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pedgito · 2 months ago

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𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 | Harry Castillo x reader

summary | Five years of being his assistant and five years of failed attempts at finding love with your help, but maybe the obvious answer has been there the entire time. Alternatively, you fucked your boss? Uh-oh.

author's note | harry...randy...who knows. i'll change it if needed but given the name tag, this is what i'm sticking with for now. skip the lecture about not writing until the movie is out, this isn't hurting anyone so don't bother me about it, xo. the horny demons always win. i listened to this song i repeat while i wrote, felt fitting.

content warning | 18+ MDNI, power imbalance (boss/assistant), work wife/work husband type beat, mentions of failed dating, being superficial, mentions of sugar daddy things, expensive gifts, reader is a godly assistant with a will stronger than mine, he smokes, they drink, sex while inebriated, he's down so bad, also oral!, tense morning after, open-ended

word count — 4.5k

You knew him better than anyone.

From his breakfast order down to his specific choice of underwear, like you weren’t making the weekly purchases and filling up his rarely used fridge in the apartment that was way out your price range, arranging his schedule down to the minute, booking his flights, packing his bag.

Really, Harry should just marry you.

…it was more of a joke, but you’ve teased him about it once or twice.

He called you his work wife anyways, but in reality, you were just his assistant.

He did trust you with his life, though.

More importantly, his love life.

“Kim flaked,” he tells you over coffee, perched at his kitchen island as you typed away on your laptop, looking up briefly with eyes that begged for him to explain, he does and makes a show about, mimicking a more feminine voice as he relays the message she gave him, “same song and dance—you’re great and fun but I can’t do anything serious right now,”

“Were you nice?” you ask curiously.

Harry rolls his eyes at that, like it was a stupid question to ask. But, eventually he nods.

“Did you ask questions?” you continue, fingers folding over the screen of your laptop to close it.

“Plenty, she works in finance, loves the color blue, wants to travel,” he could go on and on, throwing his hands up in defeat before they slump to his side, “maybe I should try out a real matchmaker—not that you’re bad at it—”

“You think I’m bad at it,” you smile knowingly, “don’t you?”

“No,” you’re unconvinced, “besides—you’re my assistant, I never meant for that type of responsibility to fall on you, you know?”

“I’m doing both of us a favor,” you remind him, “I think…it just takes time.”

And fortunately, all you had was time.

It felt pointless for Harry to spend a chunk of cash to have someone pair him up with the supposed love of his life, though you knew that money wasn’t a problem, you felt a weird responsibility to protect him, unsure how quickly someone would take advantage of his kindness.

“There’s a gala,” you tell him offhandedly, “next week. I already cleared your schedule for it. I think…maybe you should just peruse this time.”

“Peruse?” he chuckles, eyes creasing in amusement, his crow’s feet deepening with the emotion, “You’re a control freak, you sure about that?”

“That’s just mean,” you retort, “you’re paying me anyways—if you didn’t like it you’d fire me.”

He knew you were right, sipping quietly at his coffee in response.

He was frustrating, predictable, and painfully superficial.

Every date was an exercise in appearances—perfectly tailored suits, dinner at the most exclusive places, charm turned up to eleven. And yet, none of it ever stuck. He was overcompensating and you weren’t sure why.

He was a good guy, down to his core, and in the five years you had worked with him there was never a moment you thought he didn’t deserve love, he was perfect. Too perfect.

That was the problem.

“You know, you’re like prime age to be a sugar daddy,” you tease him, knowing how he felt about the topic, “there’s plenty of apps that I can—”

“You’re relentless,” he grumbles, “if you ever did that, I’m firing you on the spot.”

“You wouldn’t,” it was a gentle challenge, smirk flashing across your face as he returned it with fondness, “without me you would crash and burn, Mr. Castillo.”

And he knows it.

–

The gala is a bust.

So, as a bandaid to his wounded ego, you order takeout and keep him company in his big, lavish apartment—it wasn’t the first time, it wouldn’t be the last.

You knew what the issue was, but there was a sinking feeling in your stomach that told you he wouldn’t receive the information well.

It was after every failed date, every expensive dinner.

They saw him at the surface, the charming man with an easy, warm smile.

You saw the man who kicked his shoes off and stripped himself of his suit jacket the second he walked through the door, who couldn’t resist a late-night binge of his newest streaming obsession, someone who insisted on stirring his coffee counterclockwise because it made it taste better, a man would text you pictures of squirrels in the park that he would feed on his way home.

It wasn’t that you were pining over him. You just knew him better than anyone.

“Why are you so dead set on marriage?” you ask him over dinner, turned toward him on the couch as he reaches for the remote to pause the show on screen.

He’s had this conversation before, but he’s never asked you any questions on the matter.

“What’s your opinion on it?” he’s avoiding, clearly, but you’ll bite.

“I don’t date, I’m not interested, signing a piece of paper isn’t going to signify my feelings toward someone if it came down to that,” you admit, “I’m not cynical, marriage is fine, but this stuff takes time,”

“Well, I’m not getting any younger,” Harry gripes, arms reaching over the back of the couch as he mirrors your position.

“Oh, please,” you scoff, “you’re forty-nine.”

“Almost fifty,” he corrects, “I’m ancient.”

“O-kay,” you sigh, “do you want honesty?”

“I’d hope you were being honest with me all the time.”

“No,” you laugh softly, “like…brutal fucking honesty?”

He’s silent, but attentive.

“You keep choosing women who treat you like they’re next getaway vacation and you fall for it every time,” his forehead creases at the words, looking hurt by your words, “I see your bank payments every month, the activity—”

“It’s not like money is an issue,” he defends, causing you to sigh dramatically and fall back against the arm of the couch in faux distress.

“This is impossible,” you groan, staring up at the ceiling before you feel his hand circle around your wrist, tugging gently,

“Okay, I’m listening,” Harry says softly, pulling you upright, “I’m sorry—I am.”

“You want it to work so bad,” you tell him, “I see it—every time you approach someone you put on that smile and it works, but you’re giving so much and yeah, maybe some of them like that, but I’m sure a few would just enjoy a nice dinner here, or something simple. I think you forget to realize that someone can just be interested in you, for you, not for what you are or have,”

It’s profound, the way his face softens at your words, his touch still lingering around your wrist.

You’ve never even considered or entertained the idea that you might find Harry attractive or even attainable—for one, you had signed a contract that agreed to a professional work relationship, as a benefit for both of you, not that he ever had any intention to begin with.

You’ve been with him for so long, it feels, a fresh and young mind to help keep him active and busy, constantly refreshing ideas and helping him not feel like he was stuck, and you were damn good at taking care of him when he’s often tended to neglect himself.

The only thing you know is that he’s never looked at you like that.

Like you could see straight through him, all his flaws on display.

But, that was because you knew all of them.

You knew everything about him, even the worse bits.

His bad habits, his self-inflicting ones, everything that he refused to bring to the surface.

Harry’s fingers still lingered around your wrist, the weight of your words sinking in.

But then, just like he always did, he broke the tension with a huff of laughter and frowns as he brushed you off.

“You just think I’m a sucker, don’t you?”

You shook your head with a faint smile, returning your arm to your lap.

“No—I think you like to see the good in people. So much good that you’re willing to ignore red flags.”

“Jeez,” he chuckled, clutching his stomach like you had physically wounded him, “that hurt.”

You shrugged and reached for the remote to resume the picture on screen, “You’ll survive.”

–

It was your day off—Sunday, the one day.

“Have you seen my cufflinks laying around?” he asked over the video call, “Shit—my tie, too. I can’t find it anywhere. I thought you said you laid it out for me.”

“No, I said I had it hung up and for you to lay it out before you showered,” you correct him, laying tiredly on your couch as you watched him search around frantically, hair damp and his bare shoulders on display, only catching the briefest glimpses of the towel around his waist as he turned the camera around, “Waitwait—go back!”

“There’s no fucking way you saw it,” Harry argues, “I’ve been looking for the last ten minutes—”

“In the pocket of your suit, the tie is there,” you tell him, “and given that you probably tossed the suit on the bed like you always do, the cufflinks are probably somewhere hiding under the blanket,”

He tosses you against the mattress, your screen succumbing to darkness as you wait, some shifting of the sheets before you hear him make a sound before he appears again, cufflinks pinched between his fingers and a look of defeat on his face.

“What would you do without me?” you ask with a cocky grin, finger hovering over the end call button as he shakes his head.

“What was this for again?” Harry asks curiously, laying you down upright as you caught a glimpse of his bare chest as he shrugged the crisp, white button down over his shoulders.

“It’s a charity auction, your favorite,” you chirp, “and you’re flying solo, so—don’t do anything stupid or…crass,”

“If I paid you double a day of work would you go?” Harry asks after a long pause, glancing down at the screen, “Triple?”

“Triple?!” you gawk, “see—you’re insane, this is what I’m talking about,”

He chuckles despite your response, “You’re good at keeping the sharks away,”

There were particular hawking businessmen who made it their mission to hunt Harry down at events and keep him occupied, eager to do business, whatever it may be—you were the unspoken master of redirection, as much as he refused to admit it.

“Can we grab dinner on the way?”

“Burgers?” Harry asks, perking up slightly.

It was a constant go-to for you and him.

You nod through the screen, “Don’t even bother with the tie either, I’ll do it.”

–

“I can’t believe you roped me into this on my day off,” you whisper at his side, earning a half-smirk from him.

The charity auction was as lavish as you’d expected.

Crystal chandeliers, gold accents, and far too much champagne and hors d'oeuvres.

Harry’s hand found the small of your back the moment you arrived, steering you through a sea of designer gowns and tuxedos, feeling uncomfortable in the tight dress and stilettos that you only wore on rare occasions, biting at your heels.

“You’ll survive,” he grins, grabbing you both a glass of champagne and pressing it into your waiting fingers, “I’m gonna…peruse, alright?”

“Don’t say it—that just makes you sound like a creep,” your face scrunches up in disgust as you sip at the alcohol, “just go—go, I’ll…handle everything else.”

The evening passed in a blur of small talk and polite smiles, but somewhere between the endless speeches and bidding wars, you found yourself on the balcony, the cool night air a welcome relief in the stuffy ballroom.

You smell him before you see him, the thick and rich scent of his cologne so familiar you swear you could find him on that alone, turning over your shoulder to see him closing the door quietly, cigarette pack tucked in his palm as he approached with a neutral expression.

“You okay?” you ask, leaning against the railing of the balcony.

Harry sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and then plucking a single cigarette from the box, “Honestly? I’m just tired of it.”

“The auctions? Charity?” you inquire, a small smile tugging at your face.

“All of it.” He looked at you, his gaze lingering as he lit the tobacco, “The events, the dates, searching for—I don’t even fucking know at this point,”

“The offer stands…” you say jokingly, though he knows exactly where this is heading.

“If I wanted a sugar baby I’d find one.”

Your eyes roam over his figure as he puffs at the cigarette, pulling a deep laugh from his chest before you’re pushing him away playfully.

“Let’s go,” he tells you with a deep sigh, stubbing out the end of the cigarette and tucking it away for later, tossing his arm over your shoulder as he readied to guide you through the crowd, always protective in spaces like this, another thing that was special to him.

–

The ride home is quiet, like it always is, both of you sitting in the backseat with the partition up, watching as he looked through his phone with a scowl, occasional typing and sending a message.

Eventually, he looks at you.

“Thank you,” He says with a soft tone, “I know this isn’t your favorite thing to do.”

You tilted your head into the headrest and smiled, crossing one thigh over the other as you worked at your heels to remove them, “Oh, it wasn’t that bad—the free alcohol is always a plus.”

He chuckled at that, silently helping you remove your shoes with a soft squeeze to your foot.

That was normal—but, it forces you to pause.

His natural instinct to help, to touch, to comfort you.

Your brow furrows at the gesture before you shake it away, blaming it on the buzz of alcohol in your system, watching as he continues the gesture with the other foot.

“Having you there makes it bearable, is all,” he explains, looking up at you briefly as he undid the tie around your ankle, “you…calm me, I guess.”

You swallowed. Hard.

The warmth of his words lingering in your chest, in his touch against your ankle, “You’d do the same for me.”

And he would—if you ever needed anything, anything, Harry was there.

“Yeah,” he agreed quietly, “without question.”

The sincerity caught you off guard.

You turned to study him, the familiar slope of his nose, the line of his jaw. There was something about the way he looked tonight—tired, maybe, but softer.

And he keeps looking at you, checking.

The car moved smoothly through the dimly lit streets, the city blurring past in streaks of gold and blues and reds. The hum of the engine was steady, the faint sound of music barely audible from the front, through the glass, the back lit up dimly by the trim of lights on the roof and door.

Harry leaned back, one hand moved against the seat, his other hand dragging slowly over his thigh—restless.

Instinctually, without thinking, you reached for his hand.

It wasn’t purposeful. Just a simple act of absentmindedness.

You’ve done it a hundred times before.

Tugged at his sleeves to fix his cufflinks, brushed lint from his lapel or pants, adjusted the collar of his shirts. Constantly fixed his hair, touching him wasn’t new.

