#being outed as a wc fan is not the worst outcome to this

[cicada-jangles]

and this is all im going to say on the matter

[milkloafy]

YOUR SAVING GRACE — WRIOTHESLEY

⋆｡˚ ❀ summary: in which you run into some trouble and wriothesley saves you, getting himself hurt in the process. [modern au; suggestive content] ⋆｡˚ ❀ wc: 1.4k ⋆｡˚ ❀ a/n: inspired by the wriothesley art where his face is a little bloodied and he’s smiling like that and hmmngfh i want to hold him so bad !! also the title is kind of a pun do u get it ha ha okay pls enjoy :>

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” 

Wriothesley chucked, wincing as the corner of his mouth lifted upwards. “Fancy way of saying thank you.”

With a sigh, you dampened a washcloth with warm water from under the sink. You wrung out the excess before gently guiding it up to Wriothesley’s face and dabbing at the cut on his lip. You frowned. His split lower lip wasn’t even the worst of it—he had a bleeding gash on the right side of his temple.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you murmured, fingers brushing against the high points of his cheekbone. Such a beautiful face did not deserve to be marred in such a way; he had already been through enough growing up.

“Of course I had to,” he said, your face so close to his that you felt his hot breath fan your nose. “The alternative would have been to let them harm you.”

You discarded the dirty cloth and grabbed a fresh one from the drawer. As you wiped the blood off his forehead, your mind wandered to the memory of the past few hours. It wasn’t exactly a good one, to put it lightly. 

You had only recently moved back to your hometown in Fontaine after spending time abroad in Inazuma, but you quickly found that all the friends you once knew now had lives of their own. Except your childhood friend Wriothesley, of course. Still, you didn’t let that stop you from going out on your own and trying to meet new people, especially now that you were back in Fontaine to stay.

Perhaps, however, heading face first into the night scene wasn’t the way to go. 

You shivered at the memory. The moment you realized you didn’t feel safe being out dancing alone, you tried to make your way home, only to find out you were being followed by some men from the venue. Your only saving grace was that of Wriothesley, who happened to be on a late night tea run. 

“Thank you for saving me,” you said sincerely, though you knew that wasn’t enough to display your gratitude. Who knows what could have happened had he not intervened. “I just hate that you got hurt because of it.” 

Wriothesley laughed, patting your head affectionately—as if the two of you never drifted apart when you moved away. “I would do it again, even if the outcome was worse. Besides, did you see what I did to the other guys?” 

That earned a smile out of you. “There were three of them! And you still kicked all their asses.” 

“Exactly,” he said proudly. “Now, if you look at my injuries in comparison, it’s really nothing.” 

Though the mood was slightly lifted, you still hated to see Wriothesley in any pain. The least you could do was make sure his wound were thoroughly cleaned and wrapped. 

“You don’t have to go through this trouble,” said Wriothesley as you disinfected the cut on his temple and placed a bandage over it. “You must be tired from your long night. You should get some rest. I can always have Sigewinne help.”

You shook your head fervently, almost offended by his suggestion. “You’re in this mess  because of me and you think I could just leave you to get it taken care of elsewhere?” you huffed, squishing his non-injured cheek with your fingertips. “What kind of friend would I be then?”

“I’m not in this mess because of you—it’s because of those lowlives who take pleasure in trying to harass an innocent person,” he corrected sternly. “It’s not your fault, and I’m sorry you had to go through that yourself.”

Once you finished cleaning and patching him up, you became overwhelmingly aware of the fact that you were standing in between his legs as he sat on the bathroom counter. You were leaning against one of his thighs as support to steady your hand while you wiped his wounds, but now that you were finished, you straightened back up, swallowing harshly at your now dry throat. 

How focused must you have been to not notice the feeling of sculpted muscles through his pants? You were glad to know you had some priorities, at least. 

Feeling warm, you tried to step away. “Well, thank you again for…you know, beating those guys up for me! But if you’re okay now I guess that means it’s time for me to go.” 

“Leaving so soon?” Wriothesley half-heartedly locked his leg behind your back with a grin, preventing you from taking another step back. “Have you checked under my shirt yet? Perhaps I have some injuries there.”

“Wriothesley!” you yelped, feeling your face grow warm despite knowing he was only joking. “You said so yourself— You have Sigewinne for that!” 

He let out a chuckle, as he released you from his gentle hold. “So my dear friend will help with the wounds on my face, but nothing lower?” 

Your mouth dropped, incredulous, yet you felt yourself taking the bait. After all, if your handsome friend with a hot body were to dangle the offer of seeing them shirtless right front of your face, who were you to deny it?

“Fine, let me check for you,” you said hastily. 

Moving his tie aside, you grabbed at the buttons lining the front of his shirt. The black longsleeve was tight-fitted, and the moment you felt his abdomen, you knew there were muscles underneath his clothes. As your fingers began maneuvering around the round, little button, you felt Wriothesley begin to stir. 

“Y/N,” his voice was gruff, “I was only teasing.”

