#and they’re all still figuring out each other

[kkai-zen]

Hi! (please ignore this if you if you don’t like it) but if you feel comfortable, could you do childhood friend!ness x fem!reader. The idea is that they’re best friends but when ness joins bastard münchen he meets Kaiser (and because my entire personality is hating on him after chapter 289). He makes him isolate himself from his friends. As you can tell I want something really Angsty but with at least a happy ending. Other than what I said, you can do whatever you want with it and have a nice day. :)

hello!! thank you so much for the request, this one took me a while (ㅠ﹏ㅠ) hopefully ness isn't too ooc since i don't know him too well (guilty of being anime only lol), but i had a lot of fun planning the angst for this one and i hope you enjoy! 𓂃۶ৎ

as it was.

wc: 2.1k + childhood friend!reader x alexis ness + angst + implied happy ending + slight kaiser bashing + sfw

“Get out, you idiot!” 

Slam!

Even as a child, you’d put together the happenings of the house next door. On most nights, you could peer through the kitchen window, standing on your tippy-toes, and watch the front door of the house slam shut. If you squinted, you could see the curled figure of a boy your age hovering by its porch.

He seems so lonely like this, you tilt your head. You wonder what he’s thinking about, what his parents are like, why he lays down on the grassy lawn and draws invisible pictures in the air. 

Breath fogging the glass, you tap at the window loud enough for him to hear, and quietly trace a heart into the condensation. You can’t tell if he sees it.

“Time for bed, honey!” Your mother calls. Shooting a final, curious glance at the boy’s silhouette through your heart, you hop down the stairs to your bedroom. 

It’s only a couple days later when you see him wandering around outside again. He still looks sad, doesn’t he? You pinch your eyebrows together.

“Mama! Can I go outside ’n play?” 

“Sure, just don’t go too far!” 

And before you know it, with some child-like excitement nipping at your heels, you run up to the boy. 

“Hi! Would you like to play soccer with me?” 

His name is Alexis Ness, you learn.

He’s got a wild imagination, even for a child, yapping to you for hours about magic and illusions and now, soccer. You two would spend entire days kicking around a ratty soccer ball in the front lawn of your house, even on the scant few days Ness didn’t get kicked out of his.

Sun, wind, rain, snow—a day didn’t go by without you and Ness laughing and bickering, chasing each other around in the grass stamped flat from months of play. 

It wasn’t long before a year passed. 

“Hey, Ness?” You squint up at the hot afternoon sun, hand shielding your eyes as you lay back on the cool grass. 

“Huh?” 

“Magic is real, isn’t it?” 

“Course it is, dummy.” 

You frown. “How d’ya know?” 

He pauses, toying with the soccer ball in his lap. “Cuz of that feeling I get when I play soccer with you.”

You blink up at him with large eyes. “Feeling?” 

“Yeah,” he states, almost as if it were some obvious, undeniable truth. “Y’know, my chest gets all funny and my heart makes these weird sounds and my cheeks get sore from smiling so much.” Ness squishes his face in his hands, and you giggle. “That’s what magic is to me.” 

“Ness.”

“What?” 

“I think I believe in magic, too.” 

And he smiles at you—a real, wide grin that covers his whole face, and for a moment he shines brighter than the sun rays. 

“Told ya so!” 

The years slipped by quicker than you would’ve liked them to.

Subconsciously, you knew that you and Ness wouldn’t be together like this forever. It was only a matter of when it would happen, the dreaded day that he or you might vanish into adulthood, leaving behind the fond memories of flattened grass and soccer and magic. 

You still remember when he told you, with that childlike sparkle in his eyes, that he would be leaving to join Bastard München’s U-20 team. 

It was a snowy December day when he left, suitcase beside him, and you tried not to let him see the hot tears balancing on your lower lashes. You two were grown, you reminded yourself. You aren’t children anymore. This was always bound to happen. 

So why are you clinging to him, your tears spilling onto his new Bastard München jacket, holding back sobs? 

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” Ness whispers into your hair, hand on the back of your head and a sad smile on his lips. 

You say nothing, squeezing your eyes shut.

“I won’t be gone forever, you know,” He reprimands gently, pulling your head off his chest. “Besides, won’t it be cool to see me on TV?” His smile is soft, and he wipes the tears from your cheeks with a warm finger. “Y-yeah,” you mumble, unable to meet his eyes. 

Both of you are silent for a moment longer, before Ness tilts your head up to look at him. “Thank you for showing me what magic is.” 

There’s a strange tension, a fire in his eyes, and your breath catches in your throat when he leans forward to press a delicate kiss to your lips. 

And before you know it, he’s gone. 

At first, the loneliness was bearable. You and Ness texted every day, every night, any moment he had a second to spare. It was enough to keep your sadness at bay, but it didn’t last long.

The change was gradual: the slow responses, the messages left on read, and then on delivered. At some point, days passed before a single text back. And one day, there were no more texts back. 

You justified it to yourself over and over. He’s a professional athlete now. This is his career. Of course he’s busy. 

A year ticks by without a single message. 

And when you run into him in the middle of town one day, you feel part of your heart crack open. 

“Ness? Is that you?” 

He’s noticeably taller, face sharper, and his eyes look sunken with that childlike sparkle missing. He was different, as if something had swallowed up his vitality, leaving behind only a porcelain shell that looked down at you with empty eyes. 

“Oh, it’s you.”

Ness barely noticed you. 

“Y-you’re back? In town?” You stand there, heart sinking lower, and lower again when he looks at you, wearing a slender smile that doesn’t match his cold eyes. 

“Yeah, I am, unfortunately.” 

“You could’ve- I mean- just, texted me, at least?” 

Your voice is trembling, and you’re not sure why. This is Ness, isn’t it? The boy you grew up with? Your best friend, and possibly even-

“What, am I your boyfriend or something?” 

His voice is deceivingly gentle for his sharp words, and they hit you like a slap in the face. Your heart breaks a little more.

“It would’ve been nice to at least know. Y’know, as friends?” Your voice still trembles, but this time it’s more out of anger than fear or sadness. 

“Friends?” 

Ness looks at you, quiet smile still on his face, betraying no emotion. “I don’t need friends. I have my team- no, I have him.” 

There’s no doubt in your mind that the him Ness means is Kaiser.

That blue-haired, rose-obsessed freak of a striker on Bastard München. You’ve seen all of Ness’s games multiple times, and you had to admit their chemistry was admirable. But even off the field, they’d been spotted together: after games, after practice, everywhere, with Ness trailing behind Kaiser like a puppy.  

“So- so he means more to you than someone who’s been friends with you for your whole life?” 

You can’t help the hurt and frustration that slips into your voice. But as soon as the words leave your lips, you regret it. 

Ness’s eyes narrow, and chills run up your spine. 

“Watch yourself. A nobody like you shouldn’t be insulting him.” 

And what’s left of your composure splinters apart. 

“Seriously, Ness? After all this time, you- he- ” you scramble for words, desperation and anger and fear gripping your throat. “We’ve been friends for years. Since we were children. Do you seriously not see me as a friend now?” Your hands close into fists. “For fuck’s sake, we grew up together!” 

He stares down at you with that soft cold smile.

“Kaiser was right. You’re a distraction.” 

You didn’t count the number of years that passed since then. 

Life goes on, doesn’t it? But you never realized a life without Ness would be so miserable. Quietly turning off your TV when his games aired, scrolling past news about Bastard München, about anything soccer related—it was too much for you to bear. 

It’s cold today, you quietly think, wrapping your scarf tighter around your neck as soft white petals of snow flutter over you. It doesn’t usually snow this early in the year.

With slow, deliberate steps, you dread the sight of your childhood home in the distance. It only reminds you of him, after all. Why’d you tell your parents you’d visit them? 

But you see a faint silhouette in the distance, a hunched shadow hovering by the porch next door, and a wave of nostalgia drowns you: the foggy window, the heart, and the boy. It feels like a mirage, a trick of the light, but as you approach the house, it’s exactly who you wished yet dreaded to see the most standing there, tattered soccer ball at his feet. 

“Ness?” 

Your voice is faint, as if you’re talking to yourself and not the man standing there. 

He doesn’t look real. Glowing in the cold light of the moon, snow frosts his hair, bags hanging under his eyes. He’s a ghost, an apparition, a figment of your desperate imagination. That’s what you think until he pulls you into a deep hug, and you feel the warmth of his skin on yours. 

You stand there, frozen still, his arms wrapped around you for too long a time before he pulls away. 

“I’m sorry.” 

His voice has the same light, gentle quality it always had, but something about it is different this time.

In all those years, you’d never seen Ness like this. He was a ray of sun, beaming and glowing with warmth, and then he was ice, cold and sharp and crushing your heart into pieces with its vice. 

But he was never this; haunted, trembling, almost as if he was about to splinter into pieces and out of existence. 

“How many years has it been, Ness?” You whisper. He doesn’t answer.

“How many? Since you left me for Kaiser?” There’s no bitterness in your voice, only a silent resignation that’s met with snowflakes and a whistle of wind. 

“I texted you. Every day for that whole year you were gone.” Your voice grows louder. “I watched every single one of your games on TV. I waited for you, every single day, hoping you would respond. And what did you do?” 

What feels like a lifetime’s worth of anger suddenly swells inside you, threatening to overflow, and you jab a finger into his chest. “Nothing! You did fucking nothing, Ness. I- ” you choke.

“You left me, after making those empty promises. Not even a text back? Are you fucking serio-”

“‘I hope you’re doing well, Ness. I loved your assist in that last game, it was amazing.’” 

You freeze.

“‘Take care of yourself, make sure to stay hydrated.’ ‘Look at this article I found! You and Kaiser really make a good pair LOL.’ ” 

Ness takes a breath, and keeps going. 

“‘Eat and sleep well, Ness!’ ‘Just got your jersey in the mail today!’ ‘Your form looks great, excited for your next game.’”

The words spill from his lips as if he’d been waiting his whole life to say them. And it’s several long, word-filled minutes later before he utters,

“‘Miss you lots, Ness. Come home soon.’ ”

You're speechless. “Are those…”

“Texts you’ve sent me. Every single one.” Ness says, his quiet voice hoarse. You say nothing, staring at him with shock. “I read them. All of them, a million times over and then again.” He reaches out to touch your hand. 

“It was hard to respond because of him. Kaiser. Made me feel like you were a distraction, when-” Ness swallows. “When in reality, you were the reason I started playing soccer in the first place.” 

His grip on your hand tightens the slightest bit. “I never forgot you. Not a single time. I only pretended not to because of pride and selfishness and a desire to please the wrong person.” 

You look at him and for a moment, all you see is that lonely boy from a lifetime ago. 

“I hurt you. But I- I promise you-” He clutches your hands to his chest, eyes filling with desperation. “I understand what I did, and it was wrong, and I fucked up, and I just- I regret ignoring you and treating you like that and- just, please, at least let me make it up to you.” 

There are tears sliding down his face now, and your heart lodges in your throat. 

“Will you let me back into your life? Even for just a moment?” 

And you say nothing, quietly stepping back, pulling your hands out of his. You catch the way his breath stops, the way his body freezes, the way dread settles over his face when you pull away. 

But instead of leaving, you bend over to pick up the soccer ball at his feet. 

“Hey Ness?”

“…y-yes? What is it?” 

You hold the worn ball out to him. 

“Will you prove to me that magic exists again?” 

[b0kevi]

bestios. | Leona x gn!reader

summary: reader feels like they’re missing out because they haven’t had their first kiss yet and worries they’re a bad kisser, leona so graciously decides to help them out and teach them how to kiss.

trope: practice kissing, friends to lovers

info: gets a little suggestive at the end but nothing major. gender neutral reader they/them pronouns, leona being leona, ruggie walking in on them

characters: leona kingscholar, ruggie bucchi(for a brief moment)

w/c: 1011

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You honestly don’t remember how you got in the situation you’re in right now.

leona called you over to his room because he needed ‘extra pillows’ knowing he’s just going to lay on your lap, and keep you hostage for his daily nap.

you—not really being tired, began scrolling through magicam. maybe it was all the couple stuff you were seeing but it made you wonder how it felt to kiss someone.

“you’re telling me you’ve never kissed someone herbivore?” a deep voice mutters against your thighs which startles you, you thought he was passed out.

“and what if I haven’t?” great now leona knows you haven’t kissed anyone.

“just a little surprising, that’s all.” leona shrugs, you couldn’t really see his face as he was facing away from you.

“I’m just… waiting for the right person. but that’s not really working out… ugh they’re gonna think I’m totally inexperienced and a bad kisser, I probably am a bad kisser… ugh.” you ended up rambling more towards yourself since you figured leona already fell asleep but to your surprise again, he was still awake and heard you.

“want me to teach you?” he smirks but you couldn’t see it.

you sit up, face on fire.

“excuse me?”

“do you want to learn how to kiss or not? only offering once.” he sits up, looking lazily at you.

“why… do you want to help me…?” y/n asked cautiously while still freaking out. leona is going to kiss them. they’re going to kiss THE leona kingscholar, and it’s their first kiss. he’s definitely going to tell them they’re a bad kisser.

leona looks bored as he states, “consider it as a favor… so?”

the two of you are facing each other face to face, nervous out of your mind.

leona gently places his hand on your shoulder which shocked you. “relax, don’t be so nervous.”

he then puts his other hand on your chin, slowly lifting your head up, silently staring into your eyes. you couldn’t quite tell what he was thinking from you trying to calm down.

“follow my lead, just take it slow…” you nodded, taking a deep breath before closing your eyes.

leona leans in, inches away from your mouth,

“I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”

you nodded again, telling him it’s okay.

your lips touch and it’s soft. you didn’t expect this from leona but maybe it’s because he’s ‘teaching’ you. it’s so light and gentle that you didn’t know leona could kiss like this.

not that you imagined what it would be like to kiss leona because why would you?

“hmm you are a bad kisser, i think we have to try again.” he says once you two pull away. you’re embarrassed now, you were about to say something when he pulls you back in, still soft. you try your best to move along with him, it felt like a fever dream. you couldn’t help but put your hands on his chest.

“mmmm… honestly I don’t remember, do it again.”

“what-“

he pulls you back once again, more heat is added every time he pulls you back in, hand resting on your cheek while the other on your hip.

your own hands slowly made their way up to his hair.

“I think you’re slowly getting there. I thought you were a fast learner?” leona smirks

you start to think he’s just toying with you which makes you groan when he place his lips on yours.

you decide to get a little bold and tug on his hair while deepening the kiss, which caused him to groan, letting out a low growl.

“starting to get bold now are we?” smirking as he pulls you onto his lap causing you to straddle it, making you blush.

“I guess you’re not a bad kisser but i think we need a lot more practice.”

“is that so?” you challenge as you try to catch your breath.

“hey, you’re the one that wanted to practice, I’m just trying to help you out.” he gave a smug smile as you rolled your eyes.

“uh huh… because you’re so generous and thoughtful.” you said sarcastically with a smirk.

he roughly kisses you again causing you to pull and tug on his hair, letting out groans and moans from the both of you.

leona slides his hand up your shirt as he asks for entrance to your mouth,

“leonaaa seriously how many times do I have to- oh-“ a voice interrupts both of your thoughts. you immediately jump out of leona’s lap, standing up as you try to make yourself presentable, like you weren’t just sucking faces with leona kingscholar.

“out.”

“jeez lock your door next time! I’m scarred for life now! you owe me now, I’ll never unsee that…” ruggie protests dramatically as he exits the room.

“tsk, damn hyena.” leona grumbles, looking angry that he was interrupted.

you had a beet red face, you are definitely embarrassed and ruggie will never let you live that one down.

leona pulls you down on the bed, prying your hands away from your face.

“ignore him.”

you look down at his hands, “uhm, t-thank you… for yknow… helping me with…that…”

“I still think you need more practice. you’re an okay kisser right now, I thought you wanted to be a good kisser?” you look up at him.

“I think… that you just want to keep kissing me leona kingscholar.” you boldly assume, which leona smirks.

“I told you I’m just helping you out, isn’t that what friends do?” no way he just said that. he knows what he’s doing.

you look anywhere but into his emerald eyes and mutters, “what if… I don’t want us to be friends.”

he lifts your chin up, making you stare at him.

“what did you say sweetheart?” it’s like he’s staring into your soul, he knows how you feel about him and he wants you to say it.

“I… I don’t want… us to be friends…”

he leans in, “no? then what do you want?”

“…kiss me.”

“gladly.”

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a/n: heyy this is my first time using tumblr so bare with me… some silly fic I thought of so I hope someone will like it ಥ﹏ಥ remember consent is hot anyways hope you have a great day/night ! take care <3

[msschemmenti]

the bravo forum

melissa schemmenti x reader

a/n: the people have spoken— here is my contribution to the melissa schemmenti x reader community based on a crack idea from my notes app. bare with me, this is not edited and probably pretty bad-- but fuck it we ball ig. i also couldn't think of a name for this like at all. my tiktok fyp sort of throttled me into all things reality tv and that sparked this idea. also if you liked this feel free to check out my lisa ann walter masterlist for some of my older stuff.

”So now no one knows if they’re coming back or if they’re gonna pull a New York Housewives and just start over.” Melissa huffed over her shoulder to Barbara. 

“Girlfriend, I told you, I don’t know these people, and I don’t care.”  

