter off. Later when you come back down to earth you may be horrified and extremely embarrassed that you spoke to the number two Pro Hero of Japan like that

But I dunno. I think it would drive him crazy. What do y’all think?

[ducktoo]

Supersonic Rift

fromis_9’s Nagyung x M!Reader

Note: soo when I saw this request, i remembered there was also a Nagyung fic with a LoL Reader as well (which is here by @kdollikesthighs )

Dw, mine is based on that one youtube video where 4 members played league. Thanks for the request again anon 👍

(Gosh she’s so cute)

You were a seasoned pro in the League of Legends scene—cool under pressure, skilled in every role, and practically living in Summoner’s Rift. But today, your skill wasn’t being tested in a tournament, scrim, or even a casual ranked match.

Nope. Instead, you found yourself in a brightly lit studio, sitting in front of four very giggly members of fromis_9: Jisun, Chaeyoung, Saerom and Nagyung.

Then again, you’d been in a lot of unique situations since turning pro in League of Legends. Sponsorship deals, photo shoots, interviews—it came with the territory. Heck, you even coach newcomers with your prior experiences as a tutor.

Though, sitting in a gaming chair next to Nagyung while her bandmates giggled like kids in a candy store?

Yeah…this was new.

This was part of their comeback promotions for Supersonic, and apparently, someone (ahem, HYBE) thought it’d be a genius idea to make a YouTube video where you teach them how to play League of Legends. You didn’t know who signed you up for this, but you were already reevaluating all your life choices.

"Alright, Y/n-ssi, be honest," Saerom started, leaning on her chair with an easy smile. "How bad are we gonna be at this?"

You chuckled, spinning your chair around to face them. “It can’t be that bad. Have any of you played League before?”

Jisun raised her hand timidly. “Does ARAM count?”

“That’s not the real game!” Nagyung interjected, her tone already halfway to exasperation. “You can’t flex ARAM as experience.”

Chaeyoung nodded sagely. “It’s like saying you know how to cook because you microwaved ramen.”

Jisun pouted, crossing her arms. “At least I’m not completely clueless.”

You smirked. “Alright, Jisun-ssi has a little bit of experience. What about the rest of you?”

Saerom shrugged. “I know the champions are cute.”

Nagyung let out a loud sigh, already burying her face in her hands. “Oh my god, we’re doomed.”

Chaeyoung smiled sweetly at Nagyung. “I’ll follow your lead, unnie. Just tell me what to do.”

“Don’t die?” Nagyung replied dryly. Her face scrunched at Chaeyoung calling her unnie despite her age.

"Pff, at least Nagyung is seasoned enough." You commented. "She got the sass going."

The staff called for silence, signaling the start of the shoot. The intro was smooth—a cheerful announcer explaining the collaboration, showing clips of your pro matches, and transitioning to the girls settling into their chairs.

The producer called out, “Rolling in 3… 2… 1! Action!” The red recording light blinked on, and you shifted in your seat, throwing a casual smile at the camera.

“Hey, everyone! I’m here with fromis_9—”

“Super-super! Supersonic!” Saerom and Nagyung interjected, throwing up peace signs. “Let’s gooo!”

“—and today we’re teaching them how to play League of Legends. Key word: ‘teaching,’” you said with a grin. “We’ll see how this goes.”

Jisun leaned into her mic. “Spoiler alert: badly.”

Chaeyoung cackled. “Speak for yourself. I’m about to carry this team.”

“Chaeyoung, you’re literally standing still in spawn,” Nagyung deadpanned.

“Wait, how do I move?” Chaeyoung asked, clicking aimlessly. “Oh! I got it! WASD, right?”

You blinked. “Uh… you right-click to move.”

A beat of silence.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, we’re doomed,” Nagyung muttered, burying her face in her hands.

-

Surprised to say (or not), this game went very well.

The loading screen faded to reveal Summoner’s Rift, its iconic three-lane battlefield glowing under a stormy sky. The vibrant green jungle glistened, and the enemy Nexus loomed ominously at the far end of the map. As the countdown to minions ticking began, you adjusted your headset and glanced at the screens of the four idols next to you. This was going to be… interesting.

“All right,” you began, pointing at each of their monitors. “Jisun-ssi, you’re on top lane. Just stick near the tower and farm minions. Saerom-ssi, you’re mid. Same deal. Chaeyoung-ssi, jungle, but don’t… uh, don’t overthink it.”