His skin was warm. Not hot, not cold.

You felt the slight twitch of his hand, like he was debating whether to move. Instead, his fingers shifted, just a fraction, enough that the edge of his thumbnail brushed over the inside of your wrist.

The contact was thoughtless, nothing.

But, in the same moment, it felt like everything.

The way his eyes watched the movement, roamed your body like they had before but with a different implication, his eyes half-lidded and relaxed, wondering how much alcohol he had consumed himself—this wasn’t friendly.

And it definitely wasn’t professional.

Harry’s gaze was on you now, your face, as you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his hand.

Then his thumb moved.

Up.

Barely.

A soft drag along your pulse.

It was half a decade of avoidance, defeat in his heart and mind, and fear in your own.

Broken, by the car rolling to a stop outside of Harry’s apartment building.

“We’re here, Mr. Castillo,” the voice of the driver came from the front, a nod of acknowledgement as his hand slipped from yours.

“Oh, hold on,” you were scooting aside to let him out, readied for the next stop as he cocks his head toward the building, “I’ve got something for you—I’ll drive you home, don’t worry,”

“Harry,” you stress, looking down at his hand that waves you toward him, extending out for you to grab, insistently as his fingers wiggle in wait.

Turns out, he wasn’t totally lying.

That something was accompanied by a seven thousand dollar bottle of Leroz Aux Brulees—you knew that because you had purchased it during his trip to France, the supposed city of love.

“I’m going to murder you,” you tell him as he places the bottle on the counter and keeps the closed case of mystery at his side, “hide your body, flee country—I hate surprises, you know that.”

“I think you’ll like this one,” he grins, popping the cork on the bottle and pouring two hefty glasses, eyeing the deep red as it glugged into the glass.

“You know, if you wanted company you could have just asked,” you tell him, “I get it, you’re lonely,”

He knows you’re only teasing but it stings nonetheless, both of you taking a long and heavy sip as his fingers swirl over the velvet casing before he’s pushing it over quickly, tapping it with his fingers, “Open it,” he encourages, eyeing you over the rim.

You place your glass down and pry it open slowly, carefully, like you were deconstructing a bomb, but as the piece inside comes into view you find yourself at a loss for words or thoughts.

Your eyes are wide, staring up at him with parted lips that tingled from the lingering alcohol, knowing you should have cut yourself off at one glass of champagne and refused to come inside, that you should have just went home and enjoyed what little bit of the day you had left to yourself.

Now, you were looking back at a necklace so delicate you were afraid to stare at it too long, embedded with a cluster of diamonds and nearly two years of your rent if you were doing the math correctly in your mind.

Always about the numbers, Harry constantly teased.

“I saw how you looked at it the other day,” he admits, “and I owe you a hell of a lot more, but it…I’m trying to say thank you for…being you,”

“I’m not taking that,” you refuse with a laugh of disbelief, sliding back over to him gently, downing the rest of your wine in one go to forget how fast your heart was beating in your chest.

“You are,” Harry insists, “consider it a bonus—Christmas is in a couple months, too.”

“You know…this is exactly that kind of stuff a sugar da—”

Harry makes a noise, shaking his head.

You bite your lip in thought, ignoring his subtle annoyance at your comment.

It was fucking beautiful, really.

You sigh, using one finger to turn the case back toward you, examining it closely.

Quietly, Harry presses his glass into the counter and rounds the edge toward you, his chest at your shoulder as he reaches for the jewelry, working carefully at the clasp before he’s motioning for you to relax your shoulders.

It wasn’t the stillness of the moment, but his touch, again.

He’s methodical in the way he touches you, dragging his hand around your neck as he fits the necklace into place, his fingertips pressing against the column of your throat in a way that tickles slightly, shifting uncomfortably until you hear the faint click and he breathes behind you, hands resting at your shoulders.

You’re not sure why he hasn’t moved, but you find yourself turning to speak.

“I’m just going to call an uber,” you tell him, “probably shouldn’t drive since we’ve both been drinking,”

“Yeah,” he agrees, but it sounds hollow, his eyes not following you as you move.

You hop from the chair and bend down to grab your shoes, but his hand is curling around your bicep and pulling you up and he’s staring again, the charge of his touch sending a jolt through your body as freeze,

“Come here,” he beckons, too natural.

And you listen.

He’s soft, every part of him. Skin, clothes, hair, lips.

He’s kissing you gently, like you might break, but you can tell he wants more.

Needs more.

“Are you going to regret this tomorrow?” you find yourself asking as he parts from you, licking at his lips as you both take a breath, letting the moment settle.

He shakes his head, “Are you?”

“Maybe,” you answer honestly, “maybe…not—fuck, I don’t know,”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” he promises, but you knew that was a lie.

Still, you nod in understanding.

–

He’s so tender with his touch, slipping you out of the dress in the dim light of his room.

Even softer as he guides you to your back and spreads himself on his belly between your legs, fingers interlocked with his at your hips as he buries his nose between your folds, his tongue splitting your cunt open in a sharp gasp that has you throwing your head back. His lips traced a slow, deliberate path down your body, igniting sparks along every inch of your skin.

He kissed along the curve of your thighs, teasing, tasting, until the tension was unbearable and with each flick of his tongue, each gentle suck, it pulled you deeper into a haze of heady desire.

This was reckless, dangerous, but neither of you found the moment to pause and think.

You wonder if things had been building to this for a while—if it was always supposed to happen this way or if he was acting off of greed; lust and companionship, even if just for a night.

You know you can ask him to stop at any point and he would, but even as his tongue brings you to your first orgasm of the night and he’s guiding you to your stomach, reaching blindly into his bedside table for a foil wrapping the crinkles loudly in the silence, you want this.

It was embarrassing how badly you wanted this.

He fucks you slow, too.

It was torturous, his chest flat against your back as he palms his cock and feeds it into you.

You don’t talk, neither does he.

But, his low moans and stuttering breaths speak for him.

If you could see him, you’d know how furrowed his brow would be, a hand sliding over the curve of your ass until he can reach your thigh, beckoning for you to raise it without speaking.

You oblige, the angle of his thrusts changing on a dime.

“I can’t believe you’re real sometimes,” he admits like he’s confessing a sin.

“Please,” you plead—please stop talking, please keep going, please fuck me.

You couldn’t decide.

You feel him nod where his forehead is pressed between your shoulder blades as his fist curls into the sheet beside your head.

“Another, gimme another,” he pleads, the fingers on his other hand curling under your neck to life your chin, not expecting to meet his eyes as he leans over you.

The expression on his face so raw it makes you flutter around him, his lips parting in a deep, guttural groan, “I know you can,” he nods hurriedly.

And damn, does the praise work.

Your whimper breaks him, breathing out shakily as you locked eyes when he comes, slow and forceful thrusts until you’re nothing but an exhausted pile of tangled limbs.

“Greedy girl,” he comments through the haze, a weak giggle bubbling from your chest.

He pulls out slowly, a low grunt as he does so.

You’re not sure when you fall asleep, but you wake to a startling amount of weight over your stomach, an arm splayed possessively, the faint outline of a ring as you drag your hand over the limb.

It’s only as your eyes pry open that reality hits you, stumbling out of bed quickly.

No…nononono, where the fuck were your clothes? Jesus.

You stumble around half awake, searching for the silk dress on the floor, feeling accomplished when you find it and hastily redressing yourself as Harry stirs in bed, encouraging you to hurry, to slip out before he can say anything.

Your shoes are already on and you’re reaching for the doorknob when the voice comes, the weight of the necklace that still remained on your neck, two empty glasses of wine on the counter, a night of hasty choices and urgency laid out like a crime scene as his voice rings out from behind you, pleading.

“Don’t—don’t go,” Harry begs, “You don’t have to go,”

So much of this was wrong—it complicated everything.

Your life, your job, your relationship with him.

He can see you slipping, fingers inching toward the knob as he approaches you in a hurry, barefoot and shirtless, the kind of scene you shouldn’t be comforted with, like this was all normal to the both of you.

You’ve seen him like this a thousand times, but not when he’s looking at you so vulnerable, heart tore open and stapled to his chest, beating against your own as his hands splayed out over your cheeks.

“I don’t regret it,” he assures you again, “so please—stay, okay?”

“What changed?” you ask, voice trembling, “Five years, Harry. Five.”

“I’ve been running in circles this entire time,” he admits, “you know it—I know it.”

You had been there the entire time, learning every part of him without judgement, cataloging his flaws and skills, learning how he ticked and what motivated him. You had never quite settled on the ideal person to fit in his life as his partner, it surely wasn’t you.

It couldn’t be you.

“Please, don’t go,” Harry echoed once more.

The sick, cruel joke of it all was that this was your job.

You had nowhere to go. If it was any other morning, you would just be arriving, leaving his breakfast in the kitchen and starting your day.

You nod solemnly, “Of course, Mr. Castillo.”

It was painstaking, forcing the mask back on.

But, you couldn’t deal with this now.

Or ever, even.

Harry looks at you with a confused sadness, thumbs rubbing at your cheekbones before his hands fall to his side.

You’d figure this out, you always did.

#harry castillo #pedro pascal #harry castillo x reader #harry castillo x you #harry castillo x y/n #randy castillo #the materialists #my writing #pedro pascal fic

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missadangel · 2 months ago

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MAKE HIM DISLIKE LOVE YOU

Harry Castillo x Reader (The Materialists)

Chapter 1: Blind Date

series masterlist next chapter

Summary: You work as a housekeeper in a rich family's mansion and often have to deal with their spoiled daughter. One day, she asks you to pretend to be her on a blind date with a guy her dad picked out for her. Your mission is to make him not like you so he won't want to marry her. But here's the twist: will Harry end up hating you, or could he actually fall for you? That's the real question. Warnings: 18+ (smut, MDNI) kinda romantic comedy stuff, fluffy, angst, lying, soft and caring Harry Castillo, Lucy as his ex, John as Lucy's ex, wealth, expensive gifts, drinks, money, cars, language, sexual tension, oral sex, p in v sex, kissing, slow burn, power imbalance, I might have missed some warnings; I will update them in due time. Word Count: 4.8k for now, There will be a part two if you guys like it, but I'm not sure about the rest. Sorry for the poor writing; that was quick. authors note: I am not sure about his name. If there's any update, I will edit. English is not my native, so please be nice; this is my third fanfiction. Thank you for the reblogs, comments, and likes. Love you all!

"Ugh, this dress is so last season! Are you serious? Everything here is out of style—get rid of them! Call Elliot and have them send me another dress, or I'm going to be really pissed!"

As if tossed at you like a used handkerchief, another dress worth thousands of dollars—perhaps only worn once—landed in your hands. You sighed as you looked at the elegant dress you were now holding, the Gucci label glinting under the light.

"Story of my life," you mumbled.

Working as a housekeeper in a millionaire's house was hard enough, but dealing with his spoiled and ill-tempered daughter was exhausting. Yet you were determined that it would soon be over. You could no longer endure this physical and psychological torture. With the money you had saved, you planned to open your own restaurant—fulfilling your dream. You just needed to save a little more and hang in there a bit longer.

Your boss was a decent, kind man, but his daughter was so unbearable that every housekeeper assigned left the next day.

How do you even tolerate her?

Because you didn’t have the luxury of quitting and waiting for a new job. You were still young and trying to establish yourself in the business. The extra pay you received was simply to endure her antics. Your kind millionaire boss had even promised you all the support you needed, suggesting you could quit your day job and focus solely on managing his daughter’s affairs. But how could you have known it would be so challenging? Still, you managed to get through each day and believed you could endure this for just a little while longer. After all, you had survived three challenging years already, right?

The mansion was enormous, and everything inside was meticulously organized. Everyone—housekeepers, gardeners, cooks, and even the owners—followed a disciplined daily routine.

Except for the young lady of the house.

You never knew when she would wake up or come downstairs to join her family at the dinner table. She was stubborn, mean, and unpredictable, and you had to manage her behavior just as you managed her dresses, her dates, and her friends. Because you were responsible for her, there were times when you wished you could handle all the housework yourself and let someone else take care of her demands. Despite being just an ordinary housekeeper, your name was the one that echoed the most throughout this vast mansion.

Why?

Because the young lady constantly called on you to fulfill her never-ending requests. And it was one of those moments again. Since it was evening, you guessed she was probably getting ready for a night out at the club, and you felt a surge of annoyance as you rushed to her room.

"I can't believe I was a size 8 before starting this job; now I'm down to a size 6," you mumbled to yourself, quickly making your way up the stairs.

One of the cleaners dusting the vases in the hallway shot you a wink and let out a sigh. Man, you’d do just about anything to be in her shoes, just taking care of that vase!

As soon as you knocked on the door, the young lady Melanie opened it, pulled you inside by the arm, and slammed the door shut behind you. You were taken aback—had you made a mistake? It had only been two hours since you last saw her; you had picked up her clothes off the floor and taken them to the laundry room. She had seemed content, busy texting on her phone. What could have possibly happened in such a short time?

“Is something wrong?” you asked, your eyes wide. For some reason, she looked super tense and nervous.