Your brows shot up in surprise at his tone. He sounded strained and his eyes darkened with every button you undid. Your pinky finger accidentally brushed against his exposed pectoral muscles as you slowly parted the top-half of his shirt. At the touch of his warm body, you jolted in shock. 

Clearing your throat, you attempted to appear unfazed. “Well, sometimes your actions have consequences.” 

“I must say, this is quite a positive consequence.” 

“You’re one of the lucky ones this time.”

Wriothesley laughed, shaking his head. All of a sudden, he grasped your hand that was trailing down his shirt, stopping you from moving. You held your breath.

“Careful not to go any lower,” he warned, the slightest hint of a growl in his voice. 

“And if I do?”

“If you want our friendship to stay as is, then I suggest you don’t.” He stared into your eyes, his gray ones appearing almost black. “Before this leads to something you might regret.”

“I wouldn’t regret if this lead to anything,” you admitted, voice quiet. Gone was the playful teasing, traded for something much more sincere. “Would you?”

“Of course not.”

You raised a brow and broke your hand free from his gentle grasp, placing your palm against the heat of his bare skin. Your fingertips danced against the curve of his chest as you pushed the shirt back, just to check if he had any injuries there, of course. 

Wriothesley shook his head and groaned, running a hand through his hair as he shut his eyes. “You’re making this difficult, darling.” 

You giggled, letting your hand fall to your side and giving him a cheeky smile. “Fine, I’ll stop for now. You don’t have any injuries there anyway. I checked for you.” 

He had a conflicted look on his face—as if he wasn’t sure whether or not he should be relieved or disappointed. 

You grinned at his reaction. “Perhaps you want me to look again?”

Wriothesley choked out a noise of both surprise and amusement before collecting himself. “I believe your initial examination was thorough enough, but after you have a good night’s rest, then we can revisit this topic.” 

Though you were disappointed the two of you didn’t take it further yourself, you knew he was probably right. You did feel rather tired after the draining night you had. 

“I think that’s a good idea,” you conceded, offering him a hand as he got off the countertop. Even standing, he was significantly taller than you. You pursed your lips, if only you weren’t so exhausted, then maybe… You shook your head, snapping out of your thoughts. “Then, once I’m fully rested, I can properly thank you for your help today.”

Wriothesley smiled, understanding the not-so subtle implications of your words and welcoming it with open arms. 

“Great,” he said after a moment’s thought. “I look forward to it.”

[junosmindpalace]

SHE WANTS YOU!

🎧 you’re proud to be my man, and i won’t let you go!

synopsis: they just can't see what a particular fangirl of theirs is trying to do...with the msby 4!

content: litte bits of insecure reader and little bit of clueless msby. but fears are put to rest. fluffy. casual intimacy. they are Smitten & loyal bfs

total wc: 4k

BOKUTO: Kotaro has always been good at handling difficult people. It just wasn’t in his nature to think the worst of them, and he handles even intentional malice by interpreting it as genuine questions or comments that needed a response to. And so he’d reflect and answer honestly how he felt, and that was often times enough to shut those kinds of people down. 

Even the seemingly most malicious kinds of people Bokuto eagerly approached in a friendly manner and treated as a close friend. That, of course, included his fans. 

He's always been one to enjoy basking in the limelight, being praised for his strengths and acknowledged for his easy going attitude. It was a great bolster to his self-esteem; he loved the people, and boy did they love him. 

It’s because of Kotaro’s easy going attitude that made forming a relationship with him very easy. 

Boundaries can become more easily crossed, but Kotaro doesn’t have very many, which only encourages fans to attempt to see just how far they can tread over the line before they’re pushed back on the other side of it. 

Of course, there was nothing wrong with fan interactions, especially on your end; your heart swelled when you saw the ways his fans supported him and how much joy your boyfriend took in connecting with them. Their support meant just as much as his love for the sport he plays.

But there’s one fan you just can’t help but get a bad feeling from.

It’s more instinctive than anything, but the fact that you’re a little too familiar with her doesn’t sit right with you. She's somehow managed to catch Bokuto at all his events, and talk with him outside of matches before he's due to depart from the arena. She's always eager to catch him, even at the very last second, but since it’s Bokuto, he has no qualms, and happily stays to chat for a couple of minutes before the coach insists the team needs to get a move on. 

And then she’d start to slowly up the physical touch, from brushing her hand against his skin while reaching for something for him to sign, to fully grasping his arm as she laughs at something he said. 

You knew he wouldn’t believe you at first when you brought up your concerns. 

“Really? I mean, I don't blame her for coming back for more; I'm awesome! But she’s only a fan!”

This one particular person you had a bad feeling about was not exempted from your boyfriend's goodwill, despite over time becoming more obvious with her intentions. Eventually, she began treating him like an old friend with some underlying feelings. 

“I don't think she has bad intentions.” he’d answer honestly in response to your concern. Of course, Bokuto doesn’t want to believe that this nice fan of his has an underlying agenda with her eager conversations, but he can at least see that the situation has been stressing you out with each reluctant drop of the subject, lip jutted out as if not fully soothed by his reassurance. 