“And me?” Nagyung asked, locking in as Jinx, the manic, rocket-wielding ADC. She leaned forward, gripping the mouse like it owed her money.

“You’re bot with me. Just follow what I'll say. I'll support you with my Thresh.”

Her smirk was sharp. “Carry me, pro player.”

-

The game kicked off with your champion, Thresh, and Nagyung’s Jinx heading down the bottom lane. You expertly wove between minions, last-hitting to gain gold while zoning the enemy duo—a scary-looking Lucian and a tanky Leona.

“Stay behind the minions,” you said, pinging the map. “Leona’s going to try to stun you if you get too close.”

“Got it.” Nagyung’s Jinx strafed left and right, tossing out attacks with her minigun. Her voice wavered slightly. “Wait, why does she keep walking at me? I didn’t even do anything!”

“She’s baiting you,” you said calmly, flinging Thresh’s hook to snag Lucian. The chains glowed green as you yanked him forward, stunning him. “Wreck him!”

Nagyung hesitated for a fraction of a second, then unleashed a flurry of rockets. Lucian’s health plummeted, forcing him to retreat under the safety of his turret. “I did it! I hit him!” she exclaimed, bouncing in her seat.

“Nice. Now, don’t get cocky,” you warned.

-

Meanwhile, Saerom’s Orianna was standing in the middle of the lane, her robotic sphere idly rolling in circles.

“Saerom unnie, move!” Nagyung yelled, glancing at her screen.

“I’m observing,” Saerom replied serenely, as the enemy Yasuo slashed through her health bar. “This is fascinating.”

“You’re feeding!” Nagyung groaned.

Saerom tilted her head. “What does that mean?”

You chimed in, trying to keep the frustration out of your voice. “It means you’re giving the enemy gold every time you die. Just stay back and use your ball to poke.”

“Poke?” Saerom echoed, frowning.

“Like this.” You flicked your mouse at her screen, gesturing to how she should aim Orianna’s sphere. She tried, sending the orb in the right direction, but it stopped short.

“Close enough,” you muttered.

-

Chaeyoung’s Evelynn prowled through the jungle, clicking furiously on the minimap.

“Where do I go now?” she asked, spinning the camera wildly.

“You’re supposed to gank,” you said, keeping your focus on bot lane.

“Gang?”

“Gank. Attack a lane to give your teammates an advantage.”

“Ohhh.” Chaeyoung hovered near mid-lane, waiting for Yasuo to push forward. “I got this. Watch me.”

Saerom had just respawned and returned to lane, cautiously poking at minions. Yasuo spotted Chaeyoung’s Evelynn and turned his attention to her.

“Help me, Saerom-unnie!” Chaeyoung cried, smashing her keyboard.

“Good luck,” Saerom replied, retreating to her tower.

Yasuo cut through Chaeyoung in three quick slashes.

“You didn’t help me!” Chaeyoung said, throwing her hands up.

“You didn’t ask nicely,” Saerom countered, her tone utterly calm.

-

The match spiralled into chaos as the timer hit 25 minutes. Both teams had lost their outer turrets, and the map became a war zone of ambushes and desperate team fights.

“We need to group!” you called, pinging the map near Baron Nashor. “Stick together, and don’t get caught alone.”

Jisun’s Teemo, however, was wandering aimlessly in the top jungle.

“Jisun, what are you doing?” Nagyung shouted.

“I’m placing mushrooms! You said to place mushrooms!”

“Not in the middle of nowhere!” Nagyung exclaimed.

The enemy team capitalized on the lack of coordination, ambushing your group near Baron. Leona’s ultimate landed a perfect stun on Nagyung, and she frantically clicked to escape.

“Help me! Help me!” she cried.

You flashed forward as Thresh, landing a Flay on the enemy ADC and peeling for her. “You’re safe. Focus Lucian.”

Nagyung’s Jinx unleashed her ultimate, Super Mega Death Rocket, landing a clean hit and finishing him off.

“Yes! Did you see that?!” she yelled, nearly jumping out of her chair.

“Carry harder,” you teased, shielding her from another attack.

-

The game ended with a hard-fought push into the enemy base. Nagyung’s Jinx secured a pentakill, her face glowing with pride as the words “VICTORY” flashed across the screen.

Jisun and Chaeyoung, however, were in shambles.

“Why didn’t anyone save me?” Jisun complained.

“You were 0-12, Jisun-unnie. There’s nothing to save,” Nagyung retorted.