Melissa watched as Barb entered the school ahead of her and shook her head. She really shouldn’t be surprised. Her work wife had always been very clear about her feelings when it came to the Housewives. And Melissa had tried to get her hooked. They’d tried every franchise and all she got from Barb was a disgruntled scolding for caring so much about these random women and their woes. Melissa can even recall Barbara advising her to pick up the Bible if she wanted to follow the trials and tribulations of someone she would talk about. 

Melissa wasn’t normally someone who participated in any discussions about the things she enjoyed. She liked what she liked and anyone who didn’t agree with her could kick rocks. But letting Jacob move in had really changed the way she consumed media. She and the history teacher would come home from work, crack open a bottle, and go to town judging the various players in their programs. With him around, discussion became the norm. And now that he’s moved out, she’s sorta missing that community. Not that she’d admit it to anyone. 

She bound into the teacher’s lounge, putting her lunch away and settling in her seat for the news like she did every morning. Jim Gardner was the only man she wanted to start her morning with. Midway through the program, excited voices floated through the swinging door. 

“I’m telling you— they’re married. She won’t say anything but there’s no way they’re just girlfriends.” Both veteran teachers turned their heads at the newcomers with frowns in place. Y/n, the newest edition to the Abbott staff, winced almost instantly under both Barbara and Melissa’s gaze and quickly mimed a zipper over her lips. Barb smiled gratefully and turned back to the television, but Melissa’s eyes lingered a bit longer as they always seemed to do when the younger woman entered the room. And hard as she tried to keep her glare in place— once the teacher went back to her conversation quietly the frown melted into something softer. Almost curious.

Y/n Y/ln was something of a hot-button topic for Melissa. She’d started at the beginning of the school year, taking on the higher-grade English duties upstairs. And everyone seemed to love her. She’d flown in the week before classes started with a bright smile and brownies for the teachers. She’d spent her first month covering recesses and lunch duties for absolutely anyone who asked. And had even worked her way into some after-school clubs. She was everywhere. And after five months at Abbott, she still carried herself with the same level of joy and excitement she’d started with. It was infuriating if you asked Melissa. And Barb had asked her before. It seemed the reasons everyone else gravitated toward the new teacher were the exact reasons Melissa claimed made her dislike her. She was a kiss-ass, a pushover, and far too happy in the morning to not be doing some kind of drug. But every time Barb grilled her about it she never mentioned how distractingly shiny her hair was. Or how expressive her eyes were when she spoke about literally anything. And she all but refused to even think about how her eyes seemed almost glued to her figure whenever they passed each other in the hall during the day. She just couldn’t allow it. And she definitely wasn’t watching this morning as Y/n filled her cup of coffee and then exited the lounge with another teacher to continue her conversation.

Once she’d left the room, Melissa’s attention turned back to the television as if nothing happened. But there was Barbara, lips pursed knowingly and eyebrows set in a challenge. 

“What?” Melissa asked, fighting the blush wanting to crawl up her neck. All Barb gave her in response was a pointed hum that told Melissa all she needed to know. She wasn’t fooling anybody.

-

“I can’t believe this is how you spend your free time. Here I was thinking you were reading Shakespearean Sonnets from three to eight when you actually just cyberbully Housewife fans.” Jacob laughed in disbelief as he leaned against the corner of Y/n’s desk. 

“Okay first of all— Eileen Davidson’s delivery of ‘How dare you?’ after being called a Beast by Kim Richards was very Shakespearean. And secondly, cyberbully is a very strong word. I’m simply engaging in dialogue with my fellow Real Housewives fans. It’s not my fault I’m good at reasoning and evidence. Argumentation was my jam in college.” Y/n explained with a smile. 

“So you’re saying you use your intelligence to cyberbully gay men and old ladies.” 

“How rude, the Bravo-verse is not just for gay men and old ladies. It’s for everyone. I don’t discriminate on the forums— I’m an equal opportunity bully.” 

“Huh, who knew there was such a sinister side to such a sweet woman.” 

Y/n shrugged, “I’m multi-dimensional. Anyway, I brought all this up to run my lesson idea by you. We’re doing a unit on dialogue and I really think with some appropriately placed censors we can make it work.” 

“Oh, That’s so engaging! And with so many franchises you can pull from quite a few scenes.” Jacob affirmed excitedly. 

“Exactly. And it gives me an excuse to talk about my favorite show on the job.” 

-

Lunch time came and the teachers found themselves in the lounge chatting idly at their assigned tables. Melissa’s glasses were perched on her nose as she scrolled through an article recounting the last episode. Jacob having leaned back in his chair, caught sight of the headline and instantly brightened. 

“Oh Mel Mel, have I got an opportunity for community for you!” 

Melissa slowly looked at the young man, unimpressed, “No thanks, I got more than enough community already.” 

Jacob sighed at the woman’s lack of enthusiasm but trudged on, sure this opportunity would be up her alley. “Well, I just thought you’d take to the idea of arguing with people anonymously about the Real Housewives. There’s apparently a whole world of people discussing your programs online and from what I’ve heard they need some strong opinions to balance out the nonsense. I just think it might be nice for you to have a space to freely share your questionable takes about these extremely vapid women every week. A community is waiting for you.” 

“Questionable takes? All of my takes are gold like my hatred for Eileen Davidson. That’s a very valid and based take. I’m always right. I don’t need no internet dummies telling me otherwise.”

“Well, when you realize I’m right and you start bullying randos online– I’ll be expecting a thank you.”

Melissa scoffed and watched as Jacob wrote the website down on a sticky note for her. “Huh, I’m sure you will be.” 

-

She really wasn’t planning on looking at the website. She had no reason to. She was completely content to live with her Housewives thoughts. But then the Real Housewives of New York reboot episode was absolutely insane. And she needed to know if she was the only one in complete disbelief at this Puerto Rico trip. She pulled the sticky note from her purse and cautiously typed it in. She would only look at what was being discussed. Just a little peek.

MisterBravo: Am I the only one who HATES Meredith and Heather this season? #RHOSLC

4:00 PM in Real Housewives Board

↳20 Replies to this post

MeredithApologist: YES! YOU ARE. 

HeathersReciepts: how can you hate the woman who brought us receipts, proof, timelines, screenshots?

Melissa chuckled quietly to herself as she read through the comments on the post. She hated to give Jacob any credit but this might actually be interesting. She continued to scroll until she found a recent post addressing the latest episode of RHONY. 

Bravoholic: Deciding to play devil’s advocate tonight after tonight’s most recent episode. What are our thoughts on the RHONY reboot cast so far? 

11:00 PM in Real Housewives Board

↳250 Replies to this post

She tapped into the replies and started skimming reactions. Lots of which she thought were stupid but not stupid enough to warrant a response of some kind. That was until she came across a crazy reply.

RepudiatedHousewives: Honestly, the trips just started and Brynn is already acting insane. Talk about a producer plant, am I right?

Now Melissa wasn’t a fan of Brynn but she also was smart enough to acknowledge Erin as a problem as well. Brynn didn’t stir things up all on her own. And also what kind of username is RepudiatedHousewives? Talk about pretentiousness. She couldn’t resist. She just had to respond.

RedHotPhilly11: repudiatedhousewives , you must be as pretentious and stupid as your username if you think Brynn is the only one producing this season. Erin is right there?

Y/n sat up immediately seeing the new reply flash across her screen. Pretentious and stupid? What the hell was this person’s beef? Brynn is a problematic producer plant, that’s just facts. So what if Erin gets wrapped up in her bullshit– she’s still better than Brynn. 

RepudiatedHousewives: RedHotPhilly11– i’m assuming you’ve got your looks going for you if you’re pulling Erin into Brynn’s evil. Erin’s not perfect but Brynn is obviously the bigger issue here. 

RedHotPhilly11: Yes, I’m hot. But that’s all you’re right about.

-

The forum shortly became Melissa’s most visited website. And she and this RepudiatedHousewives character loved going at it.

RHOAAddict: Rumor has it Phaedra Parks will be returning this season…thoughts on cast dynamics?

8:00 AM in Real Housewives Board

↳100 Replies to this post

RedHotPhilly11: Good! She’s kept Atlanta fun!

↳ RepudiatedHousewives: Incorrect– Bravo needs to make up with NeNe is they think they can save RHOA. Phaedra is actually a lawsuit waiting to happen. And she’d know, as a lawyer.

↳ RedHotPhilly11: Of course, you have so much to say. 

↳ RepudiatedHousewives: Careful RedHotPhilly11, if you keep this up I’ll start thinkin you like me

RHONYLover: Calling all historians, Who’s the biggest villain in RHONY History?

10:00 PM in Real Housewives Board

↳100 Replies to this post

RedHotPhilly11: Aviva Drescher. Only right answer.

↳ RepudiatedHousewives: Wrong. It’s Brynn Whitfield. 

↳ RedHotPhilly11: What are you, captain of the Brynn hate club?

↳ RepudiatedHousewives: Hell yeah! She won’t win in my lifetime.

↳ RedHotPhilly11: I feel like I have to admire your persistence but that feels to nice.

-

The morning after the finale episode of the season was a doozy. Both Melissa and Y/n had spent the evening going back and forth on the forum dissecting the drama that unfolded on screen. Other users had tried chiming into their conversation but both RedHotPhilly11 and RepudiatedHousewives refused to engage with anyone other than each other. And that energy seemed to carry into the teacher’s lounge that morning. Melissa was at her seat as usual, nursing her second cup of coffee as the news came to an end. And Y/n burst through the door with a sigh heading straight for the coffee machine. Her entrance obviously caught the attention of the other teachers but she was too busy mentally urging the coffee machine to brew faster to care. 

“Woah, Shakespeare what’s up with you?” Jacob asked, sliding up next to the woman with a frown. “You’re never down here this late.” 

“I had a rather late night so I decided to sleep in for a bit,” Y/n answered pulling the coffee to her chest with a sigh. 

“Oh yes, too busy cyberbullying to get a proper night’s sleep?” The history teacher poked. At his jovial tease, the other teachers seemed to tune in. All eager to learn more about the English teacher. 

“You cyberbully?” Janine asked incredulously from her spot next to Gregory. “That’s so mean, why would you do that?”

Y/n rolled her eyes and glared at Jacob pointedly before addressing Janine, “I do not cyberbully. I merely chat about television online. If people have bad opinions, I feel obligated to correct them.” 

“Oh right, season finale for RHONY was last night. I’m sure you were lighting that little forum up, huh?” 

“You know it. Although I’ve got this one person on the forum who replies to everything I post and we were going back and forth all night. They just know every button to push. Like last night, I was going off about the way Brynn was keke-ing with the producers after causing all that chaos the night before. A literal production plant! And then that RedHotPhilly11 comes in my replies arguing with me about facts! So we were going at it for quite a bit.” At Y/n’s words, Jacob’s eyes turned to Melissa curiously with a smile. Maybe the redhead had taken him up on his recommendation. And at her arched eyebrows and startled expression he was right.

“Wait a minute, you’re Repugnant Housewives?” Melissa’s hard voice piped in. 

Y/n’s eyes widened in confusion, “Um no, I’m Repudiatedhousewives. How do you even know that?” 

“Cause I’m the one pushing your buttons.”

”You’re RedHotPhilly11?” Y/n tilted her head in shock but that didn’t last long before a knowing smirk settled on her face. “Huh, now that I’m saying that out loud I’m not that surprised.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Melissa challenged, ready for another fight. Offline.

“You are hot.” Y/n shrugged easily. Everyone in the room seemed to freeze at her admission but she stood tall in her words and leveled Melissa with a knowing gaze. “What? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten our very first argument. Where you very boldly called my username pretentious and stupid.”

“Right right, and you said the only thing I had going for me was my looks,” Melissa smirked. 

“And your only reply was that you’re hot. Again, can’t argue with facts.” Y/n snickered. “Wow, I can’t believe that of all the people on that forum we’ve been sparing with each other for the last 5 weeks. I didn’t even know you watched the housewives.” 

“Who are you kidding, I’ve been watching longer than you’ve been alive kid.” 

“Doubtful, I think I came out of the womb watching that franchise.” Y/n pushed up from her place at the counter to walk closer to Melissa’s table. 

“Ah what do you know? You probably can’t even remember the original RHONY cast before this godawful reboot.” Melissa goaded, rising from her chair to look Y/n in the eyes. 

“Wanna bet?” Y/n said and just as the women were closing the charged distance between them, Barbara reached up to pull Melissa back. 

“Alright ladies, I think that’s enough fun for the morning. Why don’t we save this energy for your little chatroom, hm?” 

Melissa shrugged and took her seat again working to push her irritation down. But as assessed her body– it wasn’t irritation she found. And Y/n found herself fighting the unexpected but familiar heat that a bossy beautiful woman could inspire within her. They both slinked back to their corners and everyone in the lounge exchanged curious looks over their heads. Not much later the school bell rang, and almost everyone dispersed. Except Y/n and Melissa. They eyed each other cautiously before Melissa broke the silence. 

“Reunion part one, next week, my place. Bring wine.” 

“Roger that, Red. Maybe we can tag team some poor souls while we’re at it.” 

Melissa grinned at the prospect and nodded before heading out the door, “Now you’re speaking my language.”

Let’s just assume they’re still trying to get out of Bravo Forum jail.

[mearpsdyke]

no one has to know (what goes on between us)

Summary: answers to the question "are True Damage's Ekko and soloist singer Jinx dating?" may vary depending on who you ask. (Band/Fake Dating AU)

A/N: AO3 hates timebomb so i'm being forced to post this directly on tumblr. oh well. tysm to vik for betaing the fic and being the inspiration behind sassy gay kayn<3

as a general warning this has very explicit smut towards the last 5k words, so maybe skip this fic if that's not your thing.

Ekko thinks, not for the first time since this meeting started, that he should quit music and move to the countryside for some peace and quiet.

The marketing guy is still droning on and on about merch sales and stream statistics, Ekko hasn’t been paying attention for the better part of the hour. He’s fidgeting with the pencil in his hands, intently avoiding the sight of the blue haired woman sitting across him, who’s shamelessly painting her nails.

He doesn’t know much about Jinx; she signed with the label around the same time as him, and although she’s also from Zaun, he doesn’t really know her, which is saying something, since everyone knows everyone in the lanes.

At most, Ekko follows her on Instagram, out of some kind of solidarity with her, something, something “people who come from the lanes oughta stick together”—in reality, he thinks she's quite hot. Likes her posts like he's being paid for it.

Of course, that's between him and god.

The marketing guy—he looks like a Jimmy, Ekko thinks—is still speaking. Ekko is barely listening.

“In short, we saw a spike in streams and social media interactions after the gala; our numbers had been steady, not to say stagnant, for quite some time so this new surge in activity caught our attention,” Maybe-Jimmy says, pushing his glasses up to his nose, sounding suspiciously upbeat.

That catches his attention.

Ekko reluctantly peels his gaze off the ground to look at him, silently wondering what that has to do with Jinx’s presence.

Ekko glances towards his manager, sitting next to him, who’s nodding along, sporting a serious face. He’s the only one that seems to be paying attention—well, besides Jinx’s manager, he supposes. Jinx herself is still busy painting her own nails in two different colors, humming a tune.

“So, as per the CEO’s request, we’ve devised a marketing plan to make both of your streams and merchandise sales go up,” he says, finally going to the point, and Ekko has a faint feeling that he’s not going to like whatever they’re about to propose to him. “Since the spike in interactions happened due to dating rumors between the two of you, we figured it would be a good idea for you to pretend to be in a relationship for some time, at least until after we drop both of your respective albums.”

That snaps Jinx’s head up faster than anything else he’s said this whole meeting, with her hands freezing mid-air. A droplet of pink nail polish falls to the pristine white wood.

Ekko’s mouth hangs open, incredulously looking at Maybe-Jimmy.

“What?” They say at the same time. Their gazes meet each other, twin bewildered looks on their faces.

“That’s your genius strategy?” Ekko questions, unsure if he’s offended that this took an hour of his life he could’ve used to finish his new song, or at the ridiculous idea itself.

“I know I said I would eat my own hands before doing any more Tik Tok challenges,” Jinx says, a pleading tone in her voice. “But I’d really trade doing those challenges instead of this—this stupid shit.” She turns to look at him. “No offense.”

“None taken,” he mutters reluctantly.

Maybe-Jimmy just smiles nervously and clasps his hand over the table.

“The CEO personally green lighted this strategy, so, there’s not much neither of you can do. It’s stated in your contract.” He gives them an apologetic look, but it sure doesn’t feel like he’s sorry at all. Bastards, all of you, Ekko thinks.

This is all, probably, some sort of divine punishment from the universe or god himself for that one time he accidentally leaked one of the songs on their sophomore album before it was finished, and it went viral when a rival group covered it. Akali is still mad about it.

He looks across the table to his new fake girlfriend, who’s speaking in hushed whispers with her manager, an intimidating tall woman with a face tattoo that reads VI, clearly angry at the whole ordeal. He’s not so happy about it either, but at least he has the decency to not look like he’s been given a death sentence.

In hindsight, this is all Qiyana’s fault.

She was the one that went around the Grammys after party filming everything for her vlog, and “accidentally”—Ekko still thinks it was on purpose—caught the two of them trailing behind the other, disappearing behind two heavy doors. What the public didn’t know is that those doors lead to the bathrooms, though it didn’t take long for them to figure it out. The internet was relentless afterwards, spurred on by all the stupid likes Ekko left on Jinx’s posts on Instagram.

Thirsting after Jinx was, probably, the other thing that caused this.

The dating rumors were frankly outlandish; just because they both came from Zaun doesn’t mean they were lovers before fame, he didn’t even know her. But whatever, he guesses the label is desperate enough for a new hit to pull this sort of thing.

