#have a seat newcomer // ask

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

LINGER

rafe cameron x fem!reader

SUMMARY: a sweet, introverted bartender and obx’s very own troubled golden boy share an unspoken connection—until jealousy, misunderstandings, and unspoken feelings finally push them to confront the truth.

based on this ask !! i hope you enjoy anon, and i hope it’s what you asked for :)

WARNINGS: brief angst, cursing, alcohol consumption, topper being annoying, jealous!rafe, jj being flirty with reader😝, “love” confessions, rafe not feeling good enough, mutual pining, but a cute fluffy end !! (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 3.8k (i got REALLY carried away !!)

THIRD PERSON +

The hum of conversation filled the bar on Figure 8, mingling with the low beats of a classic rock playlist. It was a quieter night than usual, with only a handful of regulars clustered at tables and the occasional newcomer drifting in. Y/N stood behind the bar, wiping down the polished surface even though it hardly needed cleaning. She wasn't one to sit idle, and, truth be told, she was grateful for something to do.

The nights when Rafe Cameron came in made it nearly impossible for her to relax.

He was seated at the far end of the bar now, nursing a drink he didn't seem all that interested in. His sharp jawline caught the low light, the curve of his lips tugged into what might have been a smirk—or perhaps he was just lost in thought. Either way, Y/N found it difficult not to glance at him every few minutes, only to whip her gaze away whenever his blue eyes threatened to meet hers.

She knew his routine well by now. Rafe always came in alone, usually later in the evening when the crowd had thinned out. He was polite—surprisingly so—but there was something about him that felt dangerous, like a storm rolling in just beyond the horizon. The other bartenders whispered about him when he wasn't around, but Y/N didn't pay much attention to the gossip. She only knew what she saw: a man who lingered a little too long, who seemed to light up when she stumbled through small talk, who always tipped well even though she was sure she got his drink orders wrong half the time.

Tonight, as she fiddled nervously with the sleeves of her long sleeve tee, she could feel his eyes on her. She braced herself, stealing one more calming breath before walking toward his side of the bar.

"Need a refill, Rafe?" she asked, her voice barely louder than the music.

Rafe looked up, his expression softening the moment he saw her. "Yeah," he said, pushing his glass forward. "Same thing as before, please."

Y/N nodded quickly and reached for the bottle of bourbon, her hands trembling slightly as she poured. She could feel his gaze burning into her, the weight of his attention making her heart pound in her chest.

"Long night?" he asked suddenly, his voice smooth but laced with something almost boyish.

"Hmm?" she mumbled, nearly sloshing the liquor over the rim of his glass. "Oh, uh, yeah. Sort of."

"You're always working so hard," he remarked, leaning forward just a fraction. "Not sure I've ever seen you take a break."

Her cheeks burned as she scrambled to wipe up a stray droplet of bourbon with the edge of her towel. "It's not so bad," she said quickly. "I don't mind staying busy."

"You're good at it," he said, and there was an odd sincerity in his voice that made her stomach twist. "The bartending, I mean. You've got this... thing. Like, you make people feel comfortable."

Y/N froze for a moment, unsure how to respond. Compliments weren't something she received often, and especially not from someone like Rafe Cameron. She fumbled with the garnish tray, pulling out a cherry and dropping it into his glass with shaking fingers.

"Thanks," she murmured, avoiding his gaze.

He smiled then—a real, crooked smile that softened the edges of his typically hard demeanor. "I mean it," he said, taking the drink from her. His fingers brushed hers, just barely, but the contact sent a shiver down her spine. "You're easy to talk to, even when you're... y'know, kind of shy."

She blinked at him, unsure whether to laugh or apologise. Instead, she ducked her head, the warm feeling in her cheeks creeping up to her ears. "I, uh... I'm not great at talking. Sorry."

"Don't be," he said, his voice low and warm. "It's cute."

Her breath caught in her throat, and for a second, she was sure she'd imagined the way he looked at her—like she was something worth noticing. But before she could respond, the sound of someone calling her name from the other end of the bar jolted her back to reality. She muttered a quick excuse and darted away, her heart racing as she busied herself with another customer.

Rafe watched her go, a small frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. He hated how his chest tightened whenever she was near, how he felt like a nervous wreck every time she so much as glanced in his direction. She was sweet, kind-hearted, and far too good for someone like him.

And yet, he couldn't stop himself from lingering.

An hour later, the bar had grown busier, and Y/N found herself working harder to avoid Rafe's gaze. She didn't notice the arrival of Topper Thornton until his voice boomed across the room, drawing Rafe's attention.

Rafe liked watching her. She was different from anyone else he knew—a little clumsy, a little shy, but always kind. Too kind, he thought, for someone like him. She didn't belong to the same cutthroat world of backstabbing and manipulation that he did. She was sunshine, soft and untouchable, and every time he caught himself staring too long, he felt like a thief.

He didn't deserve her.

"Yo, Rafe!" Topper's voice cut through his thoughts, sharp and grating. Rafe turned to see his best friend approaching with a blonde girl in tow. She was pretty in a polished, effortless way—designer dress, manicured nails, a confident smile that screamed old money.

"This is Whitney," Topper announced, nudging Rafe's shoulder. "Told her you've been a free agent too long."

Rafe forced a tight smile, shaking Whitney's hand. She was pretty, sure. She had that typical Kook look, all high cheekbones and cold elegance. But she didn't spark anything in him. Not like Y/N did.

"Hi," Whitney said, her voice lilting with practiced charm.

"Hey," Rafe replied, stealing a glance back at the bar.

Y/N had seen it all—the introduction, the way Whitney tilted her head flirtatiously, the way Topper patted Rafe on the back like he'd just scored a win. Her heart sank, and she turned her attention to cleaning the counter with exaggerated focus, hoping to block out the scene playing out before her.

It was stupid to feel this way. She and Rafe weren't anything, not really. He was just a customer, and she was the awkward bartender who could barely string a sentence together around him. But seeing him with someone else, someone who seemed to fit so effortlessly into his world, made her chest tighten painfully.

When Rafe returned to the bar for another drink, Y/N kept her head down. Her usual nervous warmth was replaced by a cold efficiency as she mixed his order.

"Here," she said curtly, sliding the glass across the counter without looking up.

Rafe frowned. "You okay?"

"Fine."

He hesitated, searching her face for something—anything—that would explain the sudden change in her demeanor. But she didn't give him the chance to linger this time, quickly turning away to serve another customer.

Rafe's stomach twisted. She was shutting him out, and he didn't know why. Was it Whitney? Did she think he liked her? He didn't, not in the way he liked Y/N. But how could he explain that without sounding like an idiot? What was he even thinking? They weren't even together.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of frustration and longing. Whitney clung to Rafe's arm, laughing at his half-hearted jokes and batting her lashes at him, but he barely noticed. His focus was on Y/N—on the way she avoided his gaze, the stiffness in her shoulders, the forced politeness in her voice whenever he ordered another drink.

She hated him now. He was sure of it.

"Rafe, are you even listening?" Whitney's voice snapped him back to reality.

"Yeah," he lied, forcing a tight smile.

But he wasn't. His mind was with Y/N, replaying every moment of the night, searching for the moment he'd ruined everything.

—

The crisp night air nipped at Y/N's skin as she stepped out of the bar, her breath curling in wispy clouds before vanishing into the dark. The quiet of the island after hours was always a comfort, the distant crash of waves on the shore a reminder of home. But tonight, no amount of serene surroundings could quiet the ache twisting in her chest.

She tightened her coat around her as she walked to her car, her mind replaying the evening in an endless loop. It wasn't the first time she'd seen Rafe Cameron in the bar. She'd grown used to his presence, even come to anticipate it with a nervous sort of excitement. But tonight was different. Tonight, he hadn't been alone.

Y/N hated the way her stomach had dropped at the sight of the blonde girl—Whitney, as she'd overheard Topper call her—clinging to Rafe's arm, her perfectly manicured nails resting on his bicep like she had every right to be there. The girl was beautiful, confident, and poised in a way Y/N knew she could never be. She was everything a Kook girl was supposed to be, and everything Y/N wasn't.

Her hands tightened on the steering wheel as she drove home, the rhythmic hum of the tires on the pavement doing little to soothe her. She felt ridiculous, stupid even, for letting herself feel this way. Rafe wasn't hers, and he never would be. He was just a guy who came into the bar, a customer she barely knew beyond the surface. But that wasn't entirely true, was it?

The way he lingered at the bar, the way he seemed to soften when he talked to her, the way he looked at her like she was someone worth noticing—it had all felt so real. She couldn't help but replay every stolen glance, every hesitant smile, every compliment he'd offered in his quiet, almost bashful way.

But now, all of that felt like a cruel joke. Maybe she'd imagined it, read too much into his kindness because she wanted to believe it was something more. Maybe he'd been looking at her out of boredom, not interest. Maybe he had never thought about her at all.

Her throat tightened, and she blinked hard against the sting of tears. She hated how vulnerable she felt, how easily her emotions betrayed her. She had always prided herself on being independent, on not needing anyone's validation. But Rafe Cameron had slipped past her defenses, and now she was paying the price for letting him linger in her thoughts and feelings.

By the time she reached her small, cozy house, the weight in her chest had settled into a dull ache. She dropped her keys on the counter and sank onto the couch, her thoughts still swirling like a storm. Her parents had always supported her decision to work, even though she could have easily coasted on their wealth like so many other Kooks. She liked earning her own way, proving to herself and the world that she was more than just another privileged kid on Figure 8.

But tonight, she felt small and insignificant, like the world was reminding her that she didn't belong in Rafe Cameron's orbit. He was a hurricane, magnetic and destructive, and she was just a quiet breeze, unnoticed and easily forgotten.

And yet, she couldn't stop thinking about him.

—

The door to Rafe's house closed with a heavy thud, and he let out a long, exhausted sigh as he leaned against it. The evening had been a disaster, but it wasn't because of Whitney. In fact, he could hardly remember a single thing she'd said. His mind had been elsewhere all night, fixated on the one thing he couldn't stop thinking about: Y/N.

He pushed off the door and made his way to the kitchen, the silence of the house pressing in around him. His family was used to him coming and going at odd hours, and tonight he was grateful for the solitude. Pouring himself a glass of water, he leaned against the counter, his thoughts a jumbled mess.

Y/N had been different tonight, and it had shaken him more than he wanted to admit. She'd barely looked at him, her usual shy, awkward charm replaced by a cold formality that felt like a punch to the gut. He replayed the moment over and over, searching for the exact second he must have done something to upset her.

But the more he thought about it, the more he realised it wasn't just her behavior that had unsettled him—it was how much it had affected him.

He liked her. He really, truly liked her. It was a quiet, consuming sort of affection that had taken him by surprise. At first, it had been easy to dismiss—the way his chest tightened when she smiled, the way his heart raced whenever their fingers brushed. But now, after months of stolen moments and lingering glances, he couldn't deny it anymore.

He thought about the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was nervous, the way her voice softened when she spoke to him, the way her cheeks flushed whenever he managed to fluster her. She was kind in a way that felt rare, genuine in a way that made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he wasn't beyond redemption.

But tonight, all of that had felt out of reach.

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. Whitney had been a mistake—a distraction Topper had pushed on him that he never should have agreed to. She'd been all wrong from the start, her shallow questions and empty compliments grating on his nerves. She didn't care about him; she cared about the idea of him, the money and status he represented.

But Y/N... Y/N had never treated him like that. She didn't care about his family name or his bank account. She didn't try to impress him or play games. She was just herself, awkward and sweet and so genuine it made his chest ache.

And now, he might have ruined everything.

The thought made his stomach churn. He didn't know how to fix it, didn't even know where to start. All he knew was that he couldn't bear the thought of her looking at him the way she had tonight—like he was a stranger, someone unworthy of her time.

Rafe set the empty glass down on the counter and scrubbed a hand over his face. He wasn't used to feeling this way, vulnerable and uncertain. But Y/N had a way of unraveling him, of making him question everything he thought he knew about himself.

He didn't deserve her, not really. But he couldn't stop himself from wanting her anyway.

As he climbed the stairs to his room, his thoughts were filled with her—her shy smiles, her quiet laughter, the way she made him feel like maybe he could be something more than the mess he'd become. He didn't know what the future held, but he knew one thing for sure: Y/N had changed him, and there was no going back.

—

Four days. Four endless, suffocating days.

Rafe Cameron had returned to the bar every single night since that dreadful evening, but each time, there was no sign of Y/N. It didn't sit right with him. The place didn't feel the same without her. She wasn't just another bartender—she was the lifeblood of the space, her sweet, slightly awkward energy drawing customers like moths to a flame.

But now, the warmth was gone. Without her behind the counter, it was just another dimly lit establishment, all noise and no soul.

By the fourth night, his restlessness was unbearable. He stepped into the bar, his sharp eyes immediately scanning the room. This time, she was there. Relief flooded him so quickly it was almost dizzying.

And then he saw who she was talking to.

Y/N was behind the bar, giggling softly as she leaned in closer to none other than JJ Maybank. Her hair slipped forward as she laughed, and she quickly brushed it out of her face, a move Rafe had seen her do countless times. It always left him breathless.

But this time, the sight filled him with a searing, unfamiliar rage.

What the hell was Maybank doing here? This was Kook territory, not The Cut. And worse, what was he doing talking to Y/N like that? The way JJ was leaning against the bar, all easy charm and flirtation, made Rafe's blood boil. He clenched his jaw so hard it ached as he watched JJ flash her one of his trademark smirks.

Rafe's fists tightened at his sides as he stalked over.

The second Y/N noticed him, her expression changed. The soft laughter disappeared, replaced by something guarded and uncertain. The shift stung more than he wanted to admit, but he wasn't here to dwell on it. His eyes flicked to JJ, narrowing with disdain.

"Well, if it isn't JJ Maybank," Rafe drawled, his voice dripping with contempt. "Didn't think you'd ever cross the bridge willingly."

JJ turned, unfazed, and smirked. "What can I say? The service here's worth it." He shot Y/N a wink, which only made Rafe's temper flare.

"Sure it is," Rafe muttered darkly, his gaze never leaving JJ. The air between them crackled with tension, but eventually, JJ shrugged and pushed off the bar.

"I'll catch you later, Y/N," JJ said casually before heading toward the group of Pogues gathered in the corner.

Rafe watched him go, his shoulders rigid with suppressed anger. When he finally turned back to Y/N, her expression was unreadable.

"Something I can get you, Cameron?" she asked coolly, her usual warmth noticeably absent.

Rafe hesitated for a moment before leaning on the bar. "Whiskey, neat—Please."

As she poured his drink, he couldn't stop himself from blurting out, "What was he even doing here?"

Y/N glanced up briefly, her expression neutral. "JJ's been here before. He's not exactly banned from Kookland, you know."

Rafe scoffed but didn't press the matter further. The silence between them was suffocating, and it took everything in him to break it.

"How's it been?" he asked, his voice softer now. "I uh, haven't seen ya' around."

She gave him a quick, noncommittal shrug. "Been busy."

The coldness in her tone stung, but Rafe couldn't let it go. He needed to understand what had changed.

"Look," he began, his voice low, "I feel like maybe I upset you the other night. Was it... Was it the girl?"

Y/N froze for a split second before resuming her task, but Rafe didn't miss the way her jaw tightened.

"How was your date, by the way?" she asked, her tone deceptively light.

"It wasn't a date," Rafe said quickly, his words tumbling over each other.

Y/N let out a sharp laugh, shaking her head as she turned to face him. "Rafe, come on. It very clearly was. She was practically glued to your side."

"It wasn't," he insisted, his voice firm. "Topper set it up. I didn't even want to go, and I haven't spoken to her since." He hesitated, his blue eyes meeting hers. "She's not really my type."

Something in his tone gave Y/N pause, but she was too hurt to let it show. "Right," she said flatly.

Before she could say more, Rafe's next question caught her off guard. "Are you seeing JJ?"

Her brows furrowed as she stared at him. "What?"

"Are you seeing him?" he repeated, his voice tense.

"No," she said slowly, setting her hands on the counter. "But he did ask me on a date."

The words hit Rafe like a punch to the gut, and before he could think better of it, he blurted out, "Don't go."

Y/N's eyes widened, and she crossed her arms. "Why not?"

Rafe faltered, the confidence he'd managed to muster evaporating under her sharp gaze. He opened his mouth, but the words caught in his throat.

"Exactly," she said bitterly, turning away to busy herself with a drink. "That's what I thought."

"Wait," Rafe said suddenly, his voice rough with desperation. "It's not— I..." He took a deep breath, his hands gripping the edge of the bar. "I like you, okay?"

The words hung in the air between them, heavy and raw.

Y/N froze, her heart hammering in her chest. Slowly, she turned to face him, her expression a mixture of shock and disbelief.

Rafe looked down, unable to meet her gaze. "I've been nervous to tell you because... because you're too good for me. You're sweet and kind, and I'm—" He broke off, shaking his head. "I'm not. I've got a lot of darkness, Y/N. I don't want to drag you into it or hurt you."

His voice cracked slightly, and he finally looked up, his blue eyes filled with vulnerability. "I don't want to break you."

For a moment, Y/N didn't say anything, the weight of his confession sinking in. Then, slowly, she stepped closer, her voice soft but firm. "You're not going to break me, Rafe."

His brows furrowed as he searched her face for any sign of hesitation, but all he found was quiet resolve.

"I can see the heart in you," she continued, her gaze steady. "You're different when you're around me, and I know it's real. You don't have to be scared of that."

Rafe's shoulders sagged slightly, relief washing over him like a wave.

"And for the record," she added with a small smile, "I'm not interested in JJ. He's been trying to win me over for a while now, but... it was never going to happen."

Rafe let out a shaky breath, his lips twitching into a faint smile. "Good," he muttered, his voice low.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her confidence returning. "Do you have something to ask me, Rafe Cameron?" she teased, a playful smirk tugging at her lips.

Rafe blinked, momentarily caught off guard, before shaking his head with a quiet laugh. He met her gaze, his expression softening. "Will you go out with me?"

Y/N's smile widened as she nodded. "Yeah. I will."

The tension between them melted away, replaced by a quiet understanding that felt both new and inevitable. For the first time in days, Rafe felt like he could breathe again, and Y/N couldn't stop the warmth blooming in her chest.

As the bar buzzed around them, they stood in their own little world, the first fragile threads of something real beginning to weave between them.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

i hope you enjoyed this anon !! i had sm fun writing this and thought it was a super sweet plot/concept so thank you for trusting me with it <3

still working my way through requests whilst also working on my little drew starkey mini series (sports car) so please be patient w me my loves :) but also still request any ideas you have ofc !!

[howslemon]

Perfect Translation

IVE Rei x Male Reader

Words: 3.2k+

*Japanese

.

The forty-story glass building loomed before you, its sleek facade reflecting the morning sun. You smoothed down your suit coat, gripping your company ID like a lifeline. Your supervisor's words echoed in your mind: "Just a casual check-in with our Japanese partners." Easy for him to say, he wasn't the one navigating Tokyo without speaking the language.

The security guard accepted your ID with both hands, his expression courteous but firm. After a brief examination, he returned it with a gesture toward the waiting area. The glossy pamphlet on the side table offered little comfort. Its characters might as well have been abstract art.

"Good afternoon sir,"

The voice pulled your attention from the pamphlet. A woman stood before you, her presence commanding yet graceful. Her dark hair fell just past her shoulders, complementing the sharp lines of her business attire.

"Naoi Rei, I’ll be assisting you for today." she introduced herself, extending a hand. Her handshake was firm, professional. "Please follow me."

.

The elevator ride was quiet for the soft jazz playing overhead. You noticed how she stood, straight-backed, hands clasped before her, the very picture of corporate professionalism.

"First time in Japan sir?" she asked warmly, softening the elevator's fluorescent lighting.

"That obvious huh?"

A smile tugged at her lips. "You have that look about you. Wide-eyed, just taking everything in." She turned slightly toward you. "Tokyo can be overwhelming at first."

"Any suggestions for a newcomer?"

"I know quite a few hidden gems in the city." Her eyes met yours briefly. "Places tourists never find."

The elevator chimed, interrupting whatever was building in that moment. Rei gestured for you to follow, her heels clicking rhythmically against the polished floor. The office buzzed with quiet energy, the soft murmur of voices, the gentle hum of computers, the distant ring of phones.

Rei led you to a meeting room along the corner, where an executive in his fifties greeted you with a slight bow. His silver-streaked hair and wire-rimmed glasses gave him an air of distinguished authority.

"Welcome," he said warmly. "I trust you found us without too much trouble?"

Rei translated, voice replicating the same warmth. Was it your imagination, or did her eyes linger on yours a moment longer than necessary?

"The building was hard to miss," you replied, settling into the chair she indicated. The seating arrangement placed Rei between you and the executive, close enough that you caught the subtle scent of her perfume.

"Well, shall we discuss how the partnership has been progressing?"

Rei translated, but this time, she carried a hint of playfulness. "He wants to know how well we work together." Her emphasis on 'we' was subtle but unmistakable.

.

The conversation flowed, a dance of languages and meanings. With each translation, Rei seemed to grow bolder, a lingering glance here, a subtle shift in her chair there. Her translations remained professional, but her body language told a different story.

"How do you manage your team?" the executive asked, innocently enough.

Rei's eyes sparkled as she translated. "He's curious about how you... handle things." Her foot brushed against yours under the table, too deliberate to be accidental.

"I believe in being... hands-on when necessary," you replied, maintaining eye contact.

She turned to the executive, translating your words with perfect professionalism, but her crossed legs angled slightly more toward you. The rest of the meeting became a delicate balance, maintaining corporate decorum while an undercurrent of tension built with each exchanged glance, each "accidental" touch.

The executive seemed pleased with the discussion, checking his watch. "I believe we've covered everything now, unless you have any other questions?"

Rei's translation came with a subtle bite of her lip. "He's wrapping up. But I'm sure there's more we could... discuss."

The professional facade was cracking, replaced by something electric, dangerous, and entirely unprofessional. But as you caught her eye, you knew neither of you cared anymore. "That could be arranged,"

Rei’s eyes lingered onto yours a bit longer than necessary as she turned to the executive. "I have no other questions,"

As the executive gathered his papers, Rei translated his closing remarks with perfect professionalism, but her eyes told a different story entirely. The tension that had been building throughout the meeting was reaching its breaking point.

"Thank you for taking the time to meet today," the executive said, standing and extending his hand.

"He said thank you for the stimulating... conversation," Rei translated, her voice low enough that only you could hear the suggestion in her tone.

You shook the executive's hand, maintaining your composure despite the heat crawling up your neck. After exchanging pleasantries, Rei led you back into the hallway, her heels clicking against the polished floor with newfound purpose.

"I should show you around before you leave," she said, loud enough for anyone nearby to hear, not that anyone understood it anyway. Then, leaning closer, she whispered, "There's a utility room at the end of this hallway. Nobody uses it this time of day."

Your pulse quickened as you followed Rei down the corridor, past busy offices and meeting rooms. To anyone watching, it was just the translator guiding a visitor, nothing more.

She slowed her pace as you approached a door near the end of the hall. Glancing quickly in both directions, Rei reached for the handle.

The door opened to reveal a small storage room, shelves of office supplies, a utility sink, and not much else. But neither of you were looking at the surroundings as she pulled you inside, closing the door behind you.

She locked the door. The moment it clicked, she turned to you, professionalism cracking at the edges. "So," she murmured, voice dipping lower, "let's talk about that hands-on management style."

You didn’t bother with words.

Your mouth was on hers in an instant, capturing her gasp as you pressed her against the nearest shelf. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t patient. The tension that had been building throughout the meeting snapped in an instant.

She matched your urgency, her hands already at your tie, loosening it with quick, practiced movements. Your fingers traced the buttons of her blouse, slipping one free, then another, revealing smooth skin beneath.

"I've been thinking about this since I saw you through the lobby," Rei whispered against your mouth, her fingers already working at your tie.

The confined space of the storage room amplified every breath, every rustle of clothing, every muffled sound, everything. Your hands found her waist, the smooth fabric of her blouse a stark contrast to the heat emanating from beneath.

"Someone could hear us," you murmured, even as your actions contradicted your words.

"Then we'll have to be quiet," she replied, a dangerous gleam in her eyes. Her fingers moved with surprising dexterity, undoing your coat with practiced ease. "Unless you want me to translate that too? Let them know what we’re doing."

The joke broke the tension for just a moment before it rebuilt, stronger than before. Your hands found the edge of her skirt, bunching the fabric as she pressed harder against you.

"No more talking," she commanded, professional composure completely forgotten. She reached for your belt, working it open with precision.

The small room felt electric, charged with the hours of pent-up energy released in this stolen moment. Office supplies rattled on nearby shelves as you both moved against them, neither caring about maintaining order anymore.