She’s there in the crowd again, and you know that after the game, no matter the outcome, she’ll go looking for your boyfriend as he sticks around for a couple of interviews to conclude the day, and you dread it. The game goes smoothly, with Kotaro in perfect form, something you know he wasn’t able to achieve very often back in his high school days, and you can’t help but marvel sometimes at the amount of progress he’s made.

When the Jackals eventually file out of the gym after their triumphant win, you make a beeline for each other. He quickly runs to meet you halfway in one of the halls, caught up in his adrenaline high from the game as he wraps his arms around your waist and spins you off the ground. He’s sweaty, and how he still has energy is beyond you, but you don’t care and immediately reciprocate the affection, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“Did you see me? Did you see how amazing I was out there?” he badgers excitedly as he puts you down, and you nod with a grin. 

“You did so good, Ko! That spike in the final set was—“ 

“Kotaro! You were incredible!”

Your grip on his forearms immediately tighten, and the two of you both look over your shoulder to see her jogging up to the two of you with a breathless laugh. 

“As always, of course. I knew you’d be able to power through their defense!” 

“Well, not always.” Bokuto let’s out a little laugh and peeks from the corner of his eye at your tense smile. She seems to take notice as well, and hers only widens. 

“Give yourself more credit,” she scoffs playfully. “I noticed even in this game that you—“ 

“I appreciate the kind words, but I can’t stay to chat.” he smiles at her, wide and genuine, and you look down in surprise when you feel his arm wrap around you, his hand squeezing your shoulder as he brings you to his side. 

“My partner here is treating me to a celebratory meal!” 

The two of you both blink in surprise at his words. Typically no matter how crowded his schedule, he always spares a couple of minutes to chat. 

“Oh, well… I suggest this one sushi place nearby. I can pull up the location!”

“That's alright! Y/N already promised to take me to one of my favorite places. It was nice seeing you again!”

And with that, he takes your hand and drags you off with a bounce in his step and a smile still plastered on his face.

There isn’t a single indication that any of his words were fake or had a malicious undertone meant to humiliate her. Only that he was vocal in that he prioritized you over her. 

You gave him a teasing smile. “So, when did I say I'd be treating you?” 

“You mean you won’t?!” he whips his head toward you with a heartbroken expression, as if having fully expected that you’d reward him for his incredible performance. 

“No, no, of course I will. Anything you want.” you grinned, bumping his shoulder as his grip on your hand tightened and his smile widened, and he continued to boast about how great his plays were. 

He later posts a message of thanks to his fans for all the support he received for the match on his socials with a photo of the two of you enjoying your meals. You can now be confident that no other fan will be testing their luck with his boundaries any time soon.

MIYA: Atsumu is solely focused on himself. On his plays. On sharpening his skill. On having his fun.

And, of course, on you. 

Atsumu, as much as it has been stereotyped for him, is not one to look for validation in his fans. Whether they’re a fangirl or an old man in the stands who's watched the game all his life, he does not care for their criticisms nor their compliments. The only people he at all considers feedback from is his coach, his brother, and you. That doesn’t mean he’s immune to what they say about each one of his plays, however. He gets down when the commentators call out a bad play, and pumped when the stadium roars with cheers for him. 

But because of this sort of suave personality of his, people fit him into the mould of a playboy. And because he has such high expectations of the people around him, people have assumed that he had high expectations of his romantic partners as well.

Someone rich, someone famous, someone absolutely drop dead gorgeous. That was who the majority of Atsumu's fans assume is his criteria for a partner. And so, when he’s spotted out with a celebrity he’s been working closely with for a modeling partnership, one that happens to exceed all of those expectations, it’s no surprise that dating rumors regarding the two of them being in secret kahoots start to circulate among not only their individual fanbases, but the sports community as well. 

Multiple comments claiming the encounters to be a “soft launch” made your eye twitch as you encountered them under related posts. You couldn’t help but sometimes find yourself laughing at those who insist that it’s obvious they’re in love with one another. 

Perhaps the celebrity he’s been hanging with was in love with him, as she hasn’t been the least bit shameless in expressing her admiration and adoration for your boyfriend, but Atsumu had not the slightest bit of romantic interest for her. You knew through his exasperated rants about her being difficult and obnoxious. But, of course, nobody else knew. 

Still, he works with her for quite a bit of time. And though you know Atsumu isn’t the type to be disloyal, certainly not toward you, you can’t help but let the rumors get to your head sometimes, and in turn an insecurity manifests in the form of an ache in your chest or a lump in your throat. It doesn't help the fact that this celebrity is constantly posting her time with him online, and “playfully” validating comments that ship the two of them together. 

He tells you to get off of social media when you get down about the situation. It just isn’t worth the mental torture; and besides, their relationship is strictly professional. It's the only reason why she’s so friendly. For a man who loves to bask in whatever praise he’s given, he sure seems oblivious to the very obvious clues she’s been dropping him. He has to believe it’s strictly the guise of accomplishing successful business. 