As he’s leaving the conference room, he looks one more time towards Jinx, who’s hastily blowing on her nails.

“We’ll reach out soon to coordinate a first appearance together,” Ekko’s manager, Viktor, says, ever the efficient man.

Jinx’s manager offers a tight lipped smile, hastily putting away the nail polish back on Jinx’s purse.

“We’ll be at your disposal,” she answers, placing her hand on Jinx’s back to hurry her outside the room.

Ekko silently follows Viktor, who’s complaining about lazy marketing and cheap strategies like this, though he says nothing about advocating for him and convincing the team to drop this idea; Ekko knows as well as Viktor that his contract was drafted by Satan himself, and going against it is impossible.

He pointedly does not tell his bandmates about it. They have questions about the meeting they were not allowed to go to, but he's tight lipped.

The more he can pretend this isn’t happening, the better.

*

Jinx loves Violet. This is a fact as true as the sky being blue.

Jinx, also, hates Violet. These two statements don't negate the other if one takes into account they are, after all, sisters.

“Are you serious, Violet?! This is why I never tell you shit!” Jinx screeches, once they’ve locked themselves in one of the many soundproof recording studios.

Vi doesn’t look the slightest bit apologetic. She’s grinning like a mad woman, the fucking bitch.

“Look, I was tired of you telling me how hot you think he is and then doing nothing about it! Besides, I didn’t tell the marketing people to pitch that idea to the CEO, just suggested it. That was all their doing.”

Jinx takes out one of her shoes and throws it in Vi’s direction.

Another thing that’s, sadly, pretty much true, is that Jinx drools over Ekko. She has eyes, okay, and they function.

Unfortunately, when men are so handsome that just by looking at their pictures one gets hot and bothered, they're also, like fucking clockwork, huge assholes.

Jinx would know, she has a knack for dating them.

“One of these days you're going to disappear under mysterious circumstances,” Jinx says, ominous.

Vi smirks, lounging on the sofa like a cat.

“You should thank me,” she says, “the guy might actually be a decent one, I've heard some stuff about him. Dating him could be fun.”

Jinx pauses, considers it—then throws the other shoe towards her sister’s face either way.

*

Their first fake date happens two days later, because Viktor will be damned if he ever stops being quick and efficient.

For what it’s worth, it’s a nice spot, the kind Ekko would choose were he taking a possible partner on a date, which means Viktor knows more about him than he’s supposed to and he has to take him out from his close friends’ story—again.

Jinx is fashionably late, arriving five minutes after him, and she makes a comment about that being her manager’s doing; she would’ve arrived half an hour late if it weren’t for her, who hurried her in getting ready.

To her credit, Jinx put a decent amount of effort in her appearance; her pleated black skirt is what Ekko would consider dangerously short, wearing fishnet stockings under it. A white crop top that reads women hate me, fish fear me gains a confused chuckle from him, and she’s wearing the tiniest hint of make-up, since all the attention is on her signature twin braids; today she added gold charms to them, rings and butterflies catching his eye. All in all, she looks good, really good.

Besides sighing because she's pretty and all of this is fake, Ekko feels flattered that she put this much effort—but also, he’s embarrassed. More embarrassed than anything, actually.

Ekko is underdressed, compared to her; he put on his most comfortable jeans with a plain black shirt under his green hoodie. At least he has his gold rings and tiny earrings to appear more put together.

And he's handsome. He knows that much, so his face always pulls the look together despite all. He hears his female band mates mock him for his ego in the back of his mind.

They get their order delivered in no time, and Jinx laments not having brought her lipstick to retouch herself.

“Are you always running late to places?” Ekko wonders out loud, lazily stirring his coffee. Jinx takes a long sip of her mango milkshake, leaving the straw with a wet pop before answering.

(Ekko does not fixate on her plump lips. Nope.)

“Only to first dates I don’t care about,” she answers, a faux innocent smile dangling from her lips before she digs in on the pastries she ordered.

Ekko snorts. “Yeah, I’m not thrilled about this… arrangement, either.” He leans on his elbows, watching as she licks the frosting off her fingers. On a normal date, he’d make a sly comment about table manners, but it’s not like this is a real date, so he can’t be bothered.

Jinx looks at him, offended, and gasps dramatically.

“But I’m such a funny, awesome, hot girl,” she says, clasping a hand over her chest. Ekko stifles a laugh. “Honestly, you’re so lucky. You wouldn’t even have a chance with me if it weren’t for this PR shit.” Jinx tosses her hair over her shoulder, fixing him with a cocky grin.

Ekko scoffs, indignant. “As if I would give you the time of day. I got nominated as one of the sexiest men alive last year.”

“But you didn’t win ‘sexiest man alive’, did you now?” Jinx quips through mouthfuls of lemon pie. “And either way, when the press gets ahold of the paparazzi pics the label staged, I’ll make sure my manager tells everyone you pursued me.” Her cat-like smile only grows, and Ekko almost snaps his optic nerves rolling his eyes.

“You’re a pain in the ass,” he says, sipping on his coffee. Jinx smiles as though he’s given her a compliment.

“Why, thank you, it’s my pleasure.”

Jinx keeps on devouring her lemon pie slice, Ekko’s brain starts plotting his own disappearance and the location of the dairy farm he’ll buy the day he finally snaps and throws fame into the blender, because here he is, sitting on a café with one of the prettiest women in the industry, and he's bickering with her instead of flirting and making this thing look more real.

They don’t talk much afterwards, just sipping on their drinks. At some point, Jinx gets frosting all over her lips and childishly licks them to clean them up instead of using a napkin, like any sane person would. Ekko groans, taking her chin between his hands and bringing a napkin to clean the remnants of the frosting.

She’s grinning at him, wiggling her brows as she teases him. Ekko stifles a laugh.

He hears a camera go off somewhere.

The photo of him cleaning Jinx’s lips is up on the internet before the fake date even ends, and the True Damage group chat goes off.

[Qiyana] sent one attachment

[Qiyana] ??? EXPLAIN

[Senna] YOU FINALLY DID SOMETHING ABOUT YOUR CRUSH????

[Akali] fucking HATE YOU couldnt u wait longer u just lost me $100

[Yasuo] fucking LOVE YOU i just won $100

Not for the first time, Ekko leaves the group chat, deciding to protect his peace of mind, if only until they’re due for rehearsals.

Jinx keeps on eating her lemon pie, ignoring the world, and fixes Ekko with a smile.

“So, what’s your zodiac sign?”

*

So, maybe Ekko isn’t an asshole. But he’s not off the hook, yet.

“I don’t know, Vi. I'm still not convinced he's not another womanizer. Looking like that he could have any woman he wanted,” Jinx complains, hanging upside down from her aerial silks. “Besides, he’s a libra with a scorpio rising.”

Vi hums, definitely not paying her attention, while she types away at her phone.

“Every famous guy is a womanizer unless proven otherwise, despite what astrology may say,” she tells her, “I know it's not helpful, but I’ve heard generally good things about the guy. I have a friend of a friend who’s on all of his private accounts, and they came back clean.”

“Mhm.” Jinx hesitates, chewing on her lips. “Any exes?”

Okay, so maybe she wishes she hadn’t asked that, because Vi pulls profile after profile, and all the women she shows her are so pretty her self-esteem drops. No wonder he’s so wound up about their arrangement; Jinx doesn’t hold a candle to the previous women he dated—publicly, at least.

Jinx huffs, letting herself fall from the silks, somehow landing on her feet. Rehearsal is finally over and she can finally get a good shower.

She absent-mindedly starts thinking about her outfit for the next red carpet as she drinks water, and an idea pops in her mind.

“Hey, Vi,” she says, trying to sound casual. “Do you know if True Damage is invited to the AMAs?”

“Well, I’d hope so. They’re nominated for collaboration of the year for that song they made with Heartsteel. Why?” Vi doesn’t look up from her phone, typing away a message.

She's always on that damn phone now, Jinx thinks, sounding too much like Vander. Ew.

“Oh, I just had a brilliant idea.”

*

See, red carpets are Ekko’s thing. He knows he’s handsome, his stylist loves him, and so does the press. It’s just his space to shine.

This time, though, things are different.

True Damage always matches their color scheme for red carpets; it makes sense to do so, as a band. Tonight, however, he’s the only one that’s not in the same color scheme, and that has an obvious explanation: Jinx.

Per Viktor and Vi’s request, they hard launched the relationship through an Instagram story, some two weeks ago; a selfie huddled up together on Jinx’s couch was all that was needed to add fuel to the ongoing fire that had started during their first date.

This was after a couple more dates, some more staged paparazzi photos, and ominous tweets. To the public, they had been dating for roughly three months, give or take.

Ekko had come over to Jinx’s apartment just to take that photo; she had received him in way more casual clothes than he had ever seen her, a worn grey shirt with a corny quote on the chest and biker shorts. Her hair was loose, and boy did she have lots of it. Ekko thought, in the back of his mind, that she looked better like this.

She made him all but lay on her sofa, then threw herself over him, like this was something they always did.

“Don’t give me that face,” she said, cheek pressed flush against his chest. Ekko’s breath hitches in his throat, but he tried not to show it. “You look like you’re scared of hot women, c’mon, pretty boy, put on a smile for the camera.”

“You’re a menace,” he huffed, willing his cheeks to not redden. Jinx cackled, evil and hearty and a melody to his ears.

(No. Wait, fuck.)

So. Anyway.

It had been a short affair. They took several pictures (because Jinx needed to make sure she looked good) and once they settled on one, the matter was all but solved. And he should’ve left, really; but Jinx commented something about wanting to watch a movie now that she bought an instant popcorn machine, and nonchalantly asked if he wanted to stay over for it.

Jinx had asked him to stay in a nonchalant tone, and nothing in her demeanor told him this had to be something they did for an audience, like the dates or the photos; it was just a casual hang out. So, what the hell, sure, he stayed over, and it wasn’t as awkward as he had thought it would be.

At some point, Jinx’s head ended up resting against his shoulder and he allowed it. It wasn’t half bad.

They hadn’t seen each other since then, sporadically texting as the awards approached to update the other on how their outfit was coming along.

It was a pity, really. Jinx was growing on him, if only because her sharp tongue and clever mind amused him to no end.

“Who would’ve thought a girlfriend was all you needed to ditch the boring basic suits,” Qiyana teases, as they keep on walking down the red carpet.

“Too bad it goes against our color scheme, though,” Senna laments, fixing her gown’s trail.

Ekko, almost by instinct, wants to tell them to fuck off, but he can’t blurt out, defensively, that Jinx is not his girlfriend, not really, because the place is packed with reporters and paparazzi, and he’s sure Viktor would kill him with his bare hands if he shot down their entire operation before it truly begins to take off.

He just huffs, adjusting the jacket over his shoulders. While Yasuo is wearing a normal red, white and black suit, following the color scheme of their female colleagues, Ekko sticks out like a sore thumb—almost literally. The purple of the jacket draped over his shoulders is the same tone as a bruise (Jinx had adamantly insisted on that description for the shade of purple she wanted him to wear. It had been a pain in the ass to get it right), his white linen shirt is halfway open, showing the world his pectorals and part of the abs he had so painstakingly worked out for. His pants were the same bruising shade of purple, and although they were specifically tailored for him, he couldn’t stop feeling uncomfortable.

It wasn’t really the suit itself the issue, more so who he was wearing the suit for.

Jinx is a beautiful woman, she has her charm; he’s just pissed at the label for forcing them to do this instead of thinking of another type of marketing campaign. His bandmates had told him he was, probably, the first man to ever complain about having to date a hot woman half of the industry wanted. It wasn’t about Jinx being hot, more so about his autonomy, or whatever the fuck.

They’re almost at the end of the red carpet when Akali tugs on his jacket, forcing him to stop. He turns to look at her, confused.

“Look who just arrived,” she cheekily says, pointing with her chin to the opposite way.

Ekko knows, before he even looks, that it’s Jinx. He straightens his stance, then bids his friends goodbye before going to look for her.

The moment he sees her, his brain sort of short circuits—which is probably not good (or is it?) because there are a fuckton of paparazzi milling about.

She’s wearing a two piece set; her purple butterfly top has long flowy sleeves attached to it, giving the illusion of a cape, and the skirt goes all the way to the floor, with the draped fabric making her look like an ancient statue. The holographic fabric of the garment is sparkly, catching the light of all the cameras pointing her way. Her hair is intricately braided up in a high ponytail, with braids framing her face and pinned up to the ponytail, with her usual gold hair charms.

She looks so beautiful, his heart starts beating in his ears and something like want starts bubbling in his veins. Which is not good (or is it?) because they’re not really a thing.

Jinx catches sight of him and trots up to meet him, the sunniest smile ever on her face.

“Darling!” She says, throwing herself in his arms. He puts her hands on her hips almost by instinct, while she wraps her arms around his neck. The wave of flashes that follows almost blinds him.

“You look gorgeous,” Ekko says, not without difficulty. Jinx smiles, giggling.

“Thank you, you clean up nicely, too.” She winks at him, letting go of his neck, patting his pecs. Her touch, light as a feather, has his skin burning. “Come on, pretty boy. We gotta give them a whole photo shoot.”

Oh. Right. This is fake.

*

Jinx’s performance goes without a hitch, and through it all she wonders what Ekko thought of it (later, she’ll find that his stunned face while looking at her on her aerial silks flooded social media. It outshone the fact that True Damage didn’t win for collaboration of the year).

When the awards are done, she has an invitation from her friends Ezreal and Kayn on stand-by to come to Heartsteel’s after party, but she’s pretty sure she pulled a muscle while performing, so she opts for heading home.

She knows Kayn and Ezreal will probably berate her for skipping; they’ve been wanting to get all the hot details about her (allegedly, because they did not believe it) fake relationship with Ekko in person, so there was no way she could hang up on them once she grew reluctant to answering their questions.

“Everyone in the industry wants to know how that happened,” Kayn had drawled one time over the phone. “You got your claws on him before Miss Fortune, girl, I heard she was fuming.”

Jinx had paused her skincare routine to stare at the screen, like Kayn could see her bewildered expression.

“Ekko rejected Sarah?”

That didn’t sound correct. Sarah “Miss” Fortune was the music industry’s hot girl; everywhere she went she left a trail of broken hearts. She fit Ekko’s type down to the nail—so what happened?

“Mhm. Like, a fuckton of times. She’s proper obsessed with him since they did that song together, was it two years ago? Either way. I’d watch my back if I were you.”

That call had ended with Jinx more lost than ever, wondering if Ekko’s standards were too high in the sky or if maybe Sarah was properly crazy.

Either way, Jinx didn’t want to find out.

She’s making her way to the parking lot where her driver is waiting for her, when she hears someone call out her name. Ekko.

Jinx turns around, looks at him as he’s still running up to meet her. It’s so unfair that he’s so pretty he looks like he’s in a slow-motion montage, running up a hill to meet his beloved as his locks bounce in the air and fall beautifully on his face, the jacket on his shoulders unmoving.

(She has got to lay off the rom-coms, okay.)

“Hey Jinx,” he says, catching his breath. He pushes the locks out of his face in a motion that’s stupidly sexy. “Are you going to any after parties? Viktor said—”

“Oh, no, actually, I’m going home,” she interrupts him, hugging herself. The night is chilly, and her outfit isn’t the best for the cold. “I pulled a muscle during my performance.”

“Oh.” Ekko looks disappointed, and an awkward silence stretches on for too long.

Jinx clears her throat. “You wanted something else?” She inquires, a playful lull in her voice.

She’s probably seeing things, but she’s at least 90% sure she saw Ekko’s cheeks heat up. Oh?

“Um, not really. I think I’ll just—wait.” He takes off the jacket, draping it over her shoulders. Jinx’s breath catches in her throat—she wasn’t expecting that. “You looked cold…” Ekko evades her gaze, Jinx smiles.

His scent engulfs her; his perfume is something earthy, with notes of vanilla. She likes it.

“Thank you, Ekko,” she says, sincerely. Ekko just nods. “I’ll see you ‘round.”

Jinx turns on her heels to go back to searching for her car, and steals a glance towards Ekko at the last second.

“You could’ve just texted me!” She exclaims cheekily, before hopping on the car.

Inside, she buries her nose against the fabric, relishing in the smell. It’s so distinctly him, it almost feels like he’s actually hugging her instead of the jacket.

If she returns it two weeks later, after having sprayed it with her own perfume, well that’s her business, not anyone else’s. Shut up, Vi.

*

To deny Ekko is jealous would be like trying to deny that water is wet.

And, okay, Jinx is not his, exactly, despite what the world currently thinks. But they’re not supposed to be seen with other people, being flirty and all that; it could leak, and then the cheating scandal would overshadow everything else.

There’s men that approach her, obviously, and Ekko’s not egotistical enough to think everyone knows who they are, so he always tugs her closer, pinches his features just the slightest bit so that anyone can see she’s taken (in theory).

They’re at—someone’s party. Is it Ezreal’s birthday party? Or just a common party? Fuck knows, honestly. But it’s definitely a Heartsteel party. Half of Hollywood and the music industry is here, to begin with.

Including one of Jinx’s many asshole exes (who the fuck invited him?).

“Real asshole, that one was,” Jinx says, taking a long sip from her wine for good measure, pointing with her chin towards Finn.

No last name, just Finn. A last name wasn’t really needed when you’re one of the industry’s most famous producers.

Finn is across the room, but their gazes come to meet almost my accident. His eyes fixate on Jinx, and his blood simmers in his veins when he shoots her a lopsided grin.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t be surprised,” Ekko says, dragging Jinx the opposite way.