You turned her around swiftly, hands rested on the curve of her hips, guiding her against the stacked shelf. Her breath hitched as your fingers slid up the smooth skin of her thighs, bunching her skirt higher until it barely covered her. Her palms pressed against the shelf, nails barely scratching the metal frame as she arched back, offering herself without a word. You could feel the heat radiating from between her legs, her body betraying how long she’d been waiting for this.

"You're already soaked," you murmured, running a finger along the thin strip of fabric that barely covered her. A soft, muffled gasp escaped her lips as you traced slow circles over her panties, teasing, taunting.

"Do you want me to translate how much I need you right now?" she whispered, voice thick with desire.

Instead of answering, you hooked your fingers into the waistband and tugged her panties down, letting them slide past her thighs before they dropped to her ankles. She kicked them aside without hesitation, spreading her legs wider in silent invitation.

Your fingers dipped between her folds, spreading her open, feeling how wet she was. "Fuck," you breathed, dragging your fingertips through the slickness before pressing one inside her. She clenched around you instantly, her breath catching as she bit back a moan.

"You need to be quiet," you reminded her, sliding another finger in, stretching her, curling just enough to make her shudder. "Unless you want everyone out there to know what a filthy little professional you really are."

Her head dropped forward, forehead resting against the shelf as she fought to control herself. You freed yourself, lining up at her entrance, teasing her with the head of your cock.

You gripped her hips, holding her still as you teased her entrance, rubbing against her, coating yourself in her wetness. "Tell me how badly you want it."

She turned her head slightly, eyes blazing as she met your gaze over her shoulder. "I’ve wanted it the second I saw you in that lobby," she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "Now stop teasing and fuck me."

A growl rumbled low in your throat as you thrust into her, burying yourself in one smooth, deep stroke. Her mouth fell open in a silent cry, fingers tightening around the edge of the shelf. You gave her a moment to adjust before pulling back and slamming into her again, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the small space.

"God—" she gasped, cutting herself off, trying to suppress her moans.

You grinned, gripping a handful of her hair and pulling her head back. "Careful," you warned, your lips brushing her ear. "Wouldn't want anyone to walk in and see you like this, bent over, dripping, taking every inch like you were made for it."

Her only response was a desperate whimper, her walls tightening around you, her body pushing back against yours, seeking more. You gave it to her fast, deep, relentless. The shelf rocked against the wall with every thrust, papers slipping loose, pens scattering onto the floor, but neither of you cared.

"You're so fucking tight," you groaned, your grip on her hips bruising as you drove into her harder, faster. She was trembling now, her legs shaking, her breath uneven as she neared the edge.

"Please," she panted, barely able to get the word out. "Don’t stop."

You reached around, finding her clit, rubbing harsh, quick circles in time with your thrusts. Her whole body tensed, back arching, muscles tightening as she came hard around you, her orgasm crashing over her in silent, shaking waves, pushing your cock out of her.

You felt her soft thighs press around your length. The slick wetness from her previous orgasm made it easy for your cock to slide in and out smoothly between the soft flesh of meat, lightly brushing her still dripping folds. Each slow thrusts teasing, matched with your hand creeping up to her perfectly sized breast.

Rei let out cute little whimpers, her fingers tightening around the shelf, trying to steady herself as you plant gentle kisses along her nape. You ran your hands up her sides, tracing her ribs through the thin fabric of her blouse before gripping her waist again, controlling her movements, making sure she felt every inch of you sliding between her thighs.

Her thighs squeezed tighter, the sensation delicious as you picked up the pace, fucking into that soft, slick heat. You could feel how wet she still was, how close she was again. "Sensitive?" You murmured against her ear, dragging your lips along the curve of her neck, sucking lightly, just enough to make her jerk, but not enough pressure to leave a mark, at least not for now.

Rei shivered, nodding weakly as she bit her lip before turning her face to you. Your fingers trailed down, dipping between her legs, teasing her folds just as your cock slid past. She jerked against you, a sharp inhale escaping her lips as you circled her clit again, rubbing in time with your thrusts. Her pleading eyes stared at yours, full of hunger, desires. Warm breaths hitting you before you closed the tiny gap in between your faces, claiming her plump lips, tounges slithering together, savoring each other’s taste.

There she was again with her cute whimpers, this time, against your mouth, her body trembling against yours, breathing uneven. Lewd wet sounds of your exchanged heat echoing the small space, the universal language of sex that didn’t need any translation for anyone to understand.

You felt yourself getting close, the friction of her plush thighs, the heat of her soaked pussy just barely out of reach, driving you to the edge. You pulled back at the last second, gripping her hips with both hands as you turned her around. Rei blinked up at you, dazed, her pupils blown wide with lust. Her lips were slightly parted, her breathing still ragged.

Her back hitting the shelf as you lifted one of her legs, hitching it over your arm. The new angle exposed everything, her swollen, dripping entrance, still twitching from her last orgasm, waiting, begging for you to fill her again with your cock.

You lined yourself up, teasing her entrance with the head of your cock, reveling in the way she shuddered, her fingers gripping at your shoulders for support.

"Please…" Her voice was barely a whisper, but the desperation in it made something snap inside you. You thrust into her in one hard stroke, burying yourself to the hilt. The shelves behind her hit against the wall, the remaining office supply containers dropping down the floor. You somehow felt bad for someone who’s gonna clean all this mess, the wasted sheet of papers already unusable, soaked with Rei’s cum.

You didn’t give her time to adjust this time. You set a punishing rhythm, deep, unrelenting, each thrust forcing her against the shelf, her body completely at your mercy. Her nails dug into your shoulders as she held on, breaking her with every thrust. "Too much—!"

"You can take it," you growled, gripping her chin, forcing her to look at you. Her lips trembled, breath hot and uneven as she stared up at you, pupils wide, drowning in lust. "Yes, I can—ahh!"

You slammed into her harder, watching her back arch, her body forced against the shelf. The unrelenting force of your thrusts shaking both her and the unstable storage behind her.

"Don’t stop…" she gasped, nails raking down your back through the fabric of your shirt, her legs tightening around you as you drove into her relentlessly.

You grabbed her other thigh, lifting her completely off the ground, pressing her against the cold metal shelf as you held her in place, using your strength to fuck into her at a brutal pace. She had no choice but to take it, her body fully surrendered to you, trembling, shaking, as pleasure wracked through her.

"I-I’m gonna—!"

You felt it, her walls spasming around you, body shaking, a strangled cry escaping her lips as she—

Somebody knocked, forcing you to stay absolutely still, cock still burried deep into her, painfully halting Rei’s climax. You covered her mouth, preventing any unwanted cries of pleasure to be heard by someone out there. She’s still gasping, trying to catch her breath as you slowly continue your pace.

"What did he say?" You whispered before letting go of her mouth.

"Just asking if someone’s here,"

Coast is clear, you heard footsteps walking away from the room. You stared at each other, letting out breathy laughs.

"You were so close," you murmured against her ear, feeling the way her walls still fluttered around you, desperate for the release that had been stolen from her.

"F-fuck... I hate you," Rei whispered breathlessly, forehead pressing against yours, her nails digging into your shoulders. But her body betrayed her, still shifting against you, still silently pleading for more.

You smirked, pulling back just enough to watch her face as you rolled your hips, slow and deep, pressing her further into the cold shelf. "Hate me?" Another slow, deliberate thrust. "Or hate that I stopped?"

"A bit of both," she gasped, tilting her head back as pleasure took over her again.

"You wanna cum?"

Rei nodded frantically, staring at you with lips slightly parted, already lost in it again. "Please, make me cum,"

You gripped her thighs tighter, pressing it higher against your waist as you snapped your hips forward, resuming the brutal rhythm she needed, slamming into her deep and hard. She cried out, her voice muffled against your shoulder, her nails scratching down your back.

"You wanna scream?" you taunted, breath hot against her neck. "But you can’t, can you? Not unless you want them to hear how filthy you are, getting fucked like this in a storage room."

She nodded weakly, biting her lip to keep the moans inside.

"Then cum," you growled, thrusting harder, fingers digging into her skin as you drove her over the edge. Her whole body tensed, her pussy clenching down on you, squeezing tight as she came violently, her muffled moan vibrating against your skin.

You groaned, feeling the way she milked your cock, every pulse pushing you closer, her tight, dripping heat dragging you into oblivion.

"Fuck Rei,"

You buried yourself as deep as you could, white-hot pleasure crashing over you as you came inside her, filling her completely. She whimpered, shivering as she felt it, her body still shaking, still coming down from her high as you spilled every last drop into her.

Silence settled between you, both panting, pressed against each other, sweaty, spent.

You finally dropped her legs down as you pulled back, watching your cum slowly dripping on her thighs. "Messy…" you murmured, smirking.

Rei let out a breathy laugh, legs still weak, arms wrapped lazily around your shoulders. "That was the best fuck I’ve had here."

You kissed her—slow, deep, savoring the taste of her.

"Should we clean up?" You pressed your forehead to hers, glancing around the wreckage of the storage room, office supplies scattered, papers ruined, and the unmistakable scent of sex heavy in the air.

"Should we?"

You both chuckled, fixing yourselves back into the professionals that you were before you went in that room. "You free tonight?" You ask her.

She leaned against the shelf to steady herself, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Tonight?" she asked, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

"My hotel." you replied, straightening your tie.

Rei glanced at her watch, then took out a business card. She flipped it over, writing something on the back before pressing it into your palm. Her fingers lingered against yours.

With that, she unlocked the door, checked the hallway, and slipped out, once again the perfect professional. But the card in your hand, warm from her touch, promised this was only the beginning.

••••••••••

Extended version of @mintwithchoco's prompt.

[7s3ven]

ONE CUP OF COFFEE. theodore nott

( master list )

IN WHICH… Theodore Nott can’t stand the idea of actually falling in love but he finds himself questioning his choices after a series of rather comforting conversation with a Hufflepuff.

“Do you hate me so much that you can’t stand having one coffee with me?”

Warnings: Smoking, mentioning of throwing up, mentioning of weed, swearing here and there, mentioning of hooking (pretty tame for a Theodore Nott fic tbh)

—

“One coffee. Black. No milk or sugar. Make it hotter than usual.” Theodore Nott wasted no time in repeating his order to the worker behind the counter. A new coffee shop had opened inside of Hogsmeade and in the Slytherin’s opinion, their drinks were better than any muggle one.

He tossed a few golden coins onto the table before walking away and taking a seat in a deserted corner. He liked to be away from people because despite being part of a popular Slytherin group and partying often, he wasn’t a social person.

The quiet lulling of muggle songs played around in the cafe, bouncing off the walls. Theodore pulled his turtle neck up higher, covering his bare skin from the cold air. It nipped at his slim fingers and he wished he had taken a pair of Draco’s Dior gloves now.

The rusted bell attached to the door dully rang as someone else entered. The cafe wasn’t too crowded. There were a few other students scattered here and there but not many people were willing to freeze just to grab a coffee.

Melted snow dripped off Theodore’s boots as his observant eyes followed the actions of the newcomer. He couldn’t tell what house she was in because she was wearing all white, but she definitely wasn’t a Slytherin. The girls clad in green and silver had a certain aura; an unfriendly, poisonous, and addictive one.

This girl radiated off sunshine and daffodils and basking in the warmth of a crackling fire. Theodore guessed she was in Hufflepuff because she had a certain charm to her bright smile.

“One cinnamon chai latte.” She ordered, kindly handing the cashier a few coins. She was practically the opposite of Theodore.

“Name?” The cashier asked, much comfortable in her presence as opposed to the Slytherin who sat a few feet away.

“Y/N.”

Her name jogged Theodore’s memory. She was the girl Lorenzo had been paired with in herbology. It was quite a long and dragged out assignment so whenever Lorenzo wasn’t hanging out with his friends, he was with her.

Theodore subconsciously sat up straighter and leaned forward to get a better look at Y/N. Lorenzo described her as a pretty and bright girl with a warm perspective on life. Instead of saying “what’s the worst that could happen?” She always said “what’s the best that could happen?”

Theodore was somewhat impressed by how positive a person could be.

He didn’t notice he had been staring until Y/N turned her head, innocent E/C eyes burning holes into his. Theodore almost jumped. He quickly adverted his gaze, clenching his jaw.

Out of the corner of his vision, he could see Y/N sit at the table beside him. She sat with her legs oddly crossed and her body was turned so she could look at him.

“Theodore Nott, right? Enzo’s friend?” Her voice was gentle, like a meadow full of daisies and glittering ponds of water.

Theodore thickly swallowed before he nodded. “Yeah. Lo’s talked about you. You were his partner for potions.” The brunette had never heard anybody call Lorenzo by Y/N’s nickname, but maybe that was because he didn’t allow anybody to call him that. Unless it was Y/N, of course.

The poor boy was smitten with her during fifth year but he shyly backed off when he realised he had too much competition. To this day, Draco was still trying to convince him to man up.

“He talked about me?”

“Only once or twice.” Theodore lied through his teeth. He may be a tease, but he refused to out his friend.

“The assignment we did was so annoying. I’m glad I had him as my partner. If it was anybody else, I would’ve gone mad.” Y/N signed and a small laugh slipped past her pink-tinted lips.

“You practically saved his herbology grades. Lo is smart but his plant knowledge is in the negatives.” Theodore huffed in amusement, his mouth curving into a sly smirk.

“He’s good with everything else, though.” Y/N uttered. Out of the whole Slytherin group, Lorenzo, Draco, and Pansy had the highest grades. Blaise couldn’t care less; he still scored pretty high but grades weren’t his whole life. And Matteo and Theodore, the players they were, didn’t even bother studying for exams.

“Black coffee.” The barista suddenly called out, making Theodore realise he had never given the worker his name.

“That must be your’s.” Y/N said, nodding over at the steaming drink. She smiled, which almost set Theodore’s heart alight. It was already drowning in gasoline and her damn grin may as well be the flaming match. “Theo?” She waved a hand in front of his face as he spaced out.

“Huh?” Finally, his blank eyes shifted to stare at her.

“Your coffee.” Y/N reminded him.

“Oh. Right. I’ll see you later.” Theodore was quick to stand up and grab his drink, the paper cup burning the palm of his hand.

“See you later, Theo!” Y/N called out, not seeming to notice his uneasy mood.

Theodore sped walked out of the coffee shop, holding a hand to his chest. His stomach sank as dread overwhelmed him.

Him and Matteo were like two peas on a pod. They shared the same habits too, like drinking their sorrows away and smoking until their lungs burned. And let’s not forget their infamous reputations as playboys. Theodore Nott didn’t do relationships so he refused to let a soft Hufflepuff change his mind.

Despite shoving down whatever warm feeling he felt when he was next to Y/N, Theodore couldn’t help but crane his head in search for a certain flash of H/C hair.

“Black coffee. Extra hot.” He muttered absentmindedly to the same cashier who had served him a week before.

“Name?” She asked, bored eyes gazing up at him.

“Theo.” He quickly replied, turning his head again when he thought he saw Y/N. He felt disappointed when it wasn’t her. The worker seemed to notice.

“Are you looking for that Hufflepuff you were talking to last time?” She questioned, arching a thin brown eyebrow. Theodore glanced down at her name tag that read Eulia.

“No.” He quickly denied her inquiry, wrapping his long Slytherin scarf tighter around his bare neck.

“She comes in every week around this time. She’ll be here soon.” Eulia said, glancing over Theodore’s shoulder to take in the growing line. She cleared her throat, reminding Theodore of where he was.

As usual, he threw some coins onto the countertop and walked away to the same table he sat at before. His head perked up when he heard the sound of familiar laughter.

Y/N walked in, waving good-bye to her Ravenclaw friend. “The usual, Y/N?” Eulia asked, already typing her order into the monitor.

Y/N practically bounced over to Theodore, taking a seat in front of him. “Hey, long time no see. I thought I’d see you at school but I guess not.”

“I was busy.” Theodore lied. In truth, he had been hauled up in his dorm and listening to Draco rant about Pansy.

“Doing what?” Y/N innocently tilted her head to the side, genuinely curious.

Theodore, as blunt and brainless as ever, blurted out the first thing he could think of. “Weed, drugs, and smoking.” He wanted to bash his head into the table. What kind of response was that?

Yes, he used to do all those things but he had toned it down. The only addiction he had was smoking now.

“I don’t know why I said that. It was the first thing that popped up in the mind.” He admitted, scratching the back of his head.

“I’m not judging you, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Y/N laughed, “By the way, your cigarettes are about to fall.” She pointed to the packet that was lazily shoved into Theodore’s pocket. He quickly caught it.

“I don’t do weed or drugs anymore.” He uttered, “Just so you know.”

From the coffee machines, Eulia rolled her eyes. “Coffee for Theo. Cinnamon chai latte for Y/N.” She called out, placing the drinks down.

Theodore quickly stood up. “I’ll get them.” He offered, not waiting for a response.

“Smooth.” Eulia said as he grabbed the drinks.

“Cut me some slack. I’m used to hooking up with toxic girls, not chatting over coffee with a sweet Hufflepuff.” Theodore lightly scoffed.

“So, Theo, what do you want to do when you graduate?” Y/N asked as soon as he sat back down again.

He shrugged. “I don’t know.” In all his years of Hogwarts, he had never thought about it. “What about you?”

“I want to open a bakery.” Y/N said like she had been waiting the question to come up.

Theodore raised his eyebrows. “You like baking?”

“Yup! I’ll bake you something next week. Do you like chocolate?”

“Who doesn’t?” Theodore only knew one person who didn’t like chocolate, and that was Pansy. But to be fair, she had gotten food poisoning from spiked chocolate in third year.

It was safe to say that she spent most of that day hunched over the toilet while Matteo held back her hair and Lorenzo gently got her to drink water, which she threw up too but it’s the thought that counts.

“Great! I have to go now. I’m meeting up with another friend. See you at school, Theo!” Y/N effortlessly chugged her scorching hot drink. She slammed the cup against the table, grinning.

“What the…” Theodore was still trying to process what had just happened as he watched Y/N run out of the cafe and into the arms of her friend

The next week, Y/N arrived earlier than Theodore. He had been held up by Blaise, who was curious as to why he was visiting the same coffee shop three times in a row.

Theodore entered the store after managing to shake Blaise off. He shoved his hands into his pockets, shivering despite the atmosphere being warm.

Eulia, who seemed to be on duty every day, had already made his drink and placed it in front of Y/N. She was too busy doodling on his cup with a permanent marker to notice his sudden appearance.

“Cute outfit.” He said as he sat down, the legs of his chair scraping against the tilted floor. Y/N’s face visibly lit up at his small compliment. Theodore observed her pink sweater with little bows sewn on it and her short white skirt with fleece leggings lining her legs.

“As promised, your cookie.” Y/N slid the box over to Theodore, smiling. “I would recommend heating it up. A warm cookie is better than a cold and hard one.”

“Do you bake often?” Theodore asked, taking the box and letting it rest on his lap.

“I try to bake as much as I can. I like helping the house elves too.” Y/N began to fondly talk about her love for baking and as much as Theodore tried to focus on her words, his gaze wandered to a suspicious group huddled in the opposite corner.

Once Theodore looked past their dark sunglasses and large coats, he recognised them as his friends. He saw Draco shove past Pansy and he surely pointed at Y/N then at Theodore before slapped his hands together.

Theodore stared at him, puzzled. And it showed as he furrowed his eyebrows and frowned. Y/N didn’t seem to notice his wavering attention, much to his relief.

“Do you want to bake together sometime, Theo?” Y/N asked, bringing him back to their conversation. He felt a little guilty because he hadn’t heard another word of what she had said.

“Sure. Though, I don’t think I’d be much help. Matt and I tried making edibles once and we messed that shit up.”

From behind Draco, Matteo glared at Theodore. It was your fault, he mouthed. He wasn’t lying, Theodore had gotten just about every ingredient in the recipe wrong.

“Edibles?” Y/N tilted her head to the side.

“Weed brownies.” Theodore elaborated, “But that was last year. I don’t do that anymore, remember? I only party and smoke.”

“I know. You told me.” Her eyes crinkled when she smiled. Y/N’s gaze flickered to his packed of cigarettes that always looked like it was about to fall out.

“Would you like to come to a party with me?” Theodore asked, leaning forward. There was one in the Slytherin common room next week. Normally, people from other houses weren’t invited but if you had the right connections, you’d be let in.

“Parties aren’t my thing. I… don’t like the vibe. You know?”

“That’s fine. You ever tried smoking?”

“No. Cedric offered to teach me but I declined.” Y/N frowned at the lost opportunity.

“I’ll teach you.” Theodore said a little too quickly. He cleared his throat. “I mean, you keeping me company wouldn’t be so bad.” He grabbed his packet, sliding it across the table. “These are my good ones. Keep ‘em and whenever you’re having a bad day or just wanna have a smoke, find me. I’ll light one for you.”

From across the room, Matteo lightly gasped. Theodore never ever shared his good cigarettes with anyone, not even him.

“Really?” Y/N picked up the worn-out box, staring at it.

“Yeah. I gotta get going. My friends are probably wondering where I am.” Theodore, once again, lied through his teeth. He knew his friends had questions and he didn’t want to keep them waiting. He stood up, feeling Pansy’s gaze burn a hole through him.

“Enjoy the cookie!” Y/N exclaimed, grinning and waving him off.

Theodore smiled. “I’m sure I will, love.” He walked out of the cafe, his friends following close behind and bombarding him just like he had predicted.

“You clearly have some sort of feelings towards her.” Panay said as she poked the brunette beside him. All throughout breakfast, Panay had been trying to get Theodore to admit his growing affection for Y/N. He denied it every time.

“I don’t.” He said for the third time, leaning down to stuff some bacon into his mouth. As he quickly chewed, his gaze flickered to Y/N.

“You’re looking at her again!” Pansy exclaimed, huffing. “It’s so obvious you like her!”

“Where’s Lo and Draco?” Theodore changed the subject, realising the two boys were missing.

“You can’t change the topic. You like her and you know it.” Unfortunately for Theodore, Pansy was persistent. Maybe a little too much.

“Theo likes who?” Lorenzo tilted his head to the side in curiosity. The whole group, even Blaise who laughed at awkward situations, froze.

Nobody responded for a moment before Blaise put down his fork. “Y/N. He likes Y/N L/N.” Theodore glared at the boy, wondering why on hell he’d even tell Lorenzo the truth.

“… Oh.” Lorenzo didn’t say much as he sat down, glancing over at Y/N. “You’re not going to break her heart, right?”

“I don’t like her. End of conversation.” Theodore groaned, taking a huge gulp from his goblet.

“I don’t believe you.” Lorenzo uttered, pointing his fork at Theodore’s eyes, “Your eyes say it all. You keep looking at her every minute and when you do, your eyes soften.”

Pansy snickered, nudging Theodore. “Told you.”

“If you don’t like her, then you wouldn’t mind if someone else asked her out, would you?” Matteo piped up.

“You aren’t her type.” Theodore immediately replied, scoffing.

“We’re practically the same, Theo. If I’m not her type then you aren’t. She’s pretty and all but I don’t date. That guy, on the other hand, seems like he does.” Matteo pointed over to a Ravenclaw boy approaching Y/N. The whole Slytherin group watched as he nervously asked her something and when she slowly nodded, his face lit up.

Theodore clenched his hands into fists. “Did he just ask her out?” He seethed, clenching his jaw.

“You don’t like her, remember? You shouldn’t care.” As usual, Matteo had that same infuriating smirk on his face. “Anyway, what are we doing for the party tonight?”

Theodore had forgotten all about it. He faintly remembered Y/N saying parties weren’t her thing. Did she like guys who didn’t party? That Ravenclaw boy looked like he didn’t. Is that why she said yes?

“I’m not doing. Not really my thing.” He uttered, shrugging. His friends looked at him in disbelief.

“Not your thing?” Matteo stammered, “Mate, the only thing you do is party! What’s gotten into you?!”

“He’s trying to turn into Y/N’s ideal type.” Pansy snickered, “He knows he isn’t the blueprint and he can’t see her with anyone else so he’s improving himself.”

“Respect, bro. But what about Izzi?” Matteo motioned to the Slytherin girl down a few rows who was Theodore’s favourite hookup.

“I don’t care about her.”

“What about the drinks?”

“I need to cut my alcohol intake.”

“Smoking? You can’t give up smoking! You’re addicted!”

“Y/N has my cigs. When she wants to learn, I’ll teach her.”

“And if she never wants to learn?”

“Then I won’t pester her. Not smoking for a while might do me some good.” Theodore on the brink of giving up smoking for some girl was a huge deal.

Matteo leaned over to Draco, “Is he sick?”

Pansy lightly snorted and she teasingly grinned, “If you mean lovesick, then yeah.”