Still, it’s not like you make a conscious decision to go against his words and subject yourself to further irritation and insecurity. You couldn’t help yourself; you knew very well that, compared to her, you were a nobody. You couldn’t compete with everything she had. 

You slowly started to agree with the comments who argued that they should get together; they do look pretty good together, they are extremely compatible. And above all else, she could probably support him way better than you ever could. You swear to yourself you don’t feel jealous, bitter, petty--not in the slightest.

But the sour expression Atsumu comments on one evening while the two of you lounge on your couch as you yet again scroll through comments claiming your boyfriend would suit someone not like you has you reflecting otherwise. 

“What’s with the look? Reading the news?”

“Mm.” Is your vague reply, eyes not peeling away from the screen in front of you. Atsumu’s curiosity grows, and he raises an eyebrow. 

“What’s it say?” 

A moment of silence between the two of you as you continue scrolling. When you finally process the question and silence, you inhale sharply and finally look up at him, closing your phone and setting it on the coffee table beside you. “No, it’s nothing. Just something online.” 

“Ugh. Don’t tell me you’ve been scrolling through those comments again.”

You shoot him a glare at his insensitivity, but also at how quickly he was to figure it out. The sour look on your face has become synonymous with that topic that Atsumu could easily recognize as the source of your frustration.

“Fine. I won’t tell you.”

He groans as he collapses on top of you, closing his eyes and nuzzling into the crook of your neck. You grunt in pain at the sudden weight, and still annoyed from his previous comment, you try to pry his face away, which only makes Atsumu stubbornly latch even harder onto you. “Atsumu!”

“I told you, those people have no idea what they’re talking about. She’s insufferable.”

“I know.”

It’s a statement, but the sad tone in which you say it makes Atsumu’s heart sink. He opens his eyes and tilts his head to look up at you, chin digging into the side of your arm. “You’re way prettier.”

You roll your eyes. “Thanks.” 

“And your place is nicer. And your food is tastier. And your humor is better than hers.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh as you feel your heart lighten a little at his attempts at picking you up, and Atsumu feels his own growing lighter, too. “Don’t tell Osamu about the food thing.”

“Oh, no, his is still better than yours.”

“Of course it is.” You reply back as if it were hardly a matter that needed to be debated. 

Atsumu was good at this; making you smile, making you laugh, making you feel loved and wanted. It didn’t take long for him to stomp on the insecurities that managed to manifest in your heart in order to lessen their load on you. He wouldn’t stand for his partner to feel inadequate compared to someone else, especially since Atsumu chose you. You and your wit, your kindness, your passion, your talent, your everything. 

He stays over that night as he often does, and he knows he really shouldn’t do this, but the people he cares about came before anything else. And what’s the worst it could do, really?, responding to a couple of comments?

Needless to say that Atsumu’s replies talking you up about how great you are under his shippers’ comments make headlines on news articles the next day--and show the world just who his heart truly belongs to regardless of who you were. 

HINATA: Much about him is different, upgraded. His technical skill has immensely bolstered since his high school days. He's able to pull off more in games; impressive feats achieved by his lightning quick reflexes and speed, once aiding him in his high school signature quick now aiding him in setting and receiving, sharpened by his intense training in the South. Even his physique is different; still shorter than most players you’d encounter in the realm of volleyball, but he’s grown a few inches and packed muscle all around. If that wasn’t enough proof of his hard work, his tan surely gave away just how much he dedicated himself to the sport with all the time he spent out in the sun training. 

All of these things, along with his impressive performance on the court, have made Shoyo Hinata quite popular, and not simply for what people used to cheer him on for; being the underdog, or one half of a fearsome duo. His journey as a player aided him in his career, and all on his own has he established himself as an indomitable force. 

People admire him for that. You admire him for that. You couldn’t blame the people who were so amazed and star stricken by him; how could you when you were as well?

But sometimes it went overboard, and sometimes it seemed like you were the only person who took notice. Sometimes this one sided observation was accidental; he’s too absorbed in his game; in the blood rushing to his ears, in the thrill of a good game-- that he just doesn’t notice. Sometimes you purposely keep the observation one-sided; these kinds of fans are inevitable, and the rational part of you knows they won’t compromise your relationship by any means. 

There's one enthusiastic interviewer that’s a fan of Shoyo’s, and that he’s very friendly with; as he is with all of them. But this one in particular has managed to latch onto him because of it. You see her and her crew at every one of his games, big or small, and always openly expresses her very immense love for the sport; and for him. 

Of course, Shoyo only understands “volleyball”, and you know that he’s always been giddy over being shown on the front covers or interviewed online, and so he’s always eager to accept a conversation with her, especially since she’s so friendly and knowledgeable.

iIt’s late in yours and Shoyo’s apartment when they run the interviews and live games from a big game earlier that season. As they start to discuss the Black Jackals, you call for him over your shoulder in the kitchen, where he’s preparing dinner.