Jinx is not his, but Ekko still keeps his arm around her waist. You know, for safety.

“Are you feeling bold today, pretty boy?” Jinx asks through giggles, a stray drop of wine falling on the side of her lip.

See, this is the part where Ekko wipes the remnants of alcohol away from her mouth, says something flirty and leans down to capture her lips in a kiss. That is how it would go in normal circumstances, at least.

But nothing with Jinx is normal, basically. So he kind of just squeezes her waist with all the self-control he can manage, keeping her close for a good while, definitely not brushing his thumb across the exposed skin of her waist, not thinking about how good she looks in her red two piece outfit, with the dangerously short skirt and the top that looks more like a bra.

He’s not thinking about it because they’re in public, and he’s a law abiding citizen who’s trying to not get arrested for public indecency. Thank you very much.

At some point Jinx runs off to talk to her friends, but he decides to stay put, waving away her confused expression in favor of letting her hang out alone with them. For one, he’s not Ezreal and Kayn’s biggest fan; their last collaboration happened thanks to Janna’s grace and Ekko’s self-restraint, because those two gave the rest of the band members a run for their money when it came to huge egos—how Jinx is friends with them is beyond him. Second, he saw Zeri somewhere, anyway, and he’s been meaning to catch up with his old friend from the lanes.

Of course, he should’ve known hanging out with Zeri is no better than hanging out with his band mates, because he’s a fucking idiot and told her about the arrangement.

And he may also have mentioned he thinks Jinx is hot, but that’s hardly news.

“I actually can’t stand you, you know,” Zeri says, the cigarette trapped between her fingers slowly dying out. “Why don’t you just take her on a real date? Seriously, dude, for someone with such an ego…”

“I don’t think she’s interested, not really, to be honest,” he replies, stealing the cigarette from Zeri. He gets an indignant yelp in response. “Trust me, I would know.”

Zeri scoffs. “You know shit about feelings, boy savior.”

Ekko swats her arm, like when they were kids and fought over who got to eat the last piece of candy. And Zeri’s twenty-six, a whole copyright lawyer for famous singers, but she still pushes him back, play fights for a bit.

Another cigarette is lit, and then promptly stolen. Zeri kind of just rolls her eyes and tells him something between gritted teeth, probably “As long as you don’t keep stealing my lighters.”

“I think you should try your luck with her,” she says, clearer this time. “Worst case scenario she rejects you and you make it awkward. Best case, Viktor and the label will milk out your new real relationship for all it’s worth.”

“Mm, no, that’s still the worst case scenario.” He takes a long drag, blows out the smoke in Zeri’s direction. “I do have to find her, though, we said we’d leave at this hour. Maybe you should find your girlfriend and leave, too.”

Ekko shoots her a shit-eating grin, turns on his heels. “Seraphine is not my girlfriend!” She squeals.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” he replies.

*

Jinx likes to think, more often than not, that if something were to happen between Ekko and her, well, it’s not like she would mind.

She can’t blame the few glasses of wine she’s had when she looks at Ekko, wearing those black jeans and the shirt with the cropped armpits that give her a great view of his toned arms, and thinks it’s unfair all of this is fake.

She thinks she’d like to know how his lips taste, but that would probably make things awkward; Jinx’s dug around, asked questions, and she’s definitely not the kind of girl Ekko goes for, not at all. As if comparing herself side by side with his exes wasn’t enough proof.

“I’ll get the car, wait for me here,” Ekko says, letting go of her waist. Jinx feels like something’s missing, but she doesn’t dare linger much on it.

She’s touching up her make-up, the music a far-away dream thrumming under the soles of her shoes, when she hears footsteps approaching.

Before she sees him, she smells the cologne.

Olfactory memory is such a strange thing, she thinks in that decimal of a second it takes her to detect the smell. She hasn’t smelled that cologne in more than a year, close to two, and yet by the peculiarity of it she knows, without a fraction of a doubt, who is wearing it.

“My, oh my, look what we got here.”

Jinx ignores him. Doesn’t dignify him even with a flinch of her body.

“What, you can’t say hello to an old friend?”

Silence. That gets him on his nerves.

Finn walks around her, comes to stand right in front of her field of vision.

“Your new boy-toy abandoned you already?” His cat-like smile holds venom in it, and Jinx grinds her teeth until she’s sure she’s broken a few molars.

“Fuck off.”

He smiles wider, the bastard. Finn always enjoyed riling her up, and the thrill of make-up sex made her think it was fine back then, but now she’s seeing red.

“I wouldn’t abandon you, you know—”

“No, you’d just cheat on me,” Jinx says, cold. Detached.

Finn hisses, as if he’s been cut. If it was up to Jinx, she would’ve tried to pluck his eyes out with her stiletto nails already.

“You know it was a mistake.”

Jinx should be canonized as a saint, quite frankly, because she’s not sure where she got the patience to hold back and not kill him.

Part of the reason she doesn’t snap, though, is the car that comes to a stop in front of them.

Ekko emerges from the car, frown in full display as he comes to stand next to Jinx. His hand flies back to her waist, protectiveness in full force as he tugs her to his side, presses her flush against him.

If something twists in her stomach, that’s between Jinx and god.

“Do we have a problem here?” Ekko asks, twisting his face into a scowl.

Finn’s smile disappears, fixing Ekko with a pinched expression.

“You’re the new replacement, I assume.”

“And you’re the asshole who cheated on her with your secretary.”

If looks could kill, Ekko would be dead on the pavement already, and Finn would’ve probably been cut in half.

Jinx wishes she had popcorn. It’s kind of hot when two handsome men fight over you, if she’s being honest here.

Finn scoffs, taking a step forward. “Don’t get smart with me, boy, I’ll ruin your career in the blink of an eye.”

“Like you ruined yours with that pathetic excuse of an album you put out?” Ekko retorts, venom in his smile. Finn’s face twists in a wild expression. “Leave us the fuck alone.”

Jinx’s heart is thrumming against her ears, because no one speaks to Finn like this, no one has the nerve.

No one except Ekko.

Finn snarls, lounges forward to grab Ekko by the collar, but Ekko grabs his hand before he can even touch him.

“Do. Not. Even think about it,” he says, low and threatening. Without letting go of Jinx’s waist, Ekko grips Finn’s wrist and pulls him forward in one tug. Hot. “Here’s what’s going to happen: you’ll leave us the fuck alone, I’m getting in the car with her, and none of this gets out to the press. Okay? Great chat.”

He tosses Finn aside, like a discarded cigarette butt, and hastily walks towards the car. He opens Jinx’s door first when—

“She’s still mine,” Finn exclaims behind them. “Half of that bitch’s catalogue is mine. I own her, and it’s only a matter of time before she’s back with me—”

Ekko closes the car door, locks it, and spins on his heels to punch Finn straight in the jaw.

It’s a quick, sharp punch that sends him flying backwards, clearly having not expected Ekko to retaliate. A surprised gasp leaves Jinx, but she can’t do anything with the door locked.

She sees as Ekko towers over Finn, says something she doesn’t quite catch, and he hastily turns around to climb back in the car.

When he grips the steering wheel, she realizes his knuckles are red.

“He got what was coming for him,” Ekko says, nonchalantly.

All Jinx can hear is a faint buzzing in her ears, reeling from the brief yet charged encounter.

Finn’s words ring in her ears: she knows he doesn’t want her, not really, he just doesn’t like that someone else has her now. He’s a little kid, upset that someone else picked up the toy he mistreated, the toy he discarded, and needs to flaunt his power by trying to yank the toy from the other person’s hands.

It had always been like that during their relationship, which lasted more than it should have because Jinx never knew what a healthy relationship looked like, so she figured as long as she’s not bruised up, how bad can it be?

(Bad. Very, very, very bad.)

“Ekko.”

“Mhm?”

There’s a million things Jinx can say to express her gratitude, but her brain has shut off for the night.

“That was hot,” she says, and this time she can blame the wine. “I mean, um, thank you for—you know.”

Ekko swerves, clearly having not expected that.

“Uh, you’re welcome?” He turns to look at her, cheeks flushed and something wild in his gaze, not the kind of violent wild like Finn, more like, amused wild? Fuck knows.

There’s a pregnant silence that follows. Then, Ekko breaks it.

“What was he talking about, by the way? When he said half of your catalogue is his. That can’t be true, right?”

Jinx sucks in a breath, oh boy. “It is true.”

She proceeds to tell him the footnotes of it, because there’s not enough time in the day to tell him everything.

The footnotes are this: Jinx is stupid. Stupid enough to allow someone she’s dating to produce her first two albums. Stupid enough to not read the contracts she signs thoroughly, because she was convinced her boyfriend would never fuck her over.

Then he fucked her over, not once but twice, and now he’s rich all thanks to her albums.

“I’ve talked with my lawyers, there’s practically nothing I can do,” she laments, flopping back against the seat.

Ekko’s silent, rhythmically tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.

“I have a friend who’s a copyright lawyer, she’s a master at finding loopholes,” he says, stealing glances towards her. “You know Seraphine, right? Bubblegum pink hair, pop singer. She was Seraphine’s lawyer when she sued her old label for ownership of her masters.”

Jinx whistles. Of course she knows Seraphine, her case had been quite a controversial one; nobody expected her to win against a vampiric company like Piltover Records, known for fucking over their artists one way or another. And then she won the whole thing, to the whole world’s surprise.

Her lawyer had become famous overnight, another kid from the lanes who made it out.

“You’re friends with Zeri? Really?”

“Yup. Been friends forever, we grew up together in the lanes. I could give you her number, if you’d like,” he tentatively says, to which Jinx nods enthusiastically. He then stops the car at a red light.

It’s at the red light that she realizes she has no idea where they’re going.

She looks out of the window, trying to pin-point where they are, but nothing rings a bell, so, they’re driving around aimlessly.

“Where are we going?” She asks, tone casual.

Ekko shifts in his seat. “Uh, I dunno. I just wanted to lose Finn, I think we’re near my place, actually.”

Jinx perks up, a bad idea popping in her mind as her stomach twists.

“You know, it takes a lot of courage to stand up to him like that,” she starts, shifting in her seat so that her body is angled towards Ekko, tucking her knees under her body. “He’s like, really important.”

“He’s an asshole, is what he is,” Ekko spats, turning the engine on again. “Why did you even start dating him, anyway?”

Jinx tries not to smile, weighing her words instead. “You probably don’t wanna know.”

“Oh, I do. I never could figure out how a girl like you ended up with a guy like him.”

A girl like her. What does that even mean? What kind of girl is Jinx? Is it a compliment or an insult? No, a compliment, obviously. Ekko wouldn’t be cruel.

She sighs dramatically, looking at her nails like they’re the most interesting thing on the planet. “If you must know… It all started because we hooked up once, actually. And, okay, yeah, he’s an asshole. But by god he knew what he had to do in bed. Pity, really, that it didn’t work out.”

Ekko almost crashes the car. Jinx holds back a devilish laugh.

He clears his throat, centering the car back to its respective lane while she just bats her eyelashes innocently. She sees the way his adam’s apple bobs up and down, as he grips the steering wheel until the veins in his hands are noticeable.

Jinx didn’t think it’d be this easy to get him worked up. She thought he’d feign nonchalance, and she’d have to bring out the salacious details to get a rise out of him.

Maybe it’s so easy because he likes you already, she thinks, twisting her own stomach in knots. God, I hope so.

Ekko parks the car someplace where it’s practically deserted, shooting Jinx a charged look, but she acts clueless as to what’s happening.

She knows exactly what could happen if she pushes the right button, says the right thing.

“Kind of a weird thing to tell your boyfriend, isn’t it?” He asks, furrowing his brow. Jinx’s breath hitches in her throat when she realizes the pads of his fingers are ghosting her knees.

“Oh, you’re my boyfriend now? For real, for real?” Jinx questions, voice getting breathier by the second as she leans on Ekko’s touch.

Ekko licks his lower lips, his hand now fully resting on Jinx’s knee. She fixates unabashedly on the way the muscles on his arms flex with the tiniest movement, and doesn’t move away when he inches his face closer.

“I could be, if you wanted me to,” he says, letting his hand wander to the sides of her thigh. His eyes are piercing right through her, pupils dilated as he sets his gaze on her lips.

“You’d have to submit an application like the rest,” she replies, trying to sound casual, as she shifts again to untuck her legs, ever the patient one.

“And what would that application be like?” Ekko asks, his face is so close now, his hot breath beats down on her skin, causing a shiver to go down her spine.

It would be so easy to kiss him now, smash her lips against his and fog up the mirrors with their combined breaths. But she wants to drag this moment a bit longer, to make sure Ekko wants the same thing she does, so she chews on her bottom lip, lazily dragging a hand up his legs, then up his torso, until it comes to rest on his collarbones. She sees with glee how Ekko sucks in a sharp breath, something in his eyes growing darker with want.

He wants the same thing, alright.

“You’d have to fuck me, and fuck me good,” she says, with the same tone she’d use for telling someone the weather is nice. She sees Ekko’s eyes go wide, and a self-satisfied smile sets on Jinx’s face. She tries to not let her hands tremble as she caresses Ekko’s neck. “Wanna apply now, hm?”

Ekko doesn’t reply, not verbally, at least—he dives in and captures her lips in a searing kiss, using one of his hands to pull her closer by grabbing her from the neck. Jinx gasps, whimpering against his lips as his grip tightens ever so slightly on her skin.

She wraps her arms around his neck, playing with his locks as he keeps on kissing her, biting her lower lip to gain access to her mouth. Jinx obliges, happily letting him take the lead.

He kisses her like he’s a man who’s been lost in a desert and she’s the first glass of water he’s had in months; like he’s been waiting for this, and the thought makes her head swirl with giddiness as she parts her thighs and allows him to sneak his hand further, but it’s not enough for her to have him kneading on her inner thigh, she wants more and now.

Honestly, they should be worried about paparazzi and whatnot, but it's 3 a.m. on a Wednesday and the L.A streets are deserted on this side of the city. Jinx has no qualms about pushing Ekko off of her so she can kick off her heels, slinging a leg over his seat so she’s straddling him.

Ekko looks at her through half lidded eyes, ravishing her body with his eyes. A hiss escapes his lips as she plops herself rather hard against his lap. He doesn’t let this deter him, though; seeing how little space is left between Jinx and the steering wheel, he reaches under the seat to push it back to allow for more space. Jinx’s smile grows tenfold, happy at getting her way.

“Turn off the lights,” she asks, breathless. He blindly searches the keys and turns off the engine, and soon all the lights are off. They’re only illuminated by the lampposts outside, and Jinx thinks it adds a touch of intimacy.

Soon enough their mouths find each other again, meanwhile, Ekko’s hands grab her ass, expertly bunching up her skirt until it’s crumpled at her waist. He reclines the seat, gaining a surprised yelp from Jinx as they fall forward.

“I’m deducting points for that,” she says through a fit of giggles. Ekko snorts, giving her ass a squeeze, and a whimper escapes her mouth.

“Wasn’t aware there were points.”

“Oh, there are.” She puts on a faux serious tone as she grinds down his growing hardness. Ekko throws his head back, a groan escaping his lips as he closes his eyes. “You can gain those points back, though. You know how.”

He laughs, looking at her through half-lidded eyes as he grips her hips, forcing her to move to a pace set by him.

Jinx tries to angle herself in a way that the friction hits her where she wants, desperate for some kind of release. She feels herself grow wetter by the second, heat radiating off her skin and warming up the inside of the car.

Ekko busies his mouth kissing her neck, now that this angle gives him ample reign over her milky white skin. He slightly bites the skin under her jaw, sucking gently. Jinx hisses at the contact, pressing her hands against his shoulders for support.

Suddenly, Ekko stills her. Jinx protests at the loss of friction, but he shushes her by coming up to kiss her. She feels more than sees him letting one of her hips go and using the now free hand to ghost over her panties.

Ekko stops kissing her. Opens his eyes to give her a bewildered look, and a different kind of heat crawls up Jinx’s neck.

“You made a mess already,” he says, voice filled with lust. He palms at his crotch, completely wet where Jinx had been grinding on him. Her own underwear is no better: it looks like a damp opened between her legs.

It’s entirely because she’s been wanting to fuck him since way before their first date, having unabashedly used him and his photos as jerk off material more than once. But that’s not something she’ll confess—not right now, at least.

“Um, sorry?”

“Don’t be,” he’s quick to say. A wicked smile sets on his lips, and Jinx gasps when he tugs her underwear to the side, resting his index and middlefinger against his own crotch so she can rub against them while she’s grinding on him. “It adds points, right? I’m trying to become a boyfriend here.”

Jinx sputters something unintelligible, the addition of Ekko’s fingers and the faster pace he’s setting fills the car with obscene sounds, though none more obscene than Jinx’s moans.

Oh, he knows what he’s doing.

Ekko alternates between kissing her and biting marks on her neck, and Jinx would say something about being careful with hickeys, but she’s past the point of caring if she’s having sex with her fake-boyfriend in a deserted street, let’s be honest here.

His fingers tease at her entrance when she grinds up and down, she clenches around nothing and Jinx thinks she says something like fuck me now please, but she’s too wrapped up in her own pleasure to be sure if the words came out alright instead of a garbled mess.

Ekko probably understood her incoherencies, anyway, because he stills her once more. A protest is already forming at the tip of her tongue when his fingers knead her folds.