Chaeyoung pouted. “I got MVP in spirit.”

“No, you didn’t,” Saerom said, still calm as ever. “But good effort.”

You leaned back in your chair, rubbing your temples. “So… how did you all feel about your first game?”

Nagyung grinned triumphantly. “I carried.”

“You were decent,” you said, smirking. “But don’t let it get to your head.”

“Oh, it’s already there,” she shot back. “Rematch next time?”

“Only if Jisun and Chaeyoung promise to read a guide first.”

-

The idea came about in true Nagyung fashion—bold and overconfident.

“Well….I think we can take you,” she declared, arms crossed, after the producer suggested wrapping up the shoot. Her bandmates froze mid-pack-up, turning to her like she’d just declared war on a dragon with a butter knife.

“You think we can beat them?” Jisun asked, pointing at you. “Have you seen how today went? We’re terrible.”

“You’re terrible,” Nagyung corrected. “I’m decent. And if we all gang up, we might have a chance.”

Chaeyoung, ever the chaos agent, perked up. “I’m in. Let’s take them down.”

Saerom tilted her head, considering. “It could be fun.”

You couldn’t resist grinning. “Alright, but I’ll make it fair. I’ll play Blitzcrank—no damage, just good old hooks and crowd control.”

Jisun narrowed her eyes. “Isn’t that the creepy robot with the grabby hand?”

“Yep,” you said cheerfully. "I like playing him for the grabby hand"

“I don’t like this,” she muttered, sinking lower into her chair.

The game loaded up, the arena illuminated by the eerie glow of the Rift. Blitzcrank’s hulking frame materialized at your spawn point, his glowing fist radiating ominously.

“Alright,” you said into the mic. “This is a 1v4. No excuses if you lose.”

“Talk less, grab less,” Nagyung shot back, locking in Caitlyn for her AD Carry pick. Beside her, Jisun picked Yuumi again (“She’s cute! Don’t judge me!”), Chaeyoung locked in Amumu, and Saerom, after much deliberation, went with Morgana.

“You’ve got a decent comp,” you admitted. “Let’s see if you can use it.” -

As the game timer hit 1:30, you maneuverer Blitzcrank toward mid-lane. His movements were slow but deliberate, the sound of clanking metal echoing with every step.

“Why’s he so creepy?” Jisun asked nervously.

“It’s intimidation,” Chaeyoung said confidently. “He’s scared of us.”

"Rude..!" You smirked, hiding in a bush near mid-lane. They were about to learn why hiding wasn’t the same as being safe.

Nagyung stepped forward, trying to poke you with Caitlyn’s long-range basic attacks. Her focus was split, though—she was too busy keeping Jisun tethered to her.

Perfect.

You pressed Q—Rocket Grab. A glowing hook shot out from Blitzcrank’s hand, snaking through the fog of war. It latched onto Nagyung, yanking her straight into your massive frame.

“What the—?!” she yelped.

Before she could react, you hit E—Power Fist. Blitzcrank’s fist glowed bright yellow as he knocked her into the air. A few auto-attacks later, her screen went grey.

“You died already?” Jisun wailed.

“He grabbed me out of nowhere!” Nagyung protested. “Where were you?”

“Attached to you!”

“Useless!” -

The chaos only grew. Blitzcrank thrived on unpredictability, and you used it to full effect. With every bush and dark corner, you waited patiently, like a predator.

Saerom cautiously approached the bot lane, farming minions with Morgana’s Q—Dark Binding. You stayed hidden, watching her pattern. She’d step up to the wave, then step back into the safety of the turret.

The moment she mis-stepped, you pounced.

A hook shot out, landing squarely on her.

“Noooo!” Saerom cried as you dragged her helplessly into the tower range. The turret’s lasers finished the job.

Nagyung groaned. “Why don’t you guys look at the map?!”

“I was looking at my character!” Saerom defended.

“Great,” Nagyung muttered. “Our jungler’s crying in the corner, our support’s attached to me like glue, and our mid-laner’s… farming daisies or something.”

“I’m trying! Stop yelling!” Jisun snapped. -

Despite their bickering, the girls started to improve—or at least coordinate better. Nagyung set traps with Caitlyn’s W—Yordle Snap Trap—while Chaeyoung dove into fights with Amumu’s Q—Bandage Toss.

You could feel the pressure. Even with Blitzcrank’s resilience, a 1v4 was tough. Every missed hook cost you time and cooldowns. Every misstep brought you closer to defeat.