“Sho, hurry, it’s starting!” 

You can hear the increased urgency in his movements, but they die out as you watch one of his interviews from a very familiar news channel come onto screen. Your boyfriend, from hours earlier, stares happily at the interviewer behind the lens.

“Your skill and strength was absolutely incredible in this game- as it always is. You were also very impressive in high school, you must’ve been really popular—especially with the girls.”

You felt your smile drop slightly, not even hearing the curses coming out of Shoyo’s mouth as he fumbled around in the kitchen. 

The Shoyo on screen chuckled and rubbed his neck. “Oh, no, not really. Many didn’t even believe I was a starter!” 

“Oh, that’s me!” Present Shoyo struggling with your food calls out excitedly from behind the kitchen wall. 

“I know!” you laugh over your shoulder, and you recognize the interviewer’s also intermingling with yours, which only makes your irritation grow. 

“You’re so impressive though, especially now! I'm sure there isn’t a single person out there who wouldn’t want to be with you.” 

You could feel a vein in your head pop and your eye twitch, but you were caught off guard by on- screen-Shoyo’s next words.

“Well, I wouldn’t really know; I have an amazing partner who I'm always looking at, so if there were, I wouldn't have noticed!” he laughed, and it’s so sincere that your heart flutters at the honesty behind it.

“Ohh, that’s so sweet.” you hear the interviewer speak again, and you laugh at the significantly less cheer in her voice. “They must all envy—?“

“Y/N!” he interrupts to introduce you with a cheerful nod. “Yeah, I'm not sure. I know I used to envy their admirers.” he reflects with a short laugh. “But they’re truly my biggest supporter, and always put up with my schedules and drills. There’s one drill in particular actually—“ 

He goes back to droning on about the subject at hand, about his volleyball training and how it impacted his performance in the game, but by the time Shoyo from behind the kitchen wall finally arrives into the living room, the main spokesperson has moved on to discussing other players and matches. 

“Aw, did I miss it?” Shoyo cries disappointedly as he speeds into the room, sliding your plate down on the coffee table in front of you and taking a seat beside you on the couch with his own. 

You grin at him, mind still on his words from before and you nudged him. “Took you long enough.”

“You could’ve helped.” he grumbles and you kiss his cheek sympathetically with a small sorry, and from the way he brightens and his cheeks tint pink, you can tell you’re immediately forgiven. 

And as he gushes in awe of the other players’ highlights and interviews, a small part of you can’t help but think back on his words and feel a little smug with yourself when you also remember the interviewer’s awkward disposition after he had brought you up. You can’t help but be comforted to know that the innocent mention of you was not only a reminder to her, but to those like her, that his heart was fully committed to you and only you.  

SAKUSA: If there was one aspect of Sakusa’s career he particularly disliked, it was the fans. 

It was evident that he couldn’t care less about the fame he had or the things people were willing to do for him or had to say about him (unless they were directly interfering with his life), and you couldn’t help but feel some sort of relief to know Kiyoomi would not spare a single glance at some of his more fiercely devoted fans.

Yet of course, your problem had to lie outside of that realm.

Your problem was not an avid fan, who had the circumstances of a parasocial relationship to comfort you, but a colleague of Kiyoomi’s whom the Jackals worked pretty closely with; and happened to be quite a fan of your boyfriends.

You felt bad getting worked up over something so petty, but her persistence in trying to extend her relationship with Sakusa into something friendlier couldn’t help but sound off alarm bells in your head. You already knew that your boyfriend had a million other nuisances to deal with, and you had no intention of adding onto that list with your selfishness and unjustified uneasiness, especially when you knew your boyfriend had strict boundaries he wouldn’t compromise for anyone. 

Well, almost anyone. 

She was shamelessly unprofessional at times, attempting to emulate your affectionate behavior towards him in hopes that she’ll receive the same sort of submissive response that only you could get out of him. 

Your boyfriend, for the sake of keeping good business, tolerated the over-friendliness, and saw it as nothing more than an attempt at trying to seem more casual and easy going in a business setting. 

You’ve attempted to subtly bring up your discomfort at times when she got too out of hand for your liking, typically when the two of you were in the car or lounging around at home. You’d ask his thoughts about her behavior or her personality, to which he respond with something that amounted to the conclusion that: “she’s just doing her job.” 

She’s tagged along on one of the away games that you so happen to also be coming along on. She's been quite enthusiastic on sharing her research on the area they’re staying in to him, and she doesn’t spare a single detail as he prepares to head out for the day. 

“--and apparently the food in this area is extremely good. Everyone says that you can’t visit without trying it. There’s this restaurant in particular not too far from the training center! I’m sure I can get the two of us reservations before we--” 

“Why would we do that?” he asks suddenly, obviously already irritated by her incessant conversation, turning toward her with a frown. 

Her expression is one of shock and slight embarrassment for a moment before she recollects herself. 

“Just…you know, to sample the cuisine!”

“Is it business related?”

Again, blunt and to the point, the woman needs a moment before she responds.