“How am I supposed to finger fuck you properly with no space?” He asks, “Lift your hips a little for me, doll.” Jinx’s brain short circuits at the nickname and she obeys eagerly, giving Ekko all the space. He chuckles and uses his other hand to grip her neck, making her come down to kiss her hungrily. “That’s my good girl.”

She clenches around air again.

Soon enough, Ekko inserts two fingers at once, eased in by her slick-covered cunt, and Jinx hisses at the stretch. His hands have always been bigger than hers; she’s wondered before how it would feel, and, honestly, this is better than her imagination.

Ekko starts slow, giving her time to adjust, but Jinx is an impatient little shit, so she tries to fuck herself on his fingers faster, harder. Ekko stops her, going back to grip her hip, and stills inside her.

“Behave for me, can you do that? Or are you too desperate to even try?” He questions, cocking an amused brow.

Jinx’s cheeks grow hot, but she doesn’t let her embarrassment show. “I should be the one bossing your around, you’re the one submitting an app—oh, fuck.” Her complaint is cut short when Ekko keeps fingering her, looking at Jinx with a shit-eating grin.

“What happened? Cat got your tongue?” Ekko asks, but Jinx isn’t even paying attention. She’s only aware of Ekko’s fingers curling inside her, hitting a spot that has her seeing stars behind her eyelids. “Don’t act like you want to be in control, doll, when you obey me so easily and eagerly.” Her blush probably spreads up to her chest, embarrassed at being figured out so quickly. Ekko just smiles, coming up to kiss her jaw.

“Moan for me, pretty girl, it’s like music for my ears.” Ekko punctuates this by removing the hand still gripping her to rub better at her sensitive nub.

And by god he doesn’t have to tell her twice; her moans become desperate, now that she’s free from his grip she steels herself by grabbing the sides of the seat, gyrating her hips in the same relentless pace Ekko sets.

He crooks his finger in a particular way that has her whimpering, tears dabbing at the corners of her eyes, overwhelmed by the pleasure. He’s still sucking marks on her neck, whispering things she doesn’t quite catch against her skin.

Jinx is positively seeing stars. She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to even out her breathing to prevent her orgasm from washing over her so soon, but she cries pathetically as Ekko swipes his thumb side to side, resolve crumbling as she fucks herself faster on his hand.

She’s vaguely aware of the heat pooling in her stomach, her walls clenching around his fingers, and the slight tremble of her legs. Jinx speeds up, chasing her own orgasm, but her plans are ruined when Ekko withdraws his fingers.

Her eyes snap open, gasping indignantly. “Ekko!” She half-protests, half-whines. He looks up at her, faux innocence in his features.

“What? Did you think I was gonna let you cum like that? Nah.” He pauses to regard his soaked hand, covered in Jinx’s juices up to his wrist. Jinx watches incredulous as he licks it clean; the sight is so filthy, and yet ironically heavenly. Like, she’s sure that she died and was sent straight to heaven, and Ekko fucking her mindless is her reward for all the shit she’s gone through.

His heavy gaze sets on her as he licks his digits, moaning around them. “You taste so good,” he breathes out.

“Ekko,” she starts, whining pathetically, “please. Just—fuck me, I need you to—”

He comes up to kiss her again, and she tastes her own saltiness on his lips. It sends shockwaves to her cunt.

“I want to feel you clench around my dick,” he says against her lips. Jinx is not sure if she moans because Ekko smacked her ass or at the sole thought of that. “I want you to ride me like you’ve never ridden anyone else, doll. Scream out my name while I pound you from below, that sound good?”

She wants to say something, anything, but the part of her brain in charge of forming sentences has completely shut down at this point, and so she settles for nodding enthusiastically, moaning against Ekko’s lips.

She hears more than sees Ekko unbuckling his belt, the clinging of the metal snapping her out of her haze.

Jinx sucks in a breath as she lifts herself from his lap, helping Ekko tug down his jeans and then finally slide his boxer down, freeing his neglected cock. At the back of her throat, Jinx feels a whimper trying to escape her mouth at the sight of Ekko’s cock, but she swallows it down.

She runs her own fingers through her wet cunt, eagerly collecting slick, and uses it to wrap her hand around his dick. Ekko hisses, throwing his head back against the cushion of the seat as Jinx strokes him out slowly, deliberately.

“You have no idea how much I imagined this,” he says, breathing heavily. One of his hands comes to cup the side of Jinx’s face, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Hollywood’s prettiest girl on my lap, already a desperate mess from just being fingered? I can’t wait to get to my place and fuck you properly, like you deserve; have you gripping on my sheets—mh, fuck.” Filthy moans escape Ekko’s lips, interrupting his rant. He smiles crookedly as Jinx fastens her pace. “God, you’re so good at this. Just like that, baby.”

Jinx is in a trance, salivating at the sight of Ekko. His words travel straight to her cunt, feeling her clit ache to be touched; she touches herself with her free hand, trying to match the pace of the hand that’s masturbating Ekko.

Her name falls from his lips more than once, spurring Jinx on. Faintly, she really hopes nobody catches them, otherwise Vi will kill her, then resurrect her only to kill her once more but more violently.

Suddenly, she gets an idea.

With a devilish giggle, she shifts on Ekko’s lap, pressing his cock against his stomach, and he shoots her a curious look. Jinx carefully positions her cunt over his cock, sliding along the length up and down, and they both moan at the same time.

Ekko’s eyes roll back, squeezing her ass. “Careful,” he groans. “I’m gonna—fuck, Jinx.”

“Don’t come yet,” she finally manages to say. “Want you to come inside me.”

His eyes snap wide open, mouth hanging agape at her words. “Are you—?”

“Mh, Ekko, I’m so serious,” she moans. “Want you to fill me up with your cum, please.” Jinx doesn’t mention that she’s on birth control, or care to add she’s as clean as can be because she doesn’t really do hook-ups.

If Ekko has questions, he doesn’t ask them. He only licks his bottom lip, and grabs her by the hips to lift her up.

If it’s possible, it definitely turns her on even more that he’s strong enough to practically maneuver her without any trouble.

Jinx does her part dutifully, pushing her panties aside to line herself over the tip of Ekko’s cock. She looks at him straight in the eyes as she’s sinking down on him, her face contorting in a grimace that’s a mixture of pain and pleasure. She bottoms out with a piercing cry, and Ekko groans under her.

She’s so full she could cry tears of joy. Maybe she does, she’s not aware of anything that’s not Ekko’s hands on her ass, not really setting a pace but more so lingering, and his cock hitting all the right angles inside her.

Jinx leans forward, moaning in Ekko’s ear as she keeps on riding him with an erratic pace.

“Fuck, Jinx,” Ekko says her name through a whimper. Suddenly, his hands come to still her once more, and she hears her feet shuffle, planting themselves against the ground. Anticipation bubbles in her stomach as he positions himself more comfortably, and starts fucking into her from below. She screams right in Ekko’s ears, a sweet melody for him that only spurs him on.

Jinx’s body goes limp, Ekko is still holding onto her hips, moving them up and down to match his thrusts. Somewhere in her brain, she thinks Finn doesn’t hold a candle to Ekko, who has practically fucked every thought out of her head before she even sat on his cock, and now all she can think of is that she wants him morning, noon, and night.

Could’ve been doing this all day for four months by now, she thinks.

The car’s windows are all fogged up, and she’s at least 99% that if anyone were to walk by, they’d probably deduce something is going on by the way the car is shaking.

“Jinx, I’m gonna—”

“Cum inside me,” Jinx whines, “please, please, please, please. I’m so close, too.”

Ekko says nothing, just groans and picks up the pace, while Jinx’s hand flies to her clit.

If she previously felt heat in the pit of her stomach, now she feels a whole forest fire roaring inside her. Her pent up frustration at having been denied an orgasm earlier is like accelerant, helping the fire spread all through her.

Ekko feels her walls closing in on him, obviously, so he grabs her chin with his hand to force her to look at him.

“Cum for me, doll.”

That’s all it takes for her to unravel.

Jinx comes with a cry, nestling her face in the crook of Ekko’s neck, muffling her cries with the seat. Her legs tremble, threatening to give up, but Ekko’s firm grip keeps her up. He’s still thrusting into her, chasing his orgasm while he fucks her through her own, but she’s grown sensitive, so she can’t help to cry pathetically.

“Ekko, please. I can’t—”

“Do you want my cum or not, baby?” He asks through heaving breaths.

“Yes,” she answers without thinking.

“Then just—just a little more—”

His breath becomes erratic, pounding her faster, making her cry from overstimulation, until he finally snaps, coming with a low moan.

Jinx stills, catching her breath as she feels Ekko’s thick cum filling up her insides. This car is going to be so messy, a hell to clean up, but right now she thinks it’s all worth it.

They stay tangled for a moment longer, Jinx still not moving off from Ekko, catching their breaths in silence.

Then, he speaks. “Did you like my application?”

Jinx’s laughs echo in the car, “You’re such an idiot,” she giggles, pressing her forehead against Ekko’s.

He just laughs, wrapping her waist with his arms.

“Yeah, but you like me like that,” he says, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Jinx gives a long suffering sigh.

“I guess I do.”

“You ‘guess’?” Ekko shoots her an unimpressed look. “Weren’t you just begging me to cum inside you a second ago?”

“Shut up!” She cries out, indignation seeping in her tone, but she’s not mad, not really.

Ekko laughs, a honey-like sound that melts away any annoyance she could’ve been harboring.

“So,” he says, tone casual. “Are we going back to my place for round two? I still wanna put you on your back.”

Jinx thinks, for a fleeting second, she could have round two right there and then, considering he’s still, y’know, inside her. But the promise of a bed sounds too good to pass up.

“You’re on, pretty boy.”

*

When Ekko wakes up the next day in his apartment, with Jinx sprawled on top of him, he doesn’t have the heart to move her away, so he just stretches to reach for his phone on the nightstand besides him, the first notifications are from the True Damage group chat and a quick text from Viktor telling him they need to talk.

He panics, thinking they did get caught last night and someone took a photo, or worse, a video as proof.

When he opens the group chat, however, a cat-like smile blooms on his face.

True Damage’s Ekko and Shimmer Records’ star producer, Finn, get into a brawl over singer Jinx at Heartsteel party—WATCH VIDEO, reads the headline of the screenshot Yasuo sent.

He smiles, chuckling to himself, and tosses the phone aside to keep happily sleeping with Jinx—correction, his girlfriend.

As it turns out, the application on the car had been enough to turn this fake arrangement into a real one.

In the back of his mind, he makes a note to thank Maybe-Jimmy for his brilliant idea.

[m1dv1ghtwrites]

Fantastic 4 + IcePowers!Reader Headcannons (Mentions of Johnny x Reader)

These head-cannons were written with 2005 Fantastic 4 in mind, but you can imagine any version of the Fantastic 4 for this. Reader is Gender-Neutral, with ice powers. Johnny X Reader heavily implied.

Summary: Headcannons about Reader who has Ice Powers, Reader was Sue’s assistant and went up into space with the rest of them.

Even with Reader having control of their powers it’s very hard for them to have physical contact with anyone except Johnny, his fire powers protecting him from her ice powers.

Reader can also touch Ben, his rocks also protecting him from their powers.

Reed creates Reader a superhero suit that protects other people from their powers and the first thing Reader does is hug Sue, since they have never been able to hug since before space.

Johnny’s ego becomes absolutely humongous (even larger than it was before) when reader asks for physical touch with him since they can’t touch anyone else.

It is extremely common for people in the baxter building to walk in and see Reader and Johnny cuddling on the couch.

Ben and reader are extremely close, he is definitely a parental/fatherly figure for reader.

Ben and Reader figured out a way to use Readers powers to make ice cream, Ben and Reader tried to hide it so they didn’t have to share, but of course the rest of the team found out, and then they had to share.

In the summer everyone huddles in Readers room because there room is like a ice box.

The media assumes Johnny and Reader are dating, because… you know, fire and ice, Johnny makes no efforts to deny it, meanwhile Reader does their hardest to deny it.

When Johnny and Reader get into arguments they have to be separated on missions because out of spite they will cancel out each-other’s powers, if Reader shots a ice-sickle Johnny throws a fireball at it and melting it, that wasn’t a problem until it happened and boiling water accidentally got on a civilian, that was when Sue and Reed decided that if they’re fighting they don’t get to be in the field together.

One time when it snowed they all tried to have a snowball fight… it didn’t go well. (Reader accidentally froze the snow balls they threw rock solid, and Johnny couldn’t pick it up with it melting)

Despite it being extremely uncomfortable for them Reader will often fall asleep rooted up under Ben. No one ever dares wake either of them up. (Well Johnny definitely tries to mess with them but no one is shocked about that)

Reader wakes up with red marks on their face from sleeping with it squished against Ben.

Whenever Alicia doesn’t feel like cooking but craves food, she will tell reader how to do it so Reader feels useful (and gets quality motherly figure time)

A rumor was definitely spread at some point about Reader being Ben’s child.

Reader isn’t technically Sue’s assistant anymore but they are still very close.

Johnny was explicitly told that Reader was off limits when Reader was just Sue’s assistant and they weren’t all superheroes, not that he ever listened.

[amethystarachnid]

If you promise us a happy ending, I'm okay with a angst part 3 hahahahah a breakup would be nice. The boy needs to move into another place, Tony being the most supportive and cute dad ❤️

CHRISTMAS MORNING - part III

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 5.9k

ᯓ★ Summary: first love heart break is rough, but nothing a trip to Paris can't resolve

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing

ᯓ★ Part I | Part II

ᯓ★ maybe a prequel to let you know how Tony and y/n ended up with four kids? 🤭, just wanna focus some more on the two of them before the kids

ᯓ★ Tony Taglist: @groovy-lady

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

Summer turns to fall, and Cora and Ryan’s relationship becomes a steady part of family life. By now, Ryan is a regular visitor to the house. Though Tony still maintains his “watchful dad” persona, he’s noticeably relaxed around Ryan, occasionally sharing a sarcastic comment or offering him a soda without much fuss. You’ve even caught Tony grumbling about the boy’s taste in music—not exactly glowing approval, but close enough.

Cora, meanwhile, is glowing in a way you’ve never seen before. She’s still her fiercely independent self, but there’s a new softness about her—she’s less quick to snap, more patient with her siblings, and her happiness is infectious. Except, of course, when it comes to Alex and Howard.

The twins, ever the chaos-makers, have taken their jealousy of Ryan to theatrical levels.

“Cora doesn’t love us anymore,” Alex announces one afternoon as you’re folding laundry in the living room.

“She just loves him,” Howard chimes in dramatically, lying face-down on the carpet like his world has ended.

You glance up from the socks you’re sorting and try not to laugh. “That’s not true, and you know it. Cora loves you very much.”

“Then why doesn’t she play with us anymore?” Alex demands, sitting up with a pout.

“She used to build forts with us,” Howard adds, now rolling onto his back to stare at the ceiling like a tragic hero in a Shakespearean play. “Now she just texts him all the time.”

“Boys,” you say gently, sitting down beside them. “Cora’s growing up. That doesn’t mean she loves you any less. She’s just figuring out who she is and spending time with someone who makes her happy. But you’ll always be her little brothers, okay?”

“Yeah, but we don’t like him,” Alex mutters.

“You barely know him,” you point out.

“We don’t have to know him to not like him,” Howard says stubbornly.

Before you can respond, Estelle toddles into the room, dragging a blanket behind her. She climbs onto your lap without a word and leans against you, her thumb in her mouth.

“See?” you say, wrapping an arm around Estelle. “Even when Cora’s busy, you’ve got each other—and us.”

The twins don’t look entirely convinced, but they nod reluctantly.

Later that evening, while the kids are occupied with a movie, you and Tony find a rare quiet moment together in the kitchen. He’s leaning against the counter, sipping a glass of wine, while you finish tidying up.

“They’re really laying it on thick, huh?” Tony says, smirking as he recalls the twins’ earlier dramatics.

“They’re jealous,” you reply, rinsing the last dish. “They miss her, and they don’t know how to say it without turning it into a production.”

Tony sets his glass down and crosses the room, wrapping his arms around you from behind. “Well, they’d better get used to it. She’s not a kid anymore. And I’m pretty sure Ryan’s sticking around.”

You lean back against him, savoring the warmth of the moment. “You really think so?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I still want to give the kid the third degree every time I see him,” Tony says with a chuckle. “But yeah, he’s not bad. And she’s happy. That’s what matters, right?”

You turn to face him, resting your hands on his chest. “You’re a good dad, you know that?”

“Don’t let that get around,” he says, grinning as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

Just then, Estelle toddles into the kitchen, clutching a stuffed animal in one hand and rubbing her eyes with the other.

“Mommy,” she says sleepily.

You scoop her up, kissing her chubby cheek. “What are you doing out of bed, little one?”

“Can’t sleep,” she murmurs, resting her head on your shoulder.

Tony reaches out to brush a strand of hair from her face, his expression softening in that way it always does when he looks at her. “Come on, princess,” he says. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

He takes her from your arms and carries her upstairs, humming a soft tune as she curls against his chest. You follow a few steps behind, watching the way he cradles her with the kind of tenderness that still catches you off guard sometimes.

Back downstairs, the twins are sprawled on the couch, fast asleep by the time the credits roll. Cora is in her room, probably texting Ryan, and the house feels peaceful in a way that’s rare but cherished.

Over the next few weeks, the twins continue to grumble about Ryan, but their protests lose some of their bite. They still don’t love the idea of sharing Cora’s attention, but they’re slowly coming to terms with it.