“You’ve gotta help me,” she said almost desperately, which caught you off guard; it was pretty rare for her to ask for help like this, very rare.

“Of course, if I know what’s going on…”

“Remember that thing we did with the senator's son? I need you to do something like that again.”

You froze for a moment. She was referring to something you had helped her with before—something you weren't very proud of.

“Oh, but—” you frowned. “You said I’d never have to do anything like that again.”

Years ago, you had done your best to disguise yourself as Melanie to turn off the senator's son and prevent him from marrying her. It had worked, but lying to someone was a real headache. Thankfully, Melanie's father hadn’t suspected a thing, but the thought of risking it again felt scarier than anything else.

“I know, I know, but I’m in a tough spot. My dad has been speaking with a matchmaker again to arrange a match for me. After the scandal at the club last time, he's determined to marry me off for sure. Please, I need your help.”

How could she still act so childish in her late twenties? As she looked at you with those pleading eyes, memories of all the times she’d yelled at you and scolded you flashed in your mind. It was fine when you were more like her special assistant instead of just a housekeeper, but now it feels like you’re just a toy to her. When she wants to have fun, she plays with you—almost like you’re her little slave or something.

“I’m not here for that,” you said firmly. “That is not my job.” Your patience was running thin, and this was just too much.

“But you’re supposed to help me,” she shot back, stubborn as ever. “And it’ll be easier this time, I promise.”

You narrowed your eyes and said, “We got caught last time when the guy found out and cursed both of us. Do you have any idea how hard that was for me? And if your father discovers what we’re up to this time…”

She replied with a grin, “We won’t get caught this time because I already sent them my photo instead of yours. Besides, you know how my father is strict about always having my picture removed from newspapers and magazines.”

“You did what?” you wailed.

“Chill, it’s all figured out. I’ve been working on this since last week. You’ll have dinner with the guy, pretend to be me, scare him off, and boom! He won’t want to hear my name again. Easy peasy!”

You rolled your eyes. “But he’s surely seen your photo somewhere; he can’t be that clueless.”

“No, he’s a very busy businessman. He has lived abroad for years and has just returned from France. He’s looking to set up his business here in New York,” she said as she opened her laptop and pulled up a webpage with information about the man. “It seems he’s also looking for a suitable match,” she continued, glancing at his photo and pursing her lips.

You froze when you looked at the photo; he wasn’t at all what you expected. He appeared to be a mature, charismatic, and intelligent man. But how could you sit opposite this man and pretend to be someone else? The thought made you shudder, raising the tiny hairs on the back of your neck.

“As you can see, he’s much older than me. I don’t think he’ll tolerate disrespect. If you’re disrespectful to him, he might get annoyed and just leave the table,” she said with a chuckle.

You laughed too, but for a different reason. You were sure that if she went to the meeting herself, he would get up and leave when he saw her personality.

“I think you should go; maybe he won’t like you,” you suggested.

She narrowed her eyes at you like she'd just caught you saying something crazy. “He won’t like me? Seriously?” She flipped her hair over her shoulder with a cocky grin. “Anyway, I can’t risk it. I don’t want to marry him or anyone else, and I definitely don’t want to be stuck in the same room with that old man.”

As if I want it so much, you thought.

“Come on, please do this for me! I promise I’ll be good; I won’t make you work too hard. I’ll ask Dad to give you a nice raise,” she said, clasping her hands together and trying to look cute.

Well, good raise would mean you could quit your job and bail out of here earlier, right? You crossed your arms and glanced back at the laptop screen, staring at the photo of that guy—Harry Castillo. You made a decision that you had no idea would change everything in both his life and yours.

“Fine. When’s dinner?” you said, feeling a bit anxious.

“Oh, you’re the best! I knew you couldn’t say no!” she said excitedly. “This Saturday.”

“But that’s only two days away,” you pointed out, feeling even more nervous.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you all set. Just make sure you displease him,” she grinned.

You sighed deeply, already sure you’d regret this choice.

“Don’t you think this dress is a bit… exaggerated?” you muttered, looking at yourself in the mirror.

It was an elegant burgundy dress—strappy, satin, and adorned with pearl details—the kind of designer item you could never afford, even if you worked your entire life.

“Am I trying to make him hate me or make him fall for me?” you asked, frowning.

Melanie rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry; he’ll never fall in love with you,” she said arrogantly. This was typical behavior for her, so you chose to ignore it. “As much as you want to annoy him, remember that you represent me. I don’t want anyone gossiping that Melanie Johanson is wearing a lame dress,” she continued while picking out a matching purse.

“But everyone knows I’m not you, except that poor guy.”

“I don’t suppose you were planning to wear one of your own skimpy outfits,” she remarked. “Do you want our game to be exposed?”

That was too much—being scolded and being forced to do something so ridiculous for this spoiled girl.

“Fine, go to that dinner yourself then,” you said, slipping off your heels.

She grabbed your arms. “No, no, no, please. Okay, I’m sorry I was rude. But I need you; no one else would do something like this for me.”

“It’s good that you realize that,” you muttered.

“Here, take this; it’s time,” she said, giving you a smile.

Honestly, putting up with Melanie’s constant demands, cleaning up after her, and covering for her felt like child’s play compared to what you were facing tonight.

A nice raise, you keep telling yourself trying to soothe yourself. I’m doing this for my restaurant; I’ll get it started someday.

The restaurant was one of the most famous, expensive, and luxurious places in New York—somewhere you would never normally set foot in. But tonight, thanks to Melanie’s name, you could easily get in. You were overwhelmed by the incredibly polite behavior of the restaurant staff.

Melanie may have been extravagant and reckless, but she had thought of almost everything for tonight—from the driver who brought you here to the all restaurant staff.

All this effort was for one purpose: to rid herself of the matchmaker’s match.

When they took your fur coat at the entrance and told you that Mr. Castillo was waiting for you, you took a deep breath. After one step inside, when you saw him, you nearly backed away. Harry was busy on his phone, scribbling notes in his small notebook. He looked really sharp and stylish—way more handsome and appealing than in the photo.

Damn.

You wanted to escape; you wished to put an end to this nonsense before it even began. Without realizing it, your feet started to move backward. Just then, you turned around and accidentally bumped into the waiter behind you, causing him to drop the champagne glasses he was carrying on his tray. The glasses shattered, and champagne spilled all over his outfit. You cursed yourself for the mishap.

Before you could even respond, the waiter apologized. “No, it was my fault; I’m sorry,” you said nervously, trying to wipe off the champagne from his clothes.

The other waiter and the staff stared at you in shock.

Yes, you were a wealthy lady now, but what harm was there in being polite?

"No, ma'am, I should have been more careful," he said before turning and walking away.

"Miss Johnson?" said a soft, deep voice.

You turned around to meet him and felt almost breathless. There he was, few inches taller than you, with broad shoulders, curly hair, deep-set brown eyes, a sharp nose, and an attractive appearance.

"Melanie, right?"

"Y-yes," you stammered, batting your eyelashes.

And that smile! For a moment, the world seemed to stop; all the sounds in the restaurant faded, and you almost forgot why you were there.

"I'm Harry," he said, holding out his hand. It took you so long to look at his face that you nearly forgot to acknowledge his hand. He laughed again, that wonderful smile lighting up his face. "My hand has been waiting for a while," he said teasingly.

You felt your cheeks flush as you realized what he meant. "I'm sorry," you replied, quickly reaching out to shake his waiting hand. His hand was big and warm. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long," you mumbled, feeling embarrassed. You knew you needed to work up the courage.

“Not really,” he said with a grin. “Shall we head to our table? Or do you want to stay here all night?”

“S-sure,” you said sheepishly.

Well, there wasn't much you could do about it. This wasn't just about him being wealthy or handsome. Even if it was a fake date, it had been years since you'd been on a date, and you didn’t know many men in your life.

Dinner was harder than you expected. Even though you and Melanie had practiced what you should and shouldn't say, your fears came to light. Harry seemed kind and understanding, and it was difficult to lie to him, which made you hate every minute of it. It got worse when he started grilling you with questions, and you weren't sure how much longer you could keep up with this silly game.

When you excused yourself to go to the restroom, you called Melanie.

"What do you mean he hasn't left the restaurant yet?"

"I don't know; the conversation got a little long, and he kept asking questions about me, I mean you."

"Do something to make him hate you already!"

“But how? Throw wine at him? This is all ridiculous. I think we should just tell the truth.”

"Don't you dare!" she barked.

Her voice was so loud that you had to smile apologetically when the other women in the ladies room looked at you strangely, hearing your end of the conversation.

"What am I supposed to do? Our plan isn't working."

“What's up with this guy? He should’ve bailed by now.” Melanie grunted.

“He seems nice—I doubt he’d be rude like that.”

“Rude! That’s the ticket; just be rude enough that he can’t stand it.”

“What? Seriously?”

“Yep, you heard me. Just be as rude as you can.”

You let out a sigh, really wishing you could just bang your head against the wall right now.

“I said do it, or you'll ruin everything. Call me when you’re done.”

“But what am I gonna— Hello? Darn it!”

Beep… Beep… Beep…

She hung up.

You’ll have to be rude, how wonderful! But she was right; you needed to get rid of this man for the night to end and for you to return to your normal life. Why did he have to be so nice and kind? If he could ever act like a jerk, you would have done it by now, but he was just too sweet. As you looked in the mirror, you thought of all the rude things a lady wouldn’t normally do. Ah, that sounds familiar; it reminds you of Melanie herself. The very thought of her actions made you smile nervously. You took a deep breath and left the restroom.

Encouraging yourself, you gazed at Harry's handsome face from afar.

You can do it, you can do it...

Your first move: act indifferent.

You changed your facial expression as you approached the table and deliberately looked away from his face. He was smiling warmly at you. No, you couldn't look at him; it would only complicate everything. You were about to apologize for being late, but no, you can’t. Instead, you pulled your chair noisily on purpose, scraping its legs on the floor to create an annoying sound. You sat down and crossed your legs, positioning your body so it wasn't fully facing him. Harry seemed surprised by this sudden shift in your mood, but he didn’t comment.

A little later, as your desserts were served, he looked at you, “I like chocolate cake too, especially with pistachio sauce. We have similar tastes,” grinning at you.

You looked at him and then at the waiter. “I don’t want this,” you said angrily.

“But ma'am, you ordered it,” the poor man replied sheepishly.

“I’ve changed my mind,” you said. “I’ll go with the tiramisu,” you added after a quick look at the menu, making sure to glance away casually.

“Sure, I’ll change it right away,” he said, taking your plate and walking back.

“Are you all right?” Harry asked, concern creeping into his voice.

“I’m great,” you lied, forcing a fake grin.

He didn’t ask any further questions, but he seemed to suspect something had changed. When the waiter brought your dessert, you decided to eat it rudely. You were sure Harry would be disgusted as you devoured your dessert quickly and rather rudely as if you were starving. You didn’t look at him again until you finished your plate. When you finally glanced up, your stomach feeling a bit nauseous, the look on his face was not what you had expected. He was smiling at you admiringly.

What the hell was that?

Shouldn’t he have shown disgust or displeasure, just like the people at the next table who were staring at you with disdain?

But not Harry, not him. Why, God, why?

As if teasing you, he laughed and reached for a napkin on the table, wiping the remnants of dessert from the corner of your lips. “You’ve got quite the sweet tooth, don’t you, sweet girl?”

How could he be so nice, even after everything?

“Want to eat mine too?” he joked again. Clearly, you were amusing him instead of grossing him out. Ugh, just what you needed. Why was this so hard?

“It’s the cream in it,” you said, a bit defensive. If you were going to get into a battle of words, you might as well dive in.

When he looked at you, confused, you thought you saw a glimmer of hope. Maybe you could annoy him with your gourmet knowledge.

“The Marsala wine is in the cream; it’s a secret recipe,” you said, trying to sound smart.

Harry paused eating his dessert, rested his elbow on the table, and gave you an admiring look. “Interesting. I didn’t know you were into cooking. That wasn’t in the info.” That familiar warm smile was back.

Crap. Another mess-up.

“I get it—you’re keeping it under wraps from your dad. I want you to feel comfortable talking about your hobbies when you’re with me.”

When you’re with him? Damn, that was supposed to be the first and last time you saw him. You started playing with your fingers in your hair out of nervousness.

Think, think, think. All you had left was to use the only card you had.

“Look, Harry, I’ll be frank. I don’t plan to see you again.”

Suddenly, he stopped. “Didn’t you like me?” he asked softly.

Was it possible not to like this man? But damn it, you had to lie. You looked away; it was hard to read his expression.

“You’ve probably heard about me from the tabloids. I’m not the type of woman to get attached to just one man. My father put me up to this matchmaker thing; I didn’t intend to.” You admitted this indirectly. He deserved a little honesty, didn’t he? “I’ve had and will have many men in my life. I don’t plan to get married. I mean, you’re not special. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

When you looked at his face timidly, you realized you got the reaction you had been waiting for since the beginning of the night. His smile vanished; his expression hardened, and the color of his eyes darkened.

But why did your heart squeeze when you should have felt relieved?