To be honest, Theodore didn’t even know what he was doing. His head tried to convince him to return to the common room and drink like he usually did, but his heart said no.

That’s how he ended up in the courtyard, enjoying the fresh breeze.

“Theo?” An all too familiar voice called out. He practically spun around, facing Y/N. “I thought you’d be at your party.” She stared at him, confused.

“I’m taking a break from all that.” He said. Y/N silently sat beside him on the stone bench.

“I still have your cigarettes if you want them.” Y/N said, handing the packet over. “I thought about it and I don’t think I want to smoke just yet.”

“Thanks, love.” Theodore took the box, shoving it into his pocket without hesitation. Normally, he’d take one out and light it up but tonight was different.

“So, that Ravenclaw boy.” Theodore drawled. “He asked you out, huh?”

“Hm? Oh, Rowan? Yeah. I only said yes to be nice though because he helped me with some work last year.”

“You’re too kind, love. You need to know your boundaries.”

Y/N’s cheeks heated up at the sound of his endearing nickname. “I can’t say no now. It’ll just be one date then I’ll say it didn’t work out.”

“What if he wants a second date? What will you do?” Theodore moved closer to Y/N so he could feel the warmth radiating off her body. His heart jumped at their close proximity.

“Then I’ll tell him I don’t want one.” Y/N whispered, staring up at Theodore with those gentle eyes he liked so much.

“I liked your cookie, by the way.” Theodore slowly smiled, “It was good.”

“I’ll bake you a few more next time.” Y/N beamed. “I’m trying a new recipe for a brownie so I’ll give you one too!” Theodore smiled as she jumped into another rant about baking. This time, he could actually listen without being pestered by his friends.

Theodore, as usual, walked into the cafe around the same time he usually did. Eulia spotted him and subtly waved. “Has Y/N come in yet?” He asked.

Eulia hesitated before she pointed over at Y/N and Rowan. Theodore visibly deflated. He knew Y/N was only being nice to the Ravenclaw but he still felt a twinge of sadness.

“I’m sorry, Theo. If it makes you feel better, she hasn’t looked like she’s enjoyed the date. She looks much happier talking to you.” Eulia handed him his coffee.

“Right.” He sat down at a nearby table, glancing over at Y/N every so often. The slight pang in his heart reminded him of why he never dated in the first place. He quietly cleared his throat, deciding that whatever butterflies he felt for Y/N had to be drowned.

He stood up and Y/N immediately caught his gaze. She smiled and waved when Rowan wasn’t looking, but Theodore ignored her. Slowly, she lowered her hand.

As Rowan ranted on about how Ravenclaw was the best house, Y/N couldn’t help but think of what she had done to possibly anger Theodore. So much that he ignored her when he usually enjoyed her small smiles and secretive waves. She blocked out Rowan’s voice, frowning. He couldn’t grab her attention like Theodore could.

If only she knew that Theodore was simply trying not to fall in love.

Theodore avoided her for the rest of the week. Whenever she tried to approach him, he’d walk away. Even his friends were puzzled. After another failed attempt of trying to talk to Theodore, Pansy placed a hand on her shoulder.

“We’ll talk to him.” She said.

“I don’t know what I did wrong. He’s been acting so moody all of a sudden.” Y/N sighed and pouted.

“Maybe he’s on his period.” Matteo snickered at his own joke but immediately stopped when nobody else laughed with him. “I mean, Theo hasn’t had a good drink, fuck, or smoke since Monday. And all he did on that day was smoke for five minutes before he got caught.”

“I thought he liked doing all those things. Why’d he stop if it’s just going to make him grumpy?” Y/N murmured, playing with the hem of her blouse. Matteo and Pansy exchanged a glance, knowing they shouldn’t expose Theodore so early.

“He’s just being unreasonable. Don’t worry, we’ll get through to him.” Matteo grinned, his eyes flickered to the box in Y/N’s hands. “More cookies for him?”

She nodded. “Could you give this to him? It might make him feel better.” Matteo lowly hummed, taking the box. He and Pansy walked off after Theodore, muttering to each other about what could possibly be wrong with their friend.

“Theo.” Matteo called out as they entered the Slytherin Chamber. They found him sprawled out on the couch, a burning cigarette in his mouth. “Y/N made you cookies.”

Theodore looked at the box in Matteo’s outstretched arms. “I don’t want ‘em.” He said with a lazy flick of his hands.

“But you said you love her cookies. Jeez, dude, what’s gotten into you?” Matteo scoffed as he grabbed one, shoving it into his mouth. “If a girl made me cookies like these, I’d fall in love.”

“That’s the problem!” Theodore exclaimed loudly. “I’m Theodore Nott, Hogwarts resident fuck boy. I don’t do relationships! But Y/N- Y/N is making me feel things I shouldn’t!” He groaned, pulling at the ends of his hair.

“That’s the problem?” Pansy huffed, taking a seat beside him. “Theo, look at yourself. You haven’t partied in ages, you haven’t drank, you haven’t had sex with any other girl since last month. And you haven’t been smoking up until now! If you’re willing to stop all that shit for Y/N then you obviously like her!”

“What if I’m just concealing it, huh? What if I haven’t changed and if I date Y/N, then I hurt her? I don’t care about any other girl’s feelings but Y/N, fuck. I don’t want to hurt her.”

“Figure your feelings out then decide what you want to do. Easy peasy.” Matteo shrugged, eating another cookie. Theodore clicked his tongue, snatching the box out of his hands.

“It better be easy or I’m going to smoke all your favourite cigs, Matt.”

Matteo was lying. It was not easy to figure out how he felt towards Y/N. Every time he got close to her, he changed his mind last minute and rushed off. It earned him some weird looks but he couldn’t care less.

“Have you even slept lately?” Matteo questioned, slamming a cup of coffee in front of Theodore. He groaned.

“Do I look like I’ve slept?” He muttered, glowing at Matteo.

“Like a baby.” His friend teased, cruelly laughing. Lorenzo glanced over Theodore’s shoulder, clearing his throat.

“Y/N’s coming this way.” He whispered, kicking Theodore.

“What?” He looked around, panicked. Y/N was indeed walking towards him. He grabbed his coffee, splashing it onto Matteo’s wrinkled blouse.

“Yo! What the fuck, dude? That’s hot!” Matteo seethed, resisting the urge to peel his wet shirt off. Some girls hoped he would.

“Sorry, Matt. It was an accident. I’ll help you clean up.” Theodore tried to play his stunt off as an accident while practically dragging Matteo out of the hall.

“Okay, seriously, what was that all about?”

“I needed an excuse to get away.”

“So you spilled hot coffee on me?!”

“I would’ve let you do the same.” Theodore glared at his friend as he sat down and slumped. “She’s everywhere. How is she so social? I can’t get away from her.” He ran a hand through his messy hair.

“Have you been running away from Y/N this whole time?” Matteo questioned, arching an eyebrow. “It’s hilarious to imagine you running away from a girl.”

“Shut up. I’m processing things.” Theodore sighed.

“Just talk to her, Theo.” Matteo lightly nudged his leg, “What else can you lose? You’ve already lost your dignity.”

It had been a few weeks since Theodore had returned to the coffee shop. But finally, he strutted through the doorway with his usual uncaring demeanour.

Someone else entered as Theodore stood in the middle of the room, taking in everything he had missed about this cafe.

“Theo?” Y/N asked, peering over his shoulder. “I haven’t seen you in a while.” He stiffened and slowly turned around. “Are you having a coffee?”

“I’ve already had one, actually. I was just seeing if this place had changed.” Theodore wanted to walk away but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from Y/N’s eyes.

“Well, there’s no harm in having another one, right? It’s on me.” Y/N smiled at Eulia, “One cinnamon chai latte and…” She thought for a moment, glancing over at Theodore, “You’ve already had a coffee so one cream latte as well!”

Y/N paid and brushed past Theodore.

“Kiss her.” Eulia hissed, harshly poking Theodore’s shoulder.

“I’m not kissing her.” Theodore replied back in a hushed whisper.

“Theo, you coming?” Y/N called out, looking over her shoulder.

There was barely anybody in the cafe and even if there was, Eulia would’ve ignored their drinks to make Y/N and Theodore’s.

Theodore reached out to grab his but Y/N was quicker. She grasped both drinks, smiling at him. “We don’t have to be back at school for a while so let’s sit here.”

Theodore nervously followed behind Y/N to their usual table. He sat down, rigid and stiff. He saw his cup and glared at Eulia, who laughed. She had written a message on the cardboard, kiss her, and Theodore was quick to cover it.

He looked out the window, almost jumping with joy when he saw Matteo. “Oh! Matt! I need to talk to him! Sorry, Y/N. I’ll see you later!” He ran out of the cafe, crashing into his friend.

“Matteo! Quick! Do something!” Theodore shook his friend, urging him to create a distraction.

“Is this about Y/N?” He asked.

“She’s in the coffee shop- don’t look!” Theodore shoved his friend.

“And you need me to something stupid?”

Theodore eagerly nodded but was unprepared when Matteo pushed him forward and down a snowy hill. “Theo! Sorry! My hand slipped! I’m coming!” Matteo yelled out in a fake worried voice as Theodore rolled and got a mouthful of snow.

Y/N watched their strange interaction as she sipped on her drink. “… He didn’t call me love like he usually does.”

Y/N hummed to herself as she slipped on a pair of mittens and took out a tray of cookies. She placed the hot metal tray on the counter, the smell of baked goods wafting through the air.

She poured herself a cup of light coffee and sat down, swinging her legs. She lifted her head when she heard the sound of quiet swearing and smelled the scent of cigarettes and cologne.

“Theo?” She asked, tilting her head to the side. It was silent for a moment before the boy sheepishly pushed the kitchen doors open.

“I was looking for a snack for Pansy. She’s not feeling well.” He looked around, staring at everything but Y/N.

“I would offer her a cookie but she doesn’t really like chocolate, does she?” Y/N circled her finger around the rim of her cup, “Would you like some coffee? I made it myself.”

Theodore found himself sitting across from her against his will. He watched as she poured him a cup, softly smiling.

“Thanks.” He stammered, grabbing the white mug and gulping it down.

Y/N’s eyes widened. “Careful! Isn’t it hot?”

Theodore slammed the cup down, ignoring the burning sensation on his tongue. “No.” He wheezed, his vocal cords threatening to give up on him, “I’m fine. Tastes great.”

“You’ve spilled some.” Y/N said. She leaned forward, pointing at his collar. His top two buttons were undone and hot coffee trickled down his skin. “That must hurt. Here, let me help.”

Y/N dabbed a tissue against Theodore’s collar and he flinched as her fingers came in contact with his exposed skin. She noticed, peeking up at him through her lashes.

“Do you hate me so much that you can’t stand having one coffee with me?” She asked, taking a small step back.

“What?” Theodore choked. He didn’t hate her, quite the opposite to be honest.

“You keep running away from me. And you left me in the cafe the other day. And you didn’t wave back. Do you hate me?”

Theodore hated how he could see her E/C eyes glass over. He fiddled with his mug, tapping his nails against the porcelain.

“I… have to go. Pansy needs me.” He stood up, leaving without another word. He was doing what he did best; running away from his problems.

With Theodore out of the picture, Y/N felt lonely. She dug around in her pocket, confused when she fished out a cigarette. “Oh… it must’ve fallen out.” She murmured.

She was on her way to the cafe, but not to meet up with Theodore. The day after he had walked out on her, again, a Gryffindor had approached her and asked her out. She said yes in hopes this date would be better than her date with Rowan.

Spoiler alert, it wasn’t. In fact, she felt like it was worse. Y/N stared at her cup as the boy beside her talked on and on about his love for quidditch.

“What’s your hobby?” He suddenly asked.

“Baking.” Y/N answered absentmindedly.

“Oh, that’s kind of boring. Quidditch is better, don’t you think?”

Y/N resisted the urge to sigh. Theodore never insulted her love for baking.

“Do you do anything else?” The boy questioned.

“I study.”

“Jeez, you really are boring. You wanna come to a party with me? I know a guy who’ll hook us up with some coke.”

“No thanks.” Y/N rested her cheek in the palm of her hand, watching the clock closely so she could dart away as soon as the date was over.

Someone suddenly pulled up a chair in front of Y/N. “Coke is boring.” Theodore uttered, “Baking is better.”

Y/N tried to conceal her smile since she was still upset with him, but when he winked at her, she couldn’t help it.

“What are you doing here, Nott?” The Gryffindor sneered.

“I’m here to thank you for keeping my girl company.” Theodore grinned, showing off his pearly white teeth. “Now, if you’ll excuse us.” He grabbed Y/N by the wrist, tugging her out of the cafe.

“Why do you choose the shittiest guys to go out with?” Theodore asked.

Y/N lightly huffed. “It’s not like I mean to. At least they don’t walk away from me when I’m trying to talk, though.”

“You still upset with me, love?”

“You hurt my feelings, Nott.” Y/N pulled out the lone cigarette, shoving it into Theodore’s hand, before hurrying off.

He quickly placed it between his lips and lit it. “Let me explain, love!” He exclaimed, chasing after her. He breathed out a mouthful of smoke.

“Okay. Then explain.” Y/N folded her arms over her chest.

“What? Here? Now?” When Theodore saw the unamused look on Y/N’s face, he sighed. “Fine, but this is going to sound stupid.” He took another hit from his cigarette, needing all the courage he could get.

He took a deep breath. “I think you’re wonderful person and I didn’t want to risk hurting you so I tried to distance myself but that backfired and I was trying to process my feelings because I’m Theodore Nott. I don’t do relationships. But you made me want to give it a go so I got scared and that made me do stupid shit like spilling coffee on Matt or running away or allowing Matt to push me down a hill.”

Y/N furrowed her brows. “What are you trying to say?”

“I like you, Y/N! I like the way you smile and the way your eyes light up and I like how you look and me and how fond you are of baking! I like how you take the time to make me cookies because it makes me feel special! You treat me so differently from other girls and that’s how I know you aren’t just around for a hook up! I like your perfume and your hair and your outfits and the way you skip when you’re happy and how you read classic Muggle books because you want a cute teen romance!”

“You noticed all of that… about me?”

“How could I not? You have such a charming aura and I can’t stand it because no matter how much I try to deny it, I like you.”

“You really like me?” Y/N knew about Theodore’s reputation and she’d be lying if she didn’t feel the same way. But what if he was just toying with her?

“I do.”

“Okay then. Hug me!” Y/N exclaimed, confident he was joking. Theodore shrugged before embracing her tightly. “Uh… hold my hand!” He intertwined their fingers without hesitation. “Kiss me!” Y/N was sure he wouldn’t do it but when he leaned down and pecked her lips, she froze.

“Are you done? There’s a lot more things I’d do for you, Y/N.”

“Are you sure you like me? Like, really? Because what if we get married and you decide you don’t like me but we already have two kids and a cat together? Who will keep the cat? Or will we have shared custody over it?” Y/N spoke so fast Theodore could hardly understand her.

“What about the children?” He asked, tilting his head to the side.

“What about the cat, Theo?”

“I really do like you, Y/N. Believe it or not. I’m willing to give dating a try… if it makes I can date you.”

“Please don’t break my heart, Theo.”

“I won’t.”

“Can we finally drink coffee together without you running off?” Y/N questioned, which earned her a small chuckle from Theodore.

“I won’t run away this time, love. I promise.”

[scoutofmymind]

Reader and Luigi basically being the old married couple of the group. A newcomer finds out that they aren’t actually together and it feels like breaking news because it’s basically assumed by most that they’re together. Maybe it isn’t until one of them starts getting actively pursued by someone else when it starts clicking why it makes them uncomfortable at the idea. Trying to leave this open ended for you.

The Jester’s Fucking the King — {Luigi x Reader }

Content: I’m gonna call this one NSFW— MDNI, friends to lovers, confusing feelings, Luigi has a physical touch fixation, you’re his fidget toy, fr tho, emotional manipulation lowkey, just a pinch (if you squint) of dirty talk, kinda love triangle

Wc: 3,458

Notes: yourself and Luigi have been Inseparable for six years, and the introduction of a new friend into the group throws a wrench into everything.

Before we start, I wanna make a quick note about the title, and where the hell it came from (lol). I was inspired by a tumblr post I came across awhile ago, and it stuck with me, I guess, because I randomly thought of it while I was writing this. That’s all. Enjoy xo

I took this and ran with it.

As usual.

"Who's this guy that she's bringing again?" you ask to the car at large, slumped in the backseat between your roommate Scarlett and the window. Your thumb swipes across your phone screen, watching Chloe’s location dot inch its way across the map while Luigi maneuvers through traffic and Ben fidgets with the radio from the passenger seat.

"I dunno, some guy she met in her new sculpture class this semester," Luigi mumbles through a barely-concealed grimace. The thought of adding another person to their carefully balanced social ecosystem clearly weighs on him. You know he's already mentally rehearsing his nice to meet you smile, the kind that takes more energy than he's willing to spend on a random Tuesday night.

"It'd better not be that kid Cole," you mutter, already dreading the possibility.

And because the universe has a cruel sense of humor, it was absolutely, undeniably, that kid Cole.

It hardly mattered what preconceived notions you’d had about him; they dissolved over time as Chloe started bringing him around more often.

The traits you once found annoying gradually morphed into something oddly endearing.

Still, he never quite seemed to understand the dynamic between you and Luigi.

On movie nights, when the six of you crammed into the living room, a messy sprawl of friends and blankets overtaking the couch and floor, you naturally claimed your usual spot; sprawled out across Luigi’s lap. Tonight was no different. You laid there with your back propped against the arm of the couch, scrolling through Instagram while your bottom half stretched longways over him, as if his lap had always been yours to occupy.

Every so often, you’d interrupt the movie to show him a meme or a video a mutual friend had sent. You’d lean in close, shoulders brushing, stifling your laughter together so as not to disturb the others watching John Wick. “That’s fucked up,” he muttered through a barely-contained chuckle, his eyes still on your phone screen.

Madison lives at home, her daily subway commute to campus a small price to pay for access to her parents' sprawling estate. Their backyard is a mediterranean dream, with a pool large enough to host the entire group of misfits, with room to spare.

You're draped over Luigi as he meanders around the pool's edge, both arms curved naturally around your waist beneath the waster. It's the kind of casual intimacy that comes from years of friendship, comfortable and worn-in. "Cole's actually pretty cool," he muses, tilting his head back expectantly.

You comply with the wordless request, holding the La Croix to his lips so he doesn't have to lift his hands from the water.

"Yeah," you agree, your eyes drifting across the pool to where Cole is pretending not to watch this whole exchange. His gaze darts away the moment yours meets his, like a kid caught stealing. "I really did think he was annoying at first, though."

Scarlett’s birthday party, your arms wrapped around Luigi’s waist, your head tucked beneath his arm as you swayed together and sang happy birthday. The whine as you shared a piece of cake, something about how “Luigi won’t even kiss me in public.” When someone said the two of you would have won prom king and queen if you went to the same high school.

Ben’s party followed just weeks later, the night still young and champagne bubbling through your veins. Luigi's hand clamped desperately over your mouth, but your eyes danced with mischief as you nodded enthusiastically at the circle gathered around you. "Yeah, Lu's got a PhD," you managed to say, and before he could stop you, the words tumbled out against his palm: "A pretty huge dick."

Cole watched.

"Did you know Cassie is seeing Dylan?" Cole asked, matching your frantic pace across campus. The morning fog swallowed your mumbled recitations as you mentally rehearsed your presentation for the hundredth time.

"Yeah, Cole, and I'm fucking Luigi.” you scoffed, the sarcasm dripping over every word like sticky molasses as you rolled your eyes. You yanked open the auditorium doors, disappearing behind them without a backward glance, mind already racing ahead to bullet points and transitions.

The very idea that Cole would believe such obvious campus gossip had you shaking your head as you slid into your seat.

But he did believe it.

He stood frozen in the hallway you'd left him in, staring at the closed doors like they might offer some explanation. "Yeah? I know.” he mumbled to your ghost, the words settling confused and heavy in the empty corridor.

The absolute certainty in his voice would have made you laugh, if you'd been there to hear it.

The seasons had shifted, and with them, Cole's hope had quietly ebbed away. After months of watching you, he'd finally accepted what everyone else seemed to know instinctively — even if Luigi wasn't in the picture, you were simply out of reach.

Saturday night found your usual crew at your claimed table in Madison’s backyard, the surface cluttered with emptied drinks and scattered Uno cards. Luigi absently twisted the rings on your fingers — a mindless habit he'd developed somewhere between freshman year and now — while chaos erupted around you.

The familiar symphony of shouted accusations about who was hiding the Draw Four cards mixed with the glow of phones being passed around, TikToks and screenshots sparking new waves of laughter.

Cole watched the way Luigi's fingers danced over yours, and for the first time, the sight didn't sting quite so much.

“I still can't believe Dylan and Cassie are dating," Cole mused through a cloud of smoke, beer bottle dangling precariously from his left hand while a joint was stuffed between the fingers on his right.

The table fell silent, five pairs of eyes fixing on him with varying degrees of confusion and amusement.

"Who told you that?" Scarlett's voice cut through the stunned silence and the resurrection of a dead and gone campus rumor, her phone screen illuminating her face as Dylan's name flashed across it. "Where did you even hear that?"

Cole's eyes pinballed around the table, finally landing on you and Luigi.

Your hand was caught in one of Luigi's absent-minded gestures, knuckles pressed against his lips while he listened — a habit so commonplace to everyone else that they'd stopped noticing years ago. "Uh— wait—" Cole fumbled, taking a desperate pull from the joint as if the answer might be hiding in the smoke. He passed it to his left and asked through a cough, "Are they not?"

“No, you idiot.” Scarlett threw a lighter at him, which he narrowly dodged.

"Well- why did- “Cole's words stumbled over each other as he locked eyes with you across the table. Your brows knitted together, genuinely bewildered by his desperation. "I- you said they were," he insisted, hand gesturing vaguely in your direction like a drowning man reaching for a life raft.

Scarlett's head whipped toward you so fast her earrings clinked, a new lighter in her hand that was suddenly transformed into a weapon of interrogation, the flame pointed in your direction. "You what?"

"I didn't say that!" Your hands flew up defensively, face flushing as you ransacked your memory for any conversation that could've led to this moment.

But your mind offered nothing but static.

"I asked you if you could believe they were- and-“Cole gestured helplessly at Luigi, who was studying your profile with the intense focus of someone who'd stopped processing verbal language three hits ago. His fingers hadn't stopped their absent dance with your rings once you lowered your hands again from your surrender to Scarlett’s mercy, muscle memory outlasting coherent thought.

Cole felt like he'd stumbled into an alternate dimension where everyone spoke a language he'd never learned while those same pairs of eyes dissected him with the kind of judgment only drunk twenty-somethings could muster, making him feel about two inches tall. "And you said 'yeah, and I'm fucking Luigi,'" he defended weakly, the words sounding more ridiculous with each passing second.

"Yeah!" You practically launched across the table, laughter threatening to bubble over as understanding finally dawned. "Because I'm not!" The force of your declaration nearly knocked over someone's beer, but you were too busy watching Cole's face transform as the shoe finally, finally dropped.

Luigi, for his part, just kept twisting your rings, lost somewhere between the fourth dimension and your knuckles.

Cole's jaw went slack, his eyes darting around the table again where this time everyone had suddenly developed an acute interest in hiding their smirks behind their hands — a masterclass in delayed politeness. "What?" He practically shoved the joint away when it circled back, as if too-late sobriety might make this make more sense. "But- but the dick size jokes and- and you tell everyone he won't kiss you in public."

"Oh, you poor thing." Chloe dabbed at her eyes, tears of mirth threatening to ruin her mascara. "She's always done that shit." The words came out half-strangled by suppressed laughter.

Months passed, and Cole transformed into your personal guardian angel. One desperate NEED SUGAR NOW OR DEATH text to the group chat, and he'd materialize with your favorite convenience store candy before anyone else had even read the message.

He collected details about you: the way your nose scrunched at certain perfumes, how you could quote every line from that one movie, the specific shade of purple that made your eyes light up. When he finally told you he liked you — really liked you, more than he'd ever liked anyone — you said you liked him too.

The gravitational shift was subtle at first — like planets realigning. Your usual perch in Luigi's lap gradually migrated to the chair beside Cole, a transition so natural that few noticed, not even you.

It came to a head one Saturday when Luigi texted his absence from movie night, claiming a sudden illness.

The excuse was paper-thin, and you both knew it.

You stood outside his building, jabbing the buzzer with the familiarity of someone who'd done this a thousand times before. "I know you're not sick, Luigi." Your voice crackled through the intercom, bouncing off the walls of his apartment where he lay curled into himself on the sofa, rigid as rigor mortis. "I can see your Oura ring stats." The betrayal of technology made him groan, and the offending ring went sailing across the room, a tiny meteor of exposed lies.