“Guys, we can actually win this,” Nagyung said, her voice steely. “Stick together. Focus them down.”

“Yeah!” Chaeyoung echoed. “Let’s go, team!”

The final fight began at Baron Pit. You hid near the brush, ready to land a clutch grab.

They approached cautiously, sticking to the plan. Chaeyoung led the charge, tanking hits from Baron while the others poked from afar.

You waited for the perfect moment.

“Where is he?” Jisun whispered nervously.

“Probably hiding,” Saerom guessed.

“Just focus on Baron,” Nagyung commanded.

The moment they grouped too closely, you activated Blitzcrank’s R—Static Field. A shockwave of electricity stunned everyone in range.

“Gahhh!” Nagyung screamed.

“Not again!” Jisun cried.

You followed up with a hook, pulling Chaeyoung into your clutches. She dropped instantly, her health bar melting.

But they rallied.

Nagyung stepped up, pelting you with headshots. Saerom’s bindings locked you down, and Jisun’s healing kept them alive just long enough. Blitzcrank fell, the screen announcing: You Have Been Slain.

“YES!” Nagyung screamed, leaping out of her chair.

The others cheered, their laughter filling the room.

-

As the session wound down, Nagyung approached you, arms crossed but a smirk tugging at her lips.

“Next time,” she said, “we’re playing a game I’m good at.”

“Like what?” you asked.

“Anything but this,” she replied, laughing.

“Aww, fine” you said, extending your hand.

She shook it firmly, her eyes sparkling with determination. “And next time, I’m taking you down for real.”

“Looking forward to it,” you replied, grinning.

As the cameras packed up and the girls chatted excitedly about the shoot, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. Maybe coaching rookies wasn’t so bad after all—maybe after a few breaks before each match.

Yep, even if Nagyung did threaten to uninstall the game halfway through.

[bussyslayer333]

‘cause you’re so smooth

summary: phoenix invites the boys to her salsa class, big mistake.

pairing: bob floyd x fem!reader

word count: 3k+

warnings: swearing, alcohol mentions, suggestive nature lols, me not knowing anything about salsa

my return to writing with a fic i teased over a year ago!! i hope you all enjoy

ps requests r open :p

“Nix, if you think I want to spend my Sunday evening learning to salsa dance with a bunch of soccer moms then I think your concussion hasn’t healed properly.��� Jake sasses in response to Nat’s invitation.

“Yeah, I’m sorry Nat but Sunday is my chill out day, when else am I gonna beat Fitch’s ass on cod?” Fanboy reasons.

Natasha knew it was a stretch asking the boys to join her salsa dancing class, but she thought it was important for them to get out more. At the moment, seemingly all they did was trudge from work to the Hard Deck over and over again.

She sighs, “it would be good for you guys to get out more, y’know?”

“I’ll go, Nat,” Bob smiles, nodding to her from where he is perched on a stool behind her.

“Thank you, Bob.” Nat nods back to him, “the rest of you can suck it.”

“Hey!” Bradley yells as he appears back from the bar, beers in tow, “what did we say about using that type of language?”

“Shut up Dadley,” Nat rolls her eyes as Bradley flicks his tongue out before handing her a beer.

“As much as I’d truly love to attend that class ‘Nix, I’m already a salsa pro and I wouldn’t want you to feel embarrassed about your skills,” Bradley declares, before taking an obnoxious sip of his beer.

“Yeah fuckin’ right, and my dad is prima ballerina,” Jake snorts.

“Let’s not discredit Papa Seresin, I saw him tear Boogie Wonderland up at your sister’s wedding.” Coyote nods.

“Yeah and even that shit was better than what Rooster could pull off,” Jake decides.

Bradley only shrugs at the jibe, a lazy smirk plastered onto his face, which serves only to piss Jake off more.

“Dance off?” Fanboy proposes, standing to head to the jukebox.

“No?” Jake frowns.

Fanboy drops back to his seat with a sigh, “was worth a shot.”

Nat shakes her head with a snort and brings the conversation back to the matter at hand.

“Look it’s fine, I’m just saying I think you guys would enjoy it!” She reasons.

“I’m sure it’ll be fun!” Bob adds happily.

Nat can only sigh at the lack of response.

Bob is already waiting outside the community centre when Nat arrives, looking down and nervously picking at a thread on the bottom of his gym shorts.