When they brought your coat, you thanked them and turned to Harry for the last time. You would probably never see him again. You felt fortunate to have had the chance to meet and get to know this man, even briefly. He would probably forget you anyway; why would he remember you?

“Can I give you a ride home so we can end things on a good note?” he asked, sounding a bit unsure.

You definitely didn’t see that coming. You paused, trying to figure out what to say. It would’ve been easier to just say no, but his eyes were so mesmerizing that if he’d asked you to spill all your secrets right then, you might have done it without even thinking.

“Sure,” you replied, feeling shy.

When the valet brought Harry's car around, your jaw dropped. This black, late-model Mercedes Benz S was probably worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. Your interest in cars stemmed from your childhood; your mother always complained that you didn't like dresses and jewelry like other girls—rather, you liked cars. It was clear you were different, and you had always been that way.

Just like the situation you found yourself in now. Maybe there was something wrong with you.

The two of you were silent the entire ride. You didn’t look directly at him, but you could feel his gaze on you out of the corner of your eye. However, you were more captivated by the interior of the car. When would you ever get to ride in such a luxury vehicle again? It wouldn’t hurt to take a closer look. As you glanced towards his side to check out the control panel and see how much horsepower the car had, he caught your eye, causing you to quickly turn your head away. You had to suppress your curiosity.

"We’ll turn right here," you said as you approached the junction. Down the street, the giant mansion loomed, so close to your destination. You stole a quick glance at him, realizing this might be the only time you would see this man in person. You wanted to remember his handsome face.

Suddenly, Harry slammed on the brakes, and the car screeched to a halt. Your eyes widened in surprise as you looked at him, startled that he had stopped so abruptly near the mansion. What had caused him to suddenly halt? He didn’t say a word, just stared at you, and his eyes seemed to communicate something intense. Was he angry and no longer wanting your company?

You unbuckled your seatbelt and reached for the door handle, only to find it locked.

“Stay still,” he said as he unlocked the car doors.

What was he implying? He walked around the front of the car, reached your side, and opened your door.

Was this chivalry? If so, why did he stay away from the mansion?

“Aren’t you getting out?” His voice was kinda cold.

You didn’t know how to respond. You stepped out of the car without saying a word.

“Thanks for the ride—”

Suddenly, he grabbed your arm—not roughly, but with a firm, questioning grip. His gaze was intense, but why did he look that way? Had he figured it all out? Maybe he was about to confront you for making a fool of yourself. After all, you had been willing to be open, and now you felt you deserved it. But you didn’t have the courage to meet his eyes, so you lowered your head.

“You were lying, weren’t you?”

Shit.

You swallowed hard; this was the moment you had dreaded.

“I-I…”

What were you going to say? How would you even say it?

You were fucked.

Suddenly, Harry pinched your chin with one hand, forcing you to look at him while his other hand rested on your waist. He tilted his head toward you, his hot breath brushing against your face, making your heart race. His lips were dangerously close to yours, and you could feel your throat going dry. What the hell was he going to do? Kissing you or scolding you? After what felt like an eternity, he pulled you closer by the arm around your waist and kissed you.

It had been a long time since you kissed someone, so you were almost shocked by his sudden kiss. No matter how hard you tried to stop yourself, you finally closed your eyes and surrendered to him completely. Your surrendering gave him courage and he deepened the kiss, his hot tongue licking your lips and forcing them apart. While his expert hand lingered on the swell of your breasts teasingly, you moaned and opened your mouth for him and when his tongue touched yours, you could still taste the chocolate from the dessert he had just eaten.

But suddenly, Harry pulled his head back, breaking the kiss and all contact. Instinctively mesmerized, you leaned forward, eyes closed and mouth agape. When you finally opened your eyes, you caught him snickering, and as the embarrassment of the situation hit you, you wished you could disappear. You instinctively pressed your hand to your burning lips and pressed hem together. Harry licked his lips and grinned. "Just as I predicted. You lied to me. There's no way another man has touched you recently."

For a second, your mind went blank, and you just stared at him, blinking in confusion. What the heck did he mean by that? "Y-you... w-what..." Great, now you couldn't even put together a simple sentence.

What next?

Just then, your phone started ringing. When you opened your purse to get it, Harry reached for it before you could. Fortunately, you had saved Melanie in your phone under a special nickname, not her real name. Harry laughed, raising his eyebrows in surprise and amusement. "Trouble?"

Yes, you had saved her as trouble.

"Can you hand my phone back, please?" you said, holding out your hands, but he caught them with one hand and gently pushed them away.

“Your trouble can wait,” he said, rejecting Melanie’s call. He dialed a number on your phone, but realized what he was doing when his own phone started ringing.

“There, now you have my number,” he said, handing your phone back to you.

You frowned and grabbed your phone angrily, "What makes you think I’d actually call you?"

Harry shrugged, pursing his lips. “Shouldn't I call you before I come to pick you up for our next date? I guess I could just come by your house and honk the horn instead.”

“What?” you exclaimed.

He grinned.

You took a deep breath to release some of your tension. “Harry, why are you doing this? There won’t be a next date; I told you that.”

“One chance,” he said firmly.

“A chance of what?”

"I want you to give me a chance. A real date. If, at the end of the night, you still feel the same way, I promise you’ll never see me again."

You shook your head. "But why? You’re a man who can have any woman you want. You’re rich, handsome, and kind—why waste your time on someone who doesn’t want you?"

You saw something in his brown eyes, something you couldn’t quite identify, but it was intense. “Because you're different from others,” he said sharply. “True, women are not unattainable for me; they are always around. But what I want is someone special, and I feel that you are the one. There’s something about you that has ignited something in me I haven't felt in a long time. I must admit, I'm surprised; I never thought I’d be attracted to you after reading the news about you, but it seems I was wrong. Can you give me a chance? Please?”

Oh, Harry, there’s so much you don’t know, you thought. Your heart was fluttering at the thought of saying yes, but how could you? How dare you? You weren’t Melanie, the daughter of a wealthy businessman; you were just an ordinary girl.

“You know I won’t leave without hearing your answer, right?” He grunted.

Just then, you heard a car approaching, and you freaked out. That was Melanie’s dad’s car. Your heart nearly stopped.

“You have to go, like, now!” you yelled in a panic.

“First, say yes,” he replied, frowning.

"Si, yes, okay, alright! But please, go now!" you urged, pushing him toward the back of his car. He chuckled in response.

You crouched down to hide your face as the other car drove toward the mansion and pulled him down with you.

“I want you to know I’ve never done anything like this in my life,” he admitted, snickering.

“Is that so funny?” you snapped.

"Okay, I get that you don’t want your dad to see us like this, and I’m curious why, but since you said yes, I’ll be a good guy and leave."

“Yes you do that,” you said with a sigh.

Harry took his phone out of his pocket and waved it before getting into his car. “You’d better answer it when I call,” he said, getting inside. He winked at your puzzled expression and started the engine. His car quickly disappeared from sight along the road. You turned toward the mansion, exhaled deeply, and murmured to yourself.

“I'm so fucked.”

thanks for reading, likes, comments, reblogs are appreciated ❤️

#fanfiction #fanfic #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal #pedro pascal gifs #pedro pascal fanfiction #the materialist #harry castillo #materialists #harry castillo x reader #randy castillo

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julesispunk · 2 months ago

Text

PLS PLS PLS PLS PLS

#pedro pascal #materialists #joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal x reader #randy pedro pascal #please tag me #i trust you #joel miller x reader fluff

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chloe-skywalker · 7 months ago

Text

Smarter - Ghostface / Billy & Stu

Billy Loomis x Fem!Reader

Stu Macher x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Murder mentioned?

Word count: 618

Summary: When they're talking about the murder in town Y/n makes a comment that gain’s two boy’s attention.

Authors Note: Not really a romantic mention but they're intrigued by her. First Ever Scream Imagine, it’s short but it’s a start!

Also

Happy Halloween!!!!!

I'm at Horror Nights !

Masterlist

Scream Masterlist

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“What do you think Y/n?” Sidney asked looking to her friend that sat in front of her as they all ate lunch around the fountain.

“About what?” Y/n asked having zoned out of their conversation, she turned her attention up to Sidney.

“The murderer in town? Duh.” Tatum teased her friend playfully, rolling her eye’s.

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows and asked. “What about them?”

“Why do you think they're doing it?” Sidney was curious even if it brought up feel’s and memories she’d rather forget. Y/n alway’s thought of points and views none of them considered. She looked at it in a different, less gernetic way and it gave them a different perspective.

“Could be mindless killing.” Y/n shrugged thinking about it but even to her the kill’s being mindless killing’s just for the hell of it didn’t seem correct.

“Doubtful. It’s gotta have a motive, otherwise why call first?” Randy shook his head in disagreement as he took a sip of his soda.

“True. Maybe it’s to raise the stakes? Build adrenaline for a better chase.” Y/n tilted her head with a smirk at the corner’s of her lips. The killer called to get their victims into a false sense of security before making them completely terrified for their lives. They were playing with their prey.

“Before WHAM! Spill your guts.” Stu said loudly making Sidney and Tatum jump and Y/n laugh at his usual Stu antics, Billy just shook his head while Randy scoffed.

“It’s all so disgusting.” Sidney shook her head and her face contorted into a very disgusted look.

“Sick.” Tatum fake gagged.

“Could’ve been more creative.” Y/n shrugged her shoulders thinking the killer wasn’t very creative besides the phone call. Even though she had spoken lowly in a almost inaudible volume it caught two of the boy’s complete attention.

“Let’s get to class.” Sidney grabbed her bag, Y/n and Tatum followed suit with Randy on their heels as Billy and Stu stayed behind under the disguise of cleaning up.

“Hear that Billy? More creative.” Stu turned his head towards his best friend and partner in crime.

“Fuck off.” Billy shoved Stu’s shoulder to make him back up a bit. Billy’s attention was still on Y/n as he watched her retreating form. Without even knowing she had guessed correctly about ‘Ghostface’ techniques and it didn’t surprise Billy but it did make the wheels start turning in his mind. Especially when she made the comment about the kill’s not being very creative.

“You think she knows?” Stu questioned in a whisper so others wouldn’t hear their conversation.

“I think she suspect’s.” Billy had noticed Y/n’s eye’s flick to him and to Stu when she answered Tatum’s question. But whether it was from her having a feeling they were behind the murders or just because they were friends Billy didn’t know and it frankly bothered him. Y/n was smarter than the other’s and if anyone would figure it out Billy’s money was on Y/n.

“Does that change the plan?” Stu hoped it didn’t, he rather enjoyed Y/n’s company and he liked that he could make her laugh. She got his humor and she didn’t judge him or view him as just the clown. Stu didn’t want her to be added to the list of who needed to die.

“No. We knew she was smarter than the others. This doesn’t change anything.” Billy didn’t see this as an interference to their original plans. Y/n was not on the kill list but she would be more watched from now on. To make sure she didn’t spoil anything. They had other plans for her . . .

Taglists:

@padawancat97 @maryvibess @gruffle1

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cece693 · 6 months ago

Note

Ok but like imagine both Billy and Stu with a big tiddy goth! male! reader as their roommate lol

Reader looks intimidating but is actually really nice lol

Looks Can Be Deceiving (Stu and Billy x M! Reader)

Hi! So I'm not really that well informed on the big tiddy slang (English is not my first language) but after a quick google search I think I got the idea????? If not, then I apologize, but I hope you enjoy this :)

tags: oblivious reader, realistic billy and stu (I think), pre-relationship, open ended, might be a part 2 coming

Billy Loomis and Stu Macher weren’t exactly looking for a new friend, let alone a roommate. They’d been fine on their own, thriving in the chaos of their twisted little partnership. But when the college housing office placed them in a three-bedroom rental with some random guy, they couldn’t exactly say no. Rent was cheap, the landlord didn’t ask questions, and besides, how bad could it be?

The first time they saw you, though, they realized this arrangement was going to be…interesting.

You were standing in the living room when they arrived, setting up a bookshelf filled with horror novels and occult knickknacks. At first glance, you looked like something straight out of one of their favorite slasher films—towering, dressed in all black, tattoos peeking out from under your sleeves, with silver jewelry glinting against your pale skin. Your undercut only made you look more dangerous. Stu, never one to keep his thoughts to himself, leaned close to Billy and whispered, “Dude, do you think he’s in, like, a death cult or something?”

Billy didn’t answer, but his sharp eyes lingered on you as you turned to greet them. “Hey,” you said, your voice deep and smooth. “I made brownies. Want some?”

Stu’s jaw dropped. Billy just narrowed his eyes. And just like that, their expectations were shattered.

Over the next few days, it became clear that you weren’t at all what they expected. Despite your intimidating looks, you were ridiculously nice—almost unnervingly so. You always smiled when you saw them, greeted them with “Good morning” even if they ignored you, and even asked if they wanted anything from the grocery store before you went out. When you weren’t at class or work, you were usually in the kitchen, baking cookies or meal-prepping while blasting Bauhaus or The Cure from a tiny speaker.