His father knows the developer.

That's the only reason he'd agreed to wear the damn thing — a circular shackle of obligations that now betrayed him from somewhere under his coffee table.

Your finger finds the buzzer again, gentler this time.

"C'mon, bub. I miss you." The sweetness in your voice hits him like a sucker punch, memories of simpler times wrapped in those words. "It can be me and you tonight. We can have a bestie night." The offer dangles like a Time Machine to the past — back when your world was just two planets in perfect orbit, before it expanded into a solar system of friends.

Before Cole ever came around.

Luigi appears in the doorway like a ghost, just as you're about to admit defeat. Your face splits into a grin, but it falters when you really look at him. "God." Your eyes track the sharp edges of his collarbones beneath his shirt. "Have you been eating?" The question trails behind you as you follow him up the familiar path to the second floor.

The apartment feels wrong — like walking into a black and white version of a color photograph you know by heart. Every blind drawn tight against the afternoon sun, as if he's been developing emotional negatives in the dark. "Hey, what's going on?" Your fingers find his forearm, anchoring him before he can drift away again. "This is kinda giving me flashbacks to when you failed your final."

He flinches like you've pressed on a bruise, eyes scanning his self-made darkness as if seeing it for the first time - the familiar choreography of his pain laid bare by your observation. "This definitely feels different from that." His voice comes out hollow, each word carefully chosen to dance around the real issue.

"Better, or worse?"

"I don't know."

He sinks back into his spot on the couch, the oversized blanket making him look smaller than you've ever seen him. His eyes fix on the half-finished Lego set on his coffee table — the Millennium Falcon he'd started weeks ago, now collecting dust mid-construction.

Three hundred pieces still sealed in their bags, waiting.

"Is it your mom?" you try, but Luigi shakes his head. "Is it school?" Another head shake. "Work?" No. "Was it your aunt Lisa again? That bitch—" He cuts you off with another shake. "Is it me?"

The question hangs there, and Luigi pulls the blanket tighter around his shoulders, refusing to meet your eyes.

He lets out a long breath, knowing he's trapped himself here — in this moment, in this conversation, in this truth he's been avoiding.

No way out.

"What?" You cross the room in three quick strides, dropping beside him and tugging at the blanket he's using as camouflage. "What do you mean, Lu? C'mon." Your hands search for any part of him that isn't wrapped in fleece, but he's determined to stay hidden. "What did I do?"

Luigi's eyes catch yours for a fraction of a second before darting away. "I really just want to sleep." The words come out muffled as he tries to fold himself smaller, but you're faster, yanking the blanket down before he can disappear completely. "Please."

"Luigi.” Your voice cracks, and you don't try to hide it. You've never had to beg him for anything before, not in all your years of friendship. "I can't leave knowing you're upset with me." It's the rawest truth you have, stripped down to its bare bones on the couch cushions between you. "Come on. Talk to me."

The silence grows so thick you could suffocate in it, until Luigi finally breaks it with a mumble. "How come you only make jokes about fucking me?" His throat works visibly before he adds, "And not anyone else?"

The question hits you like a slap. Your eyes drift across his coffee table, taking inventory — the joint still smoldering in the ashtray, his anti-anxiety meds beside it, a forgotten Gatorade from the night before.

Everything a testament to hours spent alone with his thoughts.

You drag in a deep breath, searching for words you've never had to examine before. "I mean — that's what we do, you know-"

"No," he cuts you off, voice sharpened. "It's what you do."

"Lu." Your spine straightens as confusion settles in. "Why is this suddenly an issue? I've always- I've always made those kind of jokes about us. How everyone thinks we're dating all the time." You stretch yourself forward, trying to catch his eye, but he keeps his gaze fixed somewhere on the floor. "I just lean into it, I guess. I didn't know it bothered you."

He sighs, the sound muffled as he drags his hands down his face. "It doesn't bother me."

"Then," frustration bleeds into your voice as you throw your hands up, lost in whatever conversation he's having three steps ahead of you. "What do you fucking mean?"

"I- I mean-" His tongue clicks against his teeth, each word coming slow like he's translating from another language. "It doesn't bother me in that way."

"In what way?"

"In the way that means you saying you'd fuck me bothers me."

"But you just said it bothers you."

"No,” he says, “I didn't."

Heat rises up your neck as your patience frays.

Your mind twists itself into knots trying to decode whatever puzzle he's laying out between you. "Look at me." The command comes out sharper than intended as you try to yank the blanket away from him. "Fucking look at me!"

The blanket rips from your hands with unexpected force, sending you sprawling onto his hardwood floor. Your oversized sweater is the only thing saving your tailbone from a bruising. "You fucking asshole." The words come out hot as you fumble for your boots to put over the socks that betrayed you in their slipperiness, and just as you manage to wrangle one on, Luigi emerges from his cocoon, fixing you with a look that stops you cold.

"I mean I guess-“ He clears his throat, looking down at you with that familiar steady gaze, but there's something different layered over it now, something raw. "I mean- Why wouldn't you fuck me?"

The question hits like a fist to the cheekbones.

You freeze, one boot half-laced, mouth hanging open as heat floods you to your temples.

Of all the directions this could have gone, you never expected this brand of brutal honesty, delivered while you're sprawled ungracefully on his living room floor and wrestling with your shoelaces.

Your eyes dart between the coffee table and his face, pieces clicking together with nauseating clarity. "What kind of question is that?" The words come out sharp as your fingers hook uselessly around your boot laces.

"Well, what kind of joke is it to go around telling everyone we fuck?" He throws your logic back at you with devastating precision. "What's so funny about that?"

You bury your face in your hands, a groan muffled against your palms. Every memory floods back at once — all those times he tried to stop you from making dick jokes, all those moments people assumed you were dating and you played it up while he went quiet.

Six years of friendship viewed through this new lens makes your stomach lurch, and another heavy sigh tears from your chest.

"Can you at least tell me?" Luigi's voice comes out barely above a whisper, watching you curled up on his floor like a wounded animal.

You finally lift your head, meeting his stare head-on. "Do you want me to say I'd fuck you?"

The silence wraps around you both like a physical thing, but his eyes stay locked on yours even as color floods his cheeks. "Huh?" You arch an eyebrow, challenging. "Want me to say how hard I'd do it?" Your discarded boot connects with his shin. "How I know you whimper."

As if on cue, a small sound escapes him — half whine, half breath. He's still staring at you like you've knocked all the air from his lungs, struck speechless while you press your newfound advantage.

You move closer, settling between his knees as the blanket slips from his shoulders. With gentle pressure, you ease him back against the couch. "Want me to tell you how none of it was ever really a joke?" Your hand rests against his chest, feeling his heartbeat race beneath your palm. "How every time that you felt me push my ass against your dick wasn’t just your imagination?”

Luigi reaches for you then, fingers trembling as they find your skin — reverent and careful. He's always been tactile with you, always finding excuses to be close. He knows the map of your hands better than you do, how your breathing changes when you drift to sleep, all the little things that make you who you are. "I knew it," he whispers as you settle against him, both of you finally exactly where you're meant to be.

You'd spent so long pushing these thoughts away, rationalizing every touch as just his nature — absent patterns traced on your skin during movies, fingers intertwined during conversations, gentle pressure points mapped across your arms during lengthy lectures.

Each gesture filed away as mindless habit.

But this was different. Every point of contact now carried weight, intention.

"I'd fuck you too," Luigi murmurs, drawing you closer, face pressed against your sweater. His hands spread warm and steady across your back, holding you like something precious, something he's afraid might slip away. “And I’d whine as much as you wanted.”

The next week comes floating by once again, Cole hurrying beside you as you rush to your next lecture, desperately trying to untangle your earbuds, hearing Luigi’s voice echo in your mind, laughing at you for your resistance toward Bluetooth devices. “I - I wanted to see if maybe you wanted to-“

“I’m fucking Luigi.” You turn to Cole, your expression deadpan but fixed, serious but not all that concerned before the doors of the auditorium are flung open, and once again, you vanish behind them.

Cole bursts into a fit of giggles at the thought, realizing now that believing such a thing would be mean he was naive — he’s since learned from his mistakes. “Yeah.” He murmurs to himself, “And Cassie and Dylan are still dating.”

[gghostwriter]

Hi!! I saw your requests are open for fluff and I love your writing and have an idea currently plaguing my mind if you are interested (but no worries if not!) 🩵

There’s this girl on tiktok who does rejection therapy where she makes little requests to strangers with the expectation of being denied, but sometimes the outcome is super sweet. I think it would be cute for a kinda shy reader to be doing rejection therapy and ask Spencer (or any of the BAU) to like play rock paper scissors or hold their badge or something with the expectation of being rejected, only to be pleasantly surprised when she isn’t rejected

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader Trope: Fluff! Just fluff w.c: 1.33k A/N: Slowly defrosting my request box purely for fluff. I do feel a bit rusty in writing again, it's a muscle I've forgotten to exercise on the daily. I am no chess player so I honestly don't know how to write a game. Anon, I hope this still lives up to your imagination! Main masterlist

Intermezzo. // Spencer Reid

Hushed adult chatter and boisterous children’s laughter filled the greening park, once cold and barren from the winter past. The sun, as if still shy to take center stage, peeked behind a cloud of white curtains. Vibrant hues of picnic blankets scattered all over the green grass, books and wicker baskets keeping them from going with the windy breeze. 

Over the past few weeks, you’ve gotten comfortable in the new city you now call home. Bringing the tumbler of coffee against your moistened lips, the corners of your mouth lifted to form a soft smile, marveling from how far you’ve come. This city now contained your coffee shop down the block, your bookstore tucked between alleyways, and your park nestled in the middle of the bustling city. 

Your therapist was excited for this new chapter of your life, coaxing you to take baby steps away from your cocoon and enjoy what it had to offer. Filled with slight trepidation a few weeks ago, you sat on the exact same bench, back rod straight and hands wringing from the unknown when a group of men, ages of all varying degrees, had caught your eye. They were gathered under the shade from two great trees, seated and hunched over, playing various states of chess.

Fascinating.

They kept to themselves, something you could relate to. As Saturdays and Sundays passed on, you found yourself wondering why there seemed to be no women or any newcomers, to be exact, that join in the fray. Do people not feel the draw? Is it only you who found them intriguing?

Movement caught the corner of your eye.

A new face walking towards the gaggle of men—or to be exact, hobbling towards with crutches under his armpits, to an unoccupied chess table. His eyes scanning along the throng of players before briefly looking down and tapping his uninjured foot to an inconspicuous beat.

You observed him with fascination and anticipation, wanting to see if any of the usual faces would join in on his table, allowing him to be absorbed into the otherwise impenetrable group.

Five minutes.

Then ten, the seat in front of him remained empty. 

You briefly wondered if you could do it—you weren’t after all bad at chess, being a past player in high school. Not that you won more than three competitions, joining the team was purely an excuse for extra credits and to get out of physical education. 

Could you do it?

Could you walk up to a complete male stranger and ask for a game?

Could you take the rejection that may come with it?

Gnawing on your lip, you found yourself moving closer and closer, steps quiet and hesitant but each shuffle ringing in your ear. His eyes, feeling the change in the wind and your upcoming presence, met yours—both wide-eyed and unsure.

He seemed to be just like you, a doe-eyed deer stepping out of their hiding for predators lying in the wait. A gust of breath escaped your lips, a measly amount of strength returning to your tightly strung body.

“H-hi,” you whispered. 

He blinked before clearing his throat. “Hi, how can I—” his gaze tracking the path of your gaze, the opposite black pieces on the chess board. “Do you, do you want to play?”

You timidly smiled. “If you’d have me, yes.” 

“Yes,” a smile forming on his face, hands fighting to push the wayward curls behind his pinking ears. “Of course, please.” 

Gingerly seating on the marbled seat, you muttered a ‘thank you’ under your breath, one you were sure he didn’t hear.

No words were exchanged further as he moved his white pieces with grace. It was a complete contrast to yours, rusty and unsure even to that moment as to what you were actually doing seating in front of a chess genius. That was who he was, you realized, as he ate another of your pawn. Perhaps this was why no one dared to occupy the seat. He was no outsider or meek prey, he was the king (or prince) and the predators of all chess enthusiasts in the group.

You could feel the heat from the gazes of the spectators, other tables long abandoned to view and scrutinize the eventual downfall of the challenger. Whispers of strategies under their breaths and shakes of their head as they predict the next thirty-seventh move. 

Briefly you wondered if you should just call it quits, wanting to hide from the pressure. But isn’t this a prime opportunity to take further steps away from your comfort zone? Isn’t that was your therapist would have wanted? Perhaps, you were expecting rejection in the beginning and now that you were in the thick of it, you wished that it had come instead. The sweet ‘no’ from his handsome stranger’s lips rather than feeling your nerves fray from the trap laid in front of you—a pawn in perfect position to take his queen on c1. 

“Would you like to take a break?” he asked, expecting his voice to be filled with mockery and superiority, but rather was coated with the sweet, worrying tone you’d expect from a doting grandmother. 

Shaking your head no, moving your king away from endangerment—g8 to h7. 

Your opponent smiled before quickly taking his turn with a pawn. 

The game continued on in such manner, give and take, between two strangers turned opponents. You could feel the end coming as his moves further stalled, now requiring the handsome stranger to assess the remaining pieces on the board to his gain. In turn, you studied him. 

The ends of his hair brushing against the middle of his long neck. Its’ roots sticking to his forehead, shiny from perspiration. Sleeves of his button down haphazardly folded to expose his forearm and one subtle vein that disappears and appears as he moves. You doubted he was any older but the underlying confidence brimming underneath his humility made you think he’d been exposed to the underbelly of the world, long before you did. 

Seven moves later, he flashed you another smile—bigger and more joyous than you’ve seen. “Draw.”

The spectators stilled into silence. A rarity, one of the older gentlemen whispered under their breath before everyone brought into an applause. 

It happened in a flash causing breath to be caught in your throat. You’ve done it. The game was over. You’ve gone above and beyond from what your therapist had asked you to do—her “rejection therapy” leading you to an unknown you couldn’t wait to explain.

“Good game,” he breathed out.

You nodded, watching as his right hand reached out in between, casting a shadow on his knocked over king. “Oh—” lifting your hands in front of you to act as a barrier. “I’m not much of a—the number of pathogens passed during a handshake—”

“Is staggering. It’s actually safer to kiss,” he continued on before chuckling to himself, hand still extended out regardless of the trivia being shared between you two. “Not that I’m saying we should but yeah, I’m not much of a ‘handshake-r’ myself.” 

Giggling, you slowly reached for his awaiting hand, giving him a way out before both palms met and fingers locked around it. 

It was warm, like the sun that was no longer hiding behind the curtain of clouds, like a tumbler of freshly brewed coffee made by your favorite barista. 

“I’m Spencer. Spencer Reid.”

Your cheeks heated. “Nice to meet you, Spencer Reid. I’m Y/N.”

Hands still firmly connected across the chess game long forgotten, both of you seemingly unwilling to let go of the physical connection.

He cleared his throat. “Would you like to play again sometime?”

“If you’d have me again, yes.” Briefly biting your lip before taking another brave step, creating another ‘rejection therapy’ moment. “Or we could have coffee or tea sometime?”

You waited with bated breath. 

The corners of his eyes crinkled and another breathtaking smile painted his face.

“I’d like that. I’d really like that.” 

Comments & reblogs are highly appreciated!

[bat-mom-writer]

Flirting with Fortune

Reader(wife) X Bruce Wayne(Husband)

Summery: You're not only the wife to billionaire Bruce Wayne, but you are also his secretary. And as you are not public with your married or your position in his company, sometimes you will get flirted with. Like when a suspicious business man comes in, flirting with you and trying to get Bruce to invest with some questionable business.

Rating: flirty man, you showing him up, Bruce being a loving husband

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Well, hello there, beautiful," purred a voice with the confidence of a man who was used to getting his way.

You glanced up from the paperwork sprawled across the sleek mahogany desk, a silent guardian to the secrets of Gotham's shadowy protector. The man before you had a smile as charming as a snake and eyes that swept over the room with the same ease as a hawk surveying its prey. He was tall, dressed in a tailored suit that screamed wealth and power, with a crisp white shirt and a tie that shimmered with the subtle hues of a peacock's feathers. His hair was a shade of brown that whispered of nightfall and styled with a precision that suggested he had more time on his hands than most.

"Can I help you with something, sir?" you asked, keeping your voice cool and professional, despite the irritation bubbling beneath the surface.

The man's smile widened, revealing a set of gleaming teeth. "Ah, you must be Mrs. Wayne's assistant," he said, his gaze lingering a fraction too long. "I have an appointment with Mr. Wayne. Name's Castellanos. Sebastian Castellanos."

You tapped a few keys on the computer, watching the screen flicker to life with the day's schedule. "Let me see," you murmured, scanning the appointments.

"It's at 2:00, sweetheart," Castellanos said, his tone dripping with condescension.

You bit back a sharp retort, locating the appointment on the screen. Sure enough, there it was: Sebastian Castellanos, 2:00 PM. You took the moment to compose yourself, feeling a peculiar mix of annoyance and amusement at the man's blatant flirtation. It wasn't uncommon for people to overlook the significance of your role in the company, but rarely did they do it so overtly.

"You're right on time, Mr. Castellanos," you said with a polite smile, standing up and gesturing towards the door that led to Bruce's inner office. "If you'd follow me, please."

As you led him down the hallway, you couldn't help but feel his eyes on you, a sensation as unwelcome as a cold breeze on a summer's day. The tension grew as you approached the heavy oak door, the silent sentinel that guarded Bruce's sanctum. You paused for a moment, your hand hovering over the brass knob, and took a deep breath. This was your territory, and you had every right to be here. With a firm grip, you pushed the door open, revealing the dimly lit room beyond.

Bruce looked up from his paperwork, the shadows playing across his chiseled features. He was dressed in a simple, yet impeccable, suit, a stark contrast to Castellanos' flashy attire. His eyes met yours for a brief moment, before looking to the newcomer with a measured gaze.

"Welcome, Mr. Castellanos," Bruce said, his voice a calm rumble that seemed to fill the room. "Please, take a seat."

As Castellanos settled into the chair opposite Bruce's desk, you couldn't resist the urge to assert yourself. With a grace that belied the steely resolve within, you moved to the desk, placing one hand on its polished surface. It was a silent claim to your place beside the man you loved, a reminder that you were not just a pretty face or an object to be ogled. You hopped up, crossing your legs as you perched on the edge of the desk, your posture casual yet commanding.

The room grew a few degrees cooler as Bruce's eyes narrowed, his gaze flicking briefly to Castellanos before returning to you. He knew you well enough to recognize the subtle shift in your demeanor, the unspoken challenge you offered to the man before him.

"Well, Mr. Castellanos," you began, your voice as smooth as silk, "What brings you to Wayne Enterprises today?"

Surprise flashed across Castellanos' face, his eyes widening slightly at your sudden proximity and assertive tone. It was clear he hadn't expected you to be more than a pretty accessory to the office decor. He cleared his throat, adjusting his posture to match your own.

"Ah, yes, I'm here to discuss a potential investment opportunity with Mr. Wayne," he said, his voice a shade less confident than before.

Bruce leaned back on his chair, his hand coming to rest lightly on your thigh. "Pray tell, what kind of opportunity are we speaking of?" he inquired, his tone polite but firm.

Castellanos took a moment to collect himself, his eyes darting between you and Bruce. "It's a… a new technology," he stumbled, recovering quickly. "A revolutionary energy source, something that could change the world for the better."

You felt a smirk tug at the corner of your mouth. "How intriguing," you said, leaning in slightly. "But surely you know that Wayne Enterprises is quite selective with its investments. We have a responsibility to our shareholders, and the planet, to choose projects that are both profitable and sustainable."

Castellanos' smile faltered, his eyes flickering to the hand on your thigh before he regained his composure. "Of course," he replied, his voice a touch too eager. "Our company, Castellanos Industries, has been working on this project for years. It's a clean, unlimited energy source that could replace fossil fuels entirely."

Bruce's interest piqued, he leaned forward. "Go on," he urged, his hand still a steady presence on your leg.

Castellanos took the cue, launching into a well-rehearsed pitch about his company's innovative technology. As he spoke, you studied his face, looking for any sign of deceit or hidden motives. There was something about the way his eyes glinted when they met yours that set your instincts on edge.

"It's called the 'Castellanos Engine,'" Castellanos said, his voice taking on a salesman's lilt. "It's a quantum-based energy converter that can produce power without waste or pollution."

You watched Bruce's face as he listened, his expression inscrutable. You knew he was processing the information, weighing the potential against the risks. Meanwhile, Castellanos' eyes kept straying to you, as if you were the real prize in the room. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, focusing instead on the subtle tension in Bruce's fingers against your skin.

As Castellanos spoke of the engine's capabilities, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of doubt. The technology sounded too good to be true, and Bruce's skepticism was palpable. "Fascinating," he said, his voice a low murmur. "But surely there are competitors with similar ideas?"

Castellanos' smile grew predatory. "That's where the chaos comes in, Mr. Wayne," he said, his gaze lingering on you for a beat too long. "We need to eliminate the competition. It's just good business, after all."

Bruce's grip on your leg tightened, his eyes narrowing slightly. "And what, exactly, does that entail?" he asked, his tone now as sharp as a scalpel.

Castellanos leaned back in his chair, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "Well, it would involve… let's just say, a strategic realignment of the market," he replied, his words slipping out like a serpent's hiss. "Ensuring that our product is the only one that reaches the masses."

Bruce's grip on your leg tightened further, a silent signal that he had caught the underlying threat in Castellanos' words. "And what happens to the companies that don't align with your 'strategy'?"

Castellanos chuckled, a sound devoid of humor. "They're free to pursue their own ventures, of course," he said, his eyes gleaming with something darker than simple business ambition. "But I'd wager that without the resources or backing, their innovations won't get very far."

You felt your own anger simmering beneath the surface, but you kept your face neutral. "I see," you said, your voice cool and measured. "And what makes you think that Wayne Enterprises would be interested in… facilitating such a 'realignment'?"

"Well, Ms…" he trails off, his smug smile slipping as he searches for your name.

"Wayne," you correct him, your voice firm yet pleasant. "Mrs. Wayne."

The color drained from Castellanos' cheeks as the reality of his faux pas dawned on him. "Ah, Mrs. Wayne." he repeated, his eyes widening slightly. "Forgive me, I had no idea."

You stood, Bruce's hand slipping from your thigh as you come to stand beside Bruce, your hand resting on the back of his chair in a show of unity. "No need to apologize," you said with a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. "But let's get back to the matter at hand. You're asking for a significant investment from Wayne Enterprises. Can you assure us that your methods are ethical and legal?"

Castellanos nervously chuckled, his eyes darting between you and Bruce. "Well, Mrs. Wayne, in the world of high-stakes business, one must occasionally bend the rules," he replied, his smile never wavering. "But rest assured, everything will be above board. We just need a… nudge in the right direction."

Bruce's eyes hardened, and he pushed his chair back, the sound echoing through the tense silence. "We'll, I think we have everything we need, Mr. Castellanos," he said, his voice a polite dismissal. He rose from his seat, his hand outstretched.

Castellanos looked at the hand offered to him, his expression a mix of confusion and surprise. He took it, shaking it firmly, unsure of what had just transpired. "But, Mr. Wayne, the presentation, the details…" he stuttered, his words trailing off as he realized the meeting was coming to an abrupt end.

Bruce's smile was polite, but there was an edge to it that was as sharp as a sharpened knife. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Castellanos. We'll be in touch if we're interested in pursuing your… proposal," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Castellanos nodded, his bravado visibly deflated. "Of course," he managed, his hand lingering in Bruce's for a beat too long before withdrawing it. "I look forward to hearing from you."

"This way, Mr. Castellanos," you said, your smile as sharp as a blade as you turned on your heel and headed back towards the door. Your movements were graceful, almost predatory, as you guided him out of the office, your hand lightly touching the small of his back to steer him in the right direction.

While Mr. Castellanos was still trying to get a hold of himself, you couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at the way he stumbled over his own words. He had underestimated you, and now he knew better. You felt Bruce's eyes on you, watching with a mix of pride and amusement. The air was thick with the scent of power and the promise of a challenge.

"I trust you know your way out," you said, starting to close the door to Bruce's office. Your voice was as cool and smooth as the marble floors beneath your heels. Castellanos' eyes widened even further, realizing his mistake in assuming you were just an assistant. He nodded, his cheeks reddening as he turned to leave.

Once the door was shut, you leaned against it, letting out a sigh. "Cocky little weasel," you murmured under your breath.

Bruce chuckled, his deep laugh resonating through the room. "I'd say you handled that quite well," he said, walking over to where you stood. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you back against his chest, your heart beating a tattoo against his.