“Well--”

“My partner and I have plans while we’re in the area. You can talk to my manager about scheduling a meeting regarding any matters you have to discuss. I've already discussed with them my availability.” 

You start to approach him as he finishes setting the remainder of his gear into his training bag, and the woman yet again tries to recollect herself after suddenly being met with the fact that Kiyoomi was already taken. He looks up at you waiting for him by the gymnasium doors, and doesn’t even spare the woman a single glance or wave before making his way over.

He bumps your shoulder as he strides in step with you, mumbling “let’s get out of here.” and then “are your hands clean?”

And when you mumble a yeah in response, he reaches down to take one in his, intertwining your fingers and leaving just enough room for the woman watching your backs to be able to see the rare show of affection. 

You’re caught off guard by the sudden pda, and glance over your shoulder, then back at him in confusion. He feels your quizzical gaze on him and sighs exasperatedly. “She wasn’t just doing her job…”

You couldn’t help but hum a little pleased with yourself, puffing out your chest a little when you realized that she didn’t get her way, and squeeze his hand a little tighter. He shoots you a look at you a little with a roll of his eyes and squeezes back. “We’re going back to the room.”

“Actually, I heard there was a really nice restaurant around here. I was thinking of trying to get us reservations.”

He stared down at your eager smile and bright eyes and found his resolve waning the longer he did so. He turned his gaze back toward the front. “Okay. Room first, though.” 

[sugarcloudsky]

Hi! Welcome to the cookie run x reader community! Here you'll find so many amazing fics, writers, and anons like myself! I am personally a big fan of cookie run x reader stuff and I saw you and thought I'd give you a request and see what your writing is like!

I noticed how you prefer writing for male characters and lucky for you...my top two favs are males lol! (Clotted cream and affogato!)

So I was thinking....may I request am affogato x a shy, sweet reader? Like the reader is an absolute bean?

Again, welcome and I hope you like the people and anon and other writers here!

「The Sweetest Medicine」

character: affogato cookie

wc: 1.1k

cws: none

first request done, i really hope you like it!! thank you for the kind welcome, i appreciate it >_< this rlly came out longer than i expected,,

Early morning hours were always a thing Affogato Cookie quite disliked. The bleary gray sky served to always dampen his mood, and he sometimes found himself longing for the day the Dark Cacao kingdom may just one day see a sunny morning. He sighs, running a hand through his hair. He was too tired to deal with that miserable excuse of a king today. For once, he just wanted to lay in bed all day. Oh, to be able to have an entire day to himself, being able to sit alone and eat all the sweet confectioneries he could ever want—

A knock at his door interrupted his fantasies.

“…Sir Affogato Cookie? Are you awake?”

Normally, he wouldn’t have sprung up from his soft mattress so quickly, but perhaps this case was a bit special. He quickly straightened his hair before replying in the same sugary voice the cookies of the kingdom was so used to hearing, “I’ll be right out.”

After a few moments of changing out of his sleep attire and fixing himself up, he slides open the door to his chambers. There, he meets you waiting for him. He carefully scans your figure, taking in your nervous body language. He watches as you entirely avoid eye contact with him, as well as noting that you are obviously hiding something behind your back with your two hands.

“My, my, quite the lovely sight, even in these early morning hours. What brings you to my chambers so early, hm?”

His compliment caught you entirely off guard, causing your face to burn and the speech you had planned in your head to completely dissipate. You try to speak, but the words are caught in your throat. The only thing that comes out is a quite frankly pathetic mess of words.

“I— You— F— Ah,” You stumble over your words, and your face burns even brighter when you hear him chuckle. Panic quickly enters you, is he already laughing at you?! Oh crumbs, this really was a bad idea. You pull one of your arms out from behind you, subconsciously try to hide your face in your hand in an attempt to calm yourself.

“Sorry, I—”

“Why don’t you come in, hm?”

“Huh?!”

You bite your lip in embarrassment at your loud exclamation. Other cookies who were roaming the halls of the citadel all turned to you, and at that moment you might as well have just melted into a puddle. Affogato chuckled again as he gently peels your hand away from your face. His hands cup your own as he softly pulls you into his bedchamber. You aren’t able to get a word in before you're standing in the middle of his room.

“What is it you wanted to tell me? You don’t have to worry about anyone else being around.”

You do not reply. You are frozen in place, unmoving. This isn't how you planned for this to go. All you wanted to do was give him what you made for him, and leave. That’s it. You didn’t expect to be standing in the middle of his bedroom alone with him. This is the worst possible outcome, you thought. How did it turn out this way?

He observes you closely, almost being able to hear the gears turning inside your head. He quietly sits on the edge of his bed, his eyes not leaving your stiff form. He clears his throat as a means to get your attention, and you jolt. Affogato pats the space on his bed beside him, beckoning you to sit next to him, and you hesitate.

“S—Sir, I really don’t think this is appropriate. I shouldn’t be in here so casually with you…” you fluster.