“You ready?” Nat questions, trying to alleviate his nerves.

When Bob looks up his brows unfurl and he lets a small smile sip onto his face.

“Yeah, sure, let’s do this!” He pumps his fist a little awkwardly.

Nat can only chuckle in response as she makes her way to the room at the left of the reception where the class is held. You’re stood by the door chatting with one of the older women in your class when Nat comes into your view.

“Natasha! How’s my best student?” You tease, stepping towards her.

“I’m great, thanks!” Nat blushes before gesturing to Bob, “I hope you don’t mind, I brought a friend.”

Bob sucks in a breath as you finally lock eyes with him. Shit. You were beautiful and those leggings were doing you an undoubted amount of favours.

Sadly, Bob had an incredibly annoying habit he was unable to shake. It was known as “embarrassing himself in front of beautiful women” and that seemed to strike him just as you stuck your manicured hand out to shake his own.

The breath that Bob had sucked in caught in his throat which was drying up increasingly as he took you in, leading to an unprecedented coughing fit doubling him over. What seemed to make it worse was your shocked gasp and immediate move to lean over him and pay his back gently. Bob tried not to focus on your cleavage directly next to his face and instead on regulating his breathing. It was proving difficult, especially when he could hear Nat cackling at his misfortune from behind him.

Once almost fully back to normal, you squeeze his bicep and chuckle,

“I don’t think I’ve ever quite literally taken someone’s breath away!” You giggle, voice oh so sweet.

Bob can’t even let himself feel embarrassed with the way your soft hand feels on his arm.

“I’m so sorry about that,” he cringes.

“Don’t worry about it,” you smile reassuringly.

Nat is growing seemingly agitated by Bob’s lingering near the door so she steers him forwards away from you.

“Best get set up!” She announces, dragging him into the room.

The classroom is spacious, a high ceiling and large windows on the left wall. The wall facing the door is covered in mirrors that amplify the light in the area.

Before Bob can speak up again, two men who look to be in their late 40s rush over towards Natasha. They’re the complete opposite of one another, the first who reaches for Natasha is tanned and has dark curling hair with flecks of grey throughout.

“Natasha! Darling it is so great to see you!” He exclaims with a slight accent, holding her hand in his.

The other has embraced the grey in his hair, he’s relatively pale but has clearly kept his physique, he nods towards Bob with a glint of something in his eye, “I thought he wasn’t your type?”

Nat snorts, clueing Bob in finally on what the two men were hinting at.

“My best friend, boys don’t worry,” she teases.

“Thank God, I’ve been trying to set you up with my niece for how long now?” The dark haired man smiles.

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m always busy at the moment,” she shrugs apologetically before turning back to Bob, “Bob this is Marco and Luke.”

They both shake his hand and size him up as they do so, the grey haired one (Luke) declares.

“He’s cute, Nat, where have you been hiding him?” He prods.

Bob exhales at the approval and watches as Nat breaks out into laughter. “Away from you!”

Marco and Luke break into laughter alongside Nat and Bob can’t help himself but join. Just as they’re all catching their breath, Bob jumps out of his skin again as he feels his hand on his shoulder.

“Boys, we’re being welcoming to our newcomer aren’t we?” You hum.

Your hip is touching Bob’s and the soft skin of your hand on his shoulder has him malfunctioning, luckily he isn’t forced into replying (or choking) this time.

“Of course we are beautiful, what do you think of us?” Marco gasps in faux shock.

“I think that I know what you two are like,” you roll your eyes before making your way to the front of the room.

You send Bob a sly wink before finally beginning, “It’s so great to see you all again!”

Everyone in the room blurts out greetings at you as you begin, “We’ll continue on from last week,” you strut over to the stereo in the corner and a latin pop track floats out into the room and Bob vaguely recognises the tune.

Marco and Luke are quick to start fluidly moving around the floor space and Bob notices that others in the room are doing the same. You make your way quickly over to him and place your hand on the small of his back, straightening his posture.

“I don’t expect you to get it immediately,” you smile into his ear, “we’ll start off with some basics and turn variations.”

Bob hopes you can’t see the nervous perspiration already forming on the back of his neck and nods a little too eagerly at your words. He looks back to Nat for some encouragement but she’s already dancing and chatting with a group of women next to the tall windows.

“I don’t bite,” You giggle, shocking Bob who looks back to see you holding your hand out for him to grab onto.