Stu was instantly smitten. He started following you around like a puppy, throwing his long arms around your shoulders and declaring you his “best goth buddy.” He loved pushing your buttons just to see you scowl—like the time he “borrowed” one of your necklaces and pretended he lost it, only to give it back with an over-the-top apology. “Don’t worry,” he said, grinning up at you. “I’ll make it up to you. Wanna watch a movie? I’ll even let you pick.”

Billy, on the other hand, was harder to read. He spent a lot of time watching you from across the room, his dark eyes following your every move. You caught him staring more than once, but he always looked away before you could say anything. Unlike Stu, who was all loud jokes and obvious flirting, Billy was subtle. He’d make sarcastic comments about your goth aesthetic, only to quietly leave a new horror novel on your desk after you mentioned liking the author. He never admitted it, but you had a feeling he stayed up with you that one night you were stressed about your midterms just because he didn’t want you to be alone.

Stu and Billy’s affections, however, reached a dangerous new peak the day they stumbled into your room at the worst—or best, depending on how you looked at it—possible moment. It started innocently enough, or at least as innocently as things ever got with those two. Stu had been whining about needing help finding a charger, and Billy, clearly annoyed, suggested he ask you. Of course, "asking" wasn’t Stu’s style.

“C’mon, Big Guy!” Stu called as he shoved your door open, Billy trailing behind him. “You seen my—oh my god.”

You froze mid-motion, one arm reaching for the fresh shirt you were about to pull on, the other holding a towel you were using to dry your hair. Time seemed to stop as both of them stood there in the doorway, their eyes glued to your bare chest. No shirt. No barriers. Just you, all soft curves and broad muscle, your big tits on full display.

“Holy shit,” Stu breathed, his voice tinged with awe. His jaw practically hit the floor as he stared, unblinking. “Are you kidding me? Those things are, like, illegal.”

Billy, meanwhile, was much quieter, but no less affected. His dark eyes drank you in, his usual mask of control slipping for a moment as his gaze flicked downward, then back to your face. He swallowed hard, shifting his weight like he was trying to keep himself from stepping closer. His voice, when he finally spoke, was lower than usual. “We didn’t know you were changing.”

“No shit,” you snapped, snatching the shirt and pulling it over your head as quickly as possible. “You ever heard of knocking?”

Stu groaned, flopping dramatically against the doorframe. “Aw, don’t cover up! I was just starting to enjoy the view!”

Billy shot him a glare but didn’t argue. He was still staring at you, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “You’re...built,” he said, his tone almost grudging, like the words were being dragged out of him against his will.

“Thanks, I guess?” you muttered, tugging the hem of your shirt down and crossing your arms over your chest. You could still feel their eyes on you, and it made your skin prickle with a mix of embarrassment and something you couldn’t quite name.

Stu leaned closer, his grin widening. “Dude, do you, like, know how big those are? Like, for real? You could probably drown someone with ‘em. You want to try it out?”

“Stu,” you growled, your patience wearing thin. “Get. Out.”

Billy finally stepped in, grabbing Stu by the back of his shirt and dragging him toward the door. “Come on, idiot. Let's leave him alone.”

“But Billy!” Stu whined, digging his heels in. “I wasn’t done appreciating the—”

The door slammed shut before he could finish, leaving you standing there in stunned silence. You could hear them bickering in the hallway, Stu’s voice loud and animated as always.

“I’m just saying, those are a work of art! It’s like the Mona Lisa, but, you know, better.” “You’re an idiot,” Billy muttered, but his voice was tight, like he was holding something back.

From the moment Billy and Stu got an eyeful of your assets, the dynamic in the house spiraled into utter chaos. You’d barely noticed it at first, chalking up their constant presence to boredom or a newfound interest in hanging out. But as weeks went on, their antics became harder to ignore. The snarky comments, the heated glares exchanged when you weren’t looking, the way they tripped over themselves trying to one-up each other—it was enough to make even the most oblivious person suspicious.

But not you.

Whether it was the gym incident, the pancake debacle, or the never-ending movie night arguments, you remained blissfully unaware of the brewing storm. You were too focused on your studies, your workouts, and making sure the house didn’t descend into complete disorder to notice the increasingly absurd lengths Billy and Stu were going to for your attention.

It all came to a head one particularly tense evening. You’d gone out to grab groceries, leaving Billy and Stu alone in the house. The moment the door closed behind you, the gloves came off.

“Just admit it,” Stu said, pacing the living room like a caged animal. “You’re obsessed with him.”

Billy leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his expression icy. “Says the guy who’s practically glued to his side 24/7.”

Stu spun around, pointing an accusing finger at him. “You’re just mad because he actually laughs at my jokes. When’s the last time he smiled at you?”

Billy’s jaw clenched. “Maybe he doesn’t need a fucking circus act to enjoy someone’s company.”

“Oh, right,” Stu sneered, throwing up his hands. “Because brooding in the corner like some wannabe vampire is so charming.”

“Better than acting like a hyperactive toddler,” Billy shot back, his voice dangerously low.

The argument escalated quickly, voices rising as they hurled insults back and forth. At one point, Stu picked up a couch pillow and launched it at Billy’s head, narrowly missing. Billy retaliated by shoving Stu into the wall, and for a moment, it seemed like things were about to get physical.

But then you walked in.

“Hey, guys—what the hell is going on!?” you asked, staring at the scene in front of you: Stu pinned against the wall, Billy’s hand fisted in his shirt, both of them glaring daggers at each other. They froze, turning to look at you like two kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

“Uh…nothing!” Stu said quickly, plastering on his trademark grin. “Just some light wrestling. Y’know, for fun.”

Billy let go of Stu and stepped back, brushing imaginary dust off his shirt. “Yeah. Just messing around.”

You raised an eyebrow but decided not to press the issue. “Okay...well, I got pizza. It'll be in the kitchen.”

As you disappeared into the other room, the tension between them simmered, but neither of them made another move. Not yet, anyway. It wasn't until later that night, after you'd gone to bed, that Billy and Stu returned to their conversation.

“This has to stop,” Billy hissed, his voice low and cold.

Stu crossed his arms, still bristling from their earlier fight. “You think I don’t know that? But what’s your solution, huh? Scare him off so neither of us gets him? Not happening, Billy Boy.”

Billy was silent for a long moment, his jaw working as he mulled over his options. He hated the idea of sharing you—hated it almost as much as he hated the thought of Stu winning. But the alternative was losing you completely, and that wasn’t something he was willing to risk. “Fine.”

Stu blinked, caught off guard. “Fine what?”

“We share him,” Billy ground out, his teeth clenched.

Stu stared at him, and then a slow grin spread across his face. “Well, well, well. Didn’t think you had it in you to play nice.”

“Don’t push it,” Billy warned, his voice sharp. “This doesn’t mean I like you. It just means I like him more.”

Stu snickered. “Whatever you say, buddy. But hey, at least now we’re on the same team, right?”

Billy didn’t answer, turning on his heel and stalking off. Stu watched him go, still grinning to himself.

From that day forward, things…changed.

You didn’t notice the difference at first. If anything, Billy and Stu seemed to get along better, their bickering replaced with an odd sort of pact. They started spending more time together, which you figured was just a natural byproduct of living in close quarters. What you didn’t realize was that they were coordinating their efforts.

Stu would distract you with jokes and games while Billy silently took note of what you liked, using that information to his advantage later. Billy would lure you into long, intense conversations about movies and books, giving Stu time to swoop in with grand gestures—like the time he surprised you with a ridiculously elaborate cake “just because.”

If you were confused by their sudden teamwork, you didn’t show it. You just kept being your usual, oblivious self, completely unaware of the quiet, unspoken truce between them—or the way they both watched you like wolves circling their prey.

It wasn’t perfect. Billy still bristled every time Stu got a little too handsy with you, and Stu couldn’t resist making snide comments whenever Billy monopolized your time. But for the most part, they made it work. Because at the end of the day, they both wanted the same thing.

You.

And if sharing was the only way to keep you close, then so be it.

For now.

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crystalandparrot · 1 year ago

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RC9GN x Reader

Part 1, Part 2

“Hey, (Y/n),” Bucky spoke, spooking said girl out of her stupor as the two walked to school.

"Huh?" (Y/n) question.

"How come you only ever talk to me? I'm sure other students would love to hear your ideas." Bucky said optimistically.

"You really think so?" (Y/n) asked, eyes shining.

"Maybe not, all of them-"

(Y/n) deflated, causing Bucky to wave his hands frantically.

"But that's because they're not for high schoolers! I mean the home alarm, your staff, those goggles on your head—"

"Hey, these goggles help me log important information and — okay, I see your point." (Y/n) deflated again.

"What if you made something to impress them?" Bucky asked with a snap of his fingers.

"Something to impress them..." (Y/n) thought out loud. "Oh! What about my mechanical spider limbs?" With that, eight mechanical limbs popped out of (Y/n)'s hoodie, lifting her off the ground and flipping her upside down.

"You look like Invader Zim," Bucky chuckled, walking past the, once again, deflated girl. The arms retracted suddenly. With quick thinking, (Y/n) flipped and landed on her feet, surprising Bucky. "Do you know any more cool moves like that?" He asked.

"I prefer to show off my intelligence rather than physical prowess. Sure it's nice to have the ability, but my superpower relies solely on my brain!" (Y/n) said as she pushed open the doors to the school.

"Then you should put that brain to good use," Bucky held out his hand for a fist bump.

(Y/n) reciprocated the fist bump and the two parted ways. (Y/n) walked to her science class, which she always had for 1st period on Mondays. Mrs. Driscoll greeted her with a grin.

"(Y/n)! Any new inventions?" Mrs. Driscoll asked with stars in her eyes. She puppeteered her late husband's skeleton to 'talk', "Your inventions are positively humorous!" Mrs. Driscoll laughed and smacked Jerry's chest.

(Y/n) smiled and placed her satchel on Mrs. Driscoll's desk. As she did so, Randy Cunningham and Howard Weinerman happened to walk in. "Mrs. Driscoll, I present to you," (Y/n) held up a small box with a crescent-moon-shaped attachment, "the, still in Beta, the C.R.A.V.E.S, a system that, when placed against the user's teeth," (Y/n) put the device against Jerry's teeth. The machine beeped, "it tells you exactly what they were craving! For example, your husband was craving...scallops?" (Y/n) looked at the device in question.

Mrs. Driscoll sighed lovingly, "That was my Jerry."

(Y/n) shivered, she tucked her device away and walked to her seat at the back of the room.

"Who's that shoob?" Howard whispered to Randy.

More students began trickling in when Randy leaned close to Howard, "I have no idea, but she's pretty smart."

"A smart shoob is still a shoob," Howard said, pointing his pencil at Randy. Inside Randy's bag, the Nomicon quietly blinked red from behind its Math book cover, facing the direction of (Y/n).

As the final student, Bash (fashionably late as always), trickled in, Mrs. Driscoll began writing in the blackboard. "Welcome back, students!” She puppeteers her husband once more, “I hope your Spring Break was a bone-afide success!”

“Ha! Word play.” (Y/n) chuckled to herself. She sat at the back of the class, the two seats next to her empty while all the other seats were taken.

“And as a Welcome Back, I’m assigning your first projects of the next semester!” Mrs. Driscoll announced.

The students all groaned with the exception of (Y/n), “Oh, goody!”

“And since the school board has cut funding for the science department…again…this time you’ll be working in groups of three.” The words seemed to echo around the room. None of the students (with one exception) listened to the rest, as they were too busy deciding who to add to their group. Friends will be split, enemies made, alliances formed in blood… “You can now find your partners-“ with that, hell broke loose. Kids jumping over tables, holding back their friends to prevent a steal, throwing dangerous objects. It got to a point that Mrs. Driscoll hid herself and her husband under the desk.

“Cunningham! Save me!” Howard screamed as he was pulled into the wave of students.

“Hold oh, Big H!” Randy, without hesitation, jumped into the sea. His leg caught the strap of his backpack as he jumped, forcing the contents to be spilled all over the floor. The Nomicon hummed and blinked as students stepped and kicked it to the back of the room, the mask caught in its pages. With all of the abuse, the cover even came off, revealing its true cover to the world.

With a metallic THUD, the Nomicon hit the metal cabinet next to (Y/n). The girl let out a noise of surprise and looked up from her notebook. The Nomicon blinked softly as (Y/n) picked it up. Her hands traced the delicate patterns on the hard leather book, the feeling not uncomfortable to her hands like she imagined it would be. With a bit of remorse (Y/n) held the book away from her, “Oh, exotic book, what secrets you must hide—but alas! It is my code of honor to not open a book that does not belong to me…unless of course bought or received from a trusted source.”

The Nomicon flashed red, humming loudly.

(Y/n)’s eyes shone, “Maybe there’s an exception for glowing mystic books,” (Y/n) ran her fingers over the pages that begged to be opened. The Nomicon’s flashes got faster and louder, its pages flittering as they waited to be opened.

“Has everyone found their partners?” Mrs. Driscoll asked.

(Y/n)’s head shot up and with a sigh, she tucked the Nomicon into her satchel, the flap open to make for an easier grab. “Soon, my precious.”