“Why so worried, hm? It’s just us in here. You can sit next to me as much as you like.” He deflects, still patting the space next to him.

Attempting to swallow your nervousness, you sit. Immediately, you’re hit with the mixed scent of coffee and ice cream. The bitterness of the coffee with the sweetness of the ice cream left your head spinning and cheeks burning once again. Oh crumbs, he smells really nice— no! That’s creepy! Just give him what you wanted to give him and go!

After what felt like forever, you pulled out what you had hiding behind your back onto your lap. It was a neatly wrapped box with a cute little ribbon on top. Affogato’s curiosity peaks as he asks you what’s in the box.

“It’s— um, I made you.. I made you a cake… because I heard you talking about how you… you liked sweets…” Your voice grew softer as your sentence continued, your figure shrinking on the spot.

For a moment, there’s only silence.

Then, he laughs.

“My, my,” he says, attempting to suppress his giddiness, “For me? How charming. You’ve come to me this early in the morning just to give me this?”

You nod. You’re so flustered and embarrassed at this point, you thought you were going to explode at any moment now. He gingerly takes the box from your grasp, untying the ribbon and opening the lid. Inside was a small chocolate colored cake with light fluffy icing, along with a cute little spoon. His eyes widened at the sight. The aroma was divine and the cake looked delicious.

He smiles as he turns to gaze at you, eyes holding pure adoration for you. He watches as you fiddle with your fingers nervously, your eyes glued to the floor in front of you.

“Thank you.” he sighs. His tone is so different from what you’re used to hearing. It was so genuine and kind in comparison to the faux sweetness he held with any other cookie in the kingdom. “I appreciate it, truly.”

“It’s— It’s nothing!” you nervously laugh, still refusing to face him. Despite your embarrassment, you’re glad he likes your gift. Sure, a cake so early in the morning might be a bit odd to some, but he likes it, so that’s all you really care about. You spent almost the entire night in the kitchens of the citadel, perfecting your recipe to make sure it was well suited for Affogato Cookie, Dark Cacao Cookie’s right hand.

“Such a thoughtful gift from a lovely cookie deserves a reward, does it not?” he hums in an unrecognizable tone, causing you to look up at him quizzically.

Your sputter, eyes widening.

He smiles angelically, motioning a spoonful of the cake towards you. If it was even possible, your face darkened even more. But you could’ve sworn his own cheeks held a light red tint as well.

“Say ‘ah’.”

[neworleansspecial]

Summary: An instagram post Marjan makes is interpreted as a coming out post. This was not her intention.

WC: 1.6k | AO3

Warnings: Internalized Homophobia

This is quite possibly the worst outcome Marjan can think of. She posted the roller derby photos because her feed has been quite dead since the whole “cancelling of firefox” thing that happened. It’s something non-controversial, and she loves to show off her brilliant team mates in the way that she assumes most people feel about their friends. She wants the world to see these talented, confident, beautiful women the way she sees them. Marjan spent a few minutes meticulously tagging each member of the team in the photos she posted, lining up each black bar with the correct face. She figures it’s a good appreciation of these women.

What happens instead of her friends being showered in compliments is speculation Marjan could have never, ever predicted. She knows that many of her fans are gay, particularly gay young women. Young lesbians. It’s a fact that she keeps in the back of her mind for no reason at all other than to just know it. This majority, however, make themselves known in the aftermath of the photos being posted. 

Marjan reads a comment that simply states, “ONE OF US! ONE OF US! ONE OF US!” followed by a bunch of heart emojis and wonders what it means. One of what? She scrolls through the thousands of comments on her post and tries to make sense of them when she realizes the error she’s made. 

The team photo on the first slide was when they all went to pride together, since most of the members of the roller derby team are LGBT+ and wanted to go as a group. Marjan went as an ally, but failed to clarify this point when she posted it. The thought smacks her in the face. 

People think this post was her coming out.

And it’s too late to take it back, but Marjan deletes the post the moment she connects the dots. Her first thought is for her family, who follow her on instagram. Her mother. Her siblings. They likely already saw. Marjan can just imagine the horror in her mother’s voice over the phone, asking Marjan if it’s true. One of her little sisters is still in high school, she could get bullied if anyone thinks that she might be related to a gay person. It’s going to be a disaster. 

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!”

“Marjan?”

She looks up to see Mateo peeking into the bunk room. He looks concerned. 

“Cap sent me to get you for dinner. Are you okay?”

“It’s nothing,” she lies, quickly putting her phone into her pocket. “Paul cooked, right? So it should be pretty good.”

Mateo easily moves on from his first question, chatting about the salad he helped make to go with dinner, and Marjan is able to just nod along to his words without really paying attention or responding. She’s in so much trouble. The last time she checked, there’s already a handful of articles about her photo. People know. It’s only a matter of time before everyone she’s ever met to know about the alleged coming out. Just thinking about it has Marjan’s eyes stinging with tears. 