"Thank you," you murmured, a smile playing at the corners of your lips as you leaned into his embrace. "It's not every day someone tries to flirt with me while asking for millions of dollars."

Bruce chuckled, his breath warm against your neck. "He won't be making that mistake again," he said, his voice a low rumble of amusement. "But I'll have to keep an eye on him and any… illegitimate dealings he might have."

You nodded, feeling the tension in his arms. "Do you think he's dangerous?"

Bruce's grip tightened briefly. "More dangerous than he lets on," he murmured, his gaze drifting to the now-closed door. "But we've seen worse. But I think right now," he turned you to face him, his eyes searching yours, "we just forget about Mr. Castellanos and his 'engine'. Let's talk about something more… pleasant."

You felt a warmth spread through you at his touch, the tension of the encounter with Castellanos already fading away. You stepped into his embrace, your arms looping around his neck. "What did you have in mind?"

Bruce's smile grew, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "How about a surprise?"

Your heart skipped a beat at the prospect. "Surprise?"

Bruce leaned closer, his breath a warm whisper against your ear. "I thought we could take a little trip tonight," he said, his voice a tantalizing rumble. "Just you, me, and a private jet to an undisclosed location. Somewhere we can… unwind."

You raised an eyebrow, your curiosity piqued. "Unwind?" you repeated, a smile playing on your lips. "My husband, Bruce Wayne, wants to unwind? Who are you and what have you done to the Dark Knight?"

Bruce chuckled, the sound resonating in his chest as he held you closer. "Even a knight needs to put down his sword sometimes," he whispered, his thumb tracing circles on the bare skin of your wrist. "And I can think of no one better to do it with than my queen."

You chuckle as his words tickle your ear, feeling the warmth of his breath and the steady beat of his heart. "Well, as much as I would love to jet off to some secret location with you, Bruce," you say, turning in his arms to look up at him with a playful smile, "I think staying home, relaxing for the night with a movie and a pizza is all I need."

His eyes light up with a hint of amusement. "A pizza?" he repeats, raising an eyebrow. "Is that all it takes to keep you happy?"

You grin up at him, feeling a flutter in your stomach. "Well, when you say it like that, it does sound a bit… pedestrian. But yes, a pizza. One that's not made by Alfred. I miss the simplicity of takeout, you know?"

Bruce's smile softens, his eyes warming at your words. "Then it's settled," he says, releasing you from his embrace but keeping a firm grip on your hand. "The best pizza money can buy."

You laugh, feeling a sense of relief at the idea of a quiet evening together. "The best pizza money can buy, huh?" you tease, tugging gently at his hand. "I'd settle for the greasy kind we used to get when we were first dating."

Bruce leans down, his eyes searching yours. His gaze is intense, a silent promise of a night without masks or battles. He brushes his lips against your forehead in a soft, lingering kiss that feels as warm as the sun on a spring afternoon. "I'll make it happen," he whispers, a gentle smile on his lips.

[harunayuuka2060]

Sebek: MC-sama? MC-sama! Where are you, MC-sama?!

MC: *had been trailing him from behind, their footsteps so soft that they barely made a sound. Remaining just outside his line of sight, he was completely unaware of their presence, unable to notice them following in his shadow*

Sebek: *about to cry* MC-sama... YOU WILL BE LATE FOR CLASS, MC-SAMA!

MC: *couldn't help but chuckle at his outburst*

Sebek: !!!

Sebek: MC-sama! How long have you been standing there behind me?!

MC: Probably from the moment you started looking for me.

Sebek: ...

MC: *smiled at his bewildered expression*

Sebek: ...

Sebek: !

Sebek: MC-sama! We must hurry! Your class begins in 30 minutes!

Malleus: There's no need to rush, is there?

Sebek: W-Waka-sama!

Malleus: Dear, I got a letter from your grandmother. Let's read it together.

MC: Grandmother?

Malleus: *chuckles* Yes, your Nana. She found out about your return, and if I’m not mistaken, she’d likely want to see you as well.

MC and Malleus: *read the contents of the letter*

Dear Grandson,

I have recently learned that my beloved grandchild has returned, yet I have received no word from you. What might be causing this delay? Both our subjects and I are eagerly awaiting their presence. I trust you will address this matter promptly.

Yours affectionately,

Queen Maleficia

Malleus: ...

MC: ...

Malleus: It seems your Nana is quite eager to see you again, which I can't really blame her for.

MC: ...

MC: Does that imply you’ll be sending me back home?

Malleus: No. Your Nana has to wait.

MC: But won’t she be upset with you, Dada?

Malleus: Let’s not dwell on that.

MC: ...

Sebek: I reserved a seat for you, MC-sama!

MC: ...

Silver: Sebek...

Sebek: What are you all staring at?! *shouting at the onlookers*

The other students: ...

Silver: *lowers his voice so that only MC and Sebek can hear*

Silver: Sebek, have you forgotten about the request?

Sebek: Request— *his eyes widened*

MC: *who specifically asked Diasomnia students to keep their identity hidden unless announced by their father*

Sebek: My apologies, MC-sama...

MC: It’s alright. I’m sure others will see it as a sign of your politeness and respect, Sebek.

Silver: ...

Silver: Yeah...

Sebek: What's with that tone, Silver?!

Leona and Ruggie: ...

Ruggie: Why is Sebek holding that newcomer in such high regard?

Leona: ...

Ruggie: You're suspicious too, aren't you? Huh, Leona?

Leona: ...

Leona: *continued to stare at them*

Leona: It would be ideal if they were someone we could use against the lizard.

Ruggie: Shishishi~ Want me to spy on them?

[cottonlemonade]

Marriage Of Convenience [Part 4]

word count: 1569 || avg. reading time: 7 mins.

pairing: post-time skip!Kuroo x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff, friends to lovers, slow burn, slice of life

warnings: spoilers

synopsis: Marriage is not a big deal, right? Anyone can do it and it comes with a whole lot of benefits! That's why your friend proposes to you one morning with all the elegance and romance of an empty pudding cup.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

He knew it was only a matter of time until his wedded bliss would encounter its first stumbling block. And it would only take two months for it to return from a business trip. 

“Did you put sprinkles in your granola?”

“I’m an adult with free will, what are you gonna do about it?” “You know what, you’re so right. Can I have some?”

Tetsuro pushed his bowl closer to you so that you could, with a superior smile, add some of your advanced granola to the rest of his plain yogurt. 

Asana watched it all unfold, a knowing squint darting between the two of you over lunch at the office cafeteria, “You guys are cute together.”

You looked offended, but Tetsuro noted, “Honestly, I agree. We’re so good at marriage. I don’t understand why not more people do it.” 

“Lack of convincing PowerPoint presentations, probably.”, you said wisely, and Tetsuro shrugged in agreement, then finished his bowl and got up, “I gotta run. Meeting with Maeda.”

“Enjoy.”, you said unenthusiastically and Asana waved. 

“We should go by that Italian place tonight on the way home.”

“If you manage to get out of that meeting without another double date invite, I’ll even pay.”

“You’re on.”

As he walked away with his tray, he halted for a moment to talk to someone, greeting him happily, and then that someone came to your table. 

“Hey, long time no see.”, the newcomer said, brightly. 

“Oh! Welcome back!”

The young man took Tetsuro’s empty seat next to you and as he dug into his rice bowl, he asked, “Anything happen while I was gone?”

Asana exchanged a meaningful look with you that silently pleaded if she could be the one to tell him. You smiled and nodded, and your friend leaned casually back in her chair and announced, “Nothing much, just a whole wedding.”

“A wedding?”, the man asked, surprised, “Who?”

“Kuroo.”

“Kuroo? Wow, I didn’t even know he was seeing anyone.”

“And y/n.”, Asana added as if in afterthought. 

The man turned to you in disbelief. 

“You got married, too?”

With leisurely grace, Asana sat back up, elbows propped on the table and her chin resting on the back of her now entwined fingers, savoring the moment when she said, “To each other.”

You still chuckled to yourself at Hayato’s reaction. The shock and stuttering congratulations the news were usually met with, hadn’t gotten old so far. You were standing in the break room later that day, tapping around on the coffee machine for your afternoon special - hot chocolate with an espresso shot. 

“Hi again.”, Hayato said and joined you, grabbing an empty cup from the overhead cabinet, waiting for the machine to finish your drink. 

“Hi. I’m so glad you’re back, actually. I have a proposal I could use a second pair of eyes on, please?”

“Sure thing.”, he replied. 

“Thanks! I’ll wait at my desk.”

“Y/n.”

“Hm?”

You turned back around. The earthy smell of his freshly brewed coffee slowly streaming into his mug and the low hum of the machine filled the space between you. 

“You’re really married?”

Tilting your head a bit in surprise at the question, you confirmed. 

“You’re not wearing a ring. And I never knew you guys were… you always said you were just friends.” He didn’t sound accusatory, just confused, and you didn’t understand why until he said, “Guess I missed my chance with you, huh?”

“What?”

He took his full cup from the machine. 

“I even brought you something back from Italy. But with your husband… I don’t know now if it’s appropriate to give a gift to a married woman.”

He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand while you were too stunned to speak. 

“Of course you can, I don’t mind. That’s super thoughtful of you, thanks, man.”

Tetsuro came up behind him and patted him on the shoulder. The impact or possibly the embarrassment of being overheard made Hayato startle. 

“Ain’t that nice, darling?”

Tetsuro looked from Hayato to you. He seemed and sounded relaxed so once you’ve gathered your thoughts into a neat little stack after it was pushed over like a wonky Jenga tower, you nodded and said, “Very nice. Thank you, Hayato.”

Tetsuro followed the two of you back to your desk where he busied himself with Asana, most likely pretending he was working, because Asana was clearly not paying attention to what he was saying, opting to eavesdrop instead on the conversation that now turned to the aforementioned gift. 

Hayato reached into his pocket and held out his closed fist to you. When he opened it, you noticed Tetsuro and Asana behind him craning their necks to see. 

It was a keychain. You figured it was supposed to be cute. It was a pink, round little piggy with rosy cheeks and a wide smile. 

“I saw it, and it reminded me of you.”, Hayato said, trying his hardest not to sound flirtatious - not that he needed to worry. You couldn’t suppress your frown completely and asked, only half jokingly, “I remind you of a pig?”

“No!”, he called out immediately, “That’s - I mean. No. I just… it looks so cute and happy and -“

Kuroo and Asana watched him fumble from one desk over, clearly giddy with barely contained laughter. 

“Hey, we have to go this way to the restaurant.”, you said, catching the strap of Tetsuro’s bag to halt him in his long steps. 

“I don’t really feel like Italian anymore.”

“Alright.”, you said slowly, letting go again, “What else are you in the mood for?” 

“How about some nice seared pork, hm?” With that he led you determinedly down a side street crammed with different BBQ places, walking straight into the next best one advertising pork, leaving you to follow with a shaking head. 

He didn’t say anything about the incident until the dessert came. You were just admiring the beautifully plated mochi and berries, when he muttered, “It’s odd, right?”

“What is?”

“He clearly knew you were married, and yet he still confessed to you. What’s that about?”

“I didn’t see it so much as a confession as more …”, you paused, looking for the right word.

“A sneaky seduction attempt.”

You snorted, “No. I think he was just trying to be nice while also sort of… clearing his conscience, I guess? Plus, what does it matter anyway? Before we got married, we agreed that if one of us finds the one, we’d just get divorced again, no hard feelings.”

“He is the one now, is he?”

“No, you know what I mean. I’m saying that we specifically agreed that dating isn’t prohibited.”

“You wanna date him? Pig guy?”

“Tetsuro.”

“Y/n.”

“It was just… nice to be wanted, that's all. It was nice to know someone liked me.”

“I like you.”

“You know that’s not the same.”

He sighed. “I just think it’s sleazy to hit on someone married.”

“And with that, you’d be very correct.”, you raised your glass to toast him, “Come on, Tetsu, let’s not fight. Please?”

“Fine.”, he clinked his sake to yours. 

“One more thing.”, Tetsuro came to lean in the open bathroom door while you brushed your teeth. You had made it all the way home, watched some TV for a while, then each of you took a shower, all the while being almost back to normal. You should have known it wasn’t over yet. Not stopping your brushing, you turned to him, arms crossed as much as possible, ready to spit your toothpaste at him if he was being an idiot again. 

“I don’t think you should date him. Think about it. At the office, we’re very clearly and indisputably married. It would look weird if either of us”, he made sure to highlight that part, “would date around within the company.”

He had a point, annoyingly, so you nodded. 

“Okay.”, you mumbled through a mouthful of foam. 

“Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” 

“Alright then. Sorry about earlier. About my…”

“Temper tantrum?”

“Misplaced reaction.”, he preferred. 

“Uh-huh.”

“You know I just wanna look out for you, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” 

“Good. Hug?” He opened his arms questioningly, and you took your sweet time to rinse your mouth and toothbrush, putting it neatly into your cup and drying your face before you accepted. 

“Come on, I’ll walk you to your room.”, he said, and gently wrangled you a few steps down the hall before you managed to escape his bear hug. 

“Night.”

“Sleep tight.”

Tetsuro made to leave to go to his room, and his eyes fell on the key hooks by the door across from your room. 

“You should put the pig on your keys.”

“Nah.”

He turned around to look at you. You casually hung at the door, swinging it a little from side to side, not meeting his eyes but staring at the hooks instead. 

“I got my keys sorted just right, and I don’t want it too cluttered. And it’s such a pain to attach things to a key ring, you know. Just got my nails done and everything. Wouldn’t make sense.”

“Of course.”, he grinned, “By the way, be ready tomorrow at 9 am sharp. We have to go somewhere.”

And he walked off. 

“Go where?”, you asked, leaning out of your room to watch him. 

“Ring shopping!”, he announced before closing the door to his bedroom behind him.

art: @freaka_loonyz on Instagram, X, Pinterest and TikTok

taglist: @etsuniiru @nocaffeineallowedtome @princessshart @aldebrana @grassbutneo @melimelisworld @yatoatyourservice @ranscutedoll @remiratboi @armeenix

[part 5]

[yumelatte]

where the sun shines, snow will fall

You and Phainon have been together since childhood, being inseparable ever since. People come and go throughout your lives, but you will always have each other.

A telling of your relationship with him through the eyes of your friends.

Snowy & Sunny Series, Modern AU

AO3 Link

Masterlist

Reader's nickname is Sunny, pure tooth-rotting fluff ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

Part I | Part II

Cyrene: fries.jpeg 

Castorice: Is that Phainon and…

Tribbie: It’s Snowy and Sunny! 

Cipher: they’re feeding each other fries

Cipher: i’m going to be sick (affectionate)

Aglaea: How did you obtain this?

Cyrene: I have my ways~

Anaxagoras: Do we have to have a group chat for this?

Aglaea: Yes we do, Anaxa. 

Anaxagoras: For the last time, it’s Anaxagoras. Don’t call me Anaxa again.

Aglaea: aglaeanosticker.png

Aglaea: Alright, Anaxa.

Anaxagoras: …

Anaxagoras: Whoever made fantasy stickers of us needs to stop right now. Those times are way behind us now. 

Aglaea: anaxadromaspjs.png

Anaxagoras: Like I said, they need to be stopped.

Tribbie: Agy was the one who made them! 

Aglaea: aglaeadesignsticker.png

Anaxagoras: …

Anaxagoras: anaxagunsticker.png

Cipher: anyway, how are Phainon and Sunny not dating already? they have to be

Castorice: Why don’t we ask Cyrene? If anyone would know, it would be her and she’s here already. 

Castorice: @Cyrene

Cyrene: Me? 

Cyrene: I wouldn’t know! My brother tells me everything, but when it comes to Sunny, it’s like prying a locked door open…

As she sent that, Cyrene looked up from her phone to see you and Phainon sitting close beside each other on swiveling seats, giggling and smiling at each other with the finished fries box forgotten on the table. 

Looking at you two, she helplessly agreed with Cipher. If anyone else saw this scene, they would have assumed both you and Phainon were a couple too.

You had invited her out for lunch, and if she knew this was how it was going to be, she would have said no. 

Sike.

She may have felt like a third wheel; however, she was invested in your and her brother’s relationship. It wasn’t just her who was fascinated either—the group chat was made for people who, in simpler terms, were eager to see you and Phainon getting together. Anaxa may have played it off, but he was just as interested in the development. 

“My mom’s been asking about you. Do you think you could come over today after class?” Cyrene overheard you asking Phainon. 

“Sure, but I saw her the other day?” 

“True, but aside from me, you’re her favorite person. Think about it this way, you get free dinner!” 

Honestly, your mom’s cooking was unrivaled—even their grandma’s couldn’t compare. Cyrene remembered going over to your place as a teenager and never had she eaten so fast before. 

She missed those days…

It had been the perfect day to enjoy the refreshing breeze of the season. Phainon had practically begged Grandma and Grandpa to take him to the nearby park. Occupied with some business, they couldn’t, but they hadn’t wanted to let him waste his summer break, so Cyrene was the answer. As his older sister, she was put in charge of watching over him by them, and she hadn’t minded. 

Having a change of scenery wouldn’t hurt. 

Her eyes followed the white-haired boy around the playground, giggling because he was using the fort-like structure as a base. 

Smiling at her brother’s antics, she was glad there weren’t any other kids because Phainon was aggressively swinging a wooden sword around.

Well… no other kids but you. 

From your perch on the swing, you had been watching the park newcomer fight an invisible enemy for a while now. He looked like he was having fun.

After moving from your old place, you lost contact with all your friends. It was sad, but you were sure you could make new ones. This could be your chance.

Standing up from your seat, you approached the boy, wondering if he would let you join. 

“Hey, Hero!” you loudly shouted from below the tower. 

The sword-wielding boy was about to slay the villain when he heard your voice, pausing and leaning over the railing to see you, a slight frown on his face. “Huh? I was about to beat up the bad guy.” 

Wait, you called him a hero? So, you did recognize what he was! Even though you interrupted him before one of his greatest moments, he decided you weren’t the worst. 

With hopeful eyes, you asked, “Can I join? I can be the villain to your hero.” 

“Really? You mean I’ll defeat you?” 

“Who said you would beat me? Villains can win too.” 

“What? But heroes always win!” 

“No, they don’t, and I’ll prove it. Take this!” Raising your hand, you pretended to shoot a ray of light at him before hurriedly running towards the ladder to reach him.

Narrowly ducking to avoid your attack, he complained, “Ack! That wasn’t fair. I wasn’t ready.” 

Now at the top of the ladder, you were about to seize the opportunity to ambush him, but you couldn’t because he had taken an escape route—the slide. 

Seeing as you had switched places with him, you looked down at him and playfully threatened, “You can’t run from me!” 

Sticking out his tongue, he directed his sword at you. “I just did!” 

“Oh, yeah?” 

“Yeah!” 

His eyes widened as he saw your hands on the bar above the slide, ready to come down. “If you come down, I’m going to stab you.” 

“I’d like to see you do it. I have magic, so I can attack from far away.” 

“Magic?! Aw, man. That’s no fair too!”

“I’m going to win!” 

“When you run out of magic, I’ll go close and beat you!” 

“We’ll see about that.” 

And you and him continued to play a game of cat and mouse around the battlefield—or playground. 

Watching you and Phainon play, Cyrene couldn’t help but laugh at how cute you two were being. 

However, her amusement was cut short because an unfamiliar woman took a seat beside her. 

Cyrene turned to look at her, seeing her also looking at the children with a fond smile. 

“My daughter might not be lonely after all.” 

Daughter? 

Returning her gaze towards the play area, and on a closer look, Cyrene could see the similarities between you and the woman next to her. 

“That’s my little brother with her.”

A puff of laughter left the woman. “I could tell.” 

Cyrene guessed as much because she, you, the woman, and Phainon were the only ones here at this moment. 

“My daughter and I recently moved here, so I was worried about how she was going to adjust without her old friends. I’m glad I was worried for nothing.” 

Phainon didn’t have many playmates, always by himself when not with her. 

Cyrene smiled back at the woman. “I’m also happy that my brother found a new friend.” 

“Would you and your brother like to come over for dinner? I’ll make a special feast to celebrate their first meeting.” 

Hm, a very tempting offer, but she needed to get permission from Grandma and Grandpa first. 

“I need to ask my grandparents.” 

The woman didn’t look surprised, and with crinkled kind eyes, replied, “Of course.” 

It wasn’t smart to talk to strangers, but Cyrene didn’t want Phainon to be alone anymore. She knew when they had to go home, he would whine about leaving you. 

Making her way over to the tan barked enclosure, Cyrene said, “Phainon.” 

Said boy was lying on the ground with you crouching over him, curiosity in your expression, poking him with his own wooden sword. 

Phainon slowly opened his eyes at the sound of his name, wondering why his sister was here. “...Cyrene?”

Looking up, you were also wondering why she was here—in addition to who she was. 

“Your new friend—”

Abruptly, Phainon said your name with his head in your direction, “Her name.”

Blinking while repeating your name, Cyrene continued, “Her mom invited us over to eat at their place.” 

Quickly sitting up, the boy almost smacked his head against yours, but you backed up before it could happen. “Really?!” 

“Really. But I need to ask Grandma and Grandpa before if we can go.” 

“Please, please, please! Convince them to let us. I don’t want to leave her yet…” 

Flattered by his words, you giggled, “You still want to play with me even after I beat you?” 

“It was only one fight! I’ll win next time…” 

“We should head home to ask. Your friend can wait here.” 

“Aw, okay.” Taking Cyrene’s hand, Phainon got up and held his sister’s hand, facing you. “Wait for me. I’ll be back.” 

With your head in your palms, you grinned, “Okay! I’ll be waiting for you. I need my hero to be a villain.” 

And Cyrene already regretted taking Phainon away from you… 

Surprisingly, their grandparents were okay with them going over for dinner. Cyrene had never seen Phainon so happy in his life. You were also ecstatic at being able to see him again. 

It turned out; you and your mother were their next-door neighbor, so running into them would be a common occurrence. 

Quietly laughing at the distant memory, Cyrene shook her head before refocusing on you and Phainon. 

Phainon was showing you something on his phone, getting closer so that your shoulder was touching his. You didn’t mind and leaned in to see his screen, even overlapping your fingers with his as you held the device with him. 

All Cyrene could think was there was no way you guys weren’t dating. 

Tribbie: tribbiesurprisedsticker.png

Tribbie: sunset.jpeg

Castorice: How beautiful. 

Cipher: it is

Cipher: but we’re not gonna talk about how they’re holding hands? 

Mydei: They do that all the time. 

Hyacine: Now that you mentioned it, they’ve been close like that since we were all kids

Tribbie: I remember when we would all meet on the play yard! 

Tribbie: Snowy and Sunny were the hero and the princess and Snowy would escort her everywhere

Cyrene: I thought Sunny was the villain? 

Tribbie: She was but when Ciphy joined she wanted to play the cat thief…

Cipher: hey! you can’t deny i was a damn good villain…

Cipher: also Sunny had light magic 

Cipher: what kind of villain has light magic???

Tribbie: That’s why I call her Sunny! She described her power being from the sun

Hyacine: You and your nicknames, Tribbie…

Tribbie: You guys gave me one too! I’m Tribios remember? 

Castorice: Cipher was Cifera and Hyacine was Hyacinthia as well.

Cipher: Cipher sounds better so just keep calling me that

Cipher: i’m sharp and swift like the wind hehe

Hyacine: I don’t mind being called Hyacinthia but Hyacine is probably easier to say

Hyacine: Don’t forget about Mydei being Mydeimos 

Mydei: Either works for me. 

Mydei: @Tribbie Are you with them right now? 

Tribbie: Yeah! Agy and Naxy are also here…

Removing her eyes from the screen, Tribbie saw Aglaea and Anaxa bickering about a topic she wasn’t paying any attention to.

Tribbie: They’re arguing again…

Mydei: Where are you guys? Let me know. I need to return something. 

Tribbie: To Snowy? 

Mydei: Yeah, him. 

After typing the location to the group chat, Tribbie placed her phone into her school bag, hearing you say her name. 

“Tribbie!” Waving her over with your free hand before pointing out a cloud in the sky, you remarked with laughter, “Doesn’t it look like a rocket? You used to love imagining yourself riding a spaceship. The spring riders were your favorite. You would keep rocking on it while telling us our prophecies!”

Stepping towards you, the young red-haired woman sheepishly smiled, lowering her head in embarrassment. “Ah, that was a long time ago…”

Chuckling, Phainon released your hand to lean back against the railing. “A long time ago, and a fun time ago.” 

“Yeah, don’t be embarrassed, Tribbie. We were all pretty much doing what kids do: acting out our fantasies,” you said, smiling for reassurance. 

Acting out fantasies, huh…?