“Sorry, I’m not the best dancer-” Bob’s self depreciation is swiftly disrupted by you placing his hand on your waist and the other in your own.

“All the more for me to work with,” you smile, and Bob feels himself smiling back.

Although a tad clunky, Bob manages not to step on your toes and has some surprisingly fluid hip movement which intrigues you ever so slightly.

By the last ten minutes of the class, Bob is twirling Marco around as Luke and Nat chat to you about technique.

“What were you nervous about?” Marco probes Bob, “you’re a natural!”

Bob can only chuckle shyly in response and he glances over at your frame. Marco seems to notice Bob’s longing glances and slowly stops their dance.

“Go for it.”

“What?” Bob splutters.

“She’s been making googoo eyes at you the whole time mister, don’t pretend you haven’t noticed.”

Bob reels for a moment at Marcos admission before straightening up. “You think?”

Marco rolls his eyes. “I know.”

Before Bob can reach you you’re already strutting back towards the stereo to lower the volume of the music and gather everyone’s attention.

“Thank you so much everyone! You’ve all been brilliant today and I can’t wait to see you next week!” You beam at everyone.

People begin to gather to chat and start to disperse and you begin to gather your own belongings, stopping to make conversation with others as you do so. Luke and Nat join Bob and Marco with sly smirks on their faces.

“So…” Nat begins, “You’ll be coming back next week I presume?”

Bob flushes at Nat’s knowing look. “Yeah,” he looks to you, “definitely.”

Bob didn’t mean to let it slip. Like seriously, his lips were so sealed. Air tight.

“But HOW hot are we talking?” Mickey slurs over the nth shot he’d done with Bob at the Hard Deck’s happy hour.

So maybe not air tight.

It was Thursday evening and the rest of the daggers had politely declined drinks with Fanboy, but Bob (the ever dutiful friend) had accepted, hoping to be in and out within the hour. But alas, here they were.

“Fuckin’ smoking,” Bob mimes an explosion with his hands as Mickey nods enthusiastically to his answer.

“I choked on air when I saw her and almost popped a boner during a Justin Timberlake song,” Bob continues to ramble, once given the chance to talk about you he clearly wasn’t going to stop.

“And when is this class?” Mickey slumps closer to Bob, tequila breath hot on his neck.

“Ummmm, Sunday evening at 6 I think?” Bob nods, remembering the details Nat had sent him in a text the week previous.

“Good to know,” Mickey hums, reaching his hand forward to signal for another round, knocking someone’s drink over in the process. “Oops.”

Bob is quick to drag Mickey away from the bar top after that, realising they’d probably overdone it a tad for a weekday evening.

As the cool sea breeze hits Bob’s flushed face whilst him and Mickey wait outside the Hard Deck for their uber, he can’t help but let his mind drift to you, what you were potentially up to, do you teach other classes during the week? Do you dance professionally? God, you definitely could, the way your hips moved-

Bob shook his head, as if to get the image of you stuck in his mind out. He looked to Mickey hanging off of his arm, he was looking to the ground and shaking as if to stave off the imminent vomit that was about to leave his mouth any second now.

“Let’s get you home man,” Bob pats Mickey on the head, dragging him towards their Uber pulling up.

“Hey, Bob!” Nat yells across the parking lot, catching the back of her friend’s tall frame leant against a pillar near the front of the community center.

When Bob turns around, Nat notices two people next to him who she was not expecting to see.

“Fitch? Fanboy?” Nat cocks her head to the side. “I thought you guys were too busy to come?”

Nat’s accusatory eyes meet Bob’s sheepish expression as he awkwardly clears his throat.

“We heard the teacher was hot as fuck.” Payback shrugs.

Fanboy giggles next to him in excitement, “I’ve been practicing-”

“Bob I swear-” Natasha begins, finger pointing right into Bob’s chest.

“Sup, biatches!” Jake yells, alerting everyone of his and Javy’s presence. “Who’s ready to get their salsa on?”

Nat spins around on her heel, eyes shooting daggers into Jake and Javy.

“Bob, I’m going to kill you.” She states, eerily calm.

“Oh come on Phe! You wanted us here just last week!” Jake exclaims, walking round to slap Bob on the shoulder and greet Payback and Fanboy behind him.

“Yeah! When I wanted you guys to get out and do something productive! Not fuck my lovely salsa teacher, who by the way, was not socialised by wolves! So will absolutely not be charmed by any of you fools!”