One Saturday, Cora surprises everyone by joining the twins for a game of basketball in the driveway. Ryan is nowhere in sight, and the boys are thrilled to have their big sister back, even if only for an hour. You watch from the porch with Tony, sipping coffee as the three of them laugh and bicker over the rules.

“See?” you say, nudging Tony with your elbow. “They’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, though his gaze lingers on Cora a little longer. “But I reserve the right to be overprotective forever.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” you reply, leaning against him.

It’s late afternoon when the front door opens, and you hear the unmistakable sound of Cora’s school bag dropping onto the floor. Usually, this is accompanied by her calling out, “Hey, I’m home!” or the sound of her heading to the kitchen for a snack. But today, it’s eerily quiet.

You glance up from the stack of papers you’re sorting at the dining table, your instincts immediately on alert. Tony, who’s tinkering with something small and metallic at the kitchen counter, notices too.

“Cora?” you call, standing.

Then you hear it—soft, muffled sobs coming from the living room. You’re moving before you even think, Tony right behind you.

You find her sitting on the couch, her knees pulled up to her chest, her face buried in her arms. Her whole body shakes with the force of her tears, and it feels like someone’s reached into your chest and squeezed your heart.

“Sweetheart?” you say softly, sitting down beside her.

Tony freezes for a moment, his eyes wide with panic as he takes in the sight of his usually strong, confident daughter falling apart. “What happened? Who hurt you? Tell me right now, and I’ll deal with it,” he says, his voice already edging toward anger.

Cora looks up, her face streaked with tears, and shakes her head. “No one hurt me, Dad.”

“Then what’s wrong?” you ask gently, brushing her hair out of her face.

She tries to speak, but her voice cracks, and a fresh wave of tears spills over.

Tony, clearly struggling to stay calm, sits on the edge of the coffee table in front of her. “Cora, you’re scaring me here. Just tell us what’s going on.”

After a moment, she takes a shaky breath and manages to get the words out. “Ryan… Ryan’s moving to London.”

Your heart sinks. “Oh, sweetheart…”

Tony blinks, his initial panic giving way to confusion. “London? Like… England London?”

Cora nods, wiping at her eyes. “His dad got a job there. They’re leaving in a month.”

“And what does that mean for you two?” Tony asks, though he already looks like he knows the answer.

Cora swallows hard, her voice trembling. “He… He said we should break up. He doesn’t want to do long distance.”

Tony’s jaw tightens, his fists clenching on his knees. “That little—”

“Tony,” you say sharply, cutting him off. “This isn’t about you wanting to punch a teenager.”

“Why not?” he mutters under his breath, but he backs down.

Cora lets out a shaky sigh. “It’s not his fault. He doesn’t think it’ll work, and… maybe he’s right. But it hurts so much.”

“Oh, honey,” you say, pulling her into a hug. She collapses against you, her sobs muffled against your shoulder.

Tony’s expression softens as he watches her, and he reaches out to squeeze her hand. “He’s an idiot if he thinks he’s not going to miss you every day. You’re amazing, Cora. Don’t let anyone make you feel otherwise.”

Before she can respond, there’s a small sound from the hallway. You turn to see Estelle standing there, clutching her favorite plushie—a well-loved bunny with one floppy ear. Her wide eyes take in the scene, and she hesitates for a moment before toddling over to the couch.

“Cowa sad?” she asks, her voice tiny and uncertain.

Cora sniffles and sits up a little, trying to wipe her tears away. “I’m okay, Estelle.”

But Estelle isn’t convinced. She climbs onto the couch beside her sister, her little face scrunched up with concern. Without a word, she holds out her bunny.

“Bun-bun make you happy,” she says solemnly.

Cora’s breath catches, and for a moment, she looks like she might start crying again—but this time, for an entirely different reason. She takes the plushie with trembling hands and pulls Estelle into a hug.

“Thank you, Stellie,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion.

Tony watches the scene unfold, his usual snark and bravado nowhere to be found. He looks at you, and you can see the helplessness in his eyes. He hates seeing any of his kids in pain, and knowing there’s nothing he can do to fix it is clearly killing him.

Later, after you’ve managed to convince Cora to eat a little something and Estelle is back to playing with her toys, you find Tony in the garage. He’s pacing, running his hands through his hair, and muttering to himself.

“Tony,” you say gently, stepping into the room.

He stops and looks at you, his expression a mix of frustration and sadness. “I hate this. I hate that she’s hurting, and I can’t do anything about it.”

“I know,” you say, wrapping your arms around him. “But she doesn’t need you to fix it. She just needs you to be there for her.”

“I don’t know how to do that,” he admits, his voice quiet. “I’m not good at this kind of stuff.”

“You’re better at it than you think,” you tell him, resting your head against his chest. “Just keep showing up. That’s all she needs.”

Over the next few days, Cora starts to open up a little more. She talks about the memories she and Ryan made together, the inside jokes they shared, and the plans they’d dreamed of before the news of his move.

The twins, thankfully, are oblivious to the situation for the time being. They’re too busy with basketball practice and their latest obsession with building the tallest block towers they can manage. You’re grateful for the reprieve—it gives Cora space to grieve without their constant questions and commentary.

One evening, as you’re tucking Estelle into bed, she looks up at you with her big, curious eyes.

“Cowa okay now?” she asks.

You smile softly and brush her hair back. “She’s getting there, sweetie. Thanks to you and Bun-bun.”

Estelle nods, satisfied, and snuggles deeper into her blankets.

By the end of the week, Cora seems a little stronger. She still has moments where the pain hits her all over again, but she’s beginning to smile and laugh more often. Tony even manages to get her to join him for a round of Mario Kart, and the sound of her laughter fills the house like a balm for everyone’s hearts.

“She’s going to be okay,” you tell Tony one night as you’re lying in bed.

“Yeah,” he says, though his voice is still tinged with sadness. “But it’s going to take time.”

And so, as a family, you give her all the time she needs, surrounding her with love, support, and the occasional inappropriate dad joke to remind her that she’s never alone.

The chaos starts one evening during dinner. The twins are unusually quiet, their usual chatter about basketball, school antics, and random “fun facts” replaced by curious glances toward Cora. She’s sitting at the table, picking at her plate of pasta with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. The sparkle she usually carries has dimmed a bit since the breakup, though she’s been doing her best to mask it.

“Hey, Cora,” Alex pipes up, breaking the silence. “Where’s Ryan? He hasn’t come over in forever.”

Howard nods, his mouth full. “Yeah, didn’t he say he’d bring us that big bag of caramel popcorn? He never did.”

You can see the subtle flinch in Cora’s shoulders before she glances at you, silently pleading for help. Tony immediately stiffens, his protective instincts on high alert as he watches the exchange unfold.

“Guys,” you say gently, “Ryan… isn’t coming over anymore.”

The twins pause mid-bite, their synchronized reactions almost comical.

“What? Why?” Alex demands, his tone filled with disbelief.

Howard narrows his eyes. “Did he do something to you, Cora? Because if he did, we’ll—”

“No!” Cora cuts in quickly, setting down her fork. “It’s nothing like that. He’s moving to London, and we broke up.”

The twins blink, processing this new information. Then, as if on cue, they both push their plates away and hop off their chairs.

“Unacceptable,” Alex declares, his hands balling into fists.

“Totally unacceptable,” Howard echoes, his expression darkening. “He can’t just dump you and move to London like that!”

“It’s not his fault,” Cora says, though her voice is tinged with frustration. “He doesn’t want to do long distance, and we both agreed it was for the best.”

“That’s a bad excuse,” Alex snaps, pacing back and forth.

“He’s a coward,” Howard adds. “And cowards don’t deserve you, Cora!”

Before you or Tony can intervene, Estelle, who has been sitting quietly in her high chair, suddenly pipes up in her tiny, serious voice.

“Coward don’t deserve Cowa,” she says, mimicking Howard’s words almost perfectly.

Tony chokes on his water, and you nearly drop your fork.

“Estelle,” you say, trying not to laugh. “Sweetie, you don’t even know what that means.”

“Coward,” Estelle repeats, crossing her arms like her brothers, as if she fully understands the weight of her declaration.

“See? Even Stellie gets it!” Alex says, gesturing dramatically to his baby sister.

“We should punch him,” Howard announces, his face set in a grim expression.

“Punch him,” Estelle echoes, holding up her tiny fist.

At that, Tony finally snaps out of his stunned silence and stands up, waving his hands in front of him. “Okay, okay, let’s pump the brakes here. Nobody’s punching anyone.”

“Why not?” Alex asks, glaring up at his dad.

“And anyway,” Howard adds, “Ryan hurt Cora. Isn’t that worse?”

“Guys,” you say firmly, stepping in before this spirals any further, “violence isn’t the answer. And Ryan didn’t hurt Cora—he made a difficult decision, and sometimes relationships just don’t work out. It’s no one’s fault.”

“But Cora’s sad,” Alex says, his lower lip jutting out in a rare display of vulnerability.

“We don’t like seeing her like this,” Howard agrees.

Cora, who’s been quietly watching the whole exchange, finally speaks up. “I appreciate you guys wanting to defend me, but I don’t need anyone to fight my battles. I’m okay, really.”

“You don’t seem okay,” Alex mumbles.

“She’s just figuring it out,” you say softly, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “And the best thing you can do is support her and be there when she needs you.”

The twins exchange a look, clearly reluctant to let the matter drop.

“We still don’t like him,” Howard mutters as he sits back down.

“Yeah,” Alex adds. “And we’re never eating caramel popcorn again.”

At that, Estelle solemnly pushes her sippy cup away and declares, “No popcorn.”

Tony snorts, shaking his head as he sits back down. “You’re really digging in on this, huh?”

“Someone has to,” Alex says with a dramatic sigh.

The rest of dinner is a little quieter, though the twins occasionally shoot pointed glances at Cora, as if they’re still plotting how to avenge her heartbreak. Estelle, meanwhile, alternates between eating her mashed potatoes and mimicking the twins’ exaggerated arm-crossing stance, clearly enjoying the attention.

Later, as you’re tucking Estelle into bed, she looks up at you with her wide, innocent eyes and asks, “Cowa happy now?”

You brush a strand of hair from her face and kiss her forehead. “She’s getting there, sweetie. Thanks to you and your brothers.”

Estelle smiles, snuggling into her blankets. “Okay. No popcorn.”

You stifle a laugh and tuck her in, leaving her room with a heart full of love for your fiercely protective little family.

Downstairs, you find Tony sitting on the couch, staring at the wall with a contemplative expression.

“You okay?” you ask, sitting beside him.

He lets out a long sigh. “I don’t know how you do it. Keeping them all from forming a vigilante squad and storming London.”

You laugh, leaning your head on his shoulder. “It’s a team effort.”

Tony wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer. “She’s going to be okay, right?”

“She will,” you say confidently. “She’s got us. And if that’s not enough, she’s got two little brothers and a baby sister ready to take on the world for her.”

Tony chuckles, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Yeah. That’s enough.”

It starts with little things, subtle and soft gestures to help lift Cora’s spirits. You and Tony both know she’s heartbroken—first loves are never easy to lose, and Ryan’s move to London had hit her harder than she wanted to admit. But you also know the kind of family she has. Stark resilience, wrapped in unconditional love, with just a sprinkle of chaos.

The effort begins the morning after the twins’ dramatic anti-Ryan declarations. Cora walks into the kitchen to find the twins at the breakfast table, uncharacteristically quiet. Estelle is perched in her high chair, clumsily holding a spoon as she tries to feed herself yogurt.

“Good morning,” Cora mumbles, still a little groggy.

“Morning!” Alex chirps, way too chipper for this early.

“Hi,” Howard says, looking suspiciously at his brother.

Cora narrows her eyes. “What are you two up to?”

“Nothing!” Alex says, but his grin gives him away.

Howard looks down at his plate, trying to look innocent but failing miserably. That’s when you step in from behind them, holding a plate of Cora’s favorite pancakes—chocolate chip, with extra whipped cream.

“We just thought you deserved a special breakfast,” you say, setting the plate in front of her.

Cora raises an eyebrow. “Okay, what’s the catch?”

“No catch!” Tony’s voice booms as he strides into the kitchen, dressed in a casual hoodie and jeans. “Just a family-wide campaign to cheer you up. Welcome to Operation Cora Smiles Again.”

Cora groans, though there’s a tiny flicker of amusement in her eyes. “You’re all ridiculous.”

“And you love us for it,” Tony says, dropping a kiss on the top of her head before grabbing his coffee.

Over the next few days, the “operation” goes into full swing. The twins take it upon themselves to invite Cora to all their activities, from basketball practice to board games, though their “invites” are mostly just them dragging her out of her room. Estelle toddles after her sister constantly, climbing into her lap during movie nights and insisting Cora help her with her coloring books.

Tony, of course, takes things to a whole new level.

One afternoon, he barges into the living room where you and Cora are sitting, her head on your shoulder as the two of you watch some feel-good rom-com. He’s holding his phone, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Ladies,” he announces, “pack your bags. We’re going to Paris.”

Cora sits up straight, her mouth falling open. “What?”

“You’ve always said you wanted to see the Louvre, right?” Tony says, grinning. “Well, I figured, what better way to distract you than with some world-class art and culture? Plus, croissants.”

“Are you serious?” Cora asks, still stunned.

“Dead serious,” Tony replies. “Private jet leaves in two days. Hope you’ve been brushing up on your French.”

“Dad, you can’t just—”

“Already booked it,” he interrupts, waving his phone. “Non-refundable. So you’re coming.”

Cora looks at you, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Mom?”

You shrug, smiling. “He’s not kidding. You might as well start picking out your outfits.”

She blinks a few times, then a slow smile spreads across her face. “Okay, fine. Paris sounds… amazing.”

Tony pumps his fist in victory, and you shake your head fondly.

When the day of the trip arrives, the excitement in the house is palpable. The twins are bouncing off the walls, thrilled at the idea of flying on the family’s private jet again. Estelle is too young to fully understand what’s happening but seems to pick up on the energy, clapping her hands and shouting, “Pawis!” every few minutes.

Cora, meanwhile, is quieter but visibly excited. She spends most of the flight flipping through a guidebook Tony had casually tossed her way, her mood lighter than it’s been in weeks.

Once you land in Paris, it’s like a whole new world opens up for her. The city is everything she’d imagined—bustling streets, beautiful architecture, and, of course, the Eiffel Tower. You and Tony make sure the kids experience all the highlights: boat rides along the Seine, macarons at a fancy patisserie, and a picnic at the Champs de Mars.

But the real highlight is the Louvre.

Walking through the museum, Cora is completely captivated. She takes her time studying each exhibit, her eyes wide with wonder as she absorbs the art and history. Tony stays close, his usual sarcasm dialed back as he watches her with pride.

At one point, she stops in front of the Mona Lisa, her expression thoughtful.

“It’s smaller than I thought it’d be,” she says.

Tony smirks. “Yeah, but it’s got personality. Kind of like someone else I know.”

Cora rolls her eyes but laughs, and it’s one of the first genuine laughs you’ve heard from her in a while.

By the time you return to the hotel that evening, everyone is exhausted but happy. The twins collapse onto their beds, and Estelle is already dozing off in your arms. Cora sits on the balcony, looking out at the city lights.

Tony joins her, leaning on the railing. “Feeling better?”

She nods, a small smile playing on her lips. “Yeah. Thanks, Dad. For all of this.”

He shrugs, though you can see the emotion in his eyes. “Anything for you, kid.”

When you join them, Tony wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close. Together, the three of you watch the Eiffel Tower sparkle in the distance, a quiet moment of peace in the midst of everything.

The Paris trip continues to unravel in a blend of heartwarming family moments and the kind of chaos only a Stark family vacation could produce. It starts innocently enough as you all wander through the streets of Montmartre, the cobblestone pathways alive with music, street performers, and the scent of fresh pastries. Cora has perked up considerably since the museum visit, her mood lighter, her laughter more frequent.

But then there’s him.

It happens as the family pauses near a small café. You’re distracted, helping Estelle adjust the straps of her sunhat while Tony orders espressos, croissants, and a ridiculously overpriced cup of hot chocolate for the twins. Cora’s off to the side, flipping through postcards at a nearby vendor stand, when you notice a boy about her age approaching her.

He’s tall, with tousled dark hair, sharp cheekbones, and a confidence that screams “Parisian charm.” He says something in French, his voice lilting in a way that immediately draws Cora’s attention. She blushes, brushing her hair behind her ear as she responds—haltingly but gamely—in the French she’s been practicing since she knew about the trip.

Tony notices it too.

“What’s happening here?” he says, his tone shifting to dad mode as he steps closer, coffee cup in hand.

“Oh, relax,” you say, biting back a smile. “He’s just flirting with her.”

Tony narrows his eyes. “Flirting? In broad daylight? In front of me?”

“He probably doesn’t know you’re her dad,” you tease, leaning closer. “She does have my genes, after all.”

Tony smirks but doesn’t lose his focus on the boy. “Well, he’s about to find out.”

Before he can make a move, the twins return, each holding a baguette that’s nearly as big as they are. Alex squints at the scene unfolding by the postcards.

“Hey, who’s that guy talking to Cora?” he asks, his mouth full of bread.

“Probably her new boyfriend,” Howard says, grinning mischievously.

“Not helping,” Tony mutters.

“Let’s just give her some space,” you suggest, tugging gently on his arm. “She’s allowed to talk to boys, you know.”

Tony sighs but relents, though he keeps a close eye on the interaction. Eventually, the boy waves goodbye and walks away, leaving Cora clutching her postcards with a dazed expression. When she rejoins the group, Tony can’t help himself.