In the middle of the room, Randy and Howard sat, rubbing their heads in pain. “Oh, good. Randy and Howard, you’ll be joining (Y/n).” Mrs. Driscoll announced once she saw they the three were, in fact, without partners. “(Y/n) has the highest grade in the class, so even you two should get a decent grade.” She chuckled.

“What?! But she’s a shoob!” Howard moaned.

“A shoob with the highest grade in the class! Howard, we can use this!” Randy whispered, excitedly. Both of the friends grabbed their bags and walked to (Y/n) at the back of the class.

“I don’t follow.” Howard whispered.

“We’ll act like total shoob’s, say we don’t know how to do the project, she’ll get annoyed with us, do the project and — BOOM, automatic A.” Randy smirked. The two sat down and a sudden flash of red distracted Randy. He looked down, spotting his Nomicon in (Y/n)’s bag. He nervously chuckled, “I-is, is that my book?” Randy asked, pointing at (Y/n)’s satchel.

“Huh?” (Y/n) looked down, at her bag. “Oh, it flew to the back, I didn’t know who it belonged to.” (Y/n) gently took the book out and traced the cover again. Shaking her head, she handed it back to Randy, “Where did you get it? I’d love to read it sometime, I’ve never seen anything like it.” (Y/n) spoke quickly, enamored by the book.

“Oh, it’s nothing just a little family history book. Old baby pictures, family trees—Really boring stuff, I’ll just take it off your hands.” Randy hurriedly took the book back, and shoved it in his own satchel. The Nomicon flashed brightly and loudly, angry at the turn of events.

“You bring family history books to school?” (Y/n) asked flatly.

“I-it’s for our History class! Some extra credit thing that you definitely don’t need!” Howard back his friend up, grinning awkwardly.

(Y/n) looked between the two skeptically, “Right…” with a quick hand, she opened her notebook to a fresh page and began writing, “So, ideas for our project?”

“Yes! Our project!” Randy grinned, winking at Howard.

“Totally love that project! I can’t wait to…do our project!” Howard added in a fake excited voice.

(Y/n) sighed out of annoyance, “You don’t know what the project is, do you?”

“Nope.”

“Not. A. Clue.”

(Y/n) gripped the bridge of her nose, “Super,” she gritted out through clenched teeth. “Cool, cool, cool. Cool, cool, cool.” She angrily closed the notebook and stood. “Why don’t I work on the project and you two do the report? All you have to do is write what the robot does AFTER I give it to you.” (Y/n) commanded as she pointed to Randy and Howard.

“But what do we—“

“You write down what it does!” (Y/n) took a deep breath, “I will give you a list of what it does. All you have to do is write a well written report.” (Y/n) began walking out of the room, “Even though my robot will be A plus guaranteed,” she whispered cockily.

“Those who are building, go to Mr. Smith’s metal shop for your basic design! Everyone’s who’s writing a report please go to the library!” Mrs. Driscoll announced after seeing (Y/n) leave.

“Automatic A—“ Howard started, raising his hand.

“Here. We. Come!” Randy punctuated each word with the next step in their secret handshake. They ended with their signature turn and pose.

The Nomicon angrily blinked, catching Randy’s attention. Picking up his bag, Randy held up a finger to Howard, “Give me just one second,” he whispered. He ran out of the room and into a Janitor’s closet. “Alright, Nomicon, I only got a few minutes before Driscoll realizes I’m not in the library, so be quick about it—“ the Nomicon flew open suddenly, causing Randy to lose consciousness and ‘Vloomp’ into the Nomicon.

Randy screamed as he fell through the artistic clouds and through the painted leaves on the two dimensional tress. With a couple of bounces, Randy finally landed against a tree trunk. “What the juice, Nomicon?!”

A painted scholar walked through the trees, smiling at Randy. Or at least, to the person behind him.

A painted ninja stepped through the trees behind Randy and walked up to the scholar. The ninja gave the scholar a piece of paper, and folded his arms. The scholar read the paper and nodded at the ninja. The trees fell backwards, blending into the floor as more of scene became exposed. The scholar walked to his small house. The sun rose and fell in flashes, showing how long the scholar was in his house. The sun rose once more, staying in the air as the scholar left the house, this time with a small box. He presented it to the ninja and began talking. No words or letters left his mouth, the only thing Randy could hear was soft flutes as the scholar spoke.

The ninja waved his hand and took the box, smokebombing away. The trees on the other side of Randy fell, blending into the floor, further increasing the scene. There was a small town with a large flying serpent terrorizing the village. With a puff of smoke, the ninja stood in front of the serpent. He opened the box and pulled out a smaller box with a button. The ninja looked at the box in question then pressed the button…nothing happened. He pressed it again and again…still nothing. The serpent AND the townsfolk all laughed at the ninja as he sulked. Colorful words flew out of the box and presented themselves over the ninja’s head.

“Neglect the brain and the heart becomes vulnerable.” Randy read aloud. “Uh, that scholar clearly sabotaged the ninja! I mean, who gives someone a box that doesn’t do anything?” Randy asked.

The ninja and scholar looked at each other unimpressed. The ninja pulled out his sword and the scholar…why is he holding a Bō staff? The two quickly ran to Randy and simultaneously attacked him.

With a gasp and a bump to the head, Randy left the Nomicon. He rubbed his head and looked behind him to see the shelf he bumped his head on.

Randy peeked his head out of the Janitors closet and rushed out before anyone could see him, bag in hand.

“AHHHHH!!”

“Someone get the Ninja!”

“Help!”

Randy gasped at the sudden cries for help. With no one in the hall, this was the perfect time to put his Ninja suit on.

“Looks like it’s Ninja o’clock!” Randy reached into his bag…except…

Randy’s heart fell into his stomach as his hand missed the soft fabric of the mask. He glared down at the bag, and upon not seeing the mask immediately, Randy overturned his bag and emptied the contents. The only object that was matching to the mask in color was the Nomicon.

“Sweet cheese, I lost the Ninja mask!”

————————

I swear I can hear the music starting and cutting out at the end. Also if you saw the lesson in the first chapter before I edited it, no you didn’t.

#randy cunningham x reader #randy x reader #randy cunningham 9th grade ninja #rc9gn x reader #rc9gn #rc9gn au #howard weinerman #heidi weinerman #theresa fowler #bucky hensletter #randy cunnigham #bash johnson #julian #rc9gn nomicon #ninja nomicon #nomicon

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sarahskywalker-amidala · 6 months ago

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Does anyone else feel like the fandoms they’re in are kind of dead cause there’s no new fics or updates? Like pls come back😭

#adrian chase x reader #spike btvs #spike x reader #randy meeks x reader #tech x reader #spencer agnew x reader #dylan o'brien x reader #dan humphrey x reader #benedict bridgerton x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #star wars x reader #x reader #peeta mellark x reader #jason todd x reader #marcello hernandez x reader #ominis gaunt x reader

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lokischocolatefountain · 2 months ago

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Not Interested | A Materialists fic

Fandom: Materialists

Pairing: Harry Castillo x Reader

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 2.2k words

Summary: Some people don’t want more. Hearts broken from previous relationships, you and Harry are not interested in more. But in each other…? That’s a different thing.

Tags: Meet cute, Reader is grieving, Harry got dumped, mild angst, Reader is bi and has hair, canon non-compliant since the movie isn’t even out

A/N: Finally! Pedro in a romance (SWOL scenes were shorter than I hoped). It’s late considering he has the perfect face to make literally anyone fall in love with him. I got the idea for this fic when we all breathed a collective sigh of relief knowing his name is Harry Castillo and not Randy. This is set in a world where Dakota Johnson chooses Chris Evans over Pedro.

⌘ ⌘ ⌘

“Listen… Randy, right? I’m not interested in you.”

“It’s not Randy,” he said, turning around in his bar stool and looking you up and down. His tongue darted out, licking his plush bottom lip and he gave you the faintest smile. “But thanks for letting me know.”

“Shit,” you cursed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Sorry. I thought— My friend set me up with someone and I was supposed to meet him here and I thought it was you. Sorry!”

“It’s alright,” he said, still not turning away from you. He looked good under the golden light of the upscale bar where your friend told you to meet Randy. ‘You’ll know him when you see him’ was her response when you asked for a picture of the guy. Dude was probably ugly or old.

“So…this Randy is so terrible you’ve already decided you aren’t interested?”

“It’s not really about Randy,” you said, climbing into the chair adjacent to his for no reason. You had no intention of picking a guy up at a bar that night, set up by a friend or not. It was a week night and you should’ve left. Your suit was uncomfortable, your hair was a mess from being under a hard hat and your shoes had traces of sand from the work site. If you weren’t a regular there, you would’ve been denied entrance. Politely.

The man raised a hand and waved a bartender over. “A drink for the lady on me.”

“Oh I can’t—”

“Can be water or a cola. For the trouble you went through to see this guy.”

“Oh well. A gin and tonic, please,” you said, knowing it was a much better choice than a glass of wine all alone in your house with your girlfriend’s cat that hated you.

“Tough day?” He asked.

“Tough week.”

“It’s Tuesday, darling.”

“I didn’t have a weekend.”

“Yet you look stunning.”

“Uh huh?” You said, studying him. “That work for you?”

He shrugged. “I don’t use the same line all the time. I work on a case by case basis.”

“Mmm. So you admit it’s a line.”

“Randy’s loss, my gain,” he said with a shrug.

He was fucking beautiful, you realized when you relaxed into your seat, your feet no longer attempting to drag you away. He had dark curls styled neatly, a greying beard that was charming despite being patchy. His eyes were a deep brown, shiny like those bobas kids had in their teas these days. The only other person with eyes like— well shit, if that dipshit cat Scooter knew you thought of it as a person, it would only lord over you even more. Scooter had similar dark eyes it used to manipulate you into doing absolutely everything.

When he turned, you caught the shape of his nose and fuck if it looked good. Big and bold with a curve that made him look like a statue unearthed from the ruins of Ancient Rome. A good place to sit if you were looking for one.

You scoffed, looking away from him as you accepted the gin and tonic with a quiet thanks.

“What are you hoping to gain, exactly?”

“Nothing you don’t want to give,” he said, his eyes darting down to your lips. You gripped the glass tight in your hands. It had been a while since you were around such attention. Well. There were some but none you bothered registering as attention.

“I’m good just seeing your pretty face until we finish our drinks and never see each other again.”

Simple enough. It wasn’t what you were expecting, but you appreciated the honesty. “To never seeing each other again?” You said, raising your glass.

“To never seeing each other again,” he said, raising his.

“So… why are you here drinking alone? At least I have an excuse.”

“You’re not drinking alone,” he said. “You’re drinking with me. And your excuse is that you came to a bar to reject a guy you can’t even find?”

“It’s rude to stand someone up. I have manners. And clearly, Randy doesn’t. And what kind of name is Randy anyway,” you huffed, taking a sip of your drink. Here you were as agreed upon despite being tired and wanting to do nothing but drink enough to fall asleep so you could work tomorrow. But fucking Randy was nowhere to be seen.

You knew everyone at the bar. It was the exclusive sort, entry restricted to people in a certain tax bracket— those who made enough to be taxed little to nothing. No one you could meet there would be interesting outside of work. It was the sort of place you went to for networking, not for fucking. Or romance. Not that you were looking for it. Something Gemma really wanted for you when she set you up.

“You’ve only talked to me since you arrived. Randy could be anyone here.”

“Oh, I know this place,” you said, waving your hand dismissively. “And I know everyone here. Black shirt there holds enough shares in Blackrock to be guillotined for the impending housing crisis. Bald guy flirting with that poor girl in the corner has a trad wife content creator who funds his failing businesses.”

“She looks young enough to be his daughter.”

“He’s not that old. Just unbelievably ugly.”

He snorted, “What about the old guy in the leather jacket?”

“He owns the building so he comes over all the time. Tried to hit on me and my girlfriend poorly once. And he’s old enough to actually to be my father.”

He asked you about others at the bar and you briefed him. At some point, you bought him a drink. Whiskey, neat. Same as what he had in hand when you very rudely mistook him for your date.

“And that’s why you were so sure I was Randy? Because you know everyone else here.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that. Take the debriefing as making up for my rudeness.”

“I would, but you haven’t told me about everyone in this bar.”

You scrunched up your nose at that, looking around the bar to see if you’d missed anyone.

“Who? I’ve told you about everyone here except the staff.”

“You haven’t told me about the beautiful woman in the navy suit,” he said, nodding to you. You should roll your eyes. Be rude or refuse to tell him about yourself. But your behind remained glued to the seat.

“I run a construction business. What about you, stranger?”

“Real Estate. Maybe we could do business together.”

“Yeah? Is this how you find people to do business with?”

“Not very sustainable to only find business with women who reject me.”

“Are you always this cocky?”

“Oh always, but especially when a woman rejects me before introducing herself.”

“I was rejecting Randy.”

He whispered your nickname, a name only your friends and family used. You hadn’t told him that. Hadn’t introduced yourself at all. He smiled apologetically, his big brown eyes in full force to endear you further to him.

“It’s Harry, by the way. Harry Castillo. Gemma calls me Randy because of an unfortunate incident in Intro to Project Management.”