With that, Nat turns and walks into the community center, leaving the boys to sprint in after her.

“At least this can’t get any worse,” Nat mutters to herself, pulling the door to your studio open.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Nat stills in the doorway, the rest of the boys behind her peeking their heads in.

“What now?” Bob asks guiltily.

Nat opens the door fully and allows the men behind her to file into the studio, where her fellow classmates are stood in a semi circle whooping and hollering at you dancing in the middle with none other than Bradley Bradshaw.

“Fucking Bradshaw,” Jake scoffs, pushing his way ahead whilst checking himself out in the full length mirrors that line the opposite wall of the room.

“Chicken never told us he could dance!” Jake yells over the latin music filling the room, successfully interrupting your dance with Bradley.

Bradley’s head whips to the side at the sound of that familiar ear grating voice. He gives you an apologetic look as he walks over to begin squabbling with a man you presume he knows. The commotion between the boys alerts you to the presence of Natasha and Bob as well as three other unfamiliar men. When Bradley had introduced himself with a smirk and a drawling voice as a friend of Natasha’s you had to wonder whether all of her colleagues were so handsome and by the looks of it, they were.

Nat is quick to walk over to you with an apologetic smile. “I want to apologise in advance for the next hour. They are insufferable.”

You look behind her to where the gaggle of men she calls her close friends are stood, you can see Marco and Luke itching to get their claws in and you have to giggle. This should be interesting.

After instructing the rest of your class to continue practicing the routine you had been working on, you figure it was only fair to come and personally consult your newest joiners.

As the boys (and Nat) notice you wandering towards them, they all begin to elbow each other like school boys giggling amongst themselves. Bob and Nat can only keep their embarrassment internal for so long.

When you come to a stop in front of them, the man you’ve come to learn as Jake smiles dazzlingly and stretches his arms above his head,

“God it is hot in here!” He begins to reach for the bottom of his shirt, aiming to impress you with his toned stomach.

“The A/C is on full blast dumbass.” Nat swats at the back of Jake’s head, causing him to drop his shirt again and rub at his temple. “Ow!”

Snickers fall from Javy and Mickey, who quickly straighten themselves up when they see you casting your eyes over them.

“As I said to Bob last week, with all my new starters I’ll begin with some basics for you guys and then we can ease into a routine,” you smile, heading towards Bradley and Nat.

“Since you two already have some experience you can help me teach!”

Bradley preens under your praise, already assuming the role of teacher’s pet, whilst Nat looks mildly irritated at having to teach her imbecilic friends how to dance.

“Alright guys! let’s partner up!” you shout at them, giggling as they all rush towards you, you note how Bob lingers back behind his more extroverted friends and grin.

“I should clarify, I meant with each other.” You shoo them backwards and watch as they couple up.

Mickey and Reuben clap each other on the back and Javy and Jake nod at one another leaving Bob, stood on his own. You saunter towards him and grab at arm, dragging him to the front with you.

“Looks like you’re with me,” you tease.

“Uh, who do you want me to partner up with?” Bradley scratches at his head obliviously.

You cock your head to the side with a confused laugh.

“I hate you so much right now,” Nat spews, gripping Bradley’s arm and pulling him into position with her.

“Oh, yeah. Right, sorry Nat.” Bradley chuckles.

Your lessons continues with explaining how someone will have to take the lead and the other will follow, and you wander around positioning their hands and postures correctly.

“Javy, you are like a brother to me, but your hands are too fucking low right now.” Jake grits through this teeth.

“Right! Ha, sorry man,” Javy’s hands shoots back up towards the middle of Jake’s back.

Bob is still apprehensive when he places his hands on your waist, but you’re quick to affirm him in his position. Leaning towards him you whisper, “don’t worry you’re still my favourite.”

A smile graces his face at that and he relaxes in your grip.

“Right guys! We’re gonna start with some turns and variations now!”

You quickly learn that trying to wrangle these men is proving difficult, as Payback almost spins Fanboy into a wall after zoning out stating at how your hips moved.

“I’m good bro, don’t worry,” Mickey is quick to readjust himself, hoping the room stops spinning soon.

You can’t help but laugh when Javy attempts to dip Jake to the floor in a move he thought would impress you, but it seems he forgot to account for how tall and heavy Jake is, as he goes toppling down with him.

“Fuck dude! You’re heavy!” Javy groans, rubbing his knee. Jake clearly didn’t take kindly to his words as he shoves back at Javy childishly.