“So, who’s your new friend?” he asks, trying (and failing) to sound casual.

Cora glares at him. “Nobody. Just some guy.”

“Did he give you his number?” Alex asks, grinning.

“Did he try to kiss you?” Howard adds.

“Guys, stop,” Cora groans, her cheeks turning bright red.

Tony crosses his arms. “Was his name Pierre? Because he looked like a Pierre.”

You smack his arm lightly, laughing. “Tony, let it go.”

Despite the teasing, the moment passes, and the family moves on to the next adventure. The twins, however, are not so easily distracted.

That evening, as you’re lounging in the hotel room, flipping through a travel guide, the boys march up to you and Tony with matching determined expressions.

“We want to go to Disneyland,” Alex announces.

“Disneyland Paris,” Howard clarifies.

“Please, Mom?” Alex adds, turning his best puppy-dog eyes on you.

Tony snorts. “You’ve got to be kidding me. We came all the way to Paris, and you want to see Mickey Mouse?”

“Oui, Mickey,” Estelle chimes in from her spot on the bed, clapping her hands.

You glance at Tony, who’s already shaking his head. But then Cora chimes in, a small smile playing on her lips.

“It could be fun,” she says. “And the twins have been really sweet to me lately. I think they deserve it.”

Tony groans. “You’re killing me, kid.”

The next day, you find yourself standing in the middle of Disneyland Paris, surrounded by excited children, cotton candy stands, and the sound of cheerful Disney music. The twins are practically vibrating with excitement, dragging Cora from one attraction to the next.

Estelle is equally thrilled, her eyes wide as she points at every princess she sees, babbling excitedly about their dresses.

“Look at her,” Tony says, watching Estelle hug a life-sized Winnie the Pooh with absolute joy. “She’s two, and she already knows how to work the system.”

“She’s your daughter,” you tease, linking your arm with his.

The day is a whirlwind of rides, character meet-and-greets, and an obscene amount of overpriced snacks. Tony tries to talk his way into a VIP area at one point, but you manage to reel him back before he starts name-dropping himself.

Later, as the sun begins to set, the kids are busy chasing bubbles near Sleeping Beauty’s Castle, and you and Tony find a rare moment of peace on a nearby bench.

“Remember the last time we were in Paris?” he says, his voice low and teasing.

You glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “I do. And I remember how much wine we drank that night.”

Tony smirks. “It was a good night. A productive night.”

“Tony,” you say, laughing softly.

“What?” he says, feigning innocence. “I’m just saying, nine months later, we had Cora. Coincidence? I think not.”

You shake your head, leaning into him. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple.

For a moment, it’s just the two of you, the chaos of the day fading into the background. Tony takes your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” he says quietly. “Keeping this whole crazy family together, making sure everyone’s happy…”

“You help,” you say, smiling up at him.

He grins. “Yeah, but you’re the glue. The sexy, unstoppable glue.”

You laugh, resting your head on his shoulder. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Mrs. Stark,” he murmurs.

The moment is interrupted by Estelle toddling over, holding a sticky cotton candy in her hands. “Mama! Dada!” she says, grinning. “Candy!”

Tony scoops her up, laughing. “All right, princess. Let’s get you cleaned up before you stick to everything.”

As the fireworks light up the night sky, you watch your family, your heart full. Cora is smiling again, the twins are their usual mischievous selves, and even Estelle is giggling as Tony pretends to “steal” her cotton candy.

It’s not perfect, but it’s yours. And in this moment, it’s everything you could ever want.

Returning to Miami is bittersweet. After the whirlwind adventure in Paris, filled with laughter, healing, and plenty of magical moments, the familiarity of home feels both comforting and a little dull in comparison. The private jet touches down mid-morning, and as you step onto the tarmac, the heat wraps around you like an old friend. Estelle claps her hands excitedly at the sight of palm trees, and the twins immediately begin discussing which of their toys they missed most.

Cora, however, is a little quieter than usual. She’s not sulking—in fact, she seems happy—but there’s something in her demeanor, a kind of soft distraction, that doesn’t go unnoticed. You and Tony exchange a knowing glance as you watch her scrolling on her phone, her thumbs moving quickly over the screen as a faint smile plays on her lips.

By the time you’re back at the house, it’s clear that whatever—or whoever—Cora is texting has her full attention. The twins bolt up the stairs to their room, racing to see who can dump their luggage the fastest. Estelle toddles after them, babbling about her stuffed animals and pausing halfway up to plop down and rest.

Cora lingers in the living room, dropping her bags by the couch and flopping down with a sigh. Her phone is still in her hand, and her fingers immediately start typing again.

Tony raises an eyebrow. “So, who’s the lucky recipient of all those texts?”

Cora doesn’t look up, but she does roll her eyes. “Nobody.”

You smirk, taking a seat next to her. “Nobody’s got you smiling at your phone like that? Come on, spill.”

“It’s not a big deal,” she says, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m just talking to some people I met in France.”

Tony sits on the arm of the couch, folding his arms across his chest. “Oh, some people, huh? Are we talking guys, girls, or… Pierre?”

“Dad, seriously?” Cora groans, but she’s laughing despite herself.

“Wait, is it actually Pierre?” you ask, feigning shock.

“No!” Cora insists, finally setting her phone down and looking between the two of you. “His name is Louis. He was in line behind me at the Louvre, and we started talking while we waited. He’s cool, okay? That’s it.”

“Cool enough to text all day?” Tony teases, his grin widening.

“Cool enough to not break my heart, which is more than I can say for other people,” Cora shoots back, though her tone is light.

Tony’s smile falters for just a moment, and you place a hand on his arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Well,” you say, steering the conversation back to neutral ground, “I think it’s great that you’re making new friends. France clearly left an impression.”

Cora nods, picking up her phone again. “Yeah. Louis and his friends were all really nice. They even invited me to come back someday and visit.”

Tony stiffens. “Visit? Alone? Over my dead body.”

“Tony,” you warn, shooting him a look.

“I’m just saying,” he mutters, leaning back. “Paris is great and all, but it’s a long way from here. And I don’t trust teenage boys. Especially French ones. They’re too charming.”

Cora laughs, shaking her head. “Relax, Dad. It’s not like I’m packing my bags tomorrow. Besides, you liked Paris too, remember? You wouldn’t stop talking about the croissants.”

“She’s got you there,” you say, smiling.

The next few days pass in a blur of unpacking, settling back into routines, and adjusting to the Miami heat. Cora spends a lot of time in her room, but instead of sulking like she had after the breakup, she seems genuinely happy. You often catch her laughing at something on her phone, and her mood has improved so much that even the twins take notice.

At dinner one evening, Alex leans over his plate of spaghetti and asks, “Cora, why are you always on your phone? Are you playing games?”

“No,” she says, twirling her fork. “I’m talking to my friends.”

Howard squints at her. “What friends? You don’t have any friends here.”

“Not here,” Cora says patiently. “In France. Remember the trip we just took? I met some people there.”

“Like Pierre?” Alex asks, grinning.

“His name is Louis,” Estelle pipes up, repeating what she’s heard so many times over the past few days. She giggles as if she understands the joke.

“Okay, dinner table rule,” you say, holding up a hand. “No teasing your sister about her friends. Got it?”

“Yes, Mom,” the twins say in unison, though you can tell they’re not entirely sincere.

After dinner, as you’re cleaning up in the kitchen, Tony wanders in, a dishtowel slung over his shoulder.

“So, what do you think about this Louis kid?” he asks, leaning against the counter.

“I think he’s halfway across the world and just a friend,” you reply, rinsing a plate. “And I think it’s good for Cora to have someone to talk to who isn’t us.”

Tony sighs. “Yeah, I guess. But I’m not thrilled about the idea of her running off to Europe to visit him someday.”

“She’s not running off anywhere,” you say, setting the plate in the drying rack. “And if she ever did, it wouldn’t be without a lot of planning—and probably a chaperone.”

Tony smirks. “So, you’re saying I’d have to go too?”

“Obviously,” you say, smiling. “You’d hate to miss out on more croissants.”

As the days turn into weeks, Cora continues to text Louis and his group of friends, her phone buzzing at all hours with messages and pictures. You catch glimpses of their conversations occasionally—photos of the Eiffel Tower lit up at night, jokes about the Louvre’s long lines, and even a video of someone attempting to skateboard in a cobblestone alley.

The twins remain mildly suspicious of this new development, but their jealousy is quickly forgotten whenever Cora agrees to join them for a game of basketball or a movie night.

One afternoon, as you’re sitting on the patio with Tony, watching Estelle splash around in the kiddie pool, he leans over and says, “You know, I think she’s really okay now.”

You follow his gaze to where Cora is lounging in a hammock, laughing at something on her phone.

“She is,” you agree, resting your head on his shoulder. “And that’s all that matters.”

Tony wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer. “You know, we’re pretty good at this whole parenting thing.”

“Speak for yourself,” you tease. “I’m the glue, remember?”

He laughs, kissing the top of your head. “Fair enough. But I’m the fun one.”

“Sure you are,” you say, smiling as you watch your family, your heart full.

[swtt4hk]

Sang-woo finds out that you’re pregnant {Fluff}(Oneshot)

requested by: @daeholuvs

it was a normal morning…not for you though. You have been feeling really sick lately and it has worried your husband , Cho Sang-woo , a lot. He has suggested you went to the doctor or even taking some days off work to take care of you which was unusual of him since he’s a workaholic. You really appreciated his care and love for you but you kept telling him that you’re okay and it’s gonna go away soon…

…but it hasn’t. You knew that something’s wrong but you couldn’t possibly tell Sang-woo because it was gonna worry him more and get distracted from work.

today you woke up feeling extremely exhausted, with a sharp pain in your stomach and you felt nauseous. That’s when you realised. You were late on your period too but you thought it was just a coincidence but now…it can’t all be just a coincidence.

—are you sure you’re gonna be fine? You look exhausted, honey.

Sang-woo says with a worried look

—don’t worry , sweetheart, I’m gonna be just fine , I’ll drink some tea and take some medicine and I’ll be as right as rain immediately!

You say with a reassuring smile as you’re caressing his cheek. Sang-woo sighs and gives in.

—if you say so…but call me if anything happens to you , please don’t hesitate, alright?

—okay baby I will…now go , you’ll be late!

You and Sang-woo share one last kiss before he leaves for work. As soon as he leaves , you decide to take action. You get ready and go to the pharmacy to get a pregnancy test.

positive.

you look at it with tears in your eyes. You don’t know if they’re happy tears or tears of frustration. “How is Sang-woo going to react?” is the only thought in your head right now.

“call me if anything happens to you , don’t hesitate.”

you keep rethinking his words. You don’t know if you should call him or keep it a secret. Which would be the best choice to make?

you decided to keep it a secret , just for a while. Keeping your pregnancy a secret from your husband wouldn’t hurt…right?

Your morning sicknesses have been getting worse and it worries Sang-woo so much. He keeps trying to convince you for him to take some days off to take care of you or for him to help you with the chores but you’re playing tough and immediately turn them down. He can’t lie , he has noticed you gaining a little bit of weight recently but his mind doesn’t go to pregnancy and of course he doesn’t mention your weight gain because he knows that you’re insecure and that it would be rude of him to tell you something like that. (He’s such a gentleman hehhehehe😍🙏😜)

it has been about a month and a half since you found out that you’re pregnant. You still have your doubts about telling Sang-woo but you can’t keep lying to him that you’re okay. You finally take the courage to tell him after he comes home from work. You prepare his favourite meal , tidy the house and wait for him to return.

The clock strikes 6:00. It’s time. The door slowly open , revealing the familiar figure of Sang-woo.

—honey , I’m back!

He walks to the kitchen and see’s his favourite meal on the table and you , sitting there and , in his eyes , looking beautiful as ever.

—hey baby…how was work?

You give him a kiss and you both sit on the table.

—does it matter? Right now , I’m home , with my amazing wife who has once again made a delicious meal for me…I really don’t deserve you.

You blush but also feel guilt on the inside. How could you lie to such an innocent and kind human being?

—um Sang-woo I would like to talk to you about something—

he gets up as your talking and interrupts you by leaning over you and kissing you. As you’re both melting into each other’s lips he wraps his hands around your waist and they go down to your stomach but feels something weird…this is not the stomach he’s used to touching…it’s…round? He freezes. You realise where his hands have gone to and you freeze too. You pull out of the kiss and look at him with an anxious look.

—honey…

A tear rolls down his cheek.

—y/n…

You caress his cheek as your eyes tear up.

—I’m sorry…

—don’t apologise my love…it’s okay…but you should’ve told me sooner , do you know how worried I was?

—I know I know , I’m sorry…

Sang-woo wipes his tears and smiles. He places his hand on top of your belly and caresses it with his thumb.

—you’re gonna be a great mom…

You try to fight your tears back. You feel so happy but so sad that you didn’t tell him earlier. You blush at the compliment and a wide smile forms on your face.

—and you’re gonna be a great dad , Sang-woo…

—I love you , my wife and mother of our kids.

—I love you more , my husband and father of our kids.

———————————————————————

the end! I almost cried writing this but definitely enjoyed writing it! Special thanks to @daeholuvs for requesting this! More fics soon!

[songbirdseung]

older / park jonseong

jongseong tried his best to be the man for you, to be the one you deserved, did everything for you, showed you how much he loved you. but only gets a heartbreak in return. song recommendation: older by conor matthews & universe by thuy

i think it's safe to say that most people find childhood love to be one of the purest and most endearing things. there’s something so innocent about the way two kids can form a bond—stable yet naive, built on nothing but shared laughter, pinky promises, and the simple joy of each other’s company. to the parents watching from the sidelines, it’s heartwarming. seeing their child shower someone else with love, even in the smallest ways, reassures them that they’ve raised a kid who knows how to care, how to cherish. it feels like proof that they’ve done something right.

but on the other side of the argument, there are those who believe young love is nothing more than fleeting foolishness; that kids have no business being in relationships, that they’re too young to grasp what love truly means or to handle the inevitable heartbreak that follows. let children be children, they say.

your parents and jay’s, however, never thought that way. in their eyes, you and jay were something special. two kids who found each other early, who had the rare gift of experiencing love when most were still figuring out friendship. they saw it as a blessing; something rare, something precious. after all, how lucky were you to find someone who made your heart race before you even understood what it meant? someone who, even in your youth, you were certain you could never be without?

but love, as beautiful as it was, had a way of making people blind. and for as much as your parents adored the bond you and jay shared, they also overlooked the dangers of it. because love at that age wasn’t just innocent... it was reckless. it was consuming. it was two kids falling headfirst into something they didn’t fully understand, unable to see the consequences waiting down the road.

how does someone go from being a stranger to becoming your entire world? how does a person you never even noticed suddenly become the only thing occupying your mind? how does someone go from nothing… to everything?

it started small, as most arguments do. just a spark, something barely worth acknowledging... until suddenly, it wasn’t.

"you don't get it," jay huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, brows furrowed in frustration.

"what is there to get?" you shot back, voice sharp, laced with something you didn’t quite understand yet. "you’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

“it’s not nothing.”

you scoffed, throwing your hands up. “oh, right. because me walking home with someone else one time is apparently the end of the world.”

jay exhaled, looking away, jaw clenched so tightly you swore you could hear his teeth grind. “it’s not about that.”

“then what is it about, jay?”

he hesitated.

you could see the way he was struggling, the way he was trying to find the right words, like he knew exactly what he wanted to say, but didn’t know if he should say it. and it frustrated you. the silence, the tension, the fact that you were even fighting in the first place over something so stupid, something that should have never turned into this.

so you pushed.

"i don’t understand why you’re acting like this," you muttered, softer now, but still just as stubborn. "like i did something wrong.”

jay ran a hand through his hair, fingers tugging at the strands as he exhaled again, slower this time.

"because," he started, finally meeting your eyes, and for the first time since this argument began, he wasn’t just frustrated, he was hurt. "because i was supposed to walk you home."

your breath hitched.

he shook his head, almost like he was mad at himself for even saying it. "because that’s our thing. and then i saw you with him and-” he stopped himself, letting out a dry laugh that didn’t sound anything like him. "never mind. forget it."

but you couldn’t. because suddenly, it wasn’t about walking home with someone else. it wasn’t about something as mundane as that. it was about jay; jay, who always waited for you after school even when it made him late. jay, who never let you walk on the outer side of the sidewalk. jay, who carried your bag when you complained it was too heavy, who always made sure you got home safe, who, without ever needing to say it out loud, cared in a way you didn’t fully realize until now.

it was about something so much bigger than the argument itself.

it was about you and him.

and maybe… maybe that’s why it hurt so much.

what was once love and adoration turned into sour and bitter remnants of a relationship that had once been everything. the easy laughter, the stolen glances, the quiet understanding. it all turned into sharp words, exhausted sighs, and the undeniable ache of something slipping through your fingers.

the final fight wasn’t about something small anymore. it wasn’t a misunderstanding, a fleeting argument over something that would be forgotten by morning. it was everything, years of built-up tension, of unspoken words, of feelings neither of you knew how to handle at such a young age.

"so that's it?" your voice wavered, trying to sound angry, trying to sound like you didn’t care, but failing miserably.

jay's jaw was clenched, hands in fists at his sides. his eyes held that same look they always did whenever you fought; not just frustration, but something deeper. something pained.