For a moment, Tribbie’s eyes flickered between you and Phainon before opening her mouth. “Then you both wanted to be together even back then?” 

Surprised by her implication, you dumbly let out, “What?” 

Phainon also straightened up with wide eyes, wondering what Tribbie meant by that. 

“The hero and the princess you know… The perfect match for one another…” 

Flustered, you stuttered, “W-well, I didn’t even really want to play that part! Cipher wanted to be the villain, so I had no choice…” Glancing at Phainon with a pout, you lightly hit his arm. “You’d prefer me being the villain, right?”

“Err…” Phainon hesitated, avoiding your look. 

Tribbie realized she might’ve unintentionally opened Pandora's box by her comment. 

And as she watched you and Phainon becoming awkward around each other, she felt like she had just set a series in motion. 

Cipher: when are you guys heading over? 

Cipher: Mydei’s almost done making food for us

Cipher: mydeichefsticker.png

Cipher: don’t let all his efforts go to waste

Cipher: but check out this cute pic i just snapped

Cipher: nap.jpeg

Hyacine: Cassie is driving right now, so she can’t text but we’re all in the car and coming over now

Tribbie: Sunny looks so peaceful with her head on Snowy.

Cyrene: Can you believe they weren’t talking a few days ago? 

Hyacine: They weren’t?

Cyrene: Weird, right? Phainon used to stay at Sunny’s house until nighttime, but he started coming home right after he’s done with classes. 

Cyrene: Although… he did disappear last night to who knows where…

Tribbie: castoricespeechlesssticker.png

Tribbie: I think I may have something to do with it…

Cyrene: ?

Tribbie: The other day when I sent the sunset photo, Sunny made me remember about our playground days

Tribbie: And I got embarrassed but she said it was okay because we were just kids playing out our fantasies 

Tribbie: And then I said that they wanted to be together even back then cause… you know… 

Cipher: lol

Hyacine: I guess this proves they aren’t dating

Cyrene: I wouldn’t be so sure…

Hyacine: Do you know something we don’t?

Cyrene: C’mon… the stuff they do together… Do normal friends do that? 

Tribbie: Maybe if they’re really close! 

Cipher: they’ve always been together, yeah? 

Cyrene: Since the day they’ve met.

Hyacine: Oh we’re almost there! Tell Mydei we appreciate his work

Reacting with a thumbs-up emoji, Cipher returned to the pair on the couch. With closed eyes, your head was on Phainon's shoulder while his head was on top of yours. 

To her amusement, her two cats had joined in on the impromptu nap session as well. 

With the presence of her pets, she was reminded of her villain persona from her childhood. 

It had been true; Cipher had stolen the role from you when she was brought into the group.

Upon her first introduction, it had been you, Phainon, Tribbie, and Cyrene. 

Cyrene was always on supervising duty, never minding watching her brother and his friends. It had brought her peace of mind to know they were enjoying their summer. 

“This is Cifera, but I call her Ciphy.” Tribbie presented the girl beside her to you and Phainon. “She wants to join our game. Is that okay?” 

Nodding enthusiastically, you addressed Cifera, “Sure! What do you want to play as?” 

Putting on a hood with a pair of cat ears, she shouted, “The villain!” 

“What? But I’m the villain…”

“I can play a better one! Tribbie said your powers were from the sun. Bad guys don’t do well in the day.” 

With your hands clenching into little fists, you stared at the newcomer. 

Noticing your discomfort, Tribbie offered a solution, “How about you play the princess that gets saved?”

“Do I have to get saved? Can’t I defend myself with my magic?”  

“Then Snowy wouldn’t have a job…”

Shaking your head, you grabbed Phainon’s hand, holding it in the air. “I’ll play the princess, but me and Phainon are gonna work together to beat you, Cifera!”

“It’s Cipher now!” The cat thief quickly ran off to escape her enemies. 

Phainon had frozen when you touched his hand, and he couldn’t do anything, letting you drag him off to catch the villain. Realizing he had a job to do, he raised his wooden sword while chasing down Cipher. As he ran alongside with you, he was glad Cipher made you not the villain anymore. As much as he liked first playing with you, he had been wanting to work with you and not against you. 

Pfft, Tribbie didn’t even remember she was the one who gave you your new role, solidifying the dynamic between you and Phainon. 

“Hey, can you help me set up the table?” Mydei’s head poked out from the dining room entrance, eyes briefly landing on the two on the couch before looking at Cipher. “And leave those lovebirds alone.” 

“Lovebirds?” With an eyebrow raised, Cipher walked towards the kitchen to grab plates and utensils, ready to set the table in the dining room. “They’re really together?” 

Mydei grabbed a pair of mitts, opening the oven to remove the freshly baked rolls. “You didn’t hear anything from me.”

Castorice: ornaments.jpeg

Castorice: These came in today. Do you want to come over?

You: ooo yee

You: the butterflies and flowers are so pretty!! yaa im coming

You: is it okay if i make two bracelets this time? 

Castorice: I think so too… Make however many you want. 

Castorice: castoricebutterfliessticker.png

You: yay im on the way!

Your last text to her had been a while ago. 

Hearing the familiar chime ring throughout her house, Castorice double checked the table for everything she needed before opening the door. 

“Hi, Cas!” you happily greeted, a canvas tote bag hanging off your shoulder. 

Saying your name, Castorice warmly returned your acknowledgement, “Hello.”

Moving out the way for you to walk in, the purple-haired woman closed the door. 

A quick glimpse of the bag revealed multiple books overlaid. 

“...Books?” 

“Yeah, I remembered how you wanted to borrow some the other day.” 

Taken aback by your thoughtfulness, Castorice was speechless. Even she didn’t remember saying that. 

“These are from my personal collection, but I’m probably going to the library soon to find more stuff to read. Should I put them here?” 

“Yes, there is fine.”

“Okay, I recommend the one about the princess that becomes a dragon! I’m pretty sure you would like that one. You used to pretend you had a cool dragon when we were younger.” 

“Thank you… I did…”

Seating yourself before her cozy table, you exclaimed, “Let’s start our sewing!” 

Castorice sat across from you, picking out the ornaments she wanted for her piece. 

In the quiet and comfortable setting, both you and Castorice carefully used thin threads to fix the various materials onto bracelets and canvas respectfully. 

As Castorice sewed one butterfly and a few flowers onto the special silk fabric, she couldn’t help but wonder: Why were you making two bracelets this time? Usually, you would make a single piece for yourself. Could the second be for someone else? Who would that be? 

Setting her decorated canvas into a frame, Castorice curiously questioned, “...You are making two bracelets? Who is the other one for?” 

You winced, not losing focus on your project. “I was secretly hoping you wouldn’t ask…”

“Ah, my apologies. You usually take home a single item.” 

Pausing your sewing, you nervously laughed before admitting, “Don’t tell the others but it’s for Phainon.” 

“Phainon?” 

It made complete sense; you were rather close to him. 

“...Yes. We, um… just started… seeing each other.” 

Resting your hand on the table with your palm upright, Castorice clocked the subtle mark on your inner wrist, not thinking much of it. 

“But you see each other all the time…? You’re both constantly together.” 

“Cas… I mean we’re… dating…”

Oh. 

The group chat would be thrilled to hear about this, but Castorice refrained from imposing on your privacy. 

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks…” Ignoring the heat on your cheeks and picking up one of the bracelets, you dangled it before Castorice. “Do you think he’ll like it?” 

Delicate dried blue and white flowers adorned the full length of the silk strap, and the craftsmanship was remarkable—even Aglaea would praise you for your work. 

“Yes. He would love it.” And Castorice meant it. There was no universe in which Phainon wouldn’t because she saw how he looked at you when you weren’t. 

All soft and lovingly as if you were his whole reason to live. 

Recalling a specific memory, Castorice smiled. 

At the usual park, Castorice was the newest addition to the crew. You had approached her one day while she was sitting on the bench, asking her if she wanted to join your game because you had noticed her coming here everyday. 

She did, and that was why she visited the area daily. Her inexperience with communication made it difficult to come up to you and request herself so she was very glad that you seeked her out. 

Her role was the reaper, death incarnate. She was to collect the souls of the ones who passed. 

During her first play session, Cipher managed to “injure” you, and you dramatically fell onto your back, coughing and pretending to bleed out with a hand outstretched towards your companion. 

“...Phainon…go on without me… I won’t make it…”

Dropping his toy sword, he kneeled before your body, taking your hand in his. “No! I won’t let anyone take you away from me! Not even Death herself…”

On cue, Castorice appeared with a plastic scythe to take you to the afterlife. 

Seeing the reaper, Phainon shielded your body with his, manifesting puppy eyes. “Don’t do this, Death. Please, let her be.” 

Castorice froze, unsure of what she should do. She was supposed to complete her job and “take” you but Phainon was preventing her from doing so. 

Swinging her legs back and forth above them, Tribbie’s amused voice interrupted the moment. “Cas, you need to take Sunny’s soul!” 

“...But Phainon is…” 

Shaking her head, Cipher argued, “Doesn’t matter! Sunny’s down and out.”

Castorice knew what she had to do, but she wasn’t sure if she could do it. 

Phainon bowed before Castorice, feigning tears. “...If you’re going to take her, take me too. I can’t live without her…”

“Hey, Snowy, you can’t die too! We still need someone to fight the villain!” 

“Actually, I’m okay with Castorice taking both of them.”

“Ciphy, you just wanna be the winner.” 

“...Yeah…”

“...Um.” Stuck with a hard decision, Castorice’s eyes moved between you and Phainon before she stated, “I’ll let you both go for now, but next time, I’ll take your souls.” 

“Oh, you hear that Phainon? Yay, I’m alive! I’m still bleeding though… We need a healer in our group.” 

Snapping out of her daze, Castorice returned her attention to you, eyes drawn to the other bracelet on the table. “Is that for you?” 

“Yep, I want to match with him. It’s not weird, is it?” 

“..No, it’s cute…”

“Haha…”

Hyacine: I just got out of class

Hyacine: What did you want? 

Phainon: You’re gonna be a doctor, right?

Hyacine: I’m working hard to be one! 

Phainon: Can you do a check up on me? I think I’m dying

Phainon: phainonsorrysticker.png

Hyacine: What?! 

Phainon: Yeah, my heart’s been speeding up lately, and I don’t know what’s causing it

Hyacine: Tachycardia could be caused by a lot of things

Hyacine: What have you been doing? 

Phainon: Tachycardia? Is that what I have?

Phainon: Anyway, I’ve been with Sunny 

Putting down her phone for a second, Hyacine giggled because it was obvious why his heart was beating fast. 

You, huh…

She should’ve known…

Phainon: Hello?

Hyacine: Sorry, I was just trying to rule out the possibilities

Hyacine: If you want, we can meet up at the university café, and we can talk about your symptoms

Phainon: I’ll be there in a bit! 

In the café while waiting for her friend to show up, Hyacine reminisced about the time she got roped into “healing” Phainon. 

It was Phainon’s turn to take a hit from Cipher, crumpling to the ground while clutching his side. 

Immediately running to his side, you supported him, letting him lean against you. “No, Phainon! You’re injured…”

“I’m hurt, but not that bad,” Phainon smiled, trying to comfort you. “I’ll live.” 

You still haven't gotten a healer for situations like these…

Dragging Phainon around the playground, your eyes roamed the place for the perfect someone when you saw a girl with a pegasus plushie in her hands. 

Quickly making your way over to her with Phainon’s extra weight, you asked, “Hi! Sorry to bother you, but can you heal my partner real quick? Please, it’s a matter of life or death!”

“...I just said I’ll live.”

Hyacine blinked, confused on why the two of you were talking to her when she was busy playing with her toy. “I’m not a healer…” 

Hugging the boy beside you, you wailed, “He’s gonna die if you don’t do something!” 

You looked deathly serious, and because of your pitiful behavior, Hyacine played along.

Sighing, the pink-haired girl held her pegasus before Phainon. “This is Ika. I can’t heal yet, but Ika can!” 

Moving Ika from side to side, the pegasus “healed” Phainon’s injury. 

“How are you feeling?” you asked, voice filled with concern. 

Giving a thumbs-up, Phainon grinned, “Great.”

Turning towards your new healer, you gave her your gratitude, fishing for her name. “Thank you…”

“Hyacinthia, but you can call me Hyacine.”

“Thank you, Hyacine!”

And somehow, Hyacine learned healing magic from Ika, eventually supporting and becoming the medic of the group. 

Honestly, she didn’t regret helping you and Phainon. It helped with finding her passion, and she wouldn’t be lying if she said having you all as friends was the best experience ever. Nothing was ever dull with you all. 

Spotting Phainon at the entrance, Hyacine waved him down. 

Noticing her, Phainon briskly marched over, determined to find out what was wrong with him. 

“Hyacine… What’s wrong with me?”

With the tip of her chin resting on her palm, Hyacine smirked, “Sunny.” 

“What about her?”

Before Hyacine could answer, something blue and white caught her attention. 

Eying the new accessory on Phainon’s arm, her smirk grew wider, pointing below. “First, what is that?” 

Phainon registered that she was talking about the flower bracelet you gave him. “Oh, this is from Sunny.” 

From you, huh? No wonder he was flaunting it. 

“Sunny is the root of all your problems.” 

“Problems? You mean my… uh… tacardia?” 

“Tachycardia.”

“Yeah, that.”  

Nodding, Hyacine gave her diagnosis, “You’re in love.” 

Placing a hand over his heart, Phainon echoed, “...In love…?”

“It’s a serious condition. There’s no cure. You’re going to have to live with it. We call that a chronic condition.”

“Ooh…”

“Well, I lied. There’s a cure. It’s to confess your love to her!” 

“I did that already, so why aren’t I better?”

Wait, what? He already did?! 

“Um.” Shocked, Hyacine’s lips turned into a fine line as she stared blankly at him. “You and Sunny are dating now?” 

“Yeah.”

“Since when?”

“Since the party.”

“...Congrats.”

“Thank you?” 

He was hopeless.

Mydei: Why are you interrupting my class with your message? 

Phainon: Look what Sunny got me! 

Phainon: bracelet.jpeg

This idiot… He has the worst photography skills… 

The blurry picture was hard to make out, so Mydei squinted his eyes, realizing he was looking at a piece of accessory. 

Mydei: It’s a bracelet. 

Phainon: From Sunny! 

Mydei: I’m in the middle of class. You really thought this was important? 

Wait. 

Thinking back on it, you had been wearing a similar bracelet, but that wasn’t what Mydei wanted to focus on. 

There had been a small mark on your wrist that wasn’t there before, but he wouldn’t have known because you always had a bandaid over it. 

Stepping into the quaint building, Hyacine noted, “Wow, we’re really in a tattoo shop!”

“Woah, look at all the cool designs we could get.” Cipher stood before the wooden countertop, examining the various pictures. 

Castorice also looked at the book on the table, hoping she could maybe include the two delicate things she liked the most into her tattoo. 

Glancing at Anaxa, Tribbie asked, “Did you decide what you wanted your mark to be?” 

With his hand on his forehead, Anaxa shook his head, “I can’t believe I agreed to doing this…”

“Lighten up, Anaxa. As Chrysos Heirs, we were destined for greatness!” Phainon proudly proclaimed.

“...That was when we were younger…”

Aglaea studied the decorations on the walls, holding a paper with intricate, golden branches for you to see. “I already have my design selected.” 

“It looks good, Aglaea!” Instead of being fascinated by the store, you were more interested in her idea. “Did you design this yourself?” 

“Of course. I am the only one who knows what’s befitting of me.”

Mydei had to agree with Anaxa’s sentiment. Why was he here…? 

“Mydei, are you regretting your decision?” 

At the sound of your voice, he looked in your direction. “Yes…”

“Haha, but you’re still moving forward with it?” 

Shifting his gaze behind you, he saw everyone crowding around the waiting area, engaging in different activities while waiting for their turns. 

Cipher was flipping through the gallery, showing Hyacine what she potentially wanted.

With each flip of the page, Hyacine either shook or nodded her head. 

Phainon—trying to convince Anaxa to get an ear piercing with the tattoo.

And Anaxa was actually considering it…

Tribbie’s eyes sparkled as Aglaea was sketching possible designs for her on a sticky note. 

Castorice was sitting on the couch with Tribbie and Aglaea, captivated by the technique Aglaea incorporated in her pen strokes. 

Mydei’s expression softened, watching his close-knit friends. 

He decided he didn’t mind much when they were all in this together. “What is a bond if not forged with blood and tears… and a little ink…” 

You followed his line of sight to see a similar view, equally amused. “Isn’t it funny this was because of our silly little game?”

“You’re right.”

“I still think about how Phainon was against you joining at first, but now you two are the best of buds.”

“Hmph, you’re pushing it a little… and he was only against me joining because Tribbie wanted me to play the crown prince.”

Laughing at the memory, you teased, “We coulda been together!” 

“...I don’t even want to think about it… Fortunately, she made me your long lost brother. Besides, don’t you and Phainon like each other?” 

“...What?” 

Oh, Mydei guessed wrong, and to remedy his mistake, he dismissed his previous statement. “Nevermind.”

Caught off guard by his observation, you stopped talking, wondering if you should get the tattoo you had been meaning to get. 

“Do you know what tattoo Phainon’s getting?”

“You speak as if he told me.”

“Well, did he?”

“...He did.”

“Can you tell me?” 

Mydei clearly remembered Phainon telling him not to tell anyone about his design until he got it, especially you. 

But maybe you both needed a slight push. 

“A sun.”

Lowering your gaze, you hoped he couldn’t see your face. 

This was bad. 

Because you were going to get a snowflake as your tattoo. 

“He told me not to tell anyone, but I just told you… So, what are you getting?” 

“...I don’t think I’m going to get anything, to be honest…”

Realizing you had been lying and thinking you were hopeless, Mydei lightly chuckled, coming back to his phone and seeing Phainon texting him a bunch of question marks due to no response. 

Mydei: Have you checked Sunny’s wrist? 

Phainon: What? 

Mydei: Check her wrist next time you see her. 

Mydei: You might find a pleasant surprise. 

Phainon: Uh… okay… so we still gyming after though, right?

Mydei: mydeiworkingoutsticker.png

Aglaea: I have picked out some clothing that would suit your nature. Would you like to take a gander? In addition, I am ready to forward some portraits as well. 

You: sorry aglaea! im kind of in a hurry right now

Aglaea: What is the matter? Maybe I can provide assistance.

You: you can actually! can you tell me which one i look better in?

You: dress1.jpeg

You: dress2.jpeg

You: dress3.jpeg

Aglaea: What is the occasion?

You: secret

Aglaea: It is only fair you would not divulge when even I do not answer your questions.

Aglaea: Anyway, the second one.

You: thank you!! i gotta go but ill tell you later

Smiling at her screen, Aglaea couldn’t wait because she had a feeling it was about you know who . 

Honestly, she was tired of seeing the two of you mutually pining since childhood. 

She had been reluctant to play the game; however, you were quite persuasive when you wanted to be.

After joining the group as the destiny weaver, she had made it her goal to have you and Phainon getting together. 

And now finally it was happening. 

Her phone lit up with a notification from Anaxa, immediately disturbing her good mood.

What did he want?

Anaxagoras: Sunny and Phainon are at the library. 

Aglaea: What are they doing there?

Anaxagoras: They just met up. 

Aglaea: Sunny had just asked me for advice on what garments to wear. 

Anaxagoras: They’re on a date. 

Aglaea: Yes. 

Anaxagoras: Phainon has her against the bookshelf.

Aglaea: And you are still watching? 

Anaxagoras: No.

Aglaea: You owe me some money. 

Anaxagoras: Like you need any more…

Flipping his phone so the screen was on the table’s surface, Anaxa couldn’t believe his eyes. 

…He didn’t want to pay up to Aglaea.

He had been expecting you and Phainon to date much later because you both were dense as hell.

But he was proven wrong. 

Maybe it was for the better. 

Maybe he should also look away. 

Yeah, he should do that. 

One more picture was sent to the group chat before Anaxa minded his own business, ignoring the vibrations from his phone in favor of scribbling notes. 

In the corner of the library, you and Phainon were in your own bubble, uncaring of the surroundings. 

As far as you were both aware, it was just the two of you.

Not wanting to be caught in such a compromising position, you whined, “Phainon…” Your hand was on his chest, but barely exerting any effort into pushing him away. “Anyone could see us…”

On second thought, you didn’t mind it much… and you didn’t resist when he gently laid his hand on you, encompassing the width of your arm to bring it to him.

The matching bracelet fell lower as Phainon lifted it. 

Upon closer inspection, there was a mark—like Mydei had implied. 

What’s more was that it was in the shape of a snowflake. 

Unconsciously, Phainon touched the left side of his neck, and you wanted to pull away your limb; however, his grip tightened. 

How could he have not seen it before? 

That was right; you had been covering it with bandaids. 

To think this was hidden underneath the adhesives all this time…

When Phainon dropped his hand from his neck, your hand replaced it. 

Lightly tracing the ink, Phainon softly gazed at your tattoo. “...I thought you didn’t get one… ”

Returning the gesture on his own ink, you confessed, “...I didn’t…but then it felt wrong to not have it so I went back to get it the very next day. The artist was laughing at me the whole time because she had heard Tribbie call you Snowy and me Sunny.” 

“...I was disappointed when we walked out of the store, and I didn’t see one on you.” 

“I know…”

“Ha…” He couldn’t stop staring, fixated on a mark that represented him—engraved on you like you were on him forever . 

Meeting your half-lidded eyes and grazing his lips against your inner wrist, Phainon whispered your real name against your skin, “Wherever you are, I’ll be there.”

And his bright azure eyes held so much love for you. 

Making you want to do one thing at this moment. 

Murmuring his name back, you stood on your toes, brushing your lips against his neck before moving towards his own. 

As you both melted into the kiss, Phainon knew you were his Sunny, and you knew he was your Snowy. 

[seresinhangmanjake]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Soap's Sister!reader

Summary: Because Johnny found him sleeping with his sister, Simon had to live the last three months without you, but he's about to get his girl back.

warnings/notes: a little smut 18+, cursing, drinking. That's probably it. Oh, typos, im sure, as well.

words: 1830

Part 1

He drinks at the same bar. The one his team practically lived in when they were all together for an evening, but that doesn’t happen anymore, not with the entire group. Johnny stays home if he knows Simon will be attending the night out, and Simon, if informed Johnny wants to be with the team, elects to remove himself from the situation for everyone’s comfort. He figures it’s the least he can do. He’d slept with his best mate’s sister, he’d fallen in love with his best mate’s sister, and so he has taken on the consequences, no matter how infuriating and unreasonable and unfair. 

“You want another, Honey?” the bartender asks. She grins. Her eyes shine with desire, as they have all night, and it might be a pleasant sight if Simon had never met you. He might’ve taken her home, fucked her like a toy until he was spent and she was happily ruined by his cock before he kicked her out. But she isn’t you. No woman is you.

“Keep ‘em comin’,” Simon replies, downing the amber liquid in his glass. 

Suddenly, the stool beside him slides across the hardwood floor, now occupied by a newcomer he wouldn’t hesitate to shove to their ass if he could do so without causing a scene. What kind of rude bastard risks sitting next to someone when ten other seats are open?

“Actually lass, do me a favor and cut ‘im off. I need ‘im in his right mind.”

Simon almost chokes at Johnny's voice but he doesn’t turn his head as he slowly sets the glass back down on the counter, his fingers tightening around it. Anger, confusion, pain, anxiety. It all crashes over him in a hefty wave, because rolled into this one man is both the friend Simon has missed for months and the asshole who has forced him to be apart from the love of his life. And it’s almost too much to handle at once.

“I’ll take his drink,” Johnny tells the bartender, who has lost all hope now that the man she’s been attempting to charm is no longer lonely enough to be convinced to take her home. When she places the glass in front of him, he takes a sip. “You look like shit, Ghost.”

“What do you want?”

“We got a problem,” Johnny says, getting right to it. “A bit of a disaster, really, and I gave it my best shot, but I can’t fix it.” Simon blinks. His brows pinch. Johnny drains the remainder of the alcohol and wipes his mouth with the back of his forearm. “She’s miserable. And considerin’ the timeline, I’d wager it’s because she’s without you.”

Simon’s heart—though had fallen from his chest months ago—sinks lower into his gut. 

“Look, I didn' believe it was that deep,” Johnny continues. “Figured you were jus’ messin’ around. Being stupid and disrespectful with my baby sister. But I cannot have her miserable, Ghost. It won’t do.” He looks at Simon and releases a long sigh. “She loves you. I don’ like it but she does, and you need to make it better.”

“What exactly are you askin’ of me?”

Johnny’s eyes land back on the empty glass. He plants his elbows on the counter and rubs his fingers across his forehead, kneading the wrinkles. “Just…go to her, alright?”