“Boys! Come on get up!” You snap, trying to sound stern but still fighting off giggles.

Jake and Javy are quick to get back on their feet, but you catch them in your peripheral poking and pinching each other when they think you aren’t looking.

Even Bradley who was so light on his feet when he was showing you his moves earlier, is clearly distracted, constantly stepping on Nat’s feet as they practice variations.

“If you step on my toe one more time, Rooster I swear to God, you will not see daylight again,” Nat threatens.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! She’s just so…” Bradley trails off as he watches you dance slowly with Bob, stopping every now and then to correct him kindly or answer questions from others in your class.

“I know! And you guys are scaring her off by acting crazy.” Nat sighs, moving back as she senses Bradley’s feet heading for her toes again.

“I mean I wouldn’t say crazy…” Bradley scratches the back of his neck.

“Well I walked in to see you spinning her around like you’re a pro on dancing with the stars so maybe you should reevaluate.”

“You think I’m that good?” Bradley smirks to himself.

“Oh shut up,” Nat rolls her eyes and looks back to the rest of her friends around the room.

Payback and Fanboy were continually stumbling around in circles as they each try to catch your eye, pissing off everyone else in the room as they bumped and knocked into others. She caught Marco and Luke’s judgy eyes flicking back and forth between her and her friends and groaned.

Jake and Javy looked either one wrong move away from fucking or fighting, Nat couldn’t really tell.

God this was embarrassing.

Luckily, your voice rings out across the room, interrupting her moping.

“Thank you guys for today! And Thank you to my newcomers!” you gesture to the group of men stumbling over each other and stifle a laugh.

“I’ll see you all next week!”

Your regular attenders start filing out slowly, some coming over to chat and collect their things. You can see Nat trying to drag her friends away out they seem intent on lingering long enough to catch some time alone with you.

“You guys might as well go, she clearly wants me.” Jake shrugs, pulling the front of his shirt up to wipe his face.

Mickey is quick to dispute, “Are you kidding me? I twirled like a ballerina, I’m so in.”

Nat is moments away from body slamming her friends who she once loved when it goes silent around her. She figures you finally made you way over.

“Hey guys, thanks so much for joining today! I’m really sorry I’ve got to get going but um- ”

You pause and sense eyes on you.

“Bob, I was just wondering if I could get your number?” you smile, walking towards him and squeezing his arm. “You know, to talk about how we can improve your technique,” your reasoning clear as day even with your coverup

“Yeah! Yes, of course I mean,” Bob composes himself, taking your phone with shaking hands and typing in his number.

“Great,” you wink, retrieving your phone, “I’ll text you.”

You end with that, sauntering past the group and waving goodbye to Nat with a knowing look.

Everyone seems stunned by your words, but mostly Bob who blinks slowly, seemingly still in shock by your acknowledgement.

Nat finally breaks into laughter, doubling over at the confused faces of her other friends.

“Man!” She shouts through her giggles, “you just cannot make that shit up!”

The grumbles around her don’t even phase her as she goes to pick up her bag and head for the door, a group of downtrodden looking men following her and Bob with a newfound pep in his step.

“By the way Rooster, how come you actually are so good?” Nat asks as they make their way into the parking lot.

Bradley stills, silent as he contemplates answering.

“If I tell you, you have to promise to not go searching for anything.” He looks around at his friends.

Following their nods he continues, “I used to compete professionally, when I was like 13, my mom forced me to.” Bradley cringes at the memory of his tween self in sparkly shirts his mom always hand picked out for him in the most hideous colours.

Bradley looks back up to see Jake grinning mischievously at his phone, and his stomach drops.

“Is this you?” Jake smirks, turning his phone around to show everyone an old video on youtube titled.

SALSA NATIONALS 1999 - BRADSHAW / DONNA SUMMER HOT STUFF

Bob suddenly felt as though his coughing fit over you wasn’t the most embarrassing thing he had to witness anymore.

a/n: it is great to be back gang xx i’ve missed writing and ofc i had to bring back the bob agenda!! it’s what i stand for :) i’m thinking mayhaps a part 2 where i explore the dynamic between sexy salsa teacher and bob bc atm this was just a chance for me to make fun of the daggers 😣

i hope you enjoyed reading and tysm!!

pls reblog, comment or drop me an ask and tell me what you thought!! feedback means sm to me considering i’m a lil rusty

anyways thank u again for reading!!!!

- honey xoxo