“You lied to me!”

“And you were very rude. What a way to introduce yourself to someone,” he said with a shrug.

“I did say it’s not about Randy— you. I was in a long term relationship until recently and I’m just not looking for anything serious now.”

“I’m not either. I’m fresh out of a serious relationship and I came here only because Gemma insisted.”

“She’s allergic to staying out of people’s business.”

“Tell me about it,” he scoffed and the two of you shared a laugh.

You sighed, eyes darting all over his face. And elsewhere. He was built well. Tall enough, broad chest narrowing into a V at his waist. Arms that didn’t seem to be for vanity’s sake. He looked strong, not like a man getting a personal trainer and steroids for his mid life crisis. His hands were fucking huge. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought he was holding a small glass. His fingers were thick and fuck it’d been so long and your vibrator was good but you missed a warm body against yours.

“So… what did a woman do to fumble you?” You asked.

“Cheated on me with a bartender ex who still has roommates.”

“Shit, that’d do it.”

“He turned out to be the love of her life, so…” he shrugged, his sad smile tugging at your heart. “How did you fumble yours?”

“Ouch. You think I fucked up?”

“Yeah. I don’t see anyone fumbling you,” he said, his thumb brushing his mustache as he gazed at

you appreciatively. “I mean, look at you.” He touched his bottom lip with his thumb and nodded towards you. From anyone else, the gesture would’ve felt sleazy. You shuddered under his eyes, a part of you glad that you could still feel things like this but another part feeling guilty. Like you were cheating.

“She fumbled me, I’ll have you know.”

“Yeah? What did she do?”

You shrugged, a sad smile finding its way to your lips. “I proposed and she went and got cancer about it. I would’ve just accepted a no, like jeez what a drama queen.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice low but not laced with the icky sympathy that made you angry and uncomfortable.

“It’s okay. Time has passed since she…” you trailed, clearing your throat and looking away. It felt strange talking about her to someone who never knew her. Strange to be talking to someone in a situation you wouldn’t have been if only she was still there.

“So that makes it two women I know who rejected you,” you said, needing to say something to clear the air of the dead girlfriend conversation. The more it lingered, the more uncomfortable it made people.

“Still only one, same as you. You rejected Randy, not me.”

“You are Randy!”

“You were having fun with me until you realized I’m Gemma’s friend. And what kind of name is Randy anyway,” he said, repeating your own words back to you.

You wanted to know what how he earned the name. Randy. You wanted to coax him into telling you his little secrets. See if he was just as interesting inside as he was outside. “Gemma isn’t such a terrible friend after all. Maybe we should listen to her.”

“That line often work for you?” You asked.

“Yeah, I tell pretty women we should fuck because my friend said so. Works out great.”

You laughed, but looked down at your lap, guilty you laughed so easily for someone who wasn’t her.

If Gemma trusted him… It was a safe option. One night and never see him again.

You leaned towards him and ran your hand up his arm from elbow to bicep. You stopped and gave him a squeeze, biting back a whimper when you felt how firm he was. You tilted your head a little and regarded him carefully, your voice low and sultry when you said, “I think we should fuck, Harry. My friend said we should.”

“Line works when you say it,” he said, bridging the distance between you. He looked into your eyes and then your lips and back at your eyes, a silent request for permission. Fueled by your two gins and tonic, you moved to kiss him.

Harry was a gentleman but was no prude. He kissed slowly but without hesitation, soft lips firm against yours. His mustache poked and tickled, a novel sensation not wholly bad. You allowed yourself to cup his cheek, your thumb drawing patterns into skin. A patch of skin without hair found you and you traced its shape as you relished in the taste of whiskey on his lips. It was different from kissing women, kissing her. It’d been so long since you kissed a man and you found you didn’t hate it. A large hand came up to your knee, caressing gently, and you gasped softly. For your part, you slid one hand over his arm, the other busying itself with the back of his neck.

You wanted to be closer, sit on his lap and press yourself against his chest. Soon, your hand made its way down his neck, landing on his chest. He moaned into the kiss as you explored him, all broad and hard muscle beneath his sweater that contradicted him with its softness. A tingle ran through your body when he touched a sensitive spot in the back of your neck. A whimper escaped you despite yourself and he seemed to have caught on. His thumb went over the spot slowly, repeatedly, and you gasped softly from the feeling. You pulled away, the first to need air. He smelled good, you realized when you remembered to breathe.

His eyes were studying you, really looking in a way that was too much. Too deep. You looked away, your heart beats hammering away in your ears.

Too much. Too much. Too much. But you resisted the urge to up and run.

She wouldn’t want you drinking yourself to sleep every night. Told you as much herself. Asked you to promise you’d try.

His eyebrows furrowed slightly and the space between them scrunched up, showing off lines of his age but also making those brown eyes more lethal.

“Harry?”

“Mmm?”

“Did you drive here?”

When he nodded, you said, “I’m going home now. You can follow me. No staying the night. Just…drive off when we’re done. Is that okay with you?”

“Sounds perfect.”

⌘ ⌘ ⌘

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ellswritings · 26 days ago

Text

Tricky Situations

Cody Rhodes/Runnels x Reader

TW: Lots of fluff, bad language, no smut but mentions of sexual actions, sexual tension, idiots in love. This is based on a request made my the wonderful and amazing @reebs-luvs-rhodes-and-wrestling, so I hope you all love it <3

Word Count: 12.02K

Tags: @reebs-luvs-rhodes-and-wrestling

═══════•°• ⚠ •°•═══════

Cody Rhodes and Y/N L/N were the definition of platonic soulmates. They were the perfect mold for anyone to model their friendship after. Their camaraderie was the stuff of legend, both on and off the screen. Fans adored their playful banter during interviews, their synchronized moves in the ring, and the genuine affection that radiated between them. They were the dynamic duo, the unbeatable team, the best friends who had each other's backs no matter what.

Backstage it was no different, they were inseparable. Whether it was grabbing coffee before a show, rehearsing promos, hanging out in the locker room, or watching movies all night in their shared hotel room. Y/N and Cody were always together. It was rare that anyone would ever catch one without the other.

In the beginning, they raised a lot of eyebrows. There was a lot of speculation of them being in a relationship due to how often they were seen together, but those rumors were quickly put to rest. While many fans still “shipped” the together, everyone knew their relationship would remain friendly as it always had been.

In interviews there were always questions about certain moments in Kayfabe or even about photos taken of them outside of the ring that questioned their friendship. But their answers were always the same.

“Ew, he’s like my brother.”

“Absolutely not. She’s my best friend.”

“I’d probably throw up if he tried to kiss me, honestly.”

“She snores when she sleeps, I don’t think I could spend the rest of my life living with that torture.”

The responses were always playful, filled with banter like every conversation they had. They would slap each other or shove each other if they chose to be a little extra sensitive, but it was all in good nature.

Still though, no matter how many times they said things between them were completely platonic, the edits, memes, conspiracy theories, and social media posts never faded.

It didn’t bother them though. The only people who needed to know the true nature of their relationship was them, and they were content with that. They still went about their life as usual. Traveling to venues together, doing interviews, grabbing dinner, walking Pharaoh, even training new students at the Nightmare Factory.

Everything was great. Until Paul Levesque decided he wanted Cody and Y/S/N to do a promo with Rhea Ripley and Dominik Mysterio. Rhea and Y/S/N had a rivalry going on and it was good for the storyline to have Cody and Dom by their sides as support, which would eventually lead to a mixed tag match.

It was always hard to keep a straight face when arguing on screen with Rhea as Y/N and Demi actually had a really strong friendship backstage. So they had to constantly think of negative things to remain in character. It helped having Cody out there as seeing him be “The American Nightmare” rather than Cody Runnels kept her in check.

The promo itself was going well. The audience was completely entranced by the words and shots being taken. Dominik didn’t get much out before being booed which lead perfectly to Cody chiming in sarcastically before Rhea jumped in to defend her man. They played off each other nicely. The difference in their dynamics kept everyone hooked.

Then came the portion where Rhea had to take a cheap shot at Y/S/N. She was ready to take her bump, Cody shifting slightly so he wouldn’t be in the way. But Y/N felt something was wrong as Rhea went to give her a big boot. Y/N went to sell the hell out of it, the bottom of her boot connecting to the side of her face. She throws herself backwards, but instead of meeting the mat below her, she collides with a broad chest that definitely was not supposed to be there.

Y/N groans as she hears Cody cough beneath her. They landed in a heap of tangled limbs. Both of them try to get to their feet as fast as possible, knowing this fall wasn’t scripted, but things only worsened as they moved.

Y/N tries to stand the same time Cody tries to roll over which somehow ends with Y/N straddling Cody, his hands on her waist in the middle of the ring.

Her face flushes as whistles erupt throughout the audience. She glances down at Cody who looks stoic on the outside but she can see the panic behind his ice blue eyes.

“You gonna get up, Y/N/N?” He whispers through tight-lips so only she can hear.

Y/N snaps out of her daze, “Right, sorry.”

Y/N scrambles back up to her feet, doing her best to remain in character as she helps Cody up. Unfortunately the damage was already done. The arena was buzzing with giggling fans, future rumors, and the snapping of cameras.

Michael Cole and Pat McAfee let out the most natural laughs they could, making some sort of joke to try and distract everyone from the scene, and while it was appreciated, it definitely didn’t work. Y/N and Cody went to walk backstage and out of muscle memory, he went to put his hand on her lower back to guide her, but as soon as they heard the whistles from the crowd he retracted his touch. They both share the same anxious look before completely disappearing into the back.

Turns out their coworkers are even more immature than the fans. Everyone they walked past made a comment about it, whether it was subtle or not depended on the person. Y/N rolled her eyes particularly hard when walking by Logan Paul who let out an obnoxious whistle.

“Damn, Cody! You are one lucky S.O.B.” He pats his back before looking Y/N up and down and continuing on his way.

Y/N clenches her fist in anger and she turns to give the Maverick a piece of her mind. Just as she’s about to pounce, Cody places his hands on her waist gently. She turns to him, an incredulous look on her face as she can’t believe he’s stopping her.

He shakes his head, “He’s not worth whatever witty thing you’re about to say,” he tells her with his signature half smile. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he’s no doubt feeling the same embarrassment she is. “Don’t waste it on him. C’mon…” he pulls her along with him, “Let’s go get you some fruit from catering.”

Just hearing him speak managed to cool her rising anger. She melted into his touch, allowing him to guide her back to catering. He somehow always knows exactly what to say to fix everything. It only made it better when he grabbed them a plate to share, managing to remember every single one of her favorite fruits. Thankfully, no one else said anything along the way about the incident in the ring. It’s times like this where Y/N is so grateful to have a best friend like Cody.

But things felt a bit off once they sat down. Anytime they made eye contact, both of them would immediately look away, like they had been caught doing something bad. Or their faces would heat up from the prolonged glances. They both chalked it up to being embarrassed by what happened, but something definitely changed in the air that surrounded their friendship.

They just didn’t know what yet.

═══════•°• ⚠ •°•═══════

From that day on, Cody and Y/N found themselves getting into very similar situations. No matter where they went, the tension between them seemed to grow. Their conversations seemed much more charged than usual, the glances they shared seemed to last a bit longer, touches linger for longer than they should, even something as simple as watching movies together in the hotel room suddenly became a bit more intense than usual.

Y/N groaned irritatedly as the pen she was using to sign autographed pictures of herself ran out of ink. She managed to get ready quicker than usual so she scrambled over to get these signatures done. She had been slacking in doing them recently and she felt terrible. She would be nowhere without her fans so the least she could do is get these autographs done.

However, it becomes a slight challenge as she chucks the dead pen in the garbage can in the corner of the room before walking out. She remembers one of the grips told her that there was a supply closet around the corner if she needed anything so she headed that way.

Well, she tried to.

A small ‘umph’ leaves her as she collides into a solid chest. Her eyes travel upwards, apology locked and loaded for not watching where she was going, until her irises locked with a familiar pair of icy blue ones.

“Hey, Y/N/N…” Cody greets with a smile. “What are you doing? Don’t you have a match?”

Y/N visibly relaxes, glad she doesn’t have to profusely apologize for being a klutz as Cody is already well aware of the fact. She quirks a playful brow, “Yeah, in like an hour,” she laughs. “Damn with the way you said that you’d think I was a slacker or something.”

Cody’s eyes widen, “No– No, that’s not what I meant. I just didn’t know if you needed to go and run over some bumps or–”

Y/N pokes his chest playfully, “Relax. I’m kidding,” she gestures for him to follow after her as she continues down the hallway. “But no, Gionna and I are good. We were at it for like six hours yesterday. I’m just signing autographs right now since I got the time, but my pen died, so I’m just grabbing a new one.”

“Always working, aren’t you?” He nudges her shoulder with his, making her stumble into the wall.

She sends a teasing glare, “Well one of us has to,” she fires sassily before opening the door to the supply closet and walking in, Cody following closely behind.

“Are you implying I don’t work?” He crosses his arms over his chest as he starts helping her go through the plethora of boxes to find one with pens.