That snaps Simon out of his grumbly attitude. “You serious?”

“Unfortunately,” Johnny says. 

Simon practically leaps out of his seat, nearly knocking the stool to the floor as he shrugs on his jacket. He’s almost at the door, but then he stops. Taking a breath, he turns back to his old friend. “Will you be able to handle this?” Simon asks. “Me and her? Because you can't ask me to let her go, Johnny. Not twice.”

Johnny takes a second, then he gives a brief nod. “I’ll adjust. Somehow. With time; lots of time.”

It isn't much reassurance, but it's enough for Simon to be on his way. He rushes out the door, jumps into his truck, and races down the road. He forgets the seatbelt. Ignores the speed limit signs. You don’t live far, and you’re worth the risk if it means getting to you faster. 

He knows the elevator in your building is much too slow because he’s been in it a hundred times. He has made out with you in it; fucked you in it, slamming the emergency button so no one could interrupt on the nights you couldn’t wait to get to your bedroom. So he takes the stairs. Two at a time, up eight flights, and down the hall. With a heaving chest, he bangs on your door. 

“Love, open up!” He knocks harder. Loud enough to make your neighbor pop her head into the hall to understand the ruckus. 

“Oh, wonderful. You've returned,” the old woman huffs. “And just when I was starting to believe I’d never again have to endure listening to that moaning and groaning at all hours.”

“We talked ‘bout this back in June, Mrs. Brimsby. Get yourself some earplugs,” Simon retorts before calling for you again. “Baby, please, it‘s me!”

“I’ll report the two of you for the noise.”

“You probably should. You’re in for a long night.” He hears a scoff but doesn’t bother to glance in the direction it comes from. 

“Still so disrespectful,” she spits before slamming the door to her apartment. 

Simon has held a low level of hatred for the old bat since the morning after the first time you’d slept together. It was an early Sunday full of soft touches and kisses and tea to nurse the mild hangovers you’d both had because of a couple of drinks the night before—the drinks that allowed the two of you to finally surrender to the sexual tension. After kissing you goodbye, he’d stepped out of your apartment with a smile he hadn't donned in quite some time, only to have it wiped away from the unexpected grandma in a collared nightgown tapping her foot as she stroked the fur of the cat in her arms. 

“You kept us up all night,” she had scolded. “We need our sleep.” The cat then hissed for emphasis. 

Now, Simon has never been so happy to have that woman blathering in his ear. She reminds him of home, because home is with you and this is where you are. Getting yelled at shoots him into the memories of the time you spent together all those months ago. The stupidly high levels of bliss that, based on the trajectory of his life at the time, he’d assumed was more of a myth than anything. But you had made it real. You had soothed the pain. You were the patch on his wounds; the brightest spot in his life which dimmed the trauma and horrors. 

He’s so lost in those thoughts that he doesn’t immediately notice when his banging fist plummets through the air.

“Si?”

At your voice, Simon’s mind instantly clears. His eyes meet yours.

“Fucking finally,” he mutters, not letting a beat go by before he’s bending at the knees, wrapping his arms around your waist, and lifting you up. Instinctually, your arms snake around his neck, your legs circle his hips, and he feels his cock begin to swell from the reminder of how natural that action is for you. How right it is that you fit together like lock and key. 

Many questions are brewing in your eyes, but you don’t ask them. You kiss him instead, hard and thoroughly as he carries you into your apartment and kicks the door closed behind him. When he sits you atop your kitchen counter and settles himself between your spread legs, his hands go everywhere; under your sleep shirt, up the curves of your body to squeeze your breasts then back down to your hips. His palms slide around to your ass and jerk you closer so the center of those thin little shorts is pressed against the mound protruding from his jeans. 

Buttons scatter across the tile from his impatience, unwilling to delicately undo each tiny closure of your shirt. Your fingers trickle lower on his body to the belt buckle you quickly undo and the zipper you harshly yank down. He’s about to tell you to lift your hips, but you do so without his command, shimmying out of your shorts, and Simon takes the chance to do the same, pushing his pants just below his ass. He springs free, the heavy column of flesh landing at your navel. 

Leaning back, you guide his cock through the slickness of puffy lips into your tight, clenching walls. It sucks the air from his lungs. His head falls to your shoulder as you both try to breathe at a steady pace. His hands brace on the counter on either side of your body, nails digging into the granite. Home.

“Simon…baby, you have to move,” you pant. “I c-can’t take it.”

“I’ve got you,” he whispers in your ear before lifting his head and placing a quick peck on your mouth. Shifting his hips, he pulls out and then slowly eases himself back inside of you. His groan drowns out the sweet song of your moan. “I’ve got you, love.”

—

“Your neighbor still hates us, jus’ so you know,” Simon says as he slides under the sheets. Were he not so exhausted, he’d chuckle at the idea of being beside you in your bed and not immediately trying to fuck you, but after the kitchen counter, then the couch, then the living room floor, you’re both worn out and in need of a good night's sleep. “Probably more now than she did before.”

Normally, you would have found his words amusing, but you remain silent on your back, staring straight up at the ceiling. Simon raises a brow and flips onto his side. Then he sees the tear slip from the corner of your eye down to your ear. 

“What're you thinkin' about, love?” he asks as he places his hand on your cheek and turns your face toward his. 

“I'm scared,” you tell him. “I've missed you so much, but the second you leave, everything will go back to how it was without you. That broke me the first time, Si. How do I go through it all over again?”

His eyes pinch tight and he sighs in shame. He should have told you. It should have been the first thing out of his mouth, but then he saw you and he needed you and that was all that mattered in the moment. “Baby,” he begins, brushing the hair back from your face. “I'm not leaving you, and we are not goin’ back to that, ok?”

“But Johnny—”

“We don't need to worry about Johnny.”

Your eyes widen. “What? Why not?”

“Because, love,” Simon says, his hand finding the middle of your back and snuggling you into his chest, “Johnny sent me.”

@universitypenguin @ghostslittlegf

[wheels-of-despair]

Ride the Lightning Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: In September of 1984, a girl who would one day be known as Evil Woman stepped into the halls of Hawkins High School for the very first time. A few minutes later, she met the love of her life. Contains: First day jitters, first encounter with O'Donnell, love at first sight, and the first day of the rest of Eddie and Evil Woman's lives. Words: 2.3k

This is it, gang. The day Evil Woman met her Eddie. 😍

You woke up this morning ready to kick ass, take names, and make Hawkins High your bitch.

You put on your favorite outfit, scarfed down a good breakfast, and stepped out the door with a new backpack and a head held high.

It took approximately three seconds inside Hawkins High, the new school that would be your prison for the foreseeable future, to make you change your mind.

The thing about small towns is, even on the first day, almost everyone already knows each other. With such a small student body, newcomers are incredibly obvious.

Which is why every eye in that bright white hallway is on you and your baby brother, and you wish you were invisible.

Gareth feels it too. He's been tense since he stumbled into the kitchen this morning. You'll die before you admit he was right to be.

"Where's your locker?" you ask, tugging on his flannel to drag him to the side and out of the flow of traffic.

He pulls out a paper teeming with valuable information, such as class schedule and assigned counselor and locker number, and hands it to you. You glance at it, and then at the numbered metal plates lining the hallway.

"These are going up," you note. "You're probably that way." You gesture vaguely to a turn in the distance. "Want me to go with you?"

"No."

"Okay," you shrug, handing him his schedule back.

His hands shake when he takes it. He looks like he wants to bolt.

"You'll be fine," you say under your breath, hoping no one else hears. People are still watching you. "See you in a few hours."

Gareth heaves a sigh and trudges down the hallway.

You wander around, trying your best to ignore the extremely obvious stares, until you find your own locker. You open it, gaze into the empty space for a few seconds, and close it again. You have no idea what you'll need today, so you might as well keep it all with you.

A chirp of the bell sends your audience to scattering. Probably a warning bell; it wasn't nearly jarring enough to be official. But still, you should probably find homeroom. You look at your own very important paper to get a room number and start hunting. At least everyone's in too much of a hurry now to focus on you.

When you arrive outside the classroom that will be your homeroom for the next year, you hesitate. Would it be unreasonable to turn around and walk away? Just go sit in the woods for a few hours, rather then be trapped inside with all these strangers?

Gareth would kill you if you bailed without him.

"Move it, loser," a tiny girl in a big letterman jacket orders, knocking into you from behind as she passes.

Well, at least everyone's friendly.

You take a deep breath and step inside, seeing Little Miss Letterman Jacket in line behind a few others. The teacher is directing them to assigned seats. Assigned seats, at your age? This place is ridiculous. But still, you stand in line and wait like everyone else.

"Name?" an old lady with a gray perm and big glasses asks, checking off something on her clipboard when you approach. You tell her, and she looks up at you briefly.

"I haven't seen you before."

"I must be new," you deadpan.

She fixes you with a withering glare before looking back down to her clipboard. She scribbles something, then points toward the back of the room without looking up.

"Back table, left side."

"Check."

She looks back up with raised eyebrows, and you scurry toward your assigned seat. Way to make a great first impression. You are killing it.

At your old school, this was where the burnouts went. The kids who would probably spend the whole time sleeping. Even if they didn't gravitate there on their own, the teachers would send them there eventually. Put them as far away from the teaching as possible, so they wouldn't bother the good little children who came to learn.

Good, you think as you drop into the plastic chair. Something tells you that you'll be spending most of your time at Hawkins High trying to fly under the radar anyway. You're off to a great start.

More students filter in, and you observe them from your place in the back. Isn't it amazing how you can tell what clique a person belongs to just by their clothes? The jocks are easy to spot. The princesses. The nerds. The rich kids. The losers. The--

Holy shit.

A blur of untamed hair and faded denim bounds into the room just as the bell rings.

"O'Donnell!" he greets, clapping the surly teacher on the shoulder. She flinches, like he'd just smacked her with a dead rat instead of a ringed hand. "Bet you thought you finally got rid of me, huh?"

"Take your usual seat, Mr. Munson," she glowers.

He grins, showing off his white teeth and deep dimples, and it lights up the entire room. Until his eyes land on you, and you feel your stomach drop, along with his smile. You've been staring, fuck, you've been staring so intensely he's probably creeped out already.

He saunters toward you, unblinking.

He's not sitting here, is he?

Please sit here.

Before you can argue with yourself any more, he dramatically plops into the chair next to you. You pretend to focus on the teacher at the front of the room, but watch out of the corner of your eye as he leans his chair back on two legs and rests his back against the wall. He smells like cigarette smoke and warmth and comfort and some kind of cologne or maybe just a strong deodorant. And he's staring at you.

"What'd you do?"

Is he talking to you? You tilt your head and meet his eye. He is.

"What?" you ask, surprised that you were able to get the word out.

"She usually throws me in the back corner by myself," he explains. "Either we're full-up, or she hates you too."

Your face is on fire.

"Uh…" you rack your brain for an explanation. "There may have been a tiny bit of sarcasm when I first walked in."

He snorts, then drops his chair back onto all fours with a clank.

"Eddie Munson," he says, holding out his hand. His many silver rings catch your eye, and you tilt your head to stare at them in fascination. You've seen a guy wear one or two rings, maybe, but how does he even lift his hands with that much metal on them? "It's okay, I washed them this week... or maybe it was last week?"

You chuckle and take his hand, giving him a brief shake and introducing yourself. A moment of silence follows. You can't stop looking at him. You want to memorize every detail of Eddie Munson, because he's the most beautiful person you've ever seen. You want to stare into his eyes until you learn all his secrets. You want to hold his hand and inspect his rings. You want to touch every patch and pin on his jacket, and let him tell you how he acquired each one. You want to know which bands are his favorites, and which of their albums, and which song from each album. You want to know everything.

"Nice shirt," you finally get out.

Eddie Munson looks down and pulls his battle vest aside - an actual battle vest with metal patches and pins in Nowhere, Indiana - to reveal more of the Ride the Lightning album cover you'd spotted.

"Thanks," he beams. "You like Metallica?"

Of course you like Metallica. You were waiting at your hometown record store's front door when they opened on RTL Release Day. The assistant manager told you they didn't have it yet, and only after you'd threatened to sue did he pull the cassette out of his pocket with a grin. You miss that place.

"No, I just thought the logo was cool," you smirk.

His face falls.

Fuck.

Fuck!

FUCK!

"Oh," he says, deflated. "Well, they're a badass band. If you like metal, I mean... do you?"

"Everyone quiet down for the announcements!" O'Donnell barks. Seconds later, the loudspeaker crackles to life, and a voice starts rambling on it. You should probably pay attention to this. Don't want to fuck up your high school career more than you have already. You smile apologetically at Eddie, knowing you've blown whatever this could have been, and attempt to focus on the announcements.

You give up after a few minutes of sports and club-related news, and instead berate yourself for being too you, too soon. You have to ease people in, a little at a time. You are an acquired taste. You know this.

When the announcements end, O'Donnell goes to the chalkboard and writes a numbered list of forms everyone was supposed to get signed and bring in. Paper shuffles as everyone starts digging into backpacks and trying to put them in the requested order.

A few minutes later, your neat pile rests next to Eddie's crumpled mess, and the sight makes you smile. You glance at him with an eyebrow raised in amusement, and his face becomes the shade of a tomato. He's so adorable.

"Papers to the front!"

You reach for your pile of paper at the same time Eddie does. Your hands brush, and a small shock of static electricity makes you both jump and pull your hands away. He smiles apologetically and picks up the papers, combining them and putting the stack into the meaty hands of the striped polo shirt in front of you.

You suddenly feel the need to shed your denim jacket, and twist away from Eddie to hang it on the back of your chair. And then you remember what shirt you're wearing, and feel a surge of hope shoot through your veins. Perhaps all is not lost. You try your best to keep a straight face when you face the front again.

"I'm passing out additional forms that need to be signed by a parent or guardian and returned to me by the end of the week. Do not lose them. You may talk quietly amongst yourselves until the next bell."

Now's your chance. Maybe your last one.

"So," you begin, slightly angling yourself toward him. "Are all the teachers here as fun as this one?"

Eddie grins and turns to you to answer, but his face falls when he sees your shirt. He stares at the fabric for a moment, then meets your eye. His brow is furrowed. He reminds you of a confused puppy. Slowly, you see the realization spread across his face.

"You were fucking with me."

You look down pointedly at your own Ride the Lightning shirt, which matches his, and then lift your head to meet those big brown eyes again. You scrunch your nose and nod. Eddie laughs, and the sound makes your stomach flip. You join in when you remember how.

"The new girl likes metal," he grins, shaking his head in disbelief. Hell, you'd like anything he wanted you to. "Alright, very serious question." He leans closer, his face suddenly somber and his eyes intense. You can smell his cologne clearer now. You fear you're going to pass out. "Do you know what D&D is?"

You're torn. Do you keep fucking with him, or tell the truth and make his dreams come true?

"Dickheads & Doorknobs?" you whisper.

Eddie throws his head back and laughs, a loud and wicked cackle that makes your whole body vibrate. You fight the urge to steady yourself by combing your fingers through his long shaggy mane.

"You ever played?" he asks, snapping you out of it.

"A couple of times," you grin. "My brother's a big fan, though."

"Your brother plays?" He sits back, his eyes wide. "Is he here? Like, in the building?"

"Yeah," you answer. "He's around here somewhere."

"Older or younger?"

"Younger."

"He like good music?"

"Taught him everything I know," you tease.

"Fuck," Eddie breathes, eyes blazing. "You uh…" He licks his lips. "You wanna meet the rest of the Hawkins High Metal Lovers?"

"If that's your gang name, I hate to break it to you, but it's kinda lame," you snicker.

"It's a club, thank you very much," he says, putting a hand over his heart like you've offended him to the core. "We play D&D as The Hellfire Club."

"Okay," you nod, "that sounds pretty badass."

Eddie grins.

"Can I see your schedule?" he asks. And then he tenses. So do you. What just happened? "If you want, y'know, I could take you to your next class. Or show you around or whatever. If you wanted me to."

Is he backpedaling because he thinks he overstepped, or because he doesn't like the way you're looking at him, or because he just remembered he has a girlfriend who's going to murder you both?

Screw it.

You pull out your schedule and slide it across the table to him. He looks it over, his eyes darting from line to line.

"We don't have much together," he says regretfully. "But I uh… I could still…" He bites his lip, like he's afraid to finish his sentence.

"Would you?" you ask, voice quiet and heart pounding. "I mean, if it's not too much trouble?"

The corner of his mouth twitches, like he's trying not to smile. It's a battle he quickly loses. You can't help but smile back. You're still grinning at each other like idiots when the bell rings.

"Trouble's my middle name," he grins, his perfect dimples making another appearance as he rises from his chair. "Shall we?"

[nicolesainz]

Grab me a mate, but don't call me mate, please? (FC47)

Summary: Franco is making his F1 debut after substituting Logan. The paddock's eyes are on him, like hers. She is the younger sister of Alex Albon, who with a simple 'hello' fell for the Argentinian. She feels uncomfortable with Franco having a flirtatious persona, but little does she know, his eyes only look at her direction.

A/n: I LOVE Franco! It was necessary to write about him since he is the lovechild of Lando and Carlos. Also, in the title I am talking about mate (the drink), which Franco loves and Alex gave him a hard time about it.

Warnings: none, simply fruitful and sweet, bad Spanish translations

"Just lost a fan, Alex." James Vowels says giggling at Alex, who rolls his eyes with the state of his sister being wowed from the newcomer Franco.

"At least now she will wear our gear. It hurt my eyes seeing her in orange." Alex responds as he tries to poke his sibling, but she does not respond.

"Do you maybe have an available work position at Franco's garage Mr. Vowels?" y/n softly says and both her brother and his boss laugh hysterically.

"Unfortunately no, although you are more than welcome to give out data pointer to both our drivers." James says before he goes back to his seat in the pitwall.

"Why don't you ask him out?" Lily appeared on Alex's side, curious as to what is happening.

"You can tell it's not in the Albon gene to be brave in matters of the heart." Y/n fires back and Lily erupts in giggles.

"I am telling you tho, you probably should go and talk to him. You have nothing to lose." She tries to encourage a very shy Albon sibling.

"Hey man, what's up?" Alex shouts with our warning and shakes hands with Franco who paid a visit at his teammates garage.

"All well, but Jesus Christ, the heat is horrible." Franco says as his arm goes around Y/n's shoulder. Her face instantly turns into a deep red shade, darker than the one of Ferrari's car.

"Singapore is worse. This is nothing. Once we get there, you will wish to be back in Baku."

"You are coming to Singapore as well, y/n? No?" Franco turns his head to face Alex's sister and her eyes soften at how calmly and sweetly he looks at her.

"I will be there. It's one of my favourite tracks." she quickly responds, trying not to flinch at the sensation of Franco's body leaning onto hers.

"Increíble! That's what I wanted to hear." Franco winks at Y/n and suddenly her knees go weak. Lily notices how she is one breath away from fainting onto his arms. The couple knew how smitten she was with Franco, but hadn't expected such reactions from her.

"Oh god, you really like Franco don't you?" Alexandra exclaims when Lily narrates the story to her and Rebecca.

"I would say so yeah. But I really don't think he is into me. He is just being flirty just like with everyone else in the paddock."

"It's friendly flirting. He even did it with Oscar on the fanzone presentation and Lily somehow got offended." Rebecca pointed out.

"Really, you have to approach him. Go and ask him to make you a matcha or mate however that drink he likes is called. I always see him with such a drink in his hand." Alex suggested and Lily thanked her for saying what she had also advised Y/n to do.

"Take our word for it. We wouldn't tell you to go for it, if it wasn't for a reason." Rebecca squeezed y/n's hand softly, reassuring her that everything will be alright.

"Okay, okay. I will go talk to him." Y/n raised her hands in a moment of surrender and the three fellow girls clapped at her finally making up her mind and finding the courage to talk to Franco.

When she started strolling around the paddock, she noticed that a bunch of photographers were surrounding Franco, asking for his input in him replacing Logan in the middle of the season and how Williams will move forward with Carlos already occupying the second seat in 2025.

As always, Franco was calm and composed, responding to each interviewer's question in full detail, without being nervous or angry. For a man who has no PR training, he handles the media part like a PR assistant himself.

The questions slowly started eating Franco alive and he was looking left and right to find an excuse to avoid them without seeming rude. When his eyes locked with Y/n's he politely walked out of the circle of interviewers, by saying there is an emergency he has to take care of back at his garage and grabbed her once more from the shoulder and moved their bodies as far away as possible from the hungry eyes of the public.

"You are an angel heaven sent, gracias!" he leaned a kiss on Y/n's cheek and if her heart could talk at that very moment, it would certainly scream.

"No worries. Say, uh, I have been wanting to try Mate for a while. Could you help me with making it?" the words come out of her mouth with major struggle.

"This is great. Of course I will help you mi hermosa dama" his hands quickly left her shoulder and grabbed her hand firmly, guiding her to his garage, where he had all the necessary equipment.

Alex, Lily and Carlos who were chatting outside of the William's pitstop turned their heads towards the direction of Franco smiling at them, whilst holding Alex's sister close to his body.

"That was quick" Alex exclaimed in surprise.

"Oh come on. Franco blurted to me by accident that he wants to take out your sister and so me and the girls tried to persuade her to talk to him." Lily explains not wanting to keep this secret anymore from her boyfriend.

"She will voodoo me outside of a seat, so Franco can keep the Williams one." Carlos joked with the couple laughing along.

Franco was shy but smart enough to not simply tell Y/n on how to make her Mate. He would guide her through it by moving her arms along with his, using as an excuse the fact that 'there are specific measurements and only I know how to show you best.'

"Do I put some sugar in it?" Y/n' turned her head around, only to be met with Franco's warm hazel eyes and puffy lips. Torture would depict her state perfectly.

"You are sweet enough, no need for more sugar." he didn't even comprehend how easily that slipped off his mouth, but it surely had the desiring effect he wished.

Y/n's smile had reached the tip of her ears, whilst her breathing had gone very rapid.

"You are good to go. Give it a taste." Franco hands her his cup of Mate and she takes a sip out of the metallic straw.

At first she grinned with how sour it was, but its aftertaste, was more sweet and cold than expected. Very refreshing and enjoyable.

"Can I have a taste as well?" he suggested and as Y/n nodded, his lips captured hers softly, taking away the cup from her hand and wrapping each other in their respective embraces.

Franco was nibbling Y/n's lower lips as soon as she started whimpering quietly with how much she was into their kiss. "Simplemente encantador" (simply lovely), moaned Franco before breaking their kiss. Both refused to let the other go away from their grasp.

Y/n's eyes were shimmering and even smiling along with her flustered lips at Franco's sudden surprise.

"I think it was high time this happened."

"If you wanted to do that, you could have said so." y/n' jokingly punched Franco's arm and he giggled loudly from his heart.

"At least now I have an even better excuse to take you out." Franco winked and leaned in once more to kiss Y/n and show her what she is about to get into when dating him.

[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.

[oceantornadoo]

the ex-wife chronicles pt.3 (ex husband!john price x f!reader)

masterlist | next

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John wakes up regretfully. It’s too easy to bite at a newcomer, especially you with all the history between you too. He’s determined to make it up, but with Ghost and Soap coming, it’ll be a lot harder to get you alone. Plus, despite Soap’s injury, Simon is too perceptive. He’ll know something is going on. John’s debated telling the team about your ex status, but he doesn’t want to ruin whatever perception they have of you. He’s really hoping you can help the team, and he’s not going to let his past eclipse that.

Once John gets dressed, he finds you and Gaz eating breakfast in the kitchen. There’s a third bowl of oatmeal waiting for him on the counter, with a sprinkle of brown sugar. He just knows you made it and now he feels even more dick-ish. Great.

“Soap an’ Ghost will be here in thirty minutes.” John says by way of greeting. Gaz grunts, clearly still sleepy, and you nod, eyes trained on the empty bowl in front of you. “Thanks for the breakfast, Doc.” John murmurs as he walks past your chair to get his bowl. You don’t even correct his insinuation, just tense your shoulders a bit before dropping them and nodding. The air isn’t as tense as he thought it would be, which is the most he can ask for during this reunion. 

“You guys ready to see your teammates?” You ask the space in front of you. It’s said pleasantly, a rarity in a team built for battle and bloodshed. John nods and Gaz launches into a story of how, years ago, Johnny wooed almost all of the nurses that took care of him after a nasty cut to his leg. The story takes up the rest of breakfast, thankfully. He’s stopped by the sound of honking outside the compound. Gaz jumps in his seat and takes off to the front. You stand and move to follow, but John stops you with a hand to your waist.