"what else do you want me to say?" he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "we're just… we're not us anymore."

the words hit harder than they should have.

because he was right.

you weren’t the same two kids who thought love was just hand-holding and pinky promises. you had changed, grown into versions of yourselves that no longer fit together the way they once did. and maybe, deep down, you knew this was inevitable.

but knowing didn’t make it hurt any less.

the next few weeks passed in a blur. apologies left unsaid, memories packed away, and then, just like that, jay was gone.

moved to another state. a clean break.

no chance to fight for it. no chance to fix it.

just distance, silence, and the heavy weight of knowing that what once was everything had turned into nothing but a memory neither of you wanted to hold onto.

[skyward-floored]

IAU requests you say? 👀👀👀👀👀👀

okay okay hmmmmm what about some bby Hyrule angst? as he's adjusting to living with the others? :3

- hero-of-the-wolf

@hero-of-the-wolf I hope you don’t mind I mixed these two asks together a bit to write this! I couldn’t resist the allure of a sickfic lol. This also fits with today’s febuwhump prompt, which is “holding back tears”, heh.

This takes place not long after Hyrule comes along, maybe a month or two. Little guy is still very much adjusting 😔

Warning for some throwing up, and some mentions of past child abuse.

————————————————————

It started with a twinge, a tiny ache.

Hyrule’s heart sank the moment he woke up and felt it, a little sting when he swallowed, a sinking feeling in his stomach. He hurriedly brushed it aside when Four gave him a curious look, and went downstairs for breakfast, trying to tell himself it was only his imagination. He was fine.

It got harder to ignore as the day went on though, the lump in his stomach turning to nausea, the sting in his throat a true ache. But Hyrule kept ignoring it, trying to act normal, making sure he did anything that was asked of him without any complaint. He did the bit of handwriting Malon had started him on, helped sweep the floor, healed Wind’s scraped knee when he came to him crying, and despite the shake in his legs and the buzz in his head that only got worse, he kept it up.

Being sick made things harder, but Hyrule knew complaining only made it worse. Somewhere in his head he knew his new family wasn’t like any of his old caretakers, wouldn’t scream at him for slowing down or healing less intensely than normal, but Hyrule had still only been with them a little while now.

Who was to say what they thought about being sick? He couldn’t be useful if he was sick. What if they kicked him out when they realized?

Hyrule’s heart skipped a beat. No. It was safer to hide it. Even if they didn’t kick him out, whining about a little dizziness and nausea would only be an annoyance. He would just ignore it, and wait for it to go away like he always did.

Or, that was the plan, anyway.

Hyrule had forced himself to eat dinner that night, knowing Malon and Time didn’t like it when he left food on his plate. His stomach felt way worse after he finished, but he ignored it, and managed to get through the rest of the evening without any incidents. He got ready for bed promptly, avoided Twilight’s nose that seemed to sniff out everything, dodged Wild and Legend who were wrestling in the bathroom, and finally curled up in bed with a sigh. He felt better lying down at least.

He lightly dozed until Malon came in to tuck Wind and Four in bed, and he watched her quietly as she read them a story, then settled them in bed. Would Malon really be mad if he was sick? She was always so nice, and when he’d still had his cough from the fire, she hadn’t been annoyed then.

But...

“You worthless brat!”

Hyrule sighed and lowered his head as his stomach rolled. He didn’t know.

Time came in and said goodnight to them all before leaving again, busy with something with work, and Malon came over to Hyrule, having finished with Wind and Four. She tucked him in and kissed his head, but then she hesitated a moment when she drew back, looking at him with a slight squint.

“Is everything okay, hon?” she asked. Hyrule’s stomach seemed to churn more sharply at the question, but he quickly nodded, trying his best to look healthy.

Malon still looked a little suspicious, her brows furrowed, but she nodded in turn and stood up.

“Okay, if you’re sure. Goodnight sweetie,” she said, and Hyrule said goodnight back to her, curling up as she left the room and trying to ignore his stomach so he could sleep.

Sleep didn’t seem to want to come though. He was plenty tired, but his nausea rolled through him in a way that made it impossible to sleep. Hyrule would just manage to doze off a little when his stomach would churn, and he’d have to reposition himself before trying to sleep again.

There was a pressing on his throat now too, one that only lessened a little when he swallowed, and Hyrule tried desperately to ignore it. He even tried using a little spurt of his powers on himself, hoping it would help something, but all it served to do was make him dizzier. It must have been the middle of the night by now, and he’d barely slept a wink.

Hyrule rolled over again, clutching his blanket to himself as he bit his tongue.

I’m fine. It’s just a stomachache. Go to sleep.

Hyrule’s stomach rumbled in a bad way, and he curled in tighter on himself.

It’s okay, it’s just an ache, you’re fine.

His stomach rolled more sharply. The pressing on his throat grew worse, and Hyrule whimpered.

You’re fine you’re fine you’re fineyou’refineyou’refine—

His stomach lurched, the pressing on his throat reaching the point of no return, and Hyrule stumbled out of bed, holding his hand over his mouth as he scrambled for the bathroom.

He only made it about halfway down the hallway before he couldn’t hold it back anymore.

Hyrule stumbled over and vomited all over the floor, unable to stop himself. Tears pricked at his eyes as he threw up, his throat burning, and all he could do was retch for several moments, all while trying to be as quiet as possible.

Finally his stomach finished rebelling, and Hyrule sank down to his knees, a ragged hiccup escaping him. He hated throwing up. And he didn’t even feel any better than he had before.

Hyrule let out a soft moan, clutching at his stomach, then braced himself before opening his eyes. It was even worse than he’d been expecting, and Hyrule began to shake as he stared at the mess of what used to be his dinner on the floor, mind whirling with dizziness and sudden terror.

He’d thrown up all over the floor, and a rug.

No no no no you ruined it you wrecked their things they’re going to punish you—

Hyrule nearly threw up again as memories lodged in his head of other sicknesses, voices screeching in his ears, head spinning. Being yelled at for daring to throw up, told to clean up his own mess, berated for being too weak to heal and kicked around one time when he just couldn’t make his trembling body move—

Hyrule clutched at his hair, and tried to take in steadying breaths.

No. No, he would figure this out. He would clean it up, and nobody would even know. There had to be cleaning supplies around somewhere, right? He knew where Malon kept a few things, but not stuff that would helpful for this. But surely the bathroom had cleaners somewhere?

He’d start there.

Hyrule swallowed back the burn in his throat, and dizzily stumbled to his feet, hurrying on shaking legs to the bathroom. Nobody was using it thank goodness, and despite how his head hurt even more as he flicked the light on, he firmly ignored it, looking carefully in the cabinet and drawers. His hands shook as he dug around, trying not to disturb anything too much, and the tight feeling in his stomach only increased, due to both nausea and emotion.

You’ll clean it up it’ll be fine you’ll clean it up and nobody will know and nothing will happen.

Hyrule finally found an old towel next to some sponges, one obviously used to clean with. Hyrule sagged in relief and snatched it up, heading back to the hallway. His vomit was obvious in the faint moonlight from the window, and Hyrule swallowed as he looked at it, stomach lurching as the smell hit him.

No no no, get it together. You’ve got to clean it up.

Hyrule breathed in harshly through his nose, turning away to get fresh air, then turned back once he felt his stomach was settled enough. He could do this. He wasn’t going to make even more of a mess.

Hyrule swallowed, the action hurting his throat, and started mopping up the mess, trying to hold his breath. The towel only sort of worked, his sick thick enough that he was mostly just spreading it around, and after a few moments Hyrule stopped with an anxious tap of his fingers. What else could he do? And even when he did manage to clean up the mess, where was he going to put it?

Hyrule stared dumbly at the vomit, feeling gross in multiple senses of the word.

He didn’t want to be sitting here next to his sick, trying to figure out how to clean it up while his head ached and his stomach twisted and his hands shook with fear.

He just wanted to go back to bed.

Hyrule bit his lip to stop himself from crying again, and tried to calm down. Maybe he should look for something he could throw out? That would be the easiest way to get rid of it. There were lunch bags downstairs... that might work. How was he going to get the mess into the bag though?

Hyrule stared at it again, trying to get his exhausted brain to think, but nothing was coming to mind.

And then he heard the floor creak.

Hyrule froze, his hearing seeming to sharpen at that single noise. Another creak rang out from the direction of Time and Malon’s room only a few paces away, and Hyrule’s breath caught, panic making his stomach lurch.

They’re going to see.

They woke up they’re going to see they’re going hate me they—

A shield flickered around him without his permission, making Hyrule’s dizziness worse as he quickly dropped it again. The pressing feeling came back into his throat, panic making him shake, fear pounding in his chest and squeezing so tight his lungs hurt.

His stomach lurched, and as the door opened, Hyrule threw up again right beside where he had before.

“Oh��� good grief kiddo—”

Hyrule’s retching mixed with sobs he couldn’t hold back, and he barely heard the footsteps over his heart pounding in his ears, terror freezing him in place. A hand settled on his back, and Hyrule nearly choked, only crying harder as it began to rub.

“Just get it out Hyrule, it’s okay,” a voice said, and he let out a miserable noise, trying desperately to stop throwing up. There was barely anything in his stomach now, but things kept coming up anyway, bile burning as it went up his throat.

Finally he got his heaving under control, and Hyrule trembled as he looked up, feeling sick and disgusting and terrified.

Time knelt beside him, face creased, and Hyrule shrank in on himself, trying to hurriedly wipe his tears away. Crying always made it worse.

It didn’t here, a voice whispered in his head, reminding him of comforting arms wrapped around him while he sobbed, but the memory was lost in his headache and twisting stomach and weight of worse memories.

“Are you finished?” Time asked softly, and Hyrule sniffled, managing to nod. “Hyrule, what happened?”

“I w-was— I was t-trying to get to the bathroom, b-but I couldn’t do it— and I was trying t-to clean it, but— I’m sorry,” he choked out, more tears welling in his eyes.

Time looked at him with what might have been concern, but then Malon appeared in the doorway, and Hyrule’s gaze flicked to her. She looked... disgusted.

“Oh sweetie,” Malon sighed as she looked at the mess, and Hyrule was sure that meant she was mad. She flicked the light on so they could see better, then knelt down beside him and Time, taking in his trembling, disgusting, teary form. “Have you felt sick all day?”

Hyrule gave a tiny nod, and Malon sighed again, Hyrule flinching at the sound.

“Were you trying to clean this up by yourself?” Time questioned, and Hyrule bit his lip.

“Yes. I’m sorry I-I woke you,” he croaked, looking down at the floor as more tears dripped down his face. “I’ll— I’ll clean it. I’ll be quiet, I w-won’t bother you anymore.”

“Hyrule, you— honey, goodness, you don’t need to clean this up, we’ll handle it,” Malon said worriedly, and Hyrule stared at her like she’d grown a second head.

“But I made th-the mess, it’s my fault, I should clean it—”

“Link, you’re sick. Your job right now is to rest,” Time said patiently, leaning over and picking up the towel Hyrule had attempted to clean with. Time and Malon briefly met eyes, and he gave a small nod. “We’ll take care of it.”

Hyrule blinked at him, beyond confused. “But I... I ruined the rug,” he whispered, shrinking into himself while he expected a yell or smack.

To his surprise, Time laughed.

“Hyrule, this rug has had plenty of things happen to it, a little vomit will hardly ruin it,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re not even the first kid to throw up on it.”

“I’m not?” Hyrule peeped, and Time nodded.

“You’re not. And even if you were, it’s just a rug,” Malon assured, then gently took his hand. “You look pretty rough, sweetie. What do you say we get you cleaned up?”

Hyrule hesitated, still extremely confused, but finally nodded. He didn’t have to clean it up? They weren’t mad?

That just... didn’t make any sense.

A trick?

Hyrule swallowed. He would maybe question it more, but he still felt terrible and too tired to argue. If it was a trick, he didn’t have the energy to try and get out of it. So he let Malon gently tug him back to the bathroom, fetching him some clean pajamas and cleaning the vomit from his chin and hands.

At some point while she cleaned him up he realized he was crying again, but he didn’t even know why. He was just exhausted. Malon gently wiped his tears away too, and once he was all cleaned up, Hyrule let her put her arm around him.

He sniffled, still feeling sick and dizzy, but... better, with the contact.

Maybe... maybe it wasn’t a trick.

Malon rubbed his back for a few moments, then picked him up, Hyrule resting a shaky head on her shoulder. They left the bathroom, and passed Time cleaning up in the hallway, Hyrule feeling that horrible shrivel of guilt and fear in his stomach again. But Time only kept cleaning, and Malon carried Hyrule back to his room, sitting down on the bed with him as she brushed sweaty hair from his forehead.

“You don’t feel too warm... does your stomach still hurt?” Malon asked softly so as not to wake anyone else in the room, and Hyrule gave a little nod. “Would you like to try some ginger ale? That seems to help your brothers when they’re nauseous.”

The mere idea of drinking anything only made his stomach hurt more, and Hyrule quickly shook his head.

“Okay. Maybe we can try some in the morning,” Malon said, and silence fell over them, Hyrule still letting out an occasional soft sniffle.

He still didn’t know what to think about all this, and was too exhausted to puzzle through it anymore. He was completely sure that Malon had been disgusted by his throw up, but she’d still cleaned it off of him. He’d interrupted Time’s sleep while he was especially busy with work, but he’d still rubbed his back while he was being sick and was cleaning up his mess.

He didn’t understand. He just didn’t understand.

Malon covered up a small yawn, still running a hand over his head, and looked down when Hyrule sniffled again.

“You don’t have to hide when you’re sick, Hyrule,” Malon began quietly, and he closed his eyes, not wanting to look at her. “I know it’s hard to tell us when something is wrong. But we want to help you, and we can’t do that if we don’t know that there’s a problem.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and Malon sighed again.

“And you don’t need to apologize, sweetheart. We’re all still figuring this out. And you can’t help being sick, it’s just one of those things,” she said gently. “You feel okay enough to go back to sleep? You look like you could use it.”

Hyrule gave a tiny shrug. He didn’t know. His stomach still hurt a lot, and even though he didn’t feel like he was going to throw up again right now, his throat and head both hurt, and he felt dizzy when he moved too fast. He didn’t know if sleep was going to happen.

Time walked in while he was thinking, and Hyrule looked up, blinking at the pail he was holding.

“Here we go. If you feel like you can’t make it to the bathroom, you can throw up in here,” Time explained, setting the bucket by the bed. “Then you don’t have to worry about making a run for it.”

“Is there anything else you need?” Malon asked.

Both of them looked at him, expressions worried, and Hyrule felt his eyes sting again, lip trembling.

The last time he’d been sick like this, he’d had a bucket thrown at him and been told to keep the noise to a minimum, then been essentially left alone for a week. It had been all he could do just to drag himself to the bathroom when he needed it, to say less of the day his healing had been needed in the middle of everything.

But this time... it had just...

Hyrule buried his face in Malon’s shoulder, his tears back again for a different reason, and she made a worried noise, holding him tighter.

“I-I’m— I don’t n-need anything,” Hyrule managed to hiccup out through his sobs, voice muffled by Malon’s shirt. “I— thanks.”

His voice broke into an embarrassing squeak, and he rubbed at his eyes, still puffy from his earlier tears. He just couldn’t stop crying tonight.

He hated being sick. He hated it so much.

“You’re welcome, sweetie. Try to calm down a little,” Malon soothed, and Time sat down next to her, setting a hand on Hyrule’s back again. “Take some deep breaths. It’s okay.”

Malon began to hum the song Hyrule had heard her sing around the house before, one that he really liked. Time stayed quiet, but he didn’t move his hand from Hyrule’s back, and it felt warm where it rested near his shoulder. They both felt warm and safe, safe like wisps of memory Hyrule could barely recall, safe like the night they told him they loved him, and wanted him to stay.

Safe like being told he was family.

Hyrule shakily breathed in, then out, relaxing into their hold. His tears began to slow, then stop, leaving him even more exhausted than before, even with the tiredness from being sick. A blanket got set over him at some point, and his eyes drifted closed, the terrified feelings he’d been trying to overcome all day finally easing.

His stomach still hurt, he still felt sick, but it was less extreme, and he felt... better. In more than one way.

Hyrule finally relaxed, safe in the arms around him, and drifted off to sleep, secure in the knowledge he would be taken care of when he woke back up.

[palossssssand]

guys I’m in the trenches. One of these days I have to go make a really long in-depth detailed post about trito and kinoga’s dynamic because it drives me insane and I need to lay it all out. the specifics of it. I have so many thoughts

[sapphic--kiwi]

Gus Week Day 3: Friends

willow and gus taking selfies at the weekly cookout 😗✌️

[gaytedlasso]

They’re wearing each other’s colors 🩷💙

~

further installment of my tedkeeley propaganda

[monkee-mobile]

do you think if any of the monkees tried to actually kiss in the 90s special, everything would like glitch out for a bit and a lizard sunning itself of a rock would snap them out of it or would they be able to break free and show the kiss to the people?

[swordmaid]

my hag romance murder mystery au turning to magistrate astarion working with executor shri’iia we kind of like that development

[namazunomegami]

“Kindly consider the question: what would your good do if evil did not exist, and what would the earth look like if shadows disappeared from it? Shadows are cast by objects and people. Here is the shadow of my sword. Trees and living beings also have shadows. Do you want to skin the whole earth, tearing all the trees and living things off it, because of your fantasy of enjoying bare light? You’re a fool.” - The Master and Margarita

[faewaren]

Almost no one who follows me is gonna know what this is about so ignore me but. Just. God I hope Marcel is okay. Still hurts.