By the time she sits down in her seat at the table, she can feel all their eyes on her. Being calm and collected is kind of her thing, and she feels so unbearably seen right now, in ways she’s never wanted to be. They all wait for her to speak, but once they realize she’s not going to on her own, Paul reaches across the table to take one of her hands. 

“Marjan, what’s wrong? We’re all here for you.”

She glances around at them. They could dismiss her in disgust easily. But she knows TK is gay, and everyone seems okay with it. At the very least, she knows TK won’t let them say anything too bad about the situation. 

“I posted some roller derby photos, on instagram. Um, one of them was from pride.”

Mateo’s face lights up. “That was such a cool day! It was my first time going to pride, since I wasn’t, like, out before. I can see why you’d wanna post those photos.”

“People think it was a coming out post.” She glances around the table to see neutral faces. “They think I’m gay.”

At that, TK stabs his fork particularly hard into his dinner and shoots a look at her. “And what’s wrong with being gay, Marj?”

His words get Mateo’s attention, honing in on the hurt and the concept that Marjan could be something less than accepting. Mateo’s self-discovery of bisexuality is recent, recent enough that he’s still rather insecure in his open identity. She doesn’t want him to think she cares about this sort of thing, even if she kind of does. But only when it’s her. Other people can be gay, or bi, but she knows it’s not something that’s allowed to her. Her family would be devastated.

“Is there something wrong?” Mateo asks. 

Marjan rushes to say no as Judd lowers his head and folds his hands like he’s praying. 

“It’s not that, it’s just… I…”

“Are you?” Paul asks.

Everyone’s attention snaps to him, and then to Marjan. She can almost feel the blood drain from her face as they all turn with the same look on their face, the same question. It’s all a given what they’re asking. What they want to know. She can’t handle their rejection for this. 

“Marjan,” he says gently, “it’s okay if you’re LGBT. You know that us, of all people, are going to love and support and defend you no matter what.”

Marjan stands up from the table, her chair scooting back loudly. “I need some air.”

She all but runs to the stairs, hopping down each step to get to the doors on the first floor to the cool outside air. It’s a relief against her suddenly flushed cheeks. She knows she can’t be gay. It’s not allowed. She had a fiancé for most of her life. It was always a given that she’d marry a man, one of her family’s choosing, without much of her say in the matter. Of course she could veto someone, or say they weren’t right for her, but the fact is that her husband was always going to be chosen for her. There’s been no room, no time, for her to consider any other romantic pursuits, especially with a woman.

For the very first time, Marjan allows herself to think about that. About women, and the possibility of being in a romantic relationship with a woman. In her mind’s eye, the woman is generic. Dark hair, big eyes, soft skin. There’s no face, just the imagined feeling of curves under her hands, perhaps the softness of a breast pressed to her palm. Thinking about this for the very first time as a possibility overwhelms her with its suddenness. She feels especially guilty when the imagined woman begins to take the shape of one of her friends. This isn’t right. This is perverse, an intrusion, worse than peeping. 

She feels sick to her stomach as she sinks to sit against the wall. This isn’t okay. She should’ve never posted that picture, and then people wouldn’t be saying these things about her. If they never said those things, she wouldn’t be having the most upsetting realization of her life right now either. 

Marjan isn’t sure how long she’s sitting out on the asphalt before Paul comes out and joins her, taking a seat at her side. His warm shoulder meets hers in a silent comfort for nearly five full minutes before he speaks. 

“I was already an adult when I realized,” he says to her. “I didn’t ‘always know,’ at least not in my conscious mind. It wasn’t until I was already out in the world as a firefighter that I truly realized who I was, and that was really scary. I had a long road ahead of me, with a lot of self-discovery, and I had a lot of people to tell. I was terrified.”

“How did you know?” Marjan asks. “That you really are trans?”

Paul sighs. “I didn’t. I questioned it a lot when I was first beginning my transition. For some people, they just know, and they have for a long time, but I was both certain that I was a man and worried that I was doing it for attention. It was hard. I went to therapy for a long time, to understand myself and to help me do what was best for myself. I had a lot of internalized transphobia to work through. On top of that, I had thought I was a lesbian for a long time before I realized I wasn’t, so I kind of understand what you might be going through. Questioning your gender and your sexuality are really similar in a lot of ways, but incredibly different in others. Regardless of your journey, Marjan, whether you’re straight or not, it’s going to take a lot of reflection. All of us here at the 126 have your back. If you need to listen, or talk, or just be distracted, we’re all here for you. We love you, Marj. I love you. And if you need anything, I’m here.”

She leans into his side and he puts an arm around her for the closest approximation of a hug they can manage while sitting side-by-side on the ground. Marjan knows she has a long path ahead of her of understanding her sexuality, and not just in terms of orientation. What she wants in a relationship and how to have one are things she doesn’t really understand yet, and that’s something she’s going to have to confront to move forward in her life. She’s scared of what it means for her future. She’s scared of what her family will think. She’s scared of what the world will think. But as she sits beside Paul, it is clear that there are people who are going to support her no matter what. 

With that, she may be able to learn this about herself.