“I’m sorry for last night.” He whispers, his hand moving to the small of your back as he guides you towards the front doors. Surprisingly, you don’t shrug it off. “It’s fine, John. I was being mean.” He squeezes your waist and drops his hand before he can remind himself that you’re no longer his to squeeze. “Reckon we both were. Thought a decade might change that, but looks like we’re still kids.” You bark out a small laugh and shake your head, looking down at your synced footfalls. “Looks like it.” You reply, light and airy. A welcome change from this morning. 

“If it makes you feel better, I am a bit. Lonely, that is.” He doesn’t know why he said that, why he’d trust you with that information despite having not seen you in years. It’s not like you know each other anymore, have no reason to trust except Laswell- “I think I am, too. Different reasons but…” You trail off, shrugging. When you look up at him, eyes catching for the first time this whole morning, he can’t help but remember how you look under him, wet and willing. Breath catching as you both try something new, his voice soft and low in your ear…

“Cap!” Soap’s voice, clear and healed, rings out in the crisp morning air. His hair is gone, replaced with a rough buzzcut on the side of his head that the bullet grazed. He grips a cane loosely, like it’s there just in case. Other than being in civvies, he looks almost exactly like normal. Whole. Simon is also dressed in civvies, a black sweatshirt and blue jeans, his arm fluttering at his side like he’s waiting for Soap to fall so he can catch him. It only took a bullet for him to get over himself. How predictable.

“It’s good to see you, Soap.” John peels himself from your side and claps both of his men in one-armed hugs. They linger a bit, mostly because John needs to feel Soap’s beating heart before he can let him go. When he’s done greeting Simon, he finds you already introducing yourself to Soap, your hand clasped in his. Simon stiffens imperceptibly and John pats his shoulder in reassurance before stepping back. “Few weeks an’ you’re already a caveman.” John grunts, only for Simon’s ears. He can feel the force of his eye roll and grins under his mustache before joining Gaz where he stands. You greet Simon next, and John holds his surprise in as the man takes your handshake. Maybe he has softened. Maybe so has John.

“Well, I’m glad to see you all together. Johnny starts his PT tomorrow, so today we’ll spend as much time as we can together. I talked to the facility and he’ll be able to join us twice a week on the days he’s not working with them.” You sound a bit like a summer camp instructor, but your brightness is welcomed to cheer up the reunion. If you weren’t here, John has a feeling they would’ve already started day-drinking in a dark pub somewhere. “Y’r makin’ me work, Doc.” Johnny comments goodnaturedly. You smile and it’s blinding. “I’m not treating anyone, but especially you, with kiddie gloves. I know the conditions you’re used to and I definitely know you won’t do any good being idle. Anyone disagree?” They’re all silent, even John. He can’t refute a single point.

They follow you back into the building, Gaz and Soap bickering like old times. Simon didn’t even pretend to bring an overnight bag, simply setting down an extra cane for Soap in his room. John’s chest tightens. He excuses himself to the bathroom, shutting the door forcefully and locking it. It’s hit him now, that it won’t ever be the same. Soap probably won’t be able to come back and Simon will do anything for him. Gaz is here, always following John’s lead, but he’s destined for greater things than Sergeant. John’ll probably get assigned new soldiers within the year, prodigies of their classes who aren’t worth half of any of his men. And for now he’s just in limbo, waiting. Shepherd and Makarov are dead. Other loose strings have been tied. His men will leave, but where does that leave him? Of course, he’s moved teams, locations, bases. But this one stuck, these are his men. With every thought, his heart beats louder and louder in his ears.

There’s a soft knock at the door. “Occupied.” John grunts out. “It’s me.” Your voice is muffled through the wooden door. Reason has long left him, which is the only reason his shaking hand unlocks the lock. You slip in quietly, keeping it tightly closed so no one else could see. “Gaz is taking them on a walk, we’re meeting them at base in twenty. When- John? Can you hear me?” He’s gripping the basin of the sink hard, like he wants to break it. The faucet is leaking, small drips landing every few seconds. 

“Alright, John, can you breathe for me? In and out, let’s do it together.” He scrambles and finds your hand warm and strong, squeezing his. It’s a reminder that you’re here, he’s here and not in some world where the carpet has been swept out from under him. You move his hand to your chest, where he can feel your lungs expand under your t-shirt. It grounds him as he matches your breathing to his, breaths calmer with every inhale and exhale. “You’re doing good, John. There you go.” Your voice rumbles through his hand, immovable as a mountain. He blinks and his vision is clear, staring straight into the mirror. His hand lays on your sternum, covered by your own. It feels a bit like ownership, security. The rest of his face looks…normal. His hair is in place, his beard sharp from where he cleaned it up this morning. There’s no signs of that immense pressure that had been pressing into him.

“Feel better?” You ask. He meets your eyes in the mirror, can sense you’re going into doctor mode. “Yeah, love. Feelin’ alrigh’.” The petname slips out unbidden, and neither of you acknowledge it. All you do is nod, squeezing his hand on your chest before dropping it back to his side. “Seeing them must have been hard. I’m sorry it hit you like this.” He nods. John runs the water and cleans his hands, washing away the sweat that gathered there. You watch from your perch near the door, all-seeing.

“John, do you-”

“Let’s talk later, Doc. Need to get t’ base.” He can’t bring himself to glimpse the pity on your face, so he simply walks out the door. There’s a ghost of a touch against his back as he passes you, so light he could’ve imagined it. Something tells him he didn’t, so he does what a good soldier does and compartmentalizes.

The two of you walk in silence all the way to base. When you both get there, the boys are waiting by what suspiciously looks like an…ATV. He turns to you, and the placid expression you’ve been maintaining suddenly transforms into a grin. “Welcome to our first day of team bonding!” 

-

“Don’t worry, we’re not doing anything to aggravate injuries. I just figured between this and a golf cart, you might want something fun.” Your words meet four blank male faces. Clearly, they are not excited at your tone. “Where are we goin’ on it, Doc?” Gaz eventually asks. “We’re going on a nature walk!”

Jeez, not a happy crowd.

“There’s a small forest a few kilometers from here. We’re going on a nature walk.” You like scaring human war machines with the phrase ‘nature walk’. It’s a way for them to talk about their feelings while hiding their faces in foliage, one of your favorite tricks of the trade.

Unfortunately, the ATV is not big enough. It would be, with two seats in the front and a bench for three in the back, if you were with regular soldiers. Unfortunately, Gaz insists on driving and Soap needs the passenger seat so he doesn’t get vertigo. They’re the two leanest which leaves you with two hulking masses of muscle in the back. You can’t sit in the middle as you tried to do in the beginning, before Simon almost sat on you. Before you can tell them you’ll meet them there, John swings out and snatches you from where you’re standing outside the vehicle. There’s no doors so in an instant, you’re seated on his lap. Right thigh, to be exact. You haven’t touched him like this in a decade and he’s since put on weight, muscle and fat combining into a very comfortable seat. You’ve gained weight too, but it doesn’t occur to you to protest. If he wants to sign up for this, you’re not going to stop him.

You’re not going to slide down further into John’s lap when Gaz guns the gas pedal, seemingly knowing where the forest is without you telling him. You’re not going to put a hand on John’s other thigh as you hit a bump, no seat belts in sight. You’re not going to squeeze it hard, to feel that rigid muscle and sinew under your fingertips. You won’t let his arm tighten around your waist, his hand splayed on your belly like he owns it. You will, in fact, ignore the side eye Ghost is giving you, the searing gaze of Gaz in the rear view mirror. 

You do jump off the moment the vehicle stops.

“Right, well, let’s get going before the sun gets higher.” Absurdly, you expect something to have changed during the ride. For John to pull you into him and whisper something foul in your ear. You expect to have to reject him or ask how he’s doing after his panic attack. None of that happens.

Instead, John stays in the back of the group, walking with Soap as he tests out his cane on the worn trail of the forest. You walk in between Ghost and Gaz, thankful for the latter’s conversation. You let them get settled in, cataloguing escape routes and the rustling of creatures until their shoulders relax. It’s only when Ghost seems settled that you clear your throat to get their attention.

“Right, everyone. We’re going to address the elephant in the room.” It’s been grudging acceptance so far, but the forest turns pin-drop silent. These poor soldiers, taught they have to wage war on themselves even off the battlefield. It’s unfortunate, to have such unique skills you get turned into a weapon, not able to wield yourself anymore.

“We’re going to say something we regret. Could be about the last mission, or not. But I want you to take this seriously. Think of things that have been on your chest.” The only sound is the occasional chirping bird. These men know how to walk silently, so you’re the loudest one there.

“I’ll go first.” You say when no one says anything. You decide to start light. “I regret eating oatmeal before this. My stomach is turning.” That gets a pity laugh from Gaz. You catch his eyes, pleading for him to go next.

“I regret not bringing enough candy back with me.” The men grumble and hum, going around in a circle with lighthearted comments. Forgetting cigarettes, a last trip to the pub, a massage. When it gets back to you again, you steel yourself for an uncomfortable silence. “I regret not staying in London longer.”

Gaz scratches the back of his head. Ghost cracks his neck. You can’t see Soap or John behind you, but you bet they’re fidgeting as well. They can sit for hours behind a sniper scope, but talking about their feelings sets them on edge, years of training down the drain. (You know that’s not true. That they feel comfortable and safe enough with each other to show these little bits of emotion. But you like to think it’s you, that unnerves them).

It’s quiet for a few minutes. Sticks break under feet and light breaks through the winter-worn trees, not yet having bloomed with new leaves. Only when the sun temporarily blinds you does Gaz speak. “I regret not spendin’ more time with my mum ‘fore I left.” He grunts out. You nudge his shoulder in thanks. He’s a bit stiff, but relaxes eventually. 

“Ah regret runnin’ in tae tha’ fuckin’ room.”

“Johnny-”

“Soap-”

“Now, Soap-”

Despite their protests, there was a collective sigh in the group. The acknowledgement, the truth of it barren and raw. Pain is etched into their faces, wrinkled and squinting. But there’s something else there too. Relief. Acknowledgement. 

“I think that’s enough for today. Let’s get some lunch in all of you.”

The dynamic switches on the way back. John leads, Gaz trailing hesitantly behind him. Ghost and Soap after him, their hands occasionally brushing as they walk. You bring up the rear, cataloguing your own admission. I regret not staying in London longer. You’d left for your first mission with the Americans, the meeting with Laswell that would change your life.

You’d also left to escape the divorce papers tucked into the bedtable of your new, shitty flat.

When you get to the ATV, John is already sitting in his spot, legs spread to accommodate you. You resolutely do not look down at his cargos stretched over skin. 

When you sit, John tugs you closer than he had on the way there. Gaz drives smoothly at a reasonable speed, no bumps in sight. You have no explanation for the hairy paw that sits on the pouch of your stomach, securing you like a seatbelt. Or your hand on his chest, the stability unnecessary as the ATV rolls over flat land. 

John squeezes your waist. You squeeze him back.

-

so i neared a super angsty moment with soap and the boys on this but i decided to stick to the romance bc me personally thats what i am here for

also im making this group therapy stuff up as i go pls dont expect medical accuracy

[nerdy-novelist017]

Benny x bunny, where she faints and she gets taken to the hospital but he wasn't around when she fainted, so once he gets to the hospital and asks what happened she completely downplays it. Also if you could write him getting the call it would be 10/10.

You guys are so self-indulgent and I love it! This was really fun to write so I hope you enjoy! Benny's really just a stressed little muffin in this

Benny x Bunny Masterlist

Word Count- 2.2k

Summary- See request above.

Bruised Ego (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader)

The cue ball struck against the green stripes, a significant clack echoing in the clubhouse as he sunk the last ball into the pocket. With a smirk around his cigarette, Benny straightened to his full height, hands sliding down the cue stick smugly. 

“That’s two games in a row, kid,” Wahoo groaned as he rounded the pool table to throw another five dollar bill into Benny’s winnings. “You must be lucky.”

“We can see if my luck will make it to an even 3,” Benny chided. He knew it wasn’t luck, Wahoo just sucked at playing pool. The slow afternoon was passed by the few integral members of the Vandals hanging out in the clubhouse, drinking, smoking and razzing each other. There was going to be a race tonight at the club bonfire; some newcomer kid on a piece of shit hand-built bike thought he was going to take on Cal’s racing Harley. Everyone knew he was going to blow him away, but it was still free entertainment and a chance for the club to meet again.

“Yeah fine, but I want the stripes this time.” Wahoo grumbled.

“You know what the definition of insanity is, Wahoo?” Johnny asked over his shoulder. He sat at the bar, counting a few stacks of cash as he and Brucie worked on the finances of this month's dues. 

“Well, your boy keeps doin’ all these trick shots,” Wahoo retorted as he began to rack for the new game. 

“Of course he is,” Johnny looked over his shoulder, smirking. “I taught ‘em how.”

Johnny turned back to his task at hand before he could see the bird Wahoo flipped him. The phone rang from the back of the bar and Cal went to answer it. 

“I’m feeling pretty lucky for this game too,”  Benny laughed as he bent forward to position the first shot. Clack, another shot that sent multiple solid colors spiraling around the table. 

“Benny,” Cal called, holding the phone up. “It’s for you.”

“Okay,” Benny nodded, chalking the end of his cue stick. It was probably you calling to tell him you missed him. You often called him at least once if he was gone for a few hours, your way of checking on him as you worried about him. He’s tried telling you multiple times that you don’t have to worry about him, he’d be more careful because he had you to come home to every night. You promised you'd stop calling so much but he told you he didn't mind hearing your voice so sometimes, you’d call and ask him to pick up something from the store, too. “Tell her I'll be over in a minute.”

“No,” Cal said slowly, voice tight. “It’s Kathy. She said somethin’s happened to Bunny.”

Benny’s heart stopped. “What?”

“She’s at the hospital–”

Johnny turned to Cal and said something – asked a question maybe – but that was all Benny needed to hear before he tossed the cue stick onto the table and turned for the door. He shoved it open and fished his bike keys out of his pocket as he tossed the rest of his cigarette onto the sidewalk. He set off for his bike, throwing his leg over the seat and flipping the ignition switch.

 He brought his foot down onto the kickstart but it only sputtered. He tried it once more. Twice. And Benny felt tears of frustration burning in his eyes as he pictured you laying lifeless in one of those awful hospital beds, every worst case scenario running through his mind.  He kicked it again. “Fucking, c’mon!”

“Benny,” Johnny’s calm but assertive voice cut through the ringing in Benny’s ears. “I’ll drive. Get in.”

He nodded, wanting to say thanks, but he found his mouth too dry to speak, jaw clenched too tightly. He followed Johnny to his car, quickly sliding into the passenger seat. Johnny twisted the key in the ignition, threw it into reverse and peeled out as he drove in the direction of the hospital.

“Kathy said she’s okay,” Johnny assured, his voice composed as Benny’s knee bounced up and down with anxiety. “Said she was up and talkin’ to the doctors.”

“I can’t – I can’t lose–” Benny started but his voice broke and he squeezed his eyes shut at the thought of something happening to you. 

“She’s okay, Benny,” Johnny repeated, firmer this time. “She’s okay.”

******

Benny practically ran through the hospital waiting room to get to the front desk, skidding to a stop and asking the nearest nurse where you were. Johnny had dropped him off at the door, saying he would find a place to park and be in as soon as he could. 

“Benny!” Kathy called out for him down the hall. He abandoned the nurse’s station and approached her. 

“What happened? Where is she?” he asked, swallowing hard in an attempt to control his nerves. 

“I’ll take you to her,” Kathy touched his arm gently and led him down the hallway of ER rooms. “We were outside workin’ in my garden, ya know? A–and she just fell over, like completely onto her face, didn’t even try to catch herself. She hit her head pretty good when she landed so they’re runnin’ some test.”

Benny nodded, trying to process her words in his jumbled brain. She stopped in front of a room and motioned for him to enter. He took a deep breath, hoping his shaking hands weren’t noticeable and pushed the door open. 

And the sight of you nearly crushed his heart. You looked so small sitting on the hospital bed, legs dangling off the side, hand pressing a blue ice pack to the side of your face. When you looked up and noticed him, you sat up straighter and squeaked out, “Benny!”

He was at your side in an instant, hands carefully roaming in an attempt to find anything physically wrong with you besides the obvious head wound. “What happened?”

“I’m fine,” you said, taking his hand in your unoccupied one and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s nothing, Benny.”

“It wasn’t nothin’,” Kathy spoke up from the doorway, nervously glancing between you two. “You were out for a good couple minutes. Scared the livin’ shit outta me. ” 

You shook your head, shooting her an exasperated look around Benny’s shoulder. “I told you not to call him.”

“Bullshit,” Benny interjected. “You get taken to the hospital and you think I shouldn’t know ‘bout it?”

“I’m fine, really,” you said with a sigh and you looked so . . . tired. Benny wanted to scoop you up in his arms and take you home in that instant. “The doctor said I just got overheated. You know how hot it’s been.”

Benny’s hand gently encased yours holding the ice pack, pulling it away so he could inspect the damage. He grimaced at the sight of the nasty purple and red bruise forming around your right brow bone and down to your eye socket. Despite his best efforts, his hands still shook as he pulled away. He’d seen his fair share of bruising – most of the time it was from his own reflection in the mirror after a fight. But the sight of the injury coloring your beautiful skin. . . it made his stomach flip. You were so frail, so breakable and the realization squeezed at Benny’s heart. He was supposed to protect you and if he could, he’d shrink you down and put you in his pocket, safe and secure. He looked over his shoulder to Kathy, “Would you. . . would you let Johnny know what’s goin’ on?”

“Sure thing,” she answered and disappeared out the door.

Silence fell heavy between you and Benny desperately searched for something to say to make you smile again, to make you blush . . . but his heart still pounded too hard and his stomach still churned from the uncertainty to come up with anything. So he did the only thing he could in that moment; He pulled you into a tight hug, hand cradling the back of your neck as he fought back that awful sting of tears again. 

“I’m okay, Benny.” Your voice was muffled against his chest. “I promise.” 

“You can’t–” his voice broke and he had to swallow thickly before continuing. “You can’t scare me like that, Bunny.” 

“I didn’t mean to–” 

“I just– I just love you so much,” he breathed out as he pulled you impossibly closer.

“I know you do,” you whispered gently and he couldn’t understand how you were always so strong, so resilient. “I love you too, Benny.”

You gave him a moment to compose himself, to slow his erratic heartbeat and melt into your sweet touch before you pulled back, lowering the ice pack and said, “There is something that will make me feel better.”

“What’s that?” he asked, heart softening at your brazen smile.

“A kiss.”

“Is that so?” His gaze fluttered over your angelic face, still beautiful despite the bruise. 

“Mhhm, it’s what the doctor ordered, actually.” Your grin grew wider as he put both hands on the sides of your face, thumbs sliding gently along your jaw. He kissed you softly, lips barely ghosting over yours in fear of hurting you as if you would crumble beneath his touch. That wasn’t good enough for you apparently as you leaned forward to chase him before he could pull away completely. Your hands came up to hold his in place over your face and you returned his kiss with such vehemence that Benny’s brows pinched together in enthrallment. 

The distinct clearing of a throat broke you both apart and Benny caught sight of the doctor standing in the doorway, hand rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly. You blushed and looked away as the doctor entered, apologizing for the intrusion. 

“We got the test results back,” he said and Benny straightened, feeling his heart rate pick up again. “Bad news is we figure you passed out due to heatstroke. With this severe heat wave hitting Chicago, we’ve had multiple patients come in from it so don’t feel bad. Good news is you were able to get here quick enough that we could get your core temperature brought down before any damage was done. As far as your head, you don’t appear to have a concussion, but you will have a pretty nasty bruise for a while.”

“So . . . she’s okay?” Benny asked, hand finding the top of your thigh to ground him. 

The doctor nodded. “Yeah she’ll be just fine as long as she takes it easy for the rest of the day. No more gardening in this weather, okay?” 

You giggled abashedly at his joke and Benny breathed a sigh of relief. 

The doctor continued, “I’ll have the nurse bring around another ice pack for you to take home before we start your paperwork to leave.”

Benny held your hand as he stood beside your bed faithfully while they worked on getting you discharged of the hospital. You were okay, he repeated in his head like a chant. You were okay and that made him okay.

“You know since I'm gettin' out of here early we’ll still be able to go to the race tonight,” you pointed out with a small smile as you nudged him with your foot to get his attention.

“No, I’m taking you home where you’re going to lay your pretty little butt down in bed for the rest of the day,” he said firmly with a shake of his head.

“I don’t want you to miss Cal’s race!” you said as you tugged on his hand gently, lip pouting. 

“I don’t care about the race,” he replied flippantly.

“Well, I do! Plus I want to see the girls, too. C’mon, please Benny?”

He shook his head, trying to remain firm in his decision even as you gave him your irresistible puppy eyes. 

“Please Bennyyyy?” you dragged out his name in that adorable way you did when you wanted something. “I’ll sit in the shade and I’ll let you know if I’m not feeling good, I promise.”

He contemplated it. The race wasn't until later in the evening and the temperature should be cooler, but still. . . “You’ll go home and lay in bed until then?” 

You nodded, holding your pinky out to him in a silent promise.

Unable to deny you of anything, he reluctantly looped his pinky with yours. “Fine, but we’re only stayin’ for the race. No bonfire afterwards.”

You beamed at him and he knew you were proud of yourself for once again swaying him with your charms. 

******

Hours later, as the picnic was just getting into full swing, Johnny couldn’t hide the smile on his face as Benny pulled up with you on the back of his bike. Though surprised, he was sure you had roped the kid into coming, you seemed to be able to get away with just about anything when it came to Benny. He shook his head, as he watched Benny help you off and the two of you approached his picnic table filled with the core members of the Vandals, noting how he seemed to hold you a little tighter as if you were bound to trip and fall. 

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be takin’ it easy?” he badgered as he stood to give you a hug. 

“And miss out on a race?” you grinned as you gave him a quick hug before looping your arm back through Benny's. “Never.”

“Well, it’s good to see you’re feelin’ better, kid,” he said honestly. 

Funny Sonny caught sight of the reunion and hollered as he approached. “Hey Bunny, I’d hate to see the other guy!” 

You blushed as you remembered the bruise forming on your face and before you could say anything, Benny spoke up from beside you. “Yeah, she got ‘em good with her mean right hook.”

You grinned at him as Sonny laughed. “Hell yeah! Bunny’s a fighter now, boys!”

They cheered and you rolled your eyes playful as you leaned up on your tippy-toes to plant a kiss on Benny’s cheek. 

-Tag List-

@imusicaddict @elizabeth916 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @ironmooncat @beebeechaos @astrogrande @pearlparty @themorriganisamonster @sillylittlethrowaway @ughdontbeboring @penwieldingdreamer @eugene-emt-roe @semperamans @groovyangelkisses @charmingballoon @sunnbib @killerqueenfan @cynic-spirit @pomtherine @tranquilty @m00npjm @twisteduniverse5 @justsomewritingblog @nhlfs @dudii4love @thepassionatereader @rebecca-hvnstn @nethanybear @dreamlandcreations @buckysteveloki-me @simsiddy @zablife @sansaorgana @butler-trouble @autumnleaves1991-blog @lindszeppelin @wavyjassy @real-lana-del-rey @ilovehyperfixating @xcallmetaniax @lovenewfandoms @youngestxhearts @abaker74 @ateliefloresdaprimavera @thefallofthedamned @hottpinkpenguinreads @nctma15 @vendylewin @capswife @alexa4040 @pearlstiare @sweetestrose569 @18lkpeters

[ducktoo]

Supersonic Rift

fromis_9’s Nagyung x M!Reader

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

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

(Gosh she’s so cute)

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

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

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

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

Yeah…this was new.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A beat of silence.

“Oh.”

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

“You’re feeding!” Nagyung groaned.

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

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

“Poke?” Saerom echoed, frowning.

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

“Close enough,” you muttered.

-

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

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

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

“Gang?”

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

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

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

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

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

Yasuo cut through Chaeyoung in three quick slashes.

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Help me! Help me!” she cried.

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

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

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

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

-

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

Jisun and Chaeyoung, however, were in shambles.

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

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

Chaeyoung pouted. “I got MVP in spirit.”

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

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

Nagyung grinned triumphantly. “I carried.”

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perfect.

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

“What the—?!” she yelped.

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

“You died already?” Jisun wailed.

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

“Attached to you!”

“Useless!” -

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

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

The moment she mis-stepped, you pounced.

A hook shot out, landing squarely on her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You waited for the perfect moment.

“Where is he?” Jisun whispered nervously.

“Probably hiding,” Saerom guessed.

“Just focus on Baron,” Nagyung commanded.

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

“Gahhh!” Nagyung screamed.

“Not again!” Jisun cried.

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

But they rallied.

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

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

The others cheered, their laughter filling the room.

-

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

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

“Like what?” you asked.

“Anything but this,” she replied, laughing.

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

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

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

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

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