“What? No,” she scoffs teasingly. “I would never say such a thing.”

“And this is why you could never play a convincing heel,” he smirks back at her, grabbing a box from a higher shelf. “You can’t lie for shit.”

Y/N’s scoffs loudly, whipping her head around, “For your information–”

She’s suddenly cut off by one of the many boxes filled with heavy items start falling from high above. Cody notices, grabbing Y/N’s shoulders protectively before pulling her into his chest. The two of them collide with the door they left slightly ajar. The door slams shut with a small click as the box hits the floor with a loud thud.

Cody and Y/N stand there breathlessly, Y/N leaning onto Cody’s chest as he keeps his hands firm on her hips. The two of them look down at the spilled contents all over the floor and begin laughing.

“Well… found your pens,” he says cheekily.

Y/N rolls her eyes, but nonetheless bends over to pick one up. “Would’ve been more helpful if I didn’t have to almost die to get them.”

“Luckily for both of us you didn’t,” he says endearingly. He’s always loved how overdramatic she can get. He turns to grab the door handle, “Now let’s get outta here so you can finish signing–”

The door handle won’t budge.

Y/N lifts an eyebrow, “Need a hand, Runnels?”

He jiggles the handle roughly, “It won’t open.”

“What?”

“The door,” Cody pulls a bit harder, “It won’t open.”

Y/N tries to move around his large frame, but with the space being so crammed it’s a tight fit. She manages to wiggle in front of him, looking down at the door handle. She tries to open it herself which makes Cody exhale rather loudly.

“Wow, wish I would’ve thought of that,” he quips sassily.

Y/N looks over her shoulder, sending a glare his way. “I was just trying to see.”

“I said it won’t open, how is you doing the exact same thing I did gonna help?”

“I don’t know!” Y/N exclaims, growing more frustrated with their situation. “I’m just trying to help.”

“Is there a lock on it or something?” He asks, trying to see through the darkness.

Y/N bends down a little bit, not aware of how hard she’s pressing into Cody. Not that they can go anywhere or put much distance between them. So the man simply inhales sharply but says nothing. “It looks like it’s manually locked by a key,” she reveals, running a hand over her face. “Which means we’re stuck until one of the maintenance workers can come open it.”

“You don’t have your phone on you to call someone?” Cody asks her, noticing the growing heat in the small closet. When the door was open it seemed much bigger, enough to fit both of them. But now it feels if either of them were to take a breath that it might make them suffocate.

“No,” Y/N sighs frustratedly. “I left it in the other room.” She turns, narrowing her eyes at him, “Where’s your phone?” She asks in an almost accusatory tone.

Cody shrugs, “In my locker. I was going over my promo in hair and makeup so I put it away, that way I wouldn’t get distracted.”

“Convenient…” she mumbles, glancing around to try and find something to open the door.

“Why are you mad at me?” Cody furrows his eyebrows. “It’s not my fault.”

Y/N huffs, realizing her snippiness shouldn’t be directed at him. She turns around without thinking, her face suddenly impossibly close to his. Her chest presses against his mid-section, his ice blue eyes boring into hers. Her breath hitches when she realizes that their noses are practically touching. She swallows the butterflies that appeared out of nowhere. Her mind feels overly fuzzy. She doesn’t understand what brought on the rush of nerves, but she doesn’t want to know.

“I’m not mad at you,” she finally utters, much quieter than she thought she was going to. “I’m just… trying to find a way out.”

Cody stares at her, feeling her chest rise and fall with each breath. His hand twitches at his side as the impulsive urge to place his hand on her waist fills his mind. He notices how her eyes flicker across his face, never travelling below his neck. It makes him wonder if it’s on purpose or if she naturally just possesses that high level of respect that forces her to maintain eye contact.

“Well, I’m not working against you Y/N/N,” Cody smiles softly at her. “I’m trying to help too, y’know…” he says teasingly.

Y/N rolls her eyes, but she can’t help smiling at him. “I know… ’m sorry for snapping at you,” she mumbles. “Just don’t wanna be stuck in here for longer than we have to.”

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you two heads are better than one?”

“It shouldn’t take two heads to unlock a door,” Y/N fires back sassily.

“Then I guess that makes us special, huh?” He grins goofily and Y/N wishes she could pretend to be annoyed, but she can’t help herself when a soft chuckle escapes her lips.

“Just shut up and help me,” Y/N grumbles, forcing herself to look serious.

Cody throws his hands up in mock defense, “Okay, okay… so angry.”

The two of them glance around the small space, trying to find anything that might serve as some sort of assistance. Unfortunately, everything in the small storage closet doesn’t fit the criteria for their circumstances.

“There’s seriously no safety pins in here?” Y/N asks aloud, squinting her eyes to read some of the labels on the cardboard.

Cody’s brows furrow “What would you do with a safety pin?”

Y/N doesn’t look back at him, answering matter-of-factly, “Pick the lock, obviously.”

“How do you know how to pick a lock?” He stares at his best friend with an expression that definitely surpasses shock.

Y/N pauses, finally looking back at him, his body still behind hers. “Do you really want to know the answer to that question?” She asks.

“Yeah, kinda,” Cody nods with a scoff, his face still scrunched with confusion.

Y/N remains silent for a moment, “Before Good left for AEW, we had a couple of… interesting experiences together.”

“What does that even mean?” Cody interrogates. He shifts slightly, accidentally brushing Y/N’s backside with the movement. If she noticed, she doesn’t say anything, still messing with the door handle in front of her.

Y/N sighs, yanking the handle with a bit more force than necessary. “We were drunk at an after party for one of the PLE’s like five years ago and we got locked out on the roof. Neither of us could call anyone so he asked me if I had a safety pin. I had one on my skirt ‘cause it was too big and long story short, he showed me how to pick a lock.”

“Why have I never heard this story?” He asks with a frown. He knows he shouldn’t be jealous. Y/N’s always been friendly, she’s got a good rapport with pretty much everyone in the locker room. Plus, she worked closely with The Shield during their prime, so it only makes sense that she had a good relationship with Jonathan Good. The logic didn’t help soothe the uncomfortable burning in his chest at the thought of her being close like this with someone else.

She shrugs, “Never came up. Well… until now at least.”

Cody forced his mind to stay on the situation at hand. He reaches around her, trying to grab the door handle, “Here, let me try something.”

Y/N unintentionally stiffens as Cody’s arms wrap around her. She can feel his chin practically resting on her shoulder, his breath fanning her neck lightly. Her pulse quickens as his body heat becomes almost unbearable. It’s not like he hasn’t had his arms around her before, but this feels different. Maybe it’s just her who feels it, but she can’t ignore the surge of pure electricity coursing through her just by his presence. Ever since that day when she took the botched bump, small moments like this have become harder to view as friendly.

Her hands are pressed against the door in front of her to keep her upright as Cody methodically fiddles with the handle. She doesn’t know if he’s aware of how hard he’s pushing her forward, but it’s not of importance.

“You all right?” Cody asks worriedly, much too close to her ear. Chills run down her spine as she tries to come up with a coherent sentence. He felt her tense up the moment he moved closer to her so he wanted to check in. He didn’t realize the reason she’s unable to speak or even think properly is because of him.

“Uh– yeah, yeah I’m good. It’s just getting kinda warm in here,” Y/N replies, her throat bobbing as she swallows harshly.

Cody glances at her arms, “You sure you’re warm? You’ve got goosebumps.”

The way he meant it was completely innocent but the tone in his voice made Y/N inhale sharply, eyes closing as she repeatedly reminds herself that this man is like a brother to her. Though it seems the more she says it the less convinced she actually is.

“Nope,” she says stiffly. “Definitely hot. Super warm.”

Cody uses one of his hands, curling his arm to place it on her cheek in a delicate manner. It’s something he had done millions of times when she was feeling ill as a way to check her temperature. Feeling his hand on her skin simply makes her burn up even more. Her heart rate is beating so loud she’s more than ninety percent sure he could hear it. Yet his face remains unaffected, the emotion of concern being the only thing he’s letting show. Y/N finds herself leaning into him, their bodies pushed even closer together. His lips are still impossibly close to her neck due to their awkward stance. One slight shift in footing and he’d kissing the sensitive area.

“You do feel a little warm,” Cody voices, his bright blue eyes scanning over her. He notices the irregular way her chest rises and falls with every breath. Her eyes seem unnaturally hooded and her lips are parted slightly. He wonders what could possibly be going on with her to warrant this shift in behavior. She was her normal self just mere moments ago. “Have you been feeling sick?”

Sick isn’t the word to currently describe how she’s feeling.

“No,” Y/N tells him, trying to muster up her most unbothered smile, but judging by the skeptical look on Cody’s face, she didn’t do a very good job. “I’m feeling okay. Maybe I’m just getting claustrophobic or something.”

That’s when his focus is completely taken away from the door. The hand that was on her cheek drifts down to her neck to see if her raised temperature is even everywhere while his other hand grips onto her hip. Y/N exhales, her eyes fully closing as the sensations become much too overwhelming. She doesn’t understand why she’s feeling this way. Cody pauses for a second too long, silently hoping Y/N doesn’t notice. He feels the way her body relaxes into him. He fights the urge to squeeze the fat of her hip, reminding himself that this is Y/N. His best friend Y/N. But the tantalizing smell of coconut, eucalyptus, and oak fogs his mind for a brief moment. But that brief moment is all it takes. He finds himself leaning forward, his lips just barely hovering above the sweet spot behind her ear. He swears he can hear a small whimper leave her, but ultimately chalks it up to his imagination.

Just as it seems they’re about to forgo any personal boundaries, the two of them are launched forward and tumble to the floor with a loud thud. The two of them groan in different pitches as they realize someone had finally opened the door from the outside. “I told you I heard someone in there,” the familiar voice of Kevin Steen catches their attention.

Y/N forces herself to hide her flustered state by avoiding any and all eye contact with Cody. However, it’s very difficult as the man can’t seem to stop staring at her, despite the fact they had just been caught in a closet together, a bit too close for a reasonable explanation.

“I never said you were wrong,” Randy Orton shrugs. “Just said I didn’t hear anything and would laugh if we opened it and it was empty.”

“Well, it wasn’t,” Kevin says triumphantly. “And we just saved their lives,” he glances at the two best friends who are now slowly getting up from the floor. “You’re welcome by the way.”

“Yeah, thanks…” Y/N says gratefully, still trying to avoid staring at Cody so it comes off a bit more awkward than she intended.

“What were you guys even doing in there anyway?” Randy questions, arms folded over his chest somehow making him appear even bigger than he already is.

That’s when it happens. Y/N and Cody look at each other, both of their mouths open slightly as they try to find something to say. They didn’t do anything wrong, yet it felt like they were being caught doing something inappropriate by one of their parents. It didn’t make sense. Why did it feel like a lie if they were to say their original plan was to look for pens and they ended up getting locked in there? That truly was what happened, but by the way she can still feel a buzz on her cheek where his hand used to be, it felt dishonest to minimize the impact that tiny closet had.

“She was signing autographs and her pen died,” Cody finally answered for the both of them. But even though he was answering Randy, his eyes continuously flickered over to the woman next to him. “So we tried to find one and ended up getting locked in.”

Y/N was grateful he was able to say that and appear as though he believed it. She isn’t sure she could’ve gotten through it without looking absolutely guilty of something she didn’t even do.

“And neither of you bothered to call for help?” Kevin asks with a small chuckle. “You guys do know cellphones are a thing now, right?”

“Neither of us had ours,” Y/N speaks up, the steadiness in her voice surprising her. “I left mine in the signing room and Cody’s is in his locker.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Randy shakes his head before patting Y/N’s back with a fond grin. “You two always seem to be the ones getting stuck in situations like this.”

“Believe me, we’re not purposefully going out of our way to get stuck in closets,” Y/N replies with a lighthearted laugh, the tension from Cody’s touch slowly easing out of her shoulders. “I guess it’s just a best friend curse or something,” she glances over at Cody.

“I don’t know about that,” Kevin teases, bumping Cody’s shoulder as the five of them begin heading down the hallway to finish prepping for their long night. “Randy and I have never been caught in a closet like that. You two looked pretty snug.”

“Shut up,” Y/N scoffs with an eye roll. “Where else could we have gone? Up on the shelves? Wasn’t exactly a lot of room in there.”

Cody remains silent as the three people next to him continue to joke around. He doesn’t know why he can’t bring himself to chime in, but every time he looks at Y/N he can feel his hands become clammy and a feverous chill pass through him. The way she’s smiling as Randy keeps his arm securely around her shoulders, and the way she playfully pushes Kevin away as he continues to berate them for the questionable circumstances she cand Cody continue to end up in. It makes him furrow his brows as he tries to figure out where these sudden changes in his feelings are coming from. All he can decipher is that he may have enjoyed being pressed up against her a bit too much when they were stuck in that closet.

═══════•°• ⚠ •°•═══════

Things had seemed to calm down slightly over the next week or so. While memes and rumors still circulated about the nature of Cody and Y/N’s friendship, they hadn’t done anything more to incriminate themselves. The supply closet incident thankfully stayed between them, Randy, and Kevin, so