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sharkikive · 8 months ago

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Ken Sato with a supermodel!reader pls pls pls

Like they're dating in secret but accidentally reveals their situation and their fans go wild

OMG sure! Sorry this took time for me to write and I really do hope you'll like it <3

runway to your heart (ken sato x supermodel!fem!reader)

Summary: A baseball player and a supermodel, both celebrities in their respective fields. A relationship that had to be kept under wraps.

It was supposed to be a secret... until it wasn't.

Word count: 6,913

CW: Fluff, slightly suggestive (he def talks you through it), Ken Sato being the boyfriend of the year

A/N: I tried my best in writing this because I am not familiar with both fields (baseball and modelling) so here you go! This was purely out of my own imagination and is very, very self-indulgent because damn, who wouldn't want Ken Sato in their life? Rich, soft spoken, a good father, and the list goes on. Hope you enjoy this one just like how I kicked my feet every single time Ken becomes THE boyfriend.

***

Cheers erupted throughout the whole stadium and through the speakers, mixing in with the noise in the dressing room.

Hair rollers tucked in, brush with powder dancing across your face, and a neutral expression to let the makeup artist do his magic. Your eyes dutifully closed as the artist worked on your eyelids, but your ears got sharper to hear the conversations around you.

You knew who the main topic in the room would be, and that was the man that had just scored another point in the game on screen.

“Oh God,” you heard one of your model colleagues groan. “Ken Sato is too attractive. Look at that smile, that body-” she stopped talking and addressed you next. “Y/N, isn’t Ken Sato so handsome? Imagine being his girlfriend. That would be a-ma-zing.”

Your eyes were still closed and you hummed an immediate reply. “He’s okay. I’ve seen better and-” You opened your eyes when the makeup artist told you that he’s done with your eyes. “He seems like a cocky bastard.”

Your colleague, Hina, gave an exaggerated gasp as she heard your reply. “You did not just say that about Ken Sato. If he isn’t your type, I wouldn’t know who else would be able to satisfy you. He is the most sought-after man.”

You shrugged. “You never know. Maybe I like a single dad who has to raise a kid on his own, with him himself having daddy issues.”

Hina narrowed her eyes at you suspiciously, before prancing over and stared at you. “You know that whatever you described was very specific? Y/N,” she said, almost quietly, “are you seeing someone?”

“Yeah, I’m seeing you, Hina.”

She clicked her tongue. “You know, you always answer so smartly. One day, Y/N, I will discover your secret!”

You chuckled, watching as Hina got dragged by the stylist, prepping her to get her up to the runway. Your turn was still a long way to go, so you were left with your hair held up by rollers, while your eyes caught a notification on your phone. You read the notification and smiled, but quickly returned to a neutral expression.

The message read: It’s another win for us tonight, baby. Can’t wait to see you after this. Good luck for your show today, and break a leg. I know you’ll do great.

You typed in a reply, quickly snapping a picture of your prepped face and sending it over to the recipient. You weren’t even able to put down your phone when the next reply came in the next second.

You swore, this person could make you smile without even knowing, which could be a very risky thing considering the nature of both of your relationship.

Looking gorgeous as always, baby. The text message read. I really am the luckiest man to have you.

You put down your phone as your name was called over; your turn was approaching fast. You were practically floating around from one point to another, having different hands adding last-minute touch ups.

The line was moving fast before it was your turn, and you could see that every one of the models who finished their turn returned with a grim look on their faces backstage. You looked at the small entrance, and when you spotted Hina, you quickly signaled for her to come over.

“Was the runway condition that bad?” you whispered to her, whose hair was going in different directions at once.

“They said they wanted to simulate an ‘extreme condition’ on the runway, right?” She did quotation marks.

You nodded, agreeing to her. “Yeah.” You inched up the line. “The theme for today’s show is extreme weather.”

Hina exhaled slowly as she attempted to fix her hair. “All I can say is that they managed to replicate it well.” She shook her head. “Good luck, Y/N. You’ll need it.”

You turned your head back to the front, your turn coming closer as the models in front of you went out to continue the show. It was a rapid show, where you finally had your turn right after Hina disappeared behind a row of clothes.

You understood what Hina meant as soon as one foot was out from behind the scenes. The runway was boxed within a transparent glass, protecting the simulation from the audience.

From years of experience, you put on your best face before walking down the runway, doing your best in showing off the collection.

You were sure they were trying to imitate a blizzard, but the worst they could offer to models wearing heavy dresses and high heels. You saw the model in front of you fall first, the strong winds knocking her back before as she couldn’t fight it back.

One rule on the runway: you keep on walking, no matter the condition. Walk over your fellow models, maintain your expression and show off what you have. It’s an unapologetic world out here.

But that’s exactly the reason why you’re known as the rule breaker around here.

While maintaining your face, you did a show of reaching out to the fallen model, helping her up to let her continue, but you figured this time around, being a rule breaker did have its consequences.

You knew the fallen model; she considered herself as your rival, always trying to one up you in every single aspect. Every, single, aspect including boasting about having a ‘sweetheart’ while you don’t.

Your rival, Mei, quickly took this as a chance to get back at you and embarrass you in front of the audience. She accepted your hand at first, but you realised that she was pulling you down instead of pushing herself up. Not enough with it, she added an extra push, disguised under the pretext of accepting your help to get up.

You were thrown to the side, and coupled with the condition on the runway, you almost tumbled off the path. Luckily, you managed to break the fall but as you landed sideways, you could feel the bruise forming near your right ankle. You cursed silently as you saw Mei picking herself back up and smirking in a split second before strutting away, leaving you stranded.

You knew no one was going to help you up as long as the show was on, so you braced yourself while continuing. Throughout the whole show, you managed to finish without breaking rhythm. You didn’t let the pain hinder you, although all you wished to do was to be lying down, giving your body a much needed rest.

Backstage after the end of the show, your manager, a sweet woman in her 40s, quickly rushed to you. A single mother of 2, Ms. Tornado as you’d like to call her, as she always seemed like she was caught up in something chaotic. She fussed over you, but you quickly brushed her away.

”Ms. Tor,” you cooed, hiding the pain with a calm demeanour, “I’m done for the day. Let’s go back.”

On the way out, you gave a signal of reassurance towards Hina, who looked worried while her right fingers were tapping on her left knuckles. You saw Mei smirking at you, offering no words to you. You gave her no satisfaction of seeing you in pain as you smiled back.

You knew that everyone had seen you fall on the runway, but that didn’t disturb you.

Your phone pinged with a notification. As you read the message in the car, you turned to Ms. Tornado on the driver’s seat. She understood your signal.

”Usual place?” she asked.

Unable to hide your excitement, you quickly nodded.

No further questions asked as she drove towards the city border, bringing you to one special spot you had practically owned with that one person. In fact, you’re sure that he had bought ownership over the whole area. Your smile grew wider as you spotted the person waiting on a camping chair with an empty one next to it, a campfire lit up.

You sneaked up from behind, forgetting the pain in your legs as you broke into a run, almost causing the person to tumble forward as you hugged him from behind.

”Kenji!” You exclaimed, your character a total 180 degrees from whatever you put on when you were ‘the supermodel who revived the fashion scene’.

With him, you allowed yourself to be comfortable; no pretense of having to check your posture, controlling your expressions or giving off a cold demeanour. With him, you were just Y/N, the girl who preferred to be nested in your home, finishing your time up by watching your same favourite shows over and over again.

Kind of ironic how you considered yourself an introvert yet landed a job that essentially thrusted you into the spotlight.

Kenji exclaimed your name back in the same energy you gave him, hugging your arms as he planted a kiss on the back of your hand. He stood up and dear God, you love this man so much. One of your features that contributed to your modelling career was your height, but you loved the fact that even then, he towered over you.

Ken Sato, the name that had revived Japan’s baseball team, who had acquired a celebrity status after essentially becoming the saviour.

Ken Sato, the man who had kept the audience on the edge of their seats as he scored yet another point in the game.

Ken Sato, the one man who had essentially saved your life while unironically revealing his one kept secret to you.

And Ken Sato, your boyfriend.

Though both of your relationships had to be kept under the radar due to your statuses, you were content with what you’re having now.

Who cares if people think you’re too ‘cold’ and that’s why no one wants you? A small smile played on your lips as you thought, Well, Ken Sato does.

How both of you met was bizarre, to say the least. You were out eating dinner alone, under the disguise that you always wore when you’re just a ‘normal’ citizen, when the ground shook. You were sure that there was a monster attack somewhere, but you were calmly eating dinner when the restaurant’s roof got lifted up.

Ultraman’s giant figure was punching the monster, and you were left gaping at the sudden loss of roof above your head. You quickly finished up your dinner, and when you were about to walk back to your condo, you saw the one thing that you were sure you shouldn’t.

You saw Ultraman shifting back into a human-sized figure and lo and behold, it was Ken Sato. Before, you never bothered to dig deeper into his life because you figured out that you would never be affiliated with the baseball scene. You knew he was famous and that was it.

You couldn’t believe your eyes so you gasped, but your hand wasn’t quick enough to muffle the sound until he turned back to look at you. Both were stone statues for a good minute before he finally spoke up at that time, “Um… can you keep… uh the… secret?”

You sure as hell did keep the secret that even after a drunken stupor, a one night stand then turned into a secret relationship with him, it was still safe with you.

You were so comfortable with him up to the point that it was nice to be yourself with him.

”What’s wrong, baby?” He planted a kiss on your forehead, bringing you back to the present. You inhaled his scent as you buried your face in his chest. “You’re thinking of something?”

You shook your head, tightening your grip around his waist. “Nah,” you mumbled. “Just thinking about the time we first met.”

He chuckled as he ruffled your hair. “I’m sure you did great in your show just now, hmm?”

You stayed quiet, debating or not whether you’d like to tell him what actually happened. He most likely hadn’t seen the show yet, but sooner or later he’d find out. It’s just a matter of now or later.

You were in your comfortable clothes; baggy t-shirt with cargo pants and hair tucked underneath a beanie. In public, people would usually leave you alone when you’re in this attire. Today though, the long pants were also an attempt for you to cover up the growing bruise.

You decided to keep quiet about the bruise, figuring later that he would find out and by then, you hoped it wouldn’t look as bad as it was now. You detached yourself from his hug, careful to not make it so obvious that you were limping. You took a seat, beckoning for him to come over.

Ken traced you with his eyes, lips locked before he smiled. He passed by his seat but didn’t settle down. Instead, he sat cross-legged on the sand, facing you. He leaned forward, crossing his arms with each other on your legs and rested his chin on top. He looked up at you, that same boyish smile he had whenever he was with you.

You looked at him, uttering, “Looks like my boyfriend won yet another game today.” You patted his cheeks, and he quickly grabbed your hands to hold them.

”It was the team, really,” he said humbly, but with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “I was just one of the players.”

”Whatever you say, Mr.-eligible-bachelor-with-thousands-of-adoring-fans-waiting-to-be-picked.” You rolled your eyes.

He chuckled. “Little do they know,” he drew circles on your palm, “that I’m no longer available.”

He stared at you as you looked into the distance, the crashing of the waves filling in the silence between both of you. He stood up, cocking his head towards the shoreline. “Wanna go for a walk?”

You pressed your lips into a thin line, the trouble you had with your feet coming once again. You didn’t get a chance to answer as he knelt in front of you with his back towards you.

He gently pulled you on his back, your legs dangling on either side of his body as he piggybacked you. “Okay, let’s go for a walk,” he said, firmly placing his hands under your thighs.

You said nothing, circling your arms around his shoulders, your face buried at the nape of his neck. You loved the fact that you’re always calm around him, something that you’d always need after spending hours in a fast-paced environment for work every day.

As you walked along the shoreline, both of you pointed out stars shaped like objects, and he stopped at one point when you suddenly said, “I love you so much, do you know that?”

He laughed. “What’s with the sudden confession? I love you too, baby.” He gave your thigh a light slap. “And I’m glad to call you mine.”

”It’s time to go back, isn’t it?” You asked, hoping the answer would be no but knew the world would have to end for it to be.

He threw back his head to get a look of your face before uttering, “Sorry. I have a game tomorrow.”

You pouted slightly but knew that the circumstances wouldn’t change. Whether you’d like it or not, even though you didn’t mind your relationship was playing this way, both of you had your individual lives that didn’t intersect with each other.

Dates would always be a secret with limited areas you could go to, and you had to make sure you’re not seen within the vicinity of each other. If both of you needed to go to each other’s house, it felt more like you’re on an undercover mission.

Today, though, with you still on his back, he held onto you firmly and made his way back to his bike parked nearby some bushes.

”Kenji-“ you started, figuring that maybe he forgot that both of you were supposed to follow separate ways.

”Tell Ms. Tornado you’re staying at my house tonight,” he uttered, placing you on his bike’s seat, taking a helmet and helping you to put it on. “You’re sleeping at my house today.” He checked his watch. “I know that you don’t have any work scheduled for the next few days, right?”

You shook your head slowly, secretly happy that he actually kept track of your schedule. Your eyes searched for his from behind the visor, and you blinked slowly as he tapped your helmet.

“Stay at my house until you’re fully healed. Mina can take care of you.” He’s referring to the supercomputer his parents had programmed. He wore his helmet and leaned forward. If not for both of your helmets in place, he’d be resting his forehead against yours. “Of course, you’re welcome to continue staying until…” he winked, “whenever.”

He positioned himself in front of you, powering up his bike. You leaned forward, circling your arms around his waist.

Before your voice got swallowed by the roar of his bike, you said, “You knew I was hurt.”

Underneath his helmet he smiled. “I always do, baby. Always.”

***

One of the reasons you didn’t want to stay at his house for too long was because you knew you’d be too comfortable. It seemed that after the fiasco you ran into with Mei, Ms. Tornado told you that she was suspended from any work and your agency gave you time off.

So here you were, warm mug of coffee in hand, cross-legged on Ken’s sofa while wearing one of his hoodies. So far from your side, your manager was the only person who’d known about your secret relationship with the baseball player. You’re grateful that your agency was not the type to pry into your private life, so long it didn’t affect your work.

You made yourself right at home at Ken’s house. You could say that you became best friends with Mina, with her occasionally sharing stories about how Ken was when growing up and you helping her around the house.

You sunk in the plush sofa, watching a live show of another one of Ken’s games. You saw him turn to the camera, winked and did a secret sign that was directed at you. Seeing how he’s so expressive, you wondered whether Ken actually wanted your relationship to be public.

Even then, you wondered whether anyone actually noticed that Ken started doing the same pose to the camera whenever he scored a point, after he got into the relationship with you. Maybe the secrecy of your relationship was just held back by a single click to post on the Net.

As far as you knew, only five were aware of this relationship; both of you, your manager, Mina and Kenji’s father.

Rather than your own reputation, you’re worried more for Ken’s image. He just moved here from America, carrying the expectations of everyone who had set their eyes upon him. He rose to fame real quick, while you’d already established your foundation right in your hometown as you were raised through a family generation of models.

Night was approaching, and you did catch a message from Ken updating you that he would be joining the group dinner to celebrate their win first. He promised to come back as soon as the dinner was finished. While waiting for him, you caught Mina’s red bar from the corner of your eyes and you smiled at her.

“Y/N, Ken had actually asked me to ask you one important question.”

“Sure, what is it, Mina?”

Immediately, Mina displayed a projection showing a website of a furniture store. She changed the page to the ‘bed frames’ category.

“I was told that the bed broke last night. Ken told me this morning to ask you which ones would you prefer,” Mina said without any hint of emotion. “He didn’t want to disturb you while you’re sleeping this morning.” After remembering another point she added, “He said make sure to pick the strong ones.”

You, on the other hand, were already burying your face in your hand as your cheeks reddened. “Oh my God,” you groaned. He could go one day, one day, without making you blush. It didn’t help that Mina was delivering the message so robotically. Well, she was one, but you get the point. “Mina, can we talk about this… some other time? Don’t worry,” you pressed your lips into a thin line as you remembered how exactly the bed broke last night. “I’ll tell Ken that you delivered the message well.”

Mina backed up, doing her gesture akin to a nod. “Sure, Y/N.”

You turned your head towards the front door when you heard the door opening, and you stalked your way to your boyfriend, who was holding his jacket in his left hand. Your face fell when you saw that he was wincing, the skin near his eye bruised and his right hand gently pressing over the injury.

“What happened to you?” You fussed over him, requesting Mina to take a bucket of ice and a cloth. “Who did this?”

He winced once again, but grinned soon after. He threw his jacket on the sofa and grabbed your waist, kissing you, hard. It was like he was releasing whatever pent up frustrations he had the whole day, drunk in your kiss that you felt out of breath as soon as he let go.

You saw Mina hovering nearby, clearly not wanting to disturb both of you. You cleared your throat and Ken ran a hand through his hair.

Mina set down the requested bowl of ice and cloth, but Ken shook his head.

Ken uttered, “Mina, can you please bring a bucket of ice to the bathroom? I’d like to soak myself in the tub.”

“Sure, Ken.”

“Ken, you need to tell me what happened to you. You’re injured, for God’s sake!” Your eyebrows knitted in worry, but your boyfriend was displaying the opposite as he was happily dragging you along to the bathroom.

He only gave you a peck on your forehead as Mina helped to prepare the bath.

You wouldn’t let your eyes off his injuries, assessing how badly he was hurt. As Mina excused herself to leave both of you in the bathroom alone, he stripped and stepped into the tub. The water sloshed around as he settled down, and you gritted your teeth as you sat on the edge of the bathtub.

He lifted up his eyebrows, clearly teasing you. “Care to join me?”

You sighed, clearly dissatisfied at how he’s acting while not disclosing about what had happened to him until he returned with a black eye. You crossed your arms, not wanting to submit to his pleading eyes, not until he told you what happened.

Clearly, you were not strong against this man because now both of you were stark naked in the cold water, Ken hugging you from behind as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“Now tell me what happened.”

Ken obliged. “So we went for a celebratory dinner at this one grilled meat restaurant.” He buried his face at the nape of your neck. “There was this one group of guys who clearly were too drunk. One of them,” you felt his arms tightening around your waist. “Was making inappropriate comments about your body. My girlfriend. Of course I got pissed and punched him. It was an easy fight, but I was unlucky to get this one hit. I won, of course.”

The knot in your stomach got undone, that heavy feeling finally lifting off as you laughed, relieved. You leaned backwards, muttering, “Oh, Kenji. My idiot Kenji. I really thought you had an encounter with a hater, someone that wasn’t afraid to punch you in public just because they hate you. I was so worried. But didn’t your teammates suspect anything? For you to react that way when they’re talking about me.”

“Even if they do find out, it doesn’t matter. Anyone who speaks like that about you deserves to be punched, baby.” The water sloshed around as he turned you around so that both of you were facing each other. He rubbed a thumb over your lips, his mouth lifting at the corners. “And guess what?”

You narrowed your eyes. “What?”

“I got a personal invitation from one of the biggest sports brands here. They’re inviting me for an official photo shoot for their new attire collection.”

“That’s amazing, Kenji!” you exclaimed, and he shook his head, a smile plastered on his face.

“And you know what’s the best part? It’ll be a duo photo shoot, a collab with one of Japan’s famous models.”

“A man?” you asked, still clueless.

“A woman.” He grinned, “With my woman.”

“Oh!” You slapped a hand to your forehead, not believing that you hadn’t caught on when your manager had told you that you would be having an upcoming photo shoot with one of the most famous athletes. No wonder Ms. Tornado looked all smiley when she was delivering the news.

“They were surprised when I agreed to it without much questions,” he said. “Said yes as soon as I heard your name.”

***

Your leg was all healed, Ken’s bruise subsided, and it was finally the day of the photo shoot. Obviously, both of you had to come from a different place and at a different time to avoid any suspicion, so the night before you had returned to your house, despite Ken showing you his puppy eyes to make you stay.

You left without looking back, having to reassure him that both of you would see each other tomorrow.

The day came. In the makeup room, both of you had your lips locked, only a slight nod of greeting when he first came in before you returned your attention back to the mirror in front.

God knew how much Ken Sato was holding back from pulling you into a hug as soon as he saw you in the room.

You saw him from the corner of your eyes, his eyes closed as he let the brushes and artist do their work. You smiled, your mind thinking about how Hina would most likely go crazy once she heard that you had landed a job with this famous baseball player. You figured that you’d let her find out by herself once the official photo shoot had come out.

In the studio, both of you exchanged a formal greeting before the photo shoot started, and you could see that Ken was trying to hide from forming a smile on his face. As the camera started clicking and poses were thrown, you could hear the photographer yelling out encouragement, including ‘Don’t be shy with each other’ and ‘Stand closer’.

You heard Ken slightly snicker, and he whispered to you subtly, his lips slightly brushing your earlobe. You shivered, and he was smart enough to not let anyone see what he was doing. “If only they know how close we are.”

“Last set!” The photographer announced. “This time around, I’d like to see some contact with each other. No looking like you’re two magnets repelling each other, but attracting each other instead.”

“Oh I can do that,” Ken said smugly as he followed the photographer’s instructions.

Funnily enough, he was the one looking like he had more experience in modelling as he followed the photographer’s instructions to a T, while you felt more like a deflated balloon guided by your boyfriend.

You promised you were a professional model, but with him, well, you faltered and posed like you’re a novice instead. Still, you managed to pull through the photo shoot as the photographer gave a thumbs up, fully satisfied with the session today.

You took some time to relax after the photo shoot alone in the dressing room. As you were leaning against the chair, your head turned to look at the door that just opened.

Ken’s head popped up through the space and he waved his hand. “Hey,” he whispered. He looked over his shoulder before slipping into the room, locking the door behind him.

“Ken Sato,” you said, more of a warning. “What if someone sees you coming in?”

“It’s fine,” he walked over to you, and lifted you up in a hug.

Naturally, your legs coiled around him as he firmly placed his arms around you.

“I wanted to say goodbye in person before I leave for my game this evening. You’ll watch the game live, right?”

“Of course, I’ll be there.”

You practically jumped away from him as a knock came on the door and panicked, you opened the closet door before shoving him inside. You shut the closet tight, catching his eyes trailing your movement through the bars before putting a finger over your lips to signal silence. Steadying your breath, you opened the door to find the photographer standing outside.

“Oh hey, uh…” you trailed off as you realised that you didn’t know the camera man’s name.

“I’m Yuichiro,” he extended his hand to offer a handshake, but you politely declined with a nod of your head. “It’s uh,” he nervously chuckled. “I thought that you looked great and I found out that we’re the same age. I was wondering if you would like to, you know, go have coffee sometime. As in, uh, I’d like to take you out sometime.”

“Oh, really?” You swore you could feel Kenji’s stare digging through the man’s skull as you stole a glance towards the closet behind you. “That’s too bad because I uh,” You silently prayed that Ken wouldn’t suddenly spring out of the closet. “I am too busy. I don’t even have time to drink coffee myself.” You gave a professional smile, hoping that the man would take the hint and walk away.

“Not even coffee?”

“Not even coffee.” You sighed, shaking your head. “I don’t drink coffee, actually.”

“Oh.” He looked surprised. “But I thought I saw you drinking coffee this morning at the set.”

You shook your head, pretending to be disappointed. “I’m afraid you are hallucinating, my friend. I don’t drink coffee. Anyway,” you clapped your hand, “I need to get ready to go to my next destination for another photo shoot, so if you could please leave?”

He looked disappointed as he nodded. “I mean, yeah. Please go on your way. Sorry to take your time.”

You smiled politely but as soon as you closed the door and locked it, you jumped over to the closet, the door creaking as you pried it open. You saw Ken sitting on the floor, elbows resting on his knees as his bangs curtained his eyes. You sat down in front of him, moving his bangs out of his vision.

“Kenji…?” you started, trying to gauge his emotions.

He stayed quiet for a few moments, and you poked his stomach when it seemed like he’s not budging.

“Are you okay?”

He breathed in and out, before looking up. His eyes caught yours, but still you couldn’t read his expressions. “I experienced this new emotion,” he finally said.

You inched forward.

“You’re doing great, baby.” The compliment came out of nowhere that you were slightly taken aback.

“Kenji,” the grin on your face grew wider, “were you jealous?”

He never broke off his stare to you, and you found it so attractive. “I was.” His eyes dropped to your lips. “I was stopping myself from jumping out of the closet and announcing that you’re mine.”

“I am,” you uttered, ruffling his hair. “You better get going. You have a game to win.”

“I sure do.” He stood up and you mirrored his actions. Before he turned to leave, he kissed you on the lips and whispered again as he peppered kisses on your neck. “With this jealousy, let’s just hope the bed won’t break again tonight.”

***

Of course you lied to the photographer to politely decline his advances. Your schedule was free this evening and you had promised Ken you would see his game live. You dressed as inconspicuously as possible, donning on the merchandise jersey they sold to the public.

Ken had offered you to wear his jersey, but that would practically mean announcing your relationship to the public. Tucking your hair under the cap, putting on fake glasses and looking at yourself in the mirror, you figured how Clark Kent had managed to turn people’s suspicions away from him being the superhero.

Now, you’re just one person among the thousands of show-goers filling up the stadium. You took up your seat, eager to witness the game Ken would be joining. Announcement blared throughout the stadium, signalling that the game was about to start. You heard your boyfriend’s name announced as he stepped onto the field.

Giants’ supporters cheered for him, and you joined in on the hype as you saw him giving his million-dollar smile to the crowd. You waited for the game to start, and truth be told, no matter how many times Ken had explained the rules of the game, anything barely stuck to your brain. Still, you tried your best to support him even though that meant cheering for him blindly whenever the others did.

The crowd went wild again as the Giants scored yet another point.

You got distracted by a notification coming to your phone. You wanted to ignore it, but as you saw Hina’s name as the sender, you had to sit down and open the message. She rarely texts you out of work, so there must have been something out of the ordinary. You felt your heart drop as you read the message, and a link towards a news website was sent together.

Your eyes caught her message first. Oh my God?! You’ve been dating Ken Sato?

You read the headline next. BREAKING NEWS: BASEBALL PLAYER KEN SATO AND SUPERMODEL Y/N IN A RELATIONSHIP?

You stood up together with the rest of the cheering crowd, but you had to wrestle your way through to make your way out of the stadium. You didn’t know what to do, Kenji was still in game and your feet almost gave way as your shaky hands opened the link to read the news.

Everything was summed up in one news article, and you felt your world getting smaller as you saw the pictures of the night Ken had piggybacked you after you hurt your leg, all obviously looking like they were taken in secret. You read through the whole article, your ears deafened by the sound of roaring cheers inside the stadium.

You were standing outside the stadium, and you looked back at the giant screen you could see displaying yet another shot of Ken doing his signature pose to the camera. You turned back to the news article in your hands, and read through the whole thing over and over again. Several lines caught your eyes, and you finally caught on who was behind this.

Photographer Yuichiro handed over the pictures of the two lovebirds having a secret date at the private beach, which was purportedly owned by Ken Sato. From the pictures taken, I’m sure everyone would come to one very obvious conclusion. The question is; do you find the relationship surprising, or are they a perfect match for each other?

You wondered if it was all planned by him; the photo shoot together with Ken. Was he testing to see whether you’d accept a date with him to assume whether you’d have a boyfriend or not?

You wanted to run away. But from what, exactly? Running away wouldn’t solve this problem.

Well, if it turned into a problem.

Cheers erupted again as you returned to the stadium, just in time to see the final score and then celebrating the Giants’ victory. Chanting swimmed through the crowd, and you gripped your phone tightly as you searched for Ken among the players.

You finally spotted him at the bench, and your mind was as equally noisy as the audience around you.

He looked in your direction, trying to search for you but before he could catch your eyes, his shoulder was tapped by a fellow teammate, showing him an article displayed on the screen.

Everything happened fast, you didn’t know that it was possible as your worst fear came to life in front of everyone. The giant screen in the stadium displayed the news article and the pictures of the both of you displayed in a slideshow. You could hear shouts of confusion and gasps among the crowd as all of them were looking at the same thing.

The noise of the crowd died down as Ken made his way to the edge of the field, where an interviewer was waiting to start the session. The topic of the interview was supposed to be about the win at first, but it had clearly turned into a different direction.

The camera focused on Ken, and you knew he was directly looking at you. He looked calm, the practised smile he had on whenever he appeared on screen.

“Ken Sato,” the interviewer started, as he looked into the camera, “The name that is no longer a stranger to every household. His return to Japan brought waves and hope to the Giants. But today,” she turned to him, “it seemed like you’re the focus on the interview for an entirely different topic. Who knew that this eligible bachelor was actually already taken? I have the man here with me, so, what would you like to say?”

The crowd was obediently silent as they waited for his answer. You felt your heart beating loud in your chest as you, too, anticipated what he would say.

For a split second your mind wondered whether he would vehemently deny the news, but you brushed that thought away. You trusted him.

“I do have a question for everyone here, first, though.” Ken swept his vision across the crowd. “Is it a sin for a celebrity, or at least someone who is quite well known by the public, I mean,” he shrugged, “I don’t wanna sound like I’m boasting or that I’m too full of myself thinking that I’m famous.”

There was a ripple of laughter through the whole crowd.

“Is it wrong for me to be in a relationship?”

Silence. A dread coming over you as you quietly anticipated that there might be protests coming from the crowd. No one spoke up until you heard a female shouting from the crowd, “No, it’s not a sin! Well, we would be slightly sad that our favourite bachelor is no longer available, but you’re still human!”

Your eyes travelled to the female shouting, and realised why the voice was so familiar. It was Hina. She saw you looking at her and she grinned, giving a thumbs-up.

“Thank you, random woman from the crowd,” Ken uttered. He turned back to the camera. “I think that answered the question. I’m still human,” he shrugged, his eyebrows lifting up as he announced, “and I fell in love with Y/N. We are happily in a relationship. I’m proud to say that she’s mine.” His eyes finally fall towards your direction. You could only discern his expressions and gestures from the big screen because he was too far from you. “I love you, Y/N.”

There was a momentary moment of silence that you could hear a pin dropping, and you feared that maybe, the public wouldn’t take it so nicely.

But soon, the whole stadium shook with cheers from the crowd. This time around, they were chanting both Ken's and your names.

Okay, so this was not the reaction that you had expected.

You saw Ken gesturing to you, asking to meet you privately after the game. You nodded, pointing to your phone to say that you would communicate through text.

He sent you a message for the meetup point, and you practically ran towards where he had wanted to meet you.

You saw him at the end of the empty hallway, the noise in the stadium a distant sound now that it was only the two of you. You ran into his arms and he caught you, laughing. You let your breath steady first before saying anything.

“Ken Sato… you…” you started. “You have this way of wording things. I never expected the whole crowd to just agree with you.”

“Hey, look at me.” He tilted your chin, and he gazed upon you. “Like I said, we’re still humans.” He kissed your lips. “And I fell in love with you.”

“Hmm…” You hummed, still feeling slightly worried.

Ken opened the article, scrolled down to the comments and showed them to you. “See, they’re all positive comments.” He cleared his throat, doing his best imitation while reading the comments. “Oh my God, they’re a perfect match for each other! I knew they were dating, it would be weird if they didn't date. Honestly, I don’t know how it happened, but I’m happy for them. Y/N, you’d be better off with me-” He stopped reading when he read one comment that irked him. “You know what, I’m going to report that last comment.”

You burst into laughter seeing how he was tapping furiously at the screen, blowing out an air of satisfaction as he finally reported the comment.

“There, problem solved,” he announced.

“You know that probably some time in the future that there will probably be people who won’t be satisfied.” You sniffed.

“Well that’s too bad.” He bumped his forehead against yours. “Because you’re already mine.”

#ken sato #kenji sato #ultraman #ultraman rising #ken sato x reader #kenji sato x reader #ken sato x you #kenji sato x you #x reader #ken sato x y/n #kenji sato x y/n #ultraman: rising #wr: mine

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websitestargirl · 3 months ago

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i think soap would draw you in his notebook but obviously thats so sentimental and embarrassing so he keeps them hidden, until you snoop and discover them. they’re almost disrespectful pinups, and they look like you, but they’re exaggerated, made to look erotic and sexy. when you confront him he’s like omg you weren’t supposed to see that. and when you express your insecurity that you “don’t really look like that”, his embarrassment evaporates and he stares at you with a look of sincere bewilderment.

soap’s like, “what are you talking about? that’s what you look like?” and when you retort that your boobs aren’t that perky, and your ass isn’t that cute, eyes aren’t that big and shiny, he gets mad at you. as the artist he’s thinking that he captured you perfectly, and he feels like your insulting his drawing skills. he gets mad at you… hence an argument begins where he’s taking it the wrong way, and you get defensive because you feel like he’s idealizing you.

he bites that he’s capturing you how he sees you, and no maybe you don’t look exactly like the drawing but it’s not about accuracy, it’s about representation and believability. he will die on the hill that he’s right and you’re being weird for not accepting the fact that he’s right and you’re a beautiful bombshell babe.

then gaz or price or ghost come in like “fucking hell can you guys please stop your stupid lovers quarrel”, to which soap shoves the drawing in their faces and asks for their input. to which they give a satisfied nod and say, “yeah, that’s about right, innit.”

so maybe you are just crazy!

#he’s sensitive #soap x reader #soap cod #john soap mactavish #call of duty #cod x reader #mine #writing and not proofreading

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gf2bellamy · 26 days ago

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Saw that you're still taking requests so I wanted to ask if you could write something with bau!reader and s4!spencer reid so she has a crush on him but he's kinda oblivious to it so he tries to help set her up with Morgan kinda like he did in that one delete scene from season 2 about him and emily but then he realizes he likes her after she goes on a date with Morgan so he has to sabotage all the wingmanning he’s done and they end up together 😭

date — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: mention of rats? a/n: thank you so much for your request !! <3 i actually had to look that scene up and omg ?? i wish they didn't delete it. its so funny and cute 😭 i hope you like this !! <33

You leaned casually against Derek’s desk, barely perched on the edge, the hard surface pressing into the back of your thighs. He sat comfortably in his chair, his usual charming grin firmly in place as he listened to you argue with him.

"Paris isn't that nice," you said with an exaggerated eye roll, your voice playful. "It's not as romantic as everyone says."

Derek raised an eyebrow, the teasing glint in his eyes unmistakable. "Are you serious? It's literally called the 'City of Love,' sweetheart. Who wouldn't want to go there?"

You leaned in slightly, the faintest smirk tugging at your lips. "Have you even heard about the rats?" Your eyebrow lifted in challenge, daring him to argue.

Derek chuckled, completely unfazed. "Rats? It’s a big city, babe. There are always rats. Doesn't change the fact that it's beautiful."

You snorted, crossing your arms as you pushed off his desk. "Yeah? You won’t be saying that when you're on a date and one runs up your leg." With a satisfied smile, you turned on your heel and walked back to your desk.

Spencer, seated nearby, glanced up just in time to catch the smile Derek threw your way. His fingers stilled on the page of the book he was flipping through,his eyes lingering for just a second longer than necessary.

Meanwhile, you stood beside your desk, staring at your empty coffee mug as a yawn escaped your lips. Rubbing your eyes, you stretched, feeling the slight ache in your muscles.

"Anyone want coffee?" you called out, glancing around at the three remaining people in the room.

Emily, still focused on her computer, glanced up briefly. “I’ll take one,” she said, offering you a small but warm smile.

The two men, however, were preoccupied with their own work. Derek didn’t even look up as he shook his head. “No thanks, sweetheart.”

Spencer, his eyes scanning over a case file, simply replied, “I’m good, thanks.”

You nodded, mentally noting their responses before turning on your heel and making your way toward the break room. The soft click of your shoes faded as you disappeared down the hall.

As soon as you were out of earshot, Spencer hesitated for a moment before shifting slightly in his chair, his gaze flicking toward Derek.

Derek, still absorbed in his files, felt the stare before he even looked up. With a smirk, he raised an eyebrow. “You got something to say, Reid, or are you just gonna keep staring?”

Spencer twirled his pen between his fingers, his expression unreadable as he carefully chose his words. "You smile a lot when you’re talking to her."

Derek’s grin faltered—just for a fraction of a second—before he leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest.

Emily, who had been absorbed in her work just moments ago, was now fully tuned into the conversation, grinning as she watched Derek’s eyebrows furrow at Spencer.

“So…?” Derek challenged, tilting his head slightly. "Are you saying I’m interested in her?" His voice was casual, but there was an edge to it—like he was daring Spencer to say it outright.

Spencer merely shrugged, his expression unreadable. "She was sitting at your desk. Which she does a lot," he pointed out, his tone matter-of-fact. "She also teases you more than anyone else. And when you talk to her, you lean in. You laugh more. Your body language is open, relaxed." He paused, adjusting his grip on the pen. "Statistically speaking, those are common indicators of attraction."

Derek let out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head as he ran a hand over his jaw. "Damn, Dr.Reid. You been profiling me?"

Spencer blinked. "You profile me all the time," he countered without missing a beat.

Emily snickered under her breath, clearly enjoying the exchange. "He’s got a point," she teased, smirking at Derek.

Derek exhaled dramatically, throwing his hands up. "She’s funny, she’s smart, and yeah, she’s easy on the eyes. ," he admitted. "But that doesn’t mean anything." he added slowly.

Spencer tapped his pen against his desk before speaking. "You should ask her out on a date."

Derek raised his eyebrows, caught completely off guard. He let out a short laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "Wait, hold up—you are not seriously giving me dating advice right now." He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, an amused smirk tugging at his lips.

Spencer merely shrugged, unfazed. "Why not?"

Derek scoffed. "Because you don’t date. You read about dating. That’s not the same thing." He gestured toward him. "I mean, I respect you, kid, but unless you’ve been secretly taking girls out and I just didn’t notice, I don’t know if you’re the best wingman for this conversation."

Spencer’s lips twitched like he might argue, but instead, he just tilted his head slightly, studying Derek. "That doesn’t mean I don’t understand attraction," he countered.

Derek shook his head, muttering under his breath, "Unbelievable."

Spencer, ignoring him, continued, "So why haven’t you asked her out?"

Derek exhaled, drumming his fingers against his desk. "I don’t know, man. She’s not just some girl you take out for drinks and flirt with at the bar. She’s…" He trailed off, searching for the right words. "She’s got depth. She’s got layers. And I don’t think she sees me as anything more than just… a friend."

Spencer considered that, his grip on his pen tightening slightly. "I think you underestimate yourself."

Before Derek could respond, Emily, who had been watching the exchange, let out an exaggerated sigh. "Wow, would you just go ask her out already?" She rolled her eyes. "I mean, it’s worth a try, don’t you think?"

Derek glanced at Spencer, who for once, didn’t have anything to add.

For the first time in a long time, Derek Morgan was actually thinking about it.

Before either of them could say anything else, the bullpen doors swung open, and you walked back in, two coffee cups in hand. Almost instantly, the air in the room shifted. Papers rustled, chairs creaked, and suddenly, both men were very focused on their work. Emily hid her smirk behind her coffee as you approached, handing her the second cup.

You glanced between them, your brow furrowing slightly. It was too quiet. You settled into your chair and got back to work, unaware of the two pairs of eyes that flickered toward you in quiet contemplation.

Derek tapped his pen against his desk, stealing glances at you every so often, as if weighing something in his mind.

Spencer, on the other hand, didn’t look away as quickly. His fingers hovered over the pages of his case file, but he wasn’t reading anymore. Instead, he was studying the way you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, the way your brows knitted together in concentration, the way you absentmindedly chewed on your lip while reviewing something on your screen.

Emily, watching all of this unfold, took another sip of her coffee and shook her head. "Unbelievable," she muttered under her breath.

Neither of them heard her.

Two hours later, the team began packing up, the bullpen emptying as everyone prepared to head home. You stepped into the elevator, the long day weighing on you, and let out a sigh as you walked toward your car in the dimly lit parking lot.

Just as you reached for your keys, a voice called out behind you.

"Hey, I need to ask you something."

You turned to see Derek approaching. Leaning against your car, you suppressed a yawn, giving him a small, tired smile. "Hurry up, or I’ll fall asleep right here," you teased, rubbing your eyes.

Derek chuckled, but there was something different about his expression—something more serious beneath the usual charm. He hesitated for only a second before finally saying, "How about dinner? Just you and me."

For a moment, you just stared at him, surprised. You hadn’t expected this—not from Derek. Sure, he flirted with you, but he flirted with everyone. This was unexpected.

Your instinct was to hesitate, to sort through the sudden rush of emotions that flooded your mind. But before you could respond, movement near the entrance of the building caught your attention.

Spencer.

He stepped outside, his bag slung over his shoulder. His gaze landed on you, and for a brief second, the two of you locked eyes. His expression was unreadable at first, but then—softly, almost hesitantly—he smiled.

And then he kept walking.

You felt your stomach twist.

Spencer. He was the one who had been lingering in your thoughts, the one whose voice you found yourself seeking out, the one who made your heart race in ways you didn’t fully understand. But despite everything, nothing had ever happened.

Maybe nothing ever would.

Maybe Derek was right there, right now, offering you something tangible.

So before you could overthink it, you looked back at Derek, forcing a small smile. "Sure," you said.

Derek’s grin widened, as if he hadn’t considered the possibility that you might actually say yes. "Alright, then. Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow," you confirmed, even as your eyes flickered, just for a second, toward Spencer’s retreating figure.

Two days later, you rushed through the doors of the BAU, the cool morning air still clinging to your skin as you made your way toward the elevators. A warm coffee sat snug in your hands.

As you stood waiting, you heard footsteps—familiar ones. Ones you could recognize anywhere.

"Good morning," Spencer’s voice came softly beside you.

You turned to see him standing there, clutching the strap of his bag, his own coffee in hand.

"Morning, Spencer," you said, offering him a small smile.

The two of you stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the only sound the faint hum of the building waking up around you. Then, Spencer shifted slightly, glancing at you.

"How was your day yesterday?" he asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

You were a profiler. You knew exactly what he was really asking.

"Derek told you about the date," you said simply, watching him carefully.

Spencer’s lips quirked up in a small, slightly embarrassed smile, his gaze flickering to the elevator doors just as they slid open.

He didn’t deny it.

You stepped inside together. You exhaled softly, pressing the button for your floor before finally answering.

"It was nice," you said, keeping your tone light.

It wasn’t a lie. Derek had been charming, attentive, and easy to talk to. The evening had been pleasant. But that was all it was. Nice.

You and Derek had come to the same conclusion: you were better off as friends.

The entire date had felt more like two friends hanging out than anything remotely romantic. Somewhere around the halfway mark, you'd both silently agreed on it. And after that, the night had been easy—filled with laughter and inside jokes, but nothing more.

You were relieved, honestly. Because deep down, you knew your heart had never really been in it.

Not when it still raced just from standing next to Spencer.

"That's good," Spencer said, nodding slightly. His smile was soft, polite—maybe even a little forced—but you didn't let yourself dwell on it.

The elevator doors slid open, and as you stepped forward, you felt his eyes linger on you for just a second longer than necessary before he followed behind.

The bullpen was already alive with the usual morning energy—phones ringing and papers shuffling. Derek glanced up from his desk, catching your eye. He gave you a knowing grin, one that said, We’re good, right?

You returned it with an easy smile. Yeah, we’re good.

Emily flicked her gaze between you and Spencer as you both walked in. She arched an eyebrow but said nothing, instead sipping her coffee with an amused smirk.

You were having a normal, uneventful day at work. But the man sitting across from you? He was having anything but.

Spencer’s mind hadn’t been able to settle since that brief moment in the elevator. The words you had said—simple, casual—had been looping in his head on an endless repeat.

"It was nice."

That was all. No excitement, no details, no hint of anything deeper.

But what did that mean? Were you and Derek together now? Had he taken you to some dimly lit restaurant with expensive food and soft music? Had he-

Spencer clenched his jaw and forced himself to stop spiraling. He knew where this was leading.

He didn’t want to think about it anymore. But it was impossible not to. The truth was starting to settle like a heavy weight in his chest, and as much as he tried to shove it down, it refused to stay buried.

He wanted to be the one in Derek’s position.

And as he sat there, gripping his pen a little too tightly, he realized just how badly he wanted that.

His eyes flickered up, drawn to the sound of your laugh—light, effortless, the kind of sound he could pick out in a crowded room. You were standing next to Derek’s desk, handing him a file as you chuckled at something he’d said. Derek grinned, throwing a comment back at you, easy as always.

Spencer swallowed hard, his throat dry. His stomach twisted with an emotion he couldn’t quite put a name to—not until now. He had read about this before, studied it in textbooks and papers, knowing the psychology behind it, the theories that tried to explain why emotions sometimes crept up on you when you least expected them. Why your heart could flip at the smallest touch, or your mind could spiral at the thought of someone you cared about turning their attention to someone else.

He could list a dozen different theories—explain this away with biology, with brain chemistry. He could tell himself that this was just a byproduct of human connection.

But none of that mattered. Because no amount of rationalizing, no number of facts, no cold, clinical analysis of his brain could change the truth.

This wasn’t just some passing feeling.

He was jealous.

And the realization hit him like a freight train. Because the truth was, he wasn’t just jealous.

Spencer Reid was in love with you.

And now?

Now it seemed like it was too late to do anything.

Because as much as he wanted to be the one taking you on dates and laughing with you the next day, he wasn’t.

Derek was.

And Spencer had no one to blame for that but himself.

You, meanwhile, were oblivious to his internal struggle. Your caffeine addiction had long since become a well-known part of your routine. Without even thinking, you moved toward the break room, your body acting on autopilot as you reached for another cup of coffee—was it your third or fourth today? You couldn’t even keep track anymore.

Spencer, still seated at his desk, saw his moment.

He grabbed his own mug and, without thinking too much about it, followed you.

As he stepped inside the break room, he saw you standing at the coffee machine, waiting for the dark liquid to fill your cup.

"Work is killing me," you muttered, not even turning around as you sensed his presence.

Spencer let out a small breath of amusement. "I can help you if you want," he offered, setting his mug down on the counter beside you.

You finally glanced up at him, your lips curling into a soft smile. "No, that’s fine, Spencer. But thank you."

You turned back to your coffee, but you weren’t as focused on it as you pretended to be. Your heart was doing that stupid thing again — pounding a little too fast, your pulse betraying you.

You didn’t know that his was doing the same.

Spencer watched as you took a small step back, your hands wrapped around your coffee mug, while he moved forward to place his own under the machine. The steady drip of coffee filled the silence between you.

Before he could stop himself, the words tumbled from his lips.

“Did Derek take you to that restaurant on Osborn Street ?”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Yeah, he did,” you said slowly, tilting your head as you studied him. “Why?”

The moment the question left your mouth, Spencer felt warmth creeping up his neck. Embarrassment? Frustration? He wasn’t sure.

He clenched his jaw slightly, his fingers tightening around the edge of the counter as another sentence—one he barely had time to think through—slipped past his lips.

“He usually takes his dates there.” As soon as he said it, he bit his tongue, regretting it instantly.

Why would he say that?

It sounded… wrong. Like he was implying you were just another name on a list for Derek. And if you were dating, wouldn’t that make you upset? Shouldn’t he be worried that you’d storm off and confront Derek about it?

But then another thought crept in—one that he wasn’t sure he wanted to acknowledge.

Would it really be such a bad thing if you did get mad at Derek?

While Spencer spiraled through a hundred different scenarios in his head, you were left staring at him, your coffee now sitting untouched on the counter.

Mouth slightly agape, you processed what he had just said.

You weren’t mad. Not at all.

You just hadn’t expected Spencer Reid—the careful, logical, always-thinks-before-he-speaks Spencer—to say something so… passive-aggressive.

The grin that was forming on your face was hard to suppress, but you were failing miserably. The little twitch at the corners of your lips was telling on you.

Spencer wasn’t looking at you to notice it. Instead, he was focused on his mug, holding it in his hands like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

"Spencer," you said, your voice a little lighter as you tilted your head at him.

Spencer glanced at you from the side, his expression a mix of embarrassment and nervousness. "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound like that, I—"

But you cut him off, giving him a soft smile. "Me and Derek are just friends," you said.

Spencer froze, his head whipping toward you so fast that you actually flinched, worried he might give himself whiplash. "What? But you went on a date—" His voice trailed off, his confusion evident.

"Yeah," you said with a casual shrug, "and we decided we were better off as friends."

As the words left your mouth, a surge of hope filled your chest. Hope that maybe, just maybe, Spencer's earlier remark had been born from jealousy.

Because it sure seemed like it.

Spencer’s lips quirked upward, a soft but genuine smile spreading across his face. "Oh, I’m sorry," he said, but there was no real apology in his tone. It was teasing, lighthearted—almost as if he had been waiting for you to say those words.

You couldn’t help it. A grin spread across your face, matching his.

"Yeah, sure you are," you replied, picking up your own coffee mug and taking a sip, feeling the warmth of the drink seep through your hands.

Spencer mirrored you, lifting his mug to his lips, though his eyes stayed on you a little longer than necessary.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. Spencer’s gaze lingered on you as you set your coffee down, his eyes searching yours for a hint of what you were thinking.

And then, without even thinking, his words tumbled out. “You know,” he began, his voice quieter this time, "I wasn’t asking about Derek because I was just curious."

You glanced at him, feeling the beat of your heart quicken. Was he about to say what you thought he was?

Spencer ran a hand through his hair, looking slightly flustered, his eyes not meeting yours now. “I mean, I—uh—just wanted to know because…” He trailed off, swallowing, his words uncertain but his intentions clear.

You raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly, your voice teasing but gentle. "Because…?" You waited, your breath caught in your throat as you watched him, waiting for him to finish his thought.

Spencer took a deep breath. “I don’t know what it is about you, but every time I’m around you, I just—" He stopped himself, shaking his head. “You make everything feel different. I’ve never really felt this way before, not like this." He laughed nervously. "And I know this probably sounds insane, but I think I might like you. A lot."

Your heart fluttered in your chest, and for a moment, you were speechless.You took a step closer, your hand gently resting on the counter between you two. “Spencer,” you said softly, your voice warm. "I think I like you too. A lot."

His face broke into a relieved smile.“So, uh, does this mean…?” He hesitated, but there was a glimmer of hope in his expression.

You smiled at him, your eyes glinting with something playful and genuine. “I think it means you owe me a real date,” you teased, your heart pounding in your chest.

Spencer blinked, his eyes widening slightly before a soft, almost bashful grin spread across his face. “A… date?” he echoed, as though he were processing the word for the first time, his voice a little quieter than usual. “Uh, I mean… yeah. I can, um, I can do that.” He shifted his weight nervously, stepping closer with a gentle hesitation. “Maybe...maybe dinner this weekend? If that’s okay?”

You nodded, your excitement rising with each word he said. “That sounds perfect.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x you #spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds angst

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chososcamgirl · 6 months ago

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(SHE’S) JUST A PHASE CHAPTER TWO: babadook

masterlist

“And that was free room by Ravyn Lenae and Appleby for you guys!”, her co-host Miwa talks into the microphone beside Yn.

“Next up on 106.9 FM is femininomenon by miss Chappel Roan in honour of spotify sending me the most agitated and irritating man as my soundmate. Love you spotify!” Yn speaks into the mic and smacks her lips.

“It’s like he gets off to making beautiful girls form frown lines in their prime years” Miwa says spinning her chair to look at Yn.

“Omg what if he’s the Babadook”, she gasps, clutching her blouse like it’s her non-existent pearls along with her exaggerated expression.

“The Babadook if he listened to Elliot Smith and Deftones”, Yn rolls her eyes still annoyed by the anonymous ass of a man as yesterday’s texts pop up in her mind.

“Fucking cunt”, she mumbles to herself hoping the mic didn’t catch onto that, otherwise management would also be up her ass alongside her soundmate.

“Aaaanyway’s here’s Chappel Roan’s femininomenon!”, Miwa quickly exclaims into the mic as she hits the play button.

Yn switches the microphone off and pulls the headset off the sides of her head and replaces them with her palms, groaning whilst doing so.

“That guy still haunting you huh”, the teal haired girl states as she smiles at Yn’s state.

She lifts up her head only for it to drag over the she of her chair as she looks at the upside down door.

“Miwa he was just so, so,” she begins but never finishes, but by the look on her partners face she already knows how she’s feeling.

“Want me to get Todo to find his address and beat him up? You know he will if it’s for you”

Yn lifts her head from the chair and plasters a faux thinking face and puts a finger on her chin. Miwa rolls her eyes and chuckles at her friend’s commitment to the bit.

Yn stops and grins at Miwa.

“Nah not worth it.”

backstage!

• yn and miwa’s radio station is called ‘maneater’

• they mostly play songs from women but the one time yn played tridant’s new album and she was gushing about them for a good hour

• ynmegumi unblocked eachother as soon as they saw eachother on twitter help

• when toge leave their apartment the food is empty besides the fruits and vegetables (fatass)

• toge didn’t leave until like 4am once and caught yuta sneaking out of maki’s room

• they haven’t spoke about it since

• party yn is WILD and can absolutely throw a fucking party - with the help of panda of course

• the band mates definitely like yn more than megumi

• the toge texts are in panda’s pov i tried to make it as subtle as possible without stating help

• btw megumi and toge were fighting over who’s dishes were left in the sink so toge put a fish (yes a live fish but it was far from alive when megumi went into bed that night) into his bed with a note saying “wash this bitch”

• toge got his ass beat

• them actually being a band when question mark

• next chapter most likely wink wink

taglist: @shokosbunny @luvvmae @catobsessedlady @satoryaa @prozacprinc3ss @essjujutsu @therealsatorugojo @yeehawslap @gojodickbig @dawnisatotalqueen @j2upiters @nappingnai @lalalasillybilly3000 @totallytatum @3cst4syy @lysaray @saltypuffin1040 @zumicho @noodles-icetea @makeshiftproject @kurtcobaingirlie @kokoiinuts @renbittt @dashingaurries @slvttycorpse @cuupidsss @mochroialainn @tenjikusstuff4 @oroborosttheiii @ichcocat @iiwaijime @drugzforyou @sugurubabe @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @tyigerz @yoyo-yui @megoomies @yizmiu @jasminasblog22 @yomamablazeit @marst4rz @guitarstringed-scars @qtnfer @kalulakunundrum @lovefrominaya @beepbopzlorp @iheartlindz @itsdragonius @meguemii

*if i can't tag you please change your tag settings otherwise i will remove you from the list!

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uzurakis · 10 months ago

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omg i loved the dozing off req so much, you did it sooooo good!!!! would it be too much to ask for geto and nanami's version of it as well?? thank you so much :)

DOZING OFF ON YOUR SHOULDER . .

featuring: geto suguru. nanami kento. toji fushiguro.

n. no worries bb, you ask and you shall receive! geto & nanami’s took place in hs, i also added domestic!toji for a bonus. hope ya enjoy it ! PART1 HERE

GETO SUGURU

"hey, suguru, you with me?" you whispered, nudging him softly.

he blinked slowly, eyes heavy with sleepiness. "yeah, yeah, i'm here," he mumbled, trying to stay alert.

despite his efforts, his head drooped lower and lower, eventually landing on your shoulder with a quiet thud. you swallowed a laugh and looked around. fortunately, you were both seated alone in the corner of the classroom, without anyone else.

just as you were beginning to enjoy the unexpected warmth of his head against your shoulder, the classroom door swung open with a bang, and in strode gojo and shoko, like they owned the place.

"hm? what do we have here?" gojo exclaimed, so ready with the teasing as he spotted geto's sleepy form.

shoko giggled, a candy stick in hand as she pointed it at you. "i bet someone had a long night."

geto stirred slightly at the commotion, mumbling incoherently against your shoulder. you shot gojo and shoko a pleading look, silently begging them not to make a scene. but of course, gojo was never one to pass up an opportunity for some good-natured teasing. "not so fast!" he declared dramatically, striding over to you both with exaggerated steps.

before you could protest, he reached out and shook geto's shoulder with enough force to jostle him awake. geto's eyes flew open, and he blinked in confusion before realizing where he was.

"wha—what's going on?" he stammered, rubbing his eyes groggily.

gojo grinned wickedly. "oh, nothing much, just catching some z's in class, are we?"

shoko giggled again, unable to contain her amusement. "you two are too adorable," she teased, shooting you a playful wink.

geto gave you an embarrassed glance, and you couldn't help but laugh along with gojo and shoko. despite the embarrassment, there was something undeniably adorable about the whole situation.

NANAMI KENTO

the air was filled with the delicious aroma of street food as nanami and you stood by a bustling food cart, waiting for your friends to join you for a much-needed lunch break. haibara, gojo, geto, and shoko had promised to meet you here, but as minutes turned into what felt like hours, impatience began to creep in.

you leaned against the wall, checking your watch for what felt like the hundredth time. "where are they?" you muttered, more to yourself than to the man beside you.

nanami, ever the composed one, simply sighed. "they'll be here soon. patience is a virtue, after all."

just as you was about to reply, you felt a weight against your shoulder and turned to see nanami's eyes closed, his head resting against yours as he drifted off to sleep. you couldn't help but smile at the sight, his usually stern expression softened in slumber. "nanami, are you...?" you trailed off, unsure whether to wake him or let him rest.

then, at the brick of your decision, you noticed familiar figures of your pals approaching. haibara, gojo, geto, and shoko approached with wide grins, apparently amused by what they saw.

"damn lovebirds," geto exclaimed, his voice carrying across the street.

shoko only nudged haibara with her elbow. "nanami has all grown up, has he?”

as they ridiculed you, you felt your cheeks flush with denial, but nanami was still deep in sleep and blissfully oblivious. in an attempt to wake him up without making too much of a noise, you gave him a gentle prod. shaking his shoulder gently, you muttered, "nanami, wake up."

however, nanami did not wake up; instead, he only muttered something incoherently while firmly grasping your uniform. he seemed more exhausted than you had imagined, so you fought back a giggle.

haibara, ever the practical one, seized the opportunity to lighten the mood. "well, since nanami seems to be enjoying his nap, why don't we wake him up with some food?"

with that, he took a skewer of grilled meat from one of the nearby carts and leaned over to poke nanami gently in the side. nanami stirred at the touch, his eyes fluttering open as he realized where he was.

"you guys are here?" he asked, blinking in confusion.

gojo grinned, holding out a skewer of food towards him. "just making sure you're well-fed, nanami. wouldn't want you to miss out on the fun."

FUSHIGURO TOJI

toji was curled up on the couch with his eyes glued to the television, the gentle glow of the device lighting up the family room. meanwhile, you sat beside him, lost in the pages of a magazine. it was a typical evening in your little sanctuary, filled with the comforting presence of each other's company. as the minutes ticked by, you couldn't help but steal glances at toji. his relaxed posture, the way his eyes followed the movements on the screen with mild interest—it was moments like these that made your heart swell with affection.

nevertheless, as the show on tv began to lull, you noticed something peculiar. the remote control in his hand was slipping, his grip growing slack as his head gradually leaned towards your shoulder. you held your breath, hardly daring to move for fear of disturbing him.

sure enough, toji's head came to rest gently against your shoulder, his breathing slow and steady as sleep claimed him.

carefully, you reached over and plucked the remote from his fingers, turning off the tv with a soft click. with the room now bathed in a serene silence, you closed your book and set it aside, content to simply bask in the tranquility of the evening.

leaning back against the cushions, you allowed yourself to relax completely, letting the steady rhythm of toji's breathing lull you into a state of peacefulness. his presence beside you was a comforting weight, grounding you in the here and now.

and as sleep began to claim you as well, you nestled your head against toji's, finding solace in the simple act of being together.

@uzurakis — rqs are open <3

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aspenmissing · 8 days ago

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Omg I was thinking about how arcane characters would react to TikTok pranks that the reader plays on them like not saying ily or wiping off kisses - something along those lines.

I think that would be so cool and I love your writing! Thank you if you do end up writing this xx

ᴘʀᴀɴᴋꜱ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ꜱᴘɪᴄʏ? || 5780 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʙɪᴛ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴘɪᴄᴇ/ꜱᴜɢɢᴇꜱᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴛᴏɴᴇ (ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ)

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪᴅᴇᴀ!!! ᴀᴛ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ꜱᴛʀᴜɢɢʟɪɴɢ, ᴛʀʏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴘʀᴀɴᴋ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ꜰɪᴛ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴅᴏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇ��ᴊᴏʏ ᴛʜᴇᴍ! ᴀɴᴅ ɪ'ᴍ ꜱᴏ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴍʏ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ! ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ!! xx <3 <3

JAYCE

The warm glow of Piltover’s late afternoon sun filtered through the large windows of your shared apartment, casting golden streaks across the polished wooden floor. A soft breeze drifted in through the slightly open window, ruffling the sheer curtains as you lounged on the couch, legs tucked comfortably beneath you. The weight of a well-worn book rested in your hands, but truthfully, your mind had started to wander long before you’d even turned the last page.

The faint sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, and you glanced up just as Jayce strolled into the room. His broad shoulders stretched as he rolled his neck, a lazy grin pulling at his lips. He looked like he’d just come from the lab—his shirt sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, revealing the toned muscles of his forearms, and there was a faint smudge of grease on his collar.

"Hey, sweetheart," he murmured, voice low and warm as he walked up behind you, his hand coming to rest on the back of the couch. He leaned down, the scent of his cologne—something rich and faintly smoky—filling your senses before his lips brushed against your cheek in a soft, affectionate kiss.

As soon as his lips left your skin, you lifted your hand with deliberate slowness and wiped the kiss away, dragging your fingers across your cheek in an exaggerated motion.

Jayce froze mid-stretch.

His brows furrowed as he straightened up, arms still slightly raised as he processed what he just saw. His lips parted in disbelief before he looked down at you with an expression that was both wounded and dramatically offended.

"Did you just… wipe away my kiss?"

You pressed your lips together, trying—really trying—not to laugh, as you turned a page in your book without even glancing up. "Hmm? Did I?"

Jayce narrowed his eyes, suspicion gleaming in his golden-brown gaze. He wasn’t one to back down from a challenge, especially not when it came to you.

Without missing a beat, he leaned in again, placing a slower, more deliberate kiss on your other cheek this time. His lips lingered, as if daring you to wipe it away.

You did.

Jayce's jaw dropped slightly. He blinked. "Okay. Now I know you’re messing with me."

You barely held back your grin as you looked up at him, feigning innocence with a slow, exaggerated blink. "Messing with you? What ever do you mean?"

Jayce scoffed, crossing his arms as he studied you with the intensity of a scientist analysing an experiment gone wrong. "Oh, don’t play that game, sweetheart. You know exactly what you’re doing."

You simply hummed in response, flicking your eyes back down to your book, doing your best to act indifferent.

Jayce clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "Alright. That’s how you wanna play this?"

His warm hand found your chin, tilting your face up before he leaned in close, breath ghosting over your lips as he placed a lingering, teasing kiss at the very corner of your mouth.

Wipe.

This time, his hands went straight to his hips. "You are messing with me!"

A laugh bubbled up from your lips, but you only shrugged, looking unbothered as you flipped another page in your book—despite having no clue what it even said at this point. "Maybe your kisses just don’t last," you teased, shooting him a cheeky glance.

Jayce let out an incredulous scoff. "Excuse me?" His brows shot up. "Oh, that’s how you wanna play this?"

Before you could react, he moved.

A squeal escaped your lips as Jayce pounced, his large hands wrapping around your waist as he tackled you back onto the couch. His sheer weight and strength pressed you into the cushions, his toned body caging you beneath him with ease. You writhed in protest, but his grip was firm as he pinned you down, his strong hands finding your wrists and pulling them above your head.

"Alright, alright," you laughed breathlessly, trying to wiggle free, but Jayce only grinned down at you, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Truce?"

Jayce tilted his head, pretending to consider. "Mmm… no."

Before you could protest, his lips found your cheek again—warm, teasing, and relentless. You barely had time to react before he peppered another kiss on the other cheek. And another. Then your nose. Then your jaw.

"Jayce!" you squealed, writhing beneath him as you tried to twist away, giggles spilling from your lips.

"You wanna wipe them off now?" he murmured against your skin, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine as his lips trailed down to your neck.

You gasped, but as soon as you tried to respond, his lips captured yours, silencing you with a deep, deliberate kiss. It was slow and teasing at first—his lips moving against yours in a way that left no room for argument. But when he felt you melt beneath him, he smirked into the kiss before pressing harder, deepening it.

Your head spun as you felt the warmth of his body, the heat of his kisses stealing every thought from your mind. His fingers traced down your sides, holding you there like he never wanted to let go.

When he finally pulled away, you were breathless, lips tingling, eyes dazed. Jayce grinned in triumph, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

"Guess you’ll just have to deal with them now, huh?"

You exhaled dramatically, though your fingers found their way into his hair, tugging slightly just to be playful. "Fine. But only because you’re so persistent."

Jayce smirked, pressing his forehead against yours. "Damn right I am."

And just because he could—he kissed you again.

This time, you didn’t wipe it away.

VIKTOR

The first time it happens, Viktor barely reacts.

A single, faint beep echoes through the lab—short, high-pitched, and utterly random. He pauses in the middle of adjusting an intricate mechanism, his golden eyes flickering toward the ceiling as if he could pinpoint the source by sheer intellect alone.

A moment passes.

He hums under his breath, a soft, thoughtful sound, and shakes his head before returning to work. Perhaps just a piece of metal shifting, or an irregularity in the lab’s machinery. Nothing worth his attention.

Perfect.

Across the room, Y/N keeps her expression perfectly neutral, the image of innocent focus. She scribbles notes in an open ledger, tapping the pen against her chin as if deep in thought.

Internally? She’s cackling.

This is going to be so much fun.

By the second day, Viktor is visibly irritated.

The beeping—occasional, unpredictable, and utterly impossible to locate—has begun to wear on him. His usual meticulous focus is broken every time the noise sounds. It’s never frequent enough for him to track, but just annoying enough to keep him on edge.

Y/N watches as his brows furrow a little deeper each time, his jaw tightens ever so slightly, and his fingers twitch around his pen.

“Did you hear that?” Viktor finally asks, his voice strained with controlled frustration.

“Hear what?” Y/N replies, perfectly innocent, peering up at him with wide, guileless eyes.

He exhales sharply through his nose. “That noise. It’s… high-pitched. Irritating.”

His golden gaze sweeps the lab, scanning each crevice like a predator seeking out an unseen threat. She knows him well enough to recognize the way his mind is already working—categorizing possibilities, eliminating impossibilities.

Y/N shrugs, tilting her head. “Maybe you’re just overworking yourself, love. Your mind is a marvel, but even it needs rest.”

Viktor squints at her.

He does not look convinced.

But, without proof, he has no reason to argue.

Not yet.

A week later, Viktor is losing it.

He has scoured the lab from top to bottom—twice. He has checked every instrument, recalibrated every machine, even gone as far as to ask Heimerdinger if there were any possible Arcane-based auditory anomalies in the structure of the lab.

(There weren’t. Obviously.)

The beeping continues.

And Jayce, bless him, is in on the prank.

“You know, Viktor,” Jayce says one day, scratching the back of his head while examining a schematic, “I think I might hear something.”

Viktor nearly slams his cane into the table in sheer relief. His head snaps up so fast that Y/N fears he might give himself whiplash.

“Thank you!” he exclaims, grabbing Jayce’s shoulders like a drowning man clinging to a lifeline. “I was beginning to think I was mad!”

Jayce pauses, tilting his head as if straining to hear. Then, after a moment, he nods sagely.

“Yeah. I hear it now,” he says.

Viktor’s grip on him tightens. “Where? Where is it coming from?” His golden eyes burn with determination, laser-focused as if the answer might free him from this torment.

Jayce casually gestures toward the open window. “Outside. There’s a bird chirping.”

The betrayal on Viktor’s face is magnificent.

Y/N nearly chokes trying to hold in her laughter as Viktor physically recoils, his expression shifting from relief to horrified indignation in record time.

"A bird?" he echoes, voice flat, as if the very concept is offensive to his existence.

Jayce grins, slapping Viktor’s shoulder. "Yeah, man. Maybe that's all it was this whole time."

Viktor glares at him, jaw clenched. “I despise you.”

Jayce just winks. “Love you too, buddy.”

Y/N barely manages to keep her composure as Viktor storms off, muttering curses in three different languages, cane clicking sharply against the floor

By the third week, Viktor is begging.

“Y/N, moje srdce” he pleads one evening, head in his hands as he slumps against her shoulder. “Please. Tell me you hear it.” (My Heart)

His voice is exhausted, but not just in the way that comes from sleepless nights. No—this is mental exhaustion. His mind, a machine so sharp and brilliant that few could ever hope to match it, has been bested by something so utterly stupid and nonsensical that it is physically paining him.

Y/N hums thoughtfully, running her fingers through his messy curls. “Hmm. Can’t say I do.”

A muffled groan escapes him as he buries his face in her neck.

She swears she has never seen him this disheveled.

Viktor is a man of logic, of reason, of absolute control over his mind.

And yet, a single, insignificant, random beep is breaking him faster than anything Singed ever could.

It is glorious.

But then, Y/N does the unthinkable.

She removes the beeper.

And waits.

The first day, Viktor is cautious.

He keeps waiting for it, shoulders tensing slightly each time he expects it to chime.

But it never does.

The second day, he is suspicious.

He taps his fingers restlessly against his desk, staring at the walls like they might reveal some great, hidden truth.

The third day, he is outright panicked.

Y/N watches from across the room as Viktor paces—paces—the lab, leaning heavily on his cane as he mutters equations under his breath. He’s contemplating whether his brain has adapted to hearing a frequency that no longer exists or if—somehow—he has gone deaf to it entirely.

His golden eyes are filled with doubt, his entire existence thrown into question over the absence of something that once tormented him.

And it is so much better than Y/N ever imagined.

One night, as they settle into bed, Viktor finally allows himself to relax for the first time in weeks.

His body is warm against Y/N’s, his breathing steady but heavy with exhaustion. One arm is draped over her waist, his fingers lazily tracing patterns against the fabric of her nightshirt. She can feel the tension slowly unravelling from his frame, the madness of the last few weeks fading into the background.

Silence. Blissful, beep-free silen—

Beep

Viktor lurches upright, nearly knocking Y/N off the bed as his entire body locks up in pure alarm. His head whips around the room like a man possessed, wild golden eyes darting toward the ceiling, the walls, anywhere the sound could have come from.

“No,” he breathes. “No. No, it cannot be…”

He shoves the blankets off himself, gripping his cane as if preparing for battle.

Y/N? She’s already laughing.

Not just laughing—she’s wheezing, clutching her stomach as she doubles over.

Viktor slowly turns to face her, eyes narrowing. “Y/N,” he says, voice low, dangerously measured.

She doesn’t say a word—she just slides out of bed, still giggling, and walks across the room. Viktor watches, utterly frozen, as she kneels down by the dresser and plucks a tiny, inconspicuous device from behind it.

She holds it up between her fingers.

A beeper.

Viktor stares.

His entire world seems to crumble in real time.

His eye twitches. His jaw drops. His cane creaks beneath the pressure of his grip.

Then—realization.

"You," he whispers, horrified. "It was you."

Y/N finally loses it, collapsing onto the floor in uncontrollable laughter.

Viktor moves so fast that she barely has time to react before he’s on her, cane clattering to the ground as he tackles her into the bed.

"You absolute menace," he growls, pressing her into the mattress, his long fingers digging into her sides.

“Vik—Viktor, wait—” she wheezes, thrashing beneath him, gasping for breath as he mercilessly tickles her.

"You have tortured me for weeks!" he exclaims, voice raw with betrayal. “I have questioned my sanity! I have doubted my own mind!”

Y/N can’t even respond—she’s crying with laughter, kicking uselessly as Viktor ruthlessly exacts his revenge.

"I should build a machine," he threatens, lips brushing against her ear as his fingers dig into her ribs, "one that beeps—forever!"

She screams with laughter.

And Viktor?

He grins.

JAYVIK

Y/N sat at their shared desk, a mischievous gleam in her eyes as she carefully tucked a folded piece of paper into her journal. It was no ordinary piece of paper—this was the result of careful study, patience, and deep, intimate knowledge of her two lovers.

A Bingo Card.

Not just any Bingo Card, either. It was filled with all the little habits, quirks, and predictable behaviours Jayce and Viktor did on a regular basis without even realizing it. She had been compiling this for weeks, discreetly noting things they said and did with eerie consistency.

Each square was a piece of their dynamic, things that made her heart warm and her lips curl in amusement. She tapped her pen against the journal, smirking to herself. All she had to do now was wait.

Morning

It took less than five minutes for Y/N to mark her first box.

She was still curled up in bed beside Viktor, half-awake and tucked comfortably under the blankets, when she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Blinking sleepily, she turned her head just in time to watch Jayce emerge from the bathroom—shirtless, damp, and utterly oblivious to his own habits.

A towel hung loosely around his waist, water still dripping from his hair as he made his way to the dresser. But instead of grabbing his clothes like a normal person, he paused in front of the mirror.

Y/N’s lips twitched as she watched him tilt his head slightly, eyes narrowing as he inspected his reflection. Then, ever so subtly, he adjusted his stance.

One arm flexed—just a little. His biceps tensed, his shoulders squared, and he turned slightly to the side, as if checking the way his abs looked under the soft morning light.

From beside her, Viktor shifted, cracking one tired eye open. He stared at Jayce for a solid three seconds before groaning and burying his face back into the pillow.

"Gods, do you need a moment alone with yourself?" he muttered, his voice still heavy with sleep.

Y/N bit back a laugh, stretching lazily under the covers. That was her cue.

She reached for the hidden Bingo card she had tucked under her pillow the night before and, without hesitation, marked: "Jayce gets lost in his own reflection."

Jayce, caught, grabbed a shirt off the dresser with an indignant huff. "I was just making sure my hair didn’t look ridiculous."

Viktor snorted, still half-buried in the blankets. "You were posing."

"I was not!"

Viktor didn’t even bother arguing further. Instead, he rolled his eyes and muttered something in Czech as he sat up and stretched, the sunlight catching in his tousled hair.

Y/N barely held in a choked giggle as she casually marked another box.

"Viktor mutters a Czech curse under his breath."

Oh, this was going to be way too easy.

As they finally made their way to the kitchen, Y/N, ever the casual observer, watched as Viktor sighed dramatically before he even made it to the coffee machine.

Jayce, halfway through making toast, was slathering on an ungodly amount of butter. Viktor, still clearly waking up, leaned on the counter and sighed again, louder this time.

"You’re going to clog your arteries before you even finish our research, Jayce."

Jayce, mouth full of criminally buttered toast, squinted at him. "Let me live my life."

"Your life will be considerably shorter if you keep eating like that," Viktor deadpanned.

Y/N silently checked another mark. "Viktor sighs dramatically over something minor."

She was three marks in and it wasn’t even 7:30 AM.

Then, as she sat down at the table, minding her own business, Jayce absentmindedly pulled her onto his lap as if it were second nature, arms wrapping around her waist while he continued eating.

Did he even realize he did this? Probably not. Did Y/N mind? Not at all.

Mark. "Jayce pulls Y/N onto his lap absentmindedly."

She grinned to herself, sipping her coffee with satisfaction. Four marks down before the day had even really started.

This might end up being her fastest Bingo yet.

Afternoon

At the lab, Y/N played it cool, casually observing from her usual spot near the workbench, a book open in her hands. She turned pages at a leisurely pace, feigning deep concentration when, in reality, she was watching her two lovers with the keen eye of a scientist conducting an experiment.

It was only a matter of time before—

"That’s not what that word means, Jayce," Viktor said, exasperated as he tapped at their shared research paper. "If we say 'self-sustaining energy output,' it implies indefinite function, which we cannot guarantee."

Jayce groaned. "Viktor, it’s a research paper, not a philosophy debate."

"It is literally a paper that defines the future of hextech. Precision matters," Viktor shot back.

Y/N barely held back a victorious snicker as she checked off "Jayce and Viktor bicker about the wording of a research paper."

She hid her grin behind her book as they continued their debate, their voices rising and falling in that familiar rhythm of argument neither of them ever really won.

A few minutes later, still deep in thought, Viktor leaned over to press a quick kiss to Y/N’s temple before immediately returning to his calculations as if he hadn’t even done it.

Mark. "Viktor distractedly kisses Y/N while focusing on something else."

At this rate, she was going to win before dinner.

Then, as if the universe wanted to speed up her victory, Jayce—who had been idly flipping his hammer in his hands—sighed and leaned back dramatically, staring up at the ceiling.

"You know what? No, I refuse to let bureaucracy hold us back. We need to take action. We need to push for innovation, for progress. If we don’t challenge these outdated structures, then who will? Hextech isn’t just about science—it’s about hope."

Y/N, having heard variations of this speech at least five times in the last month, casually flipped a page in her book and checked off "Jayce gives an impromptu motivational speech."

Viktor didn't even look up from his work. "That was a very moving performance, Jayce. I nearly stood up to applaud."

Jayce rolled his eyes. "One day, Viktor, you’ll actually believe in my speeches."

"Oh, I believe in them," Viktor murmured, eyes still on his notes. "I just also believe you should write them down and use them once instead of recycling the same one over and over."

Y/N barely kept her giggle in check as Jayce gaped at Viktor.

Honestly, she needed to start playing Bingo with harder categories.

Evening

Y/N was perched comfortably on the couch, curled up with a book, but her mind was entirely focused on the two remaining unchecked squares of her Bingo card.

She had been so close all day, marking off every little habit and quirk of her two lovers like a seasoned researcher gathering data. But now, with only two left, she had begun to worry. It was nearly bedtime, and she needed them both before the night ended.

Her gaze flicked toward the kitchen, where Jayce was currently rummaging through the cabinets for a midnight snack. Viktor, sitting at the dining table and jotting something down in his notebook, was visibly exhausted, absently rubbing his temple as he scribbled equations at an increasingly aggressive pace.

The tension was there. The potential for Bingo completion was there. She just needed to nudge it in the right direction.

She set her book down, stretching her arms above her head in a way that was totally natural and not at all a distraction tactic. "Jayce, you’ve been working hard all day. I’m surprised you haven’t shown off at least once."

Jayce turned around, a grin already forming as he leaned against the counter. "Please, babe. I don’t just show off—"

And then, as if on cue, he flexed.

It was completely unconscious. The way his arms tensed as he crossed them over his chest, the way his broad shoulders squared like he was posing for a portrait.

It was instinct. Pure, muscle-memory-level Jayce behavior.

Y/N immediately checked off "Jayce flexes (unintentionally) or poses without thinking."

One more to go.

Viktor, still at the table, let out a long, exasperated sigh and rubbed his forehead, clearly at the end of his patience. "Do you ever stop being an insufferable peacock?"

Jayce, instead of responding like a normal person, smirked and winked at him. "You like the view, don’t lie."

That did it.

Viktor exhaled sharply through his nose, dropped his pen onto the table with an audible clack, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I swear to the gods, Jayce, I will strangle you one of these days."

"Viktor threatens to strangle Jayce (empty threat, obviously)."

Y/N gasped dramatically and shouted at full volume:

"BINGO!"

Jayce actually flinched. Viktor snapped his head up so fast it was a miracle he didn’t get whiplash.

They both stared at her, completely thrown off by her sudden outburst.

"What the hell?" Jayce demanded, blinking in confusion.

Y/N was beaming, her whole body thrumming with excitement as she snatched the Bingo card from where she had kept it hidden and practically shoved it in their faces.

Viktor squinted at it. Jayce snatched it out of her hands and started reading.

His eyes widened. His mouth fell open.

"Oh. My. GOD."

Viktor, now reading over his shoulder, groaned. "You’ve been tracking us?"

"Studying," Y/N corrected, gleeful. "And I won!"

Jayce looked personally offended. "You—this whole time—you’ve just been waiting for us to be predictable?"

"I knew you two would come through for me," she said sweetly.

Viktor let out a long, suffering sigh. "She played us like fools."

Jayce shook his head, still staring at the card in disbelief. "You even got me with the flexing thing?!"

Y/N shrugged, unapologetic. "You literally can’t help yourself, babe."

Viktor smirked slightly, looking at Jayce. "She has a point."

"You’re supposed to be on my side," Jayce grumbled.

Viktor gave him a deadpan look. "You posed while getting peanut butter from the cabinet. I witnessed it."

Y/N cackled.

Jayce, groaning dramatically, tossed the Bingo card onto the coffee table before turning toward her. "You do realize this means war, right?"

"Oh?" she teased, tilting her head. "What are you gonna do, babe? Pose even harder?"

Jayce narrowed his eyes, but his smirk was already forming. "Oh, just you wait. Viktor and I are gonna make a Bingo card for you."

Viktor hummed in agreement, rubbing his chin. "Ah, yes. We can include ‘Y/N teases us mercilessly’ and ‘Y/N tries to act innocent after causing chaos’ as free spaces."

Y/N laughed, completely unfazed. "Oh, please. I’m way harder to predict than you two."

Jayce and Viktor exchanged a knowing look.

"You think that," Jayce said smugly, "but we’ve been together long enough to know all your little habits, darling."

Viktor nodded. "Indeed. You are not as mysterious as you believe."

Y/N scoffed. "I highly doubt that."

Jayce leaned in, grinning. "Challenge accepted."

And just like that, a new game had begun.

VANDER

Vander had seen a lot in his time. Wars, bloodshed, the slow, agonizing build of a rebellion. He’d taken his fair share of punches, thrown twice as many, made enemies in every corner of the Undercity. He’d stared death in the face more times than he cared to count and lived to tell the tale. He’d raised four stubborn, reckless kids who somehow found new ways to test his patience every single day.

But this?

This had to be one of the weirdest.

It was supposed to be a normal night. A good one, even. He was sitting in his usual chair, arms folded across his chest, the hum of The Last Drop settling into a steady rhythm around him. The usual sounds filled the air—clinking mugs, raucous laughter, the occasional scrape of a chair against the floor. It was peaceful, or at least as peaceful as it ever got down here.

And then you happened.

Vander barely registered it at first, just caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye. But something about it made his brain stutter, his instincts lurching from relaxed to immediately on edge. Because that movement?

That was you.

And you were walking past the doorway.

With a jackhammer slung over your shoulder.

His brow furrowed so hard it could’ve folded steel. The beer in his hand froze halfway to his lips.

“…What in the hell?”

He had to do a double take. A triple take. But no, his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. That was definitely you, striding past the entrance like you had somewhere important to be, carrying a massive, industrial-grade jackhammer over one shoulder like it weighed nothing.

And the worst part?

You didn’t even look at him.

Didn’t pause. Didn’t offer a single word of explanation. You just kept walking. Like this was a completely normal, everyday occurrence. Like you weren’t currently hauling a hundred-pound piece of construction equipment through his bar.

For a long moment, Vander just sat there, stunned. His brain couldn’t keep up. The sheer absurdity of what he was witnessing had short-circuited his ability to process basic logic.

And then, instinct kicked in.

His gut twisted with a deep, familiar feeling. Because he knew you. And if there was one thing he had learned about you over the years, it was that whenever you were up to something, it usually meant trouble.

So, naturally, he did what he always did when you pulled some reckless, hair-brained stunt.

He chased after you.

“Oi! Sweetheart!” His voice was loud, deep, his heavy boots thudding against the floorboards as he pushed away from the table.

You didn’t stop.

Didn’t even acknowledge him.

Just kept walking.

Vander’s frown deepened.

That was never a good sign.

Now, a couple of regulars had stopped to watch, heads turning as you strode through the bar, still carrying that damn jackhammer like it was a bag of groceries.

Because, really—who carries a jackhammer like they’re running errands?

Vander caught up quickly, his long strides eating up the space between you. He reached out, fingers curling gently but firmly around your shoulder, pulling you to a stop.

“Oi,” he huffed, his grip warm, calloused, his chest rising and falling with deep, steady breaths. “What the hell are ya doin’?”

You finally turned, tilting your head just slightly, your expression perfectly innocent.

“What do you mean?”

Vander gestured broadly to the literal jackhammer resting against your hip.

“That.”

“Oh, this?” You adjusted your grip, shifting it effortlessly in your hands, as if it wasn’t a massive, industrial tool meant for drilling through concrete. “Just need it for something.”

Vander let out a long, slow exhale, rubbing a hand down his face. His patience was hanging on by a thread.

“For what, exactly?”

You shrugged, easy, casual. “Dunno yet. Thought I’d figure it out on the way.”

His eye twitched.

His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. He looked like a man who was physically struggling to comprehend what he’d just heard.

Finally, after what felt like a full minute of stunned silence, he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Y/N…” His voice was low, strained. “Tell me right now if I need to be worried.”

You grinned. “I mean… I dunno, depends.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Depends?”

“What’s your stance on… surprise home renovations?”

Vander groaned. “You are gonna be the death of me, woman.”

You laughed, finally setting the jackhammer down with a loud clunk. Without missing a beat, you stepped up to him, arms slipping around his waist, pressing yourself into the warmth of his chest.

“Oh, come on, love. It’s just a prank.”

He huffed, still looking more suspicious than amused. “A prank?”

You nodded, biting back another laugh. “You know, like—‘let’s see how long it takes before Vander freaks out and chases me.’”

His lips twitched. He fought it—tried to keep the stern look on his face—but he was losing.

“So you mean to tell me…” he rumbled, voice gravelly, disbelieving. “You carried a damn jackhammer through my bar just to mess with me?”

“Yep.”

Vander exhaled a slow, deep breath, dragging a hand down his beard before shaking his head.

“You’re lucky I love ya.”

“Oh, I know I am,” you teased, rising up on your toes to press a quick kiss to his lips.

Vander let you—for all of half a second.

Then, without warning, his arms tightened around you, hoisting you clean off the ground like you weighed nothing.

“Vander—!” you yelped, laughing as he effortlessly lifted you, your feet dangling in the air.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, his lips brushing against your forehead before he set you back down. “Y’think you’re real funny, huh?”

“Very.”

He just shook his head, exhaling another deep, exasperated sigh.

You grinned up at him. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to return this before the guy I borrowed it from realizes it’s missing.”

Vander’s eyes snapped open.

“…Y/N.”

You were already backing away.

“Kidding!” you giggled, darting off before he could grab you again. “Or am I?”

And just like that, you were off again, laughing as Vander groaned, already resigning himself to forever chasing after you.

SILCO

You and Silco had a game you liked to play—one full of sharp edges and quiet affections, stolen moments between power plays and whispered threats. Love was a dangerous word in Zaun, but in the dim candlelight of his office, wrapped in the scent of cigars, ink, and the faint bite of shimmer, he had no trouble saying it to you.

He never wasted words. Everything Silco did was calculated, deliberate, necessary. He did not offer his affection freely, and yet, he gave it to you—every glance, every touch, every carefully veiled declaration. And tonight, he said it again.

"I love you."

His voice was smooth, steady, like the slow pull of a blade from its sheath, slicing through the silence between you. His mismatched eyes locked onto yours, unyielding, waiting, calculating the exact moment you would answer him.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you smirked and turned away, feigning distraction, pretending as if you hadn’t heard him at all.

A test. A tease. A dangerous little game.

The silence that followed was deafening.

You could feel his gaze burning into the side of your face, piercing, demanding. His patience was not infinite, and the slow, measured way he inhaled through his nose told you he was already calculating his next move.

He didn’t like being ignored.

“Y/N.” His voice dipped lower, edged with something lethal.

You hummed, tilting your head as if deep in thought. “Hmm?”

“I said,” he repeated, deliberate now, “I love you.”

You turned to face him slowly, letting your eyes linger on his sharp features, the scars that told a thousand unspoken stories, the controlled fury simmering beneath the surface of his expression.

Still, you said nothing.

A muscle in his jaw ticked.

Slowly, he leaned back in his chair, exhaling a breath through his nose, long and measured, reigning himself back in. His fingers tapped once—twice—against the edge of the wooden desk, his gloves barely muffling the sound.

Ah. There it was.

That rare moment of restraint. That precarious balance of control and irritation, so finely honed it could snap at any second.

His patience was a fragile thing, and you had just shattered the first layer.

“Is this a game to you?”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the smile threatening to tug at the corners of your mouth. “What if it is?”

He didn’t answer right away. He only watched you, assessing, taking his time as if considering his next move in a game of chess.

Then, he stood.

Slow, deliberate, like a predator closing in.

The air between you shifted, thick with something unspoken, something electric. His steps were measured, unhurried, but each one sent a jolt of anticipation through your spine.

By the time he reached you, you could feel the heat of him, the quiet menace in his posture.

He placed a gloved hand on the armrest of your chair, his other hand trailing a slow, measured line along your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his. His touch was deceptively soft, but you knew better.

"If you’re waiting to hear me say it again, don’t hold your breath," he murmured, his voice a quiet warning, but you could hear the amusement beneath it.

Your smirk deepened. "Oh? Are you upset, my love?"

His lips barely twitched, but his grip on your jaw tightened ever so slightly—a silent reprimand, a reminder that you were playing with fire.

“Say it back.”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning indifference. "And if I don't?"

Silco exhaled through his nose, and this time, his smirk was slow, knowing.

"Then I'll make you."

A shiver ran down your spine, but you held your ground, tilting your chin up in defiance. You had won plenty of battles with Silco before, but this—this was different.

His grip on your jaw remained firm as his other hand traced lower, gliding along the curve of your throat, ghosting over your collarbone before settling at your waist.

There was nothing rushed, nothing desperate—just slow, calculated movements, unraveling you bit by bit.

“Still nothing?” he mused, tilting his head, his gaze flickering over your lips before meeting your eyes again.

You swallowed.

Damn him.

Damn that knowing smirk, that unwavering confidence, that ability to turn the tables on you so effortlessly.

He was enjoying this.

You felt the pressure of his fingers at your waist tighten slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you of exactly who you were dealing with.

"You were very bold a moment ago," he murmured, voice dipping into something darker, silkier. "Where did all that bravado go, darling?"

You licked your lips, heart hammering against your ribs. "I don’t know what you mean."

A quiet chuckle.

"Is that so?"

His lips brushed against your ear now, a ghost of a touch, enough to set your pulse racing.

"Say it."

His voice was nothing more than a whisper, but it held the weight of a command.

Your resolve wavered.

You had played the game too well, and now you were at his mercy.

Fine. You’d concede—just a little.

You turned your head slightly, just enough to meet his gaze properly. Your smirk softened, the teasing glint in your eyes giving way to something quieter, something more genuine.

"I love you," you whispered.

The tension in the air shifted in an instant.

Silco hummed, pleased, his fingers pressing into your waist just a fraction harder before releasing you entirely, stepping back just enough to watch your expression.

"Good girl," he murmured.

You swallowed hard, your body betraying you as heat curled in your stomach.

And just like that, the game was over.

For now.

But as Silco turned back toward his desk, as if nothing had happened at all, you realized something else.

You’d lost this round.

And he knew it.

The smirk on his lips as he reached for his cigar told you as much.

"You should be careful with games like that, Y/N," he mused, lighting the cigar with a flick of his wrist. He exhaled a slow stream of smoke, his gaze flicking toward you in amusement. "I always win."

You scoffed, but there was no bite to it. He had won, and you both knew it.

Still, this wasn’t over.

Not by a long shot.

Because as much as Silco enjoyed winning, he enjoyed the chase just as much. And you?

You were already planning your next move.

JINX

Jinx was in the zone.

Her workshop was a mess—half-built contraptions scattered across the room, blueprints pinned haphazardly to the walls, and the faint scent of burning metal lingering in the air. Gears and wires tangled together in chaotic piles, balancing precariously on whatever flat surface was available. In the middle of it all sat Jinx, cross-legged on her workbench, completely absorbed in her latest masterpiece.

Her goggles were pushed onto her forehead, the lenses smeared with grease and fingerprints. Smudges of oil decorated her cheeks like war paint, and her blue braids swung wildly as she nodded along to the music blaring from an old, half-broken speaker in the corner.

And it was loud.

Not just normal Jinx-loud. It was window-rattling, floor-vibrating, hearing-loss-inducing loud. The kind of loud that made you question whether the building’s foundation would hold.

Jinx didn’t care. She thrived in the noise.

She was fully immersed in her work, absentmindedly singing along to the song playing. And by singing, that meant full-volume, off-key, and absolutely shameless.

“AND NO ONE CAN STOP MEEE—!”

She practically screamed the lyrics, her voice cracking in ways that would make even a dying cat wince. But it didn’t matter—she was having the time of her life.

Which made it the perfect time for a little prank.

You stood in the doorway, watching, waiting. Jinx was so lost in her own world that she hadn’t even noticed you creeping closer.

A grin tugged at your lips. This was too easy.

You tiptoed across the workshop, carefully dodging loose screws and half-eaten snack wrappers. Jinx was too busy hammering something into place to notice your approach, her head still bobbing wildly to the beat.

You inched toward the speaker.

Jinx, completely oblivious, was gearing up for the next chorus.

Her voice got louder.

Her confidence grew.

Her lungs expanded—

Click.

Silence.

“OH, I’M A LO-O-O—”

Jinx’s voice cracked as she hit the high note—except now, there was no music backing her up.

Her whole body froze mid-action, fingers still curled around the wrench in her hands. A split-second of pure, unfiltered betrayal flickered across her face.

Her bright pink eyes darted toward the speaker. Then at you. Then back at the speaker.

Back at you.

“… Did you just—?”

You crossed your arms, barely holding in your laughter. “What? Something wrong?”

Jinx’s eye twitched. “You did not just—”

You shrugged, feigning innocence. “Huh. Weird. Maybe your speaker’s broken?”

Jinx’s mouth opened slightly, like her brain was struggling to process the audacity of what you had just done. She looked genuinely offended.

And then—

She let out a gasp.

A dramatic, over-the-top, hands-on-her-chest gasp.

“HOW DARE YOU?!” Jinx exclaimed, flinging her wrench onto the table with a clatter. “I was about to nail that note! I was about to make musical history! AND YOU ROBBED ME OF MY MOMENT!”

You smirked. “Oh, you were about to nail it? Pretty sure the windows were about to shatter.”

Jinx pointed an accusing finger at you. “You are a menace. A gremlin. A villain.”

“Oh, please,” you snorted. “You were butchering that song.”

Jinx gasped again, even louder this time, her eyes wide with exaggerated offense. “Take that back, heathen! I am an artiste!”

You raised an eyebrow. “Artiste?”

She stood up on her workbench, striking a dramatic pose like a tragic opera singer about to perform. “A musical prodigy! A visionary! My voice is—”

“—a crime against humanity?”

Jinx screeched.

“You little—!”

She lunged at you.

“WORTH IT!” you yelled, bolting for the door.

Jinx tore after you, knocking over tools and sending loose bolts flying as she gave chase.

“YOU CAN RUN BUT YOU CAN’T HIDE!”

You dodged past a half-built trap and vaulted over a pile of discarded blueprints, laughing as Jinx’s boots pounded against the floor behind you.

Five seconds.

That’s all the time you had before she tackled you from behind, sending both of you crashing onto the ground in a mess of tangled limbs and wheezing laughter.

Jinx, now straddling your back like some kind of victorious goblin, poked your ribs mercilessly.

“You think you’re funny, huh?” she huffed, but her voice was shaking from laughter.

“I know I’m funny,” you shot back, still breathless.

Jinx let out a dramatic sigh. “I should make you test out my next invention for this. Ooh! Maybe a whoopee cushion grenade! Yeah, yeah, I like that. Patent pending.”

You groaned, face still pressed into the floor. “That’s a terrible idea.”

Jinx cackled. “Oh, so now you’re against pranks?”

“…Okay, fair.”

She finally rolled off you, lying on her back beside you, both of you catching your breath. The silence stretched for a moment before—

“Y’know,” Jinx started, grinning up at the ceiling, “next time, I’m wiring that speaker to a shock trap. So good luck pulling that stunt again.”

You chuckled. “Guess I’ll just have to outsmart you.”

Jinx turned her head, eyes twinkling mischievously. “Oh, game on, dumbass.”

Yeah. You had won this round.

But Jinx?

She was already planning revenge.

#arcane #arcane fandom #arcane fluff #reader insert #jayce x reader #jayce x you #jayce x y/n #viktor x reader #viktor x you #viktor x y/n #vander x reader #vander x y/n #vander x you #silco x reader #silco x you #silco x y/n #jayvik x reader #jayce x reader x viktor #jinx x platonic!reader

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leona-hawthorne · 2 months ago

Note

HIHI OMG IM SO HAPPY FOR YOU IT FEELS LIKE CHRISTMAS AJSHUWBSBSBW

Anywho, i was wondering if you could do some latte art for a hufflepuff reader, Mattheo, and DADA?

(When I saw that you reached 1k I started squealing I kid you not 🤭)

thank you sweetheart!!!! hope you like what i came up with 🤍

navigation masterlists latte art

ミ★ PARTNERS… mattheo riddle

Mattheo Riddle had a habit of slipping into rooms like he belonged there, even when he didn’t. Defense Against the Dark Arts was no exception. He strolled in late, leaned lazily against the doorway, and let the silence draw attention to himself like some kind of magnet. Professor Dawlish, already red in the face from an earlier misfire of a hex demonstration, pointed sharply at Mattheo.

“Mr. Riddle. Sit.”

The boy dragged his feet with deliberate slowness, muttering, “Such warm welcomes these days…” under his breath. A few Slytherins snickered, and your quill nearly slipped from your fingers.

Unfortunately for you, the only empty seat in the classroom was right next to yours.

“Perfect,” Mattheo muttered when he spotted it, dropping into the chair with an exaggerated sigh. His bag hit the floor like a rock, and he flicked his wand lazily, sending his textbook onto the desk with a muted thud.

You didn’t look at him directly, only caught his sharp profile in your peripheral vision.

“Lovely day, isn’t it?” he said, voice dipped in sarcasm but threaded with amusement.

“Didn’t you just make it worse by arriving?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, and you froze. Merlin’s beard, what did I just do.

For a second, there was nothing—no laughter, no response. You braved a glance sideways, only to find Mattheo staring at you. He blinked once, then tilted his head, an expression crossing his face like you’d just become the most interesting thing in the room.

“Did the little Hufflepuff just insult me?”

Heat climbed your cheeks. “Not an insult if it’s true.”

He laughed—an actual laugh, low and rich, surprising even himself. He bit his knuckle to stifle it, but his shoulders shook, and you turned away, half-annoyed that you’d made him laugh at all.

Professor Dawlish cleared his throat sharply, and both of you quieted as he launched into his lecture on Confringo. You tried to focus, you really did, but Mattheo had an unnerving way of existing. The tap-tap-tap of his quill against the desk. The faint scent of something smoky lingering near him, like firewood and leather.

“Partner up!” Dawlish announced suddenly, clapping his hands. “We’ll practice precision today. Wands only—no explosions, please.”

You winced, already bracing for disaster. But before you could turn to the Hufflepuff girl behind you, Mattheo stretched, arching his arms above his head, and then tapped your desk with the end of his wand.

“Guess you’re stuck with me, sunshine.”

Your stomach flipped. “What?”

“Partners. Us. Dawlish said so.”

“You said so.”

“Same thing.”

Before you could protest, Mattheo was already on his feet, wand spinning casually between his fingers. His smile was crooked and boyish, and you cursed how easily it almost made you smile back. You followed him to the far side of the classroom, where desks had been pushed aside to create space for dueling pairs.

“Alright,” Mattheo drawled. “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.”

“Why would you assume you need to?”

That caught him off guard. He raised an eyebrow, eyes glinting with something curious and teasing. “Oh, please. No offense, but I’ve got a hunch you’re more ‘herbology vibes’ than ‘DADA menace.’”

“Herbology vibes?”

He shrugged, biting back a grin. “You just seem… soft.”

Your wand shot out before you realized it, and Mattheo’s robes whipped suddenly around his legs like a gust of wind had struck him. He staggered back, blinking in disbelief.

“What—what was that?”

You tilted your chin. “I think they call it ‘not soft.’”

Mattheo stared at you, equal parts impressed and disarmed, like he couldn’t quite figure out where you’d come from. Then, slowly, that mischievous smile spread across his face.

“Well, well.” He pushed his sleeves up to his elbows, wand at the ready, eyes locked on yours. “Looks like I’ve got my work cut out for me.”

“Likewise,” you retorted, already lifting your wand.

#— 𝑙𝑒𝑜’𝑠 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑠 ❧#mattheo riddle #slytherin boys #harry potter #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x y/n #mattheo riddle fluff #fluff #slytherin #benjamin wadsworth #latte art #leona-hawthorne’s 1k celebration

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dewdropdinosaur · 3 months ago

Text

Transparent Heart

Human! Alastor x Ghost Reader Summary:Alastor needs a new source of inspiration. Nothing sparks that bloodlust anymore, nothing can satiate the growing desires he has for more and more carnage. One night, while all a party with Mimzy, he meets Y/N. Or does he? The sweet woman seems innocent enough but in reality she is a ghost, a being of chaos gilded by a fasle innocence. His new muse may be undead but it sure sparks some life in him. Warnings: Undead reader, smut, mentions of P in V, Alastor is a warning in and of himself, Demi-sexual Alastor, non-sex repulsed. MNDI, 18+. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Pt 2

Celebrating 500+ followers!! Omg, everyone you cannont imagine my gratitude for this community. I started writing in January and just how much love and support I have recieved is mind-blowing. All of you are freaking amazing and I hope you know I adore you, my lovelies!

Alastor leaned against the dark wall of the burlesque club, his brown eyes scanning the vibrant display of sinful transgression before him, yet feeling none of it. The room pulsed with music, laughter, and the clink of champagne glasses, but none of it stirred him. He should have been thrilled—there were scantily clad dancers twirling and shimmying on stage, Mimzy was in normal form, charming the crowd with her flamboyant flair, and every inch of the room screamed excess. Innocent souls, ripe for the taking. A little southern charm here, a lingering touch there, a knife sliting their throat in a delectable squish that would send shocks of pleasure down his spine. It was a celebration, a riot of decadence that should have made his very soul hum with delight.

But alas, the radio host. Felt nothing.

Once upon a time, this would have been his kind of night. The heady energy of sin, the delicious tang of chaos, the joy of being surrounded by souls desperate for something—anything—to fill the emptiness inside them. So desperate would they be, to fall into his greedy hands and he would grace them with the gift of death so sweet. It used to fill him with such vigor, such delight, like a fine wine sliding down his throat. But now, it was all just noise. Annoying noise.

The laughter? Grating. The champagne? Flat. The dancers? Nothing more than fleeting distractions. He watched as Mimzy flirted with a particularly tipsy patron, her laughter like tinkling bells, but it was all so... tiresome.

He tilted his head slightly, and his sharp grin never wavered, but the sparkle in his eyes had dimmed. It was all a game, wasn’t it? A never-ending circus of false joy. No matter how many times he twisted the dance floor or how many souls he swirled into his web, it was all the same. Hollow.

The feeling had come upon him suddenly a few weeks ago, stuck in a never-ending cycle of ambivalence. Nothing stirred the oh-so-normal bloodlust within his chest anymore. Nothing excited him to enjoy the chase, the screams.

Alastor’s fingers tapped rhythmically against his glass, his gaze shifting to the stage as the dancers performed their latest number. It was all so… mundane. The bright lights, the glitter, the exaggerated performances—they meant nothing to him anymore. Maybe this is how he died, being a wallflower.

He exhaled softly, his voice barely rising above the cacophony. “Mimzy, darling,” he said, his tone languid, “do you ever get the feeling that all this glorious spectacle is just a bit... tedious?”

Mimzy, amid her own little charade, paused and shot him a knowing look, her eyes twinkling with a touch of amusement. “Oh, Alastor,” she said, grinning wide. “You sound like you have been alive for centuries? Enjoy a bit of decadence. Pour some whiskey, put on some jazz!”

Alastor’s smile didn’t falter; a shadow passed across his expression. “Maybe that’s the problem, my dear. I’ve danced this dance for far too long.”

And somewhere, deep in the pit of his chest, a voice whispered: Is there anything left to live for?

In the middle of his mid-but young-life crisis, a soft tap planted itself on his shoulder. His body became rigid, a dangerous flash passing through his eyes at the unwelcome contact. It was not entirely unpleasant, cold and soft. Strange, considering he hated all touch but one could suppose he had too much to drink.

Alastor turned slowly to face the guilty party, only to find a petite woman standing before him. Pale, no doubt, almost sickly looking if her eyes hadn’t been the faintest shade of amber that brought the only sense of warmth to her face. Her hair was a light blonde, or was it gray? He couldn’t tell. All he knew was that this little pet had imposed themselves—

“If you are done staring, mister, may I continue my question?”

Alastor blinked, his sharp gaze narrowing slightly. The soft tap had already left a prickling sensation on the back of his neck, and now this woman, audacious and unsettling, dared to speak to him as if he were some mere pedestrian.

"What question?" His voice was smooth but cold, each syllable wrapped in the chill of his natural cynicism. It wasn’t the first time someone had approached him on a whim, but there was something different about this one. Something off-kilter, like a mismatched note in a song—one that lingered just long enough to be more than a fleeting annoyance.

The woman tilted her head slightly, the pale light accentuating the faint shadows beneath her eyes. There was something about her eyes, too—lifeless but sharp as a hawk’s. She seemed entirely unperturbed by his cold demeanor.

"I was wondering," she began, her voice soft yet steady, "if you intend to stand like a wallflower all night or become something worth my time?"

Alastor’s eyebrows twitched, and his lips curled into something akin to a grin, though it was closer to a wolf’s smirk than anything resembling warmth. A question like that—drenched in disrespect, a dance with death itself. Was she…playing with him?

“Is that so?” His voice was laced with amusement, yet his eyes remained icy. “And what would a fragile little thing like yourself do with finding me interesting?”

The woman didn’t flinch. Instead, she tilted her head just slightly more, a ghost of a smile appearing at the corner of her lips. “I’ve seen it,” she murmured. “How you find no pleasure in this display around us. It’s no stranger to you and I am not a stranger to it either. I see you come in here and revel every week until recently. Why is that?

For a moment, Alastor was silent. He had heard words like these before, though they usually came from those who lacked any real understanding of the ruthless, visceral nature of existence. But something about her tone, so deliberate, so knowing, stirred something within him. Something deep. Why would someone he had never met, though who apparently watched him, ask such a personal question?

“Well aren’t you a brazen one, my dear. I would suppose, these events have just lost their…usefulness.”

“Oh, because you kill people?”

He hadn’t expected that at all. How did she know? How could he play this off? A shadow passed over his gaze, darkened as he looked down at the calm woman. She was baffling…but certainly, the most intriguing thing he had interacted with in a while. He hadn’t expected anyone—let alone a delicate little creature like her—to speak with such clarity about the one thing he’d devoted his entire being to understanding: death. But then again, he realized, perhaps this little conversation had more teeth than he’d first assumed.

Grabbing her wrist discreetly but with a vice hold, he dragged his newfound muse into an empty room on the other end of the club. Throwing her in the room, he assumed her frail stature might cause her to fall, but instead, she simply looked like she floated across the floor. Strange.

He chuckled, but the sound was dry, devoid of humor. “You’re quite the curious thing,” he said, his eyes glinting as he regarded her more closely. “Now, how does a little thing like you, make such a bold assumption as that?”

“Well, I have seen you,” she replied simply, her gaze meeting his with a directness that was both unnerving and intoxicating. “You are quite clean with it I must say, well, except for the eating part…but then again I guess everyone has their preferences.”

Alastor was taken aback. A brief flicker of something like appreciation passed through his mind, quickly followed by annoyance. Was she toying with him? Was this an act, some mask for her true fragility?

For a moment, he considered walking away, dismissing her as yet another oddity to forget. But the words she spoke lingered in his thoughts, gnawing at him like a restless hunger.

"What about you, Alastor?" she continued, her voice softening, almost as though she were coaxing him, "Do you fight it? The lack of bloodlust you’re feeling? Or do you surrender to the inevitable?"

Her words hung in the air between them, and the sound of her quiet challenge echoed in Alastor’s mind long after she’d spoken. He exhaled sharply through his nose, irritation flashing across his features. This woman had a way of pushing him in ways he didn’t particularly enjoy.

And yet…

He growled lowly, stalking up to her with an imposing stance. Just kill her now, kill the witness. All his problems would go away, he could go back to standing on that stupid wall, drinking that flat champagne.

He glanced at her, a flicker of something approaching amusement in his eyes. Or…or he could have the most fun he had in weeks.

"I suppose I don't have the luxury of surrender," he said, his tone colder now, sharper. "I’ve long since learned that life is more… interesting when you push against its edges. Though, I confess, there’s something rather invigorating about someone who understands the dance with death as well as you do."

She smiled this time a full, knowing grin. “I thought you’d understand,” she said with quiet certainty, leaning closer just enough for him to catch the scent of something oddly familiar—something sharp, like iron or fresh rain. “The world doesn’t stop spinning just because we want to rest. We can’t simply wait for the end to come. Until it gets here. No, Alastor, it’s all about taking it—grabbing hold of that final moment and making it yours.”

At first, Alastor found himself irritated by her relentless inquiries, the audacity with which she wove her words into the space between them. He considered walking away several times, but then, a strange thing happened.

Then, the irritation faded.

The longer they spoke, the more he felt the edges of his personality, drawn out by her words, her very presence. She was no weakling, no frightened soul. No, this woman was a kindred spirit of sorts—a creature of the abyss who spoke the language he had long since mastered.

But he supposed, it had gone on long enough. Even those whom he found mildly amusing had their time to go. And now, this woman had come to hers. Walking over to a desk in the room, he pulled the drawer open with the mask of preparing himself a drink. This was his typical room…to engage in his activities. As the woman faced away from him, staring blankly at the wall with what seemed ignorance, he approached. The blade was hidden deftly behind his back.

“Well, my dear, as pleasant as this has been, I think it’s time we end this little game of ours.”

Raising the blade to her throat, he made the slice with a quickness that came with practiced ease.

Only sweet, rich, red blood did not spill from her body for him to lap with reckless abandon. Her head remained intact, the blade leaving no mark. Backing up in mild shock, Alastor’s eyes widened in what he could only call horrific intrigue. How much had he had to drink?!

“Now, that was rather a rude thing to do.” The woman’s head turned…180 degrees, backward facing him. A small smirk painting to face. And then, her body started to float, righting itself to face him fully as he glided in the air to meet him. Her cold and frail fingers came to caress the edge of his cheek with a gentleness that surprised him.

“Why would you do that to me, Al? I thought we were friends.” The woman….or ghost woman started to shed alligator tears. Her voice was a high-pitched wail that irked him to no end.

“What…what are you?”

That caused the woman to pause, eyes sharpening as she looked at him with a look so fierce he felt like his own knife had pierced his heart.

“I am Y/N. I…I am the ghost that lives here.”

Now that would have caused him to howl in laughter had he not seen the spectacle before him. Y/N….the famed ghost story Mimzy would tell to scare customers into scam ghost tours of the club after hours for an extra buck. But here she was…in the flesh?

“I thought you knew me Alastor. I thought you understood me. Understood the darkness–” Y/N brought her hand back to his cheek, trailing it slowly, even seductively down his chest to the buttons of his vest. He felt a strange pull to the being, confusingly enraptured by her now. The transparent but uniquely cold nature of her touch sent shivers down his spine, in a way he almost did not mind.

Where had this feeling come from? Had…had his interest in the conversation been actual interest in the woman before him? He usually never felt this way about anyone. Alastor’s lips parted in an attempt to refute his thoughts but nothing came out.

Y/N’s hand lingered on his chest, her fingers brushing against the fabric of his vest with calculated precision. Her touch was cold, yet there was an undeniable warmth to the way it ignited something in him—something he couldn't name. Alastor's usual composure began to slip, the confident, omnipotent mask he wore trembling in the presence of this woman.

"You always talk about control, Alastor," she purred, her voice an intoxicating melody that seemed to bypass his usual defenses. "But perhaps you’ve never been in a position where control slips through your fingers, like sand... or, more aptly, like time."

Her words struck him like a thunderclap, rattling his thoughts. Time? Had he been so blind, so consumed by the world of his own making, that he failed to see what was right in front of him? He wasn't sure how to answer, only aware that something was shifting, like a piece of the universe slowly aligning to something he couldn't yet understand.

The smile she gave him was a little too knowing, and he hated it. But more than that, he couldn't seem to hate her—an emotion he had learned to master long ago. For a fleeting moment, her eyes softened, not in pity, but in a way that unnerved him. She was dangerous, yes, but there was something else there—a depth, a complexity that tugged at him.

“You look so lost, Alastor,” she whispered, leaning in closer, her breath cold against his skin. “Let me guide you..”

Her hand slid down, brushing against his vest, the tips of her fingers brushing the edges of his buttons, slowly popping them open one by one. Every movement of hers seemed deliberate, calculated. And yet, as if it was just for him. That he was the sole focus of such tender devotions.

Alastor swallowed, his mind scrambling to form the words to push her away, to reassert his authority. But instead, something inside him relented. He wasn’t sure if it was the warmth of her presence, the pull of her energy, or the simple fact that for the first time in ages, something made him feel alive.

“You think you know me, don’t you?” he said, his voice low, almost... intrigued. “But I assure you, darling, you know nothing.”

“Then let me learn, Alastor,” she whispered, her lips dangerously close to his ear. “Let me see the darkness you keep hidden. Let me understand what makes you... human.”

The word struck him like a jolt of electricity, and for the first time in a long while, Alastor felt something unexplainable deep in his chest. Was it love? Was it obsession? Or was it the terrifying realization that maybe, just maybe, he could understand her too?

—————————————————————————————————

Clothes lay discarded on the hardwood floor, Alastor’s suit jacket among the heap. His body pressed her bare one flush to the hardwood floor, her lips continuing their long and languid assault on his own.

All that remained was Alastor in a white button-up and boxers, his clothed member rutting onto her bare cunt. Moaning into the kiss, he tentatively brought his hands up to find themselves settling at the nape of the Y/N’s neck. Experimentally giving the roots a small tug, a growl emitted from Alastor’s lips, enjoying the way she shivered before him.

It was almost like her form wasn’t there at all, that her body was transparent. Though, at this moment, he did not question the physics of how he could touch a ghost.

Laid bare before his hungry eyes and desires, his cock came to be inside Y/N with one thrust; cunt wet and ready for him like it was made for this purpose. Like she was gifted to him by the divine to hold him close in the darkness and relish in his desires. How the serial killer, had come to be with a being who could not be killed. The one thing he could never kill. The irony wasn’t lost on him, though not his main idea at the moment.

Conceptually, rationally, by all means of logic, Alastor knew it would never work. Except, in this very moment, cock pounding into her wet and inviting cunt, he couldn’t help but pray to whatever power was listening that something would come to fruition.

Her moans were sweet on his ears, like southern sweetwater molasses taffy. The kinda of stuff you just can’t get enough of. With every rut of his hips into hers, those delicious noises would fall from her parted pale lips. Now, those were the kind of noises he would search for in the middle of the night. Screams, still scream, but those he wrought by giving her the utmost pleasure his mortal form could apply.

All for her. His little ghost.

#hazbin hotel fandom #romance #radio killed the video star #vizziepop #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #alastor x reader smut #hazbin hotel smut #celebrating #500 followers #so happy #demisexual alastor #alastor imagine #hazbin hotel x reader #ghost reader #human alastor #ghost au #bless each and everyone of you

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poppadom0912 · 4 months ago

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🥐 jay halstead fic where reader is kim's or sylvie's younger sister and she meets jay at kim or sylvie birthday party at molly's and takes liking to jay and her sister notices it and makes it her mission to get them together

maybe with some playful cheeky teasing from jay before he makes a move 🤭

A/N: Thank you so much for ordering. I ended up writing much more than I intended and I kinda struggled to put in some teasing but I hope it's okay. Please enjoy!!

🥐🥐🥐🥐🥐

You were a little tipsy.

Work had been horrible. Today had probably been a record-breaking day in the labour and delivery ward but somehow, all of your patients had faced an ailment and some babies also struggled. You and your team were confident in your abilities but there was still the unease of what could happen overnight.

But today was your sisters birthday and nothing was going to get in your way of celebrating and making tonight all about her.

All the people important to her were in the firehouse and so tonight would be a big celebration with everyone and you’d take her out later in the week.

She hadn’t paid for any of her drinks, the one rule you had placed because obviously, its her birthday.

As the night progressed, Sylvie got more and more drunk but she deserved to have fun. And as the night went on, Molly’s got more and more busy as all the first responders started piling in after their shifts.

You recognised a few of the doctors and nurses from the ED and you heard Matt greeting a few men who you remember being part of ‘Intelligence.’

At one point, you found yourself talking with April and Maggie before you heard Sylvie calling for you across the bar.

Adhering to her calls, you made your way towards your sister who had the giddiest smile on her face, cheeks rosy and hair still somehow perfectly intact.

“Hey hey hey, can you pleeeassse get me some rosé?” She asked nicely, the most innocent expression on her face.

“Sure!” You nodded, feigning agreement as you turned to Hermann. “Can we have some water please. I think we’re done now Hermann.”

You pretended not to hear Sylvie’s ‘cries’ in despair, melodramatically acting as if it was the worst thing in the world you had inflicted on her.

You only received a sound of acknowledgement from Hermann who was swamped in orders.

“Oh hey, happy birthday Sylvie.” A sudden presence at your side appeared out of literal nowhere, smiling at your sister who was slowly getting out of it.

“Aww, thank you so much Jay- Omg Jay this is my sister Y/N, she works at Med.”

You turned to look at this ‘Jay’ and-

Oh wow- what a handsome looking specimen.

“Hi-“

“His brother is Will, they’re brothers Y/N.” Sylvie stressed, as if that idea was unbelievable.

“Oh, hey I’m Y/N. I think Will’s mentioned you a few times, you’re the accident-prone brother right?”

Jay chuckled, rolling his eyes at your words but there was no harm behind it. “Yeah, he’s exaggerating but yep, that’s me, nice to meet you. Sylvie’s mentioned you a few times as well.”

You were not expecting that. When on earth did Sylvie ever have the time to have full on conversations with a detective?

“All nice things I hope.”

“Don’t worry.” Jay assured you, his eyes not leaving yours even as he spoke of your sister. “She’s only said the best things and anyone related to Sylvie is definitely going to be an angel.”

You were speechless. A man who was technically still a stranger was being the nicest any stranger could be. You couldn’t help but feel heat rush up to your cheeks.

You giggled, trying to ignore your reddening cheeks. “That’s so sweet, thank you so much.”

This back-and-forth exchange only continued and the water you ordered went forgotten. Unbeknownst to both of you, Sylvie who was still sat next to you, was watching all of this unfold and despite her drunkenness, she took everything you-related very seriously.

And by the looks of it, she was about to play matchmaker again.

🥐🥐🥐🥐🥐

You were visiting Sylvie at the firehouse on one of your days off. Everything had been normal, Sylvie was being her usual self until the firehouse received some visitors.

You recognised the three detectives walking into the firehouse, one of which increased your intrigue.

Sylvie didn’t miss your straying eyes as the passed by the bunk rooms.

Sylvie gasped in her usual dramatic style, scaring you to bits.

“Oh my gosh Sylvie!” You slapped her on the arm, shoving her face away when she kept coming towards you. “Sylvie you weirdo!”

“Y/N!” She shook you, probably jostling your brain while she was at it.

“You have a crush~” She said in song, the most stupidest smile on her face.

“You’re such a child.” You tutted, slapping her again on the shoulder. “Stop it you weird child.”

So she listened and stopped… for now at least.

Her smile remained stuck on her face and the blush remained on your cheeks.

Oh, this was getting good. Sylvie knew exactly what to do.

🥐🥐🥐🥐🥐

Sylvie just so happened to be at Med then next time you saw Jay.

You were taking a break and went outside the emergency department where they had a really expensive coffee cart when you bumped into Jay.

Apparently, he had just finished interviewing a suspect who just had an accident, he caught up with his brother and was now waiting for his partner to finish up inside.

That left the two of you outside alone.

He kept you company in the line and when you went to pay for your coffee, his hand equipped with his card came flying out of nowhere, paying for your coffee.

The audacity of this man.

“Ah- excuse me.” You scoffed, almost frozen in shock as he took the coffee when you didn’t move, gently ushering you away so the line could keep moving. He hand on your waist totally didn’t do anything to you.

Jay hummed, raising an eyebrow with that smirk on his face, imploring you to try it.

You wanted to smack that stupid smirk off his face for good. This silly man had such a grip of the butterflies in your stomach just with his facial expressions.

You were speechless. You had no words to say to him so instead, you went to go grab the coffee cup out of his hand when he took a sip, eye contact maintained the entire time and gave it to you with a smug smile on his face as that single sip of coffee from your cup had fulfilled him.

You failed to pick up your jaw. You simply took a sip from the coffee that was yours.

Sylvie also failed to pick up her jaw from the ground, stood frozen several feet away from you two.

Maybe she didn’t have to intervene after all.

🥐🥐🥐🥐🥐

Sylvie had one goal to achieve today and it wasn’t for this party to be perfect. No, Sylvie was going to get you and Jay to finally make a proper move and get you guys to start dating.

She was sick and tired of the endless flirting that went nowhere and she couldn’t look at your lovesick face whenever Jay was in your vicinity.

All would be fixed today, on your birthday.

Sylvie wanted to go all out because you were her sister and an amazing party with friends is the least you deserved. So yes, she still wanted this party to be perfect, but that was on the side for the meantime.

Sylvie had this all planned out so meticulously that even Matt side eyed her warily.

She claimed that she was too busy setting everything up at her apartment and needed someone to go pick you up. It ‘just so happened’ that she invited Jay and incidentally told him to come earlier than when the party was actually meant to start.

She was the perfect actor, gasping in near horror when she saw the time in the living room where she was surrounded by unfinished wrapped presents and decorations that were half done.

It was so easy to get Jay to do exactly what she wanted and deep down, Sylvie knew that he would’ve done so without her even asking.

Just like that, Jay was on his way to pick you up and Sylvie could drop the act and get down to business.

Fast forward two hours later and the party is in full swing. You had been thoroughly surprised and you happiness continued increasing as Sylvie did more and more as the evening unfolded.

Your cheeks were hurting from how much you were laughing and Sylvie couldn’t help but keep an eye on Jay who hadn’t looked away from you for more than a few seconds.

This was perfect.

During dinner, she sneakily got you to sit down besides where Jay was already sat. You had been so distracted talking to her that you didn’t even notice her physically pushing you towards that specific chair.

Sylvie also purposefully put your favourite dish the further away from you so that when you inevitably noticed its presence, you would have to ask if someone could serve you and the first person to take your plate was easily going to be Jay, Sylvie had no doubt about it.

And she was proved correct as said man wasted no time in serving you the perfect portion size.

Your giddiness was practically palpable at this rate.

The rest of the night went equally as smoothly. As everyone was leaving, tidying ensued and Jay was still here.

Everything was still going according to plan.

Elbowing Matt, ignoring his grunt at the sudden motion, Sylvie stood up straight from loading the dishwasher. “We’re all done in here so we’re going to get going.”

Before you could say anything, she went on, “I know I said I’d sleepover but Matt had this thing really early in the morning and he needs my help.”

Matt was caught very off guard, he spluttered as he realised what was happening and didn’t want to be blamed for preventing the two sisters from being together.

Sylvie elbowed him even harder this time, her smile tightening. “I promise, next time I’m staying and we’re doing brunch.”

Your disappointment was quickly eased at her suggestion and in less than five minutes, Sylvie was ushering a very confused Matt out the door, leaving you and Jay alone.

“Love you so much Y/N! Have a good night you two!” Sylvie waved at you two, closing the door behind her with a content smile on her face, sighing in satisfaction and fulfilment.

“Sylvie-“

“Shhh.” She shushed him, her finger at his lips. “Let’s get you home Matt. I’ve got everything under control, trust me.”

Sylvie had no doubt about it. She went to sleep the happiest she had been in a long time.

When she got up the next morning to your text messages with some very unkind words, calling her some very nice names, her smile widened.

Plan to get Jay and Y/N together was officially successful.

#one chicago x reader #one chicago imagine #one chicago fic #jay halstead x reader #chicago med #chicago pd #jay halstead #jay halstead oneshot #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead x y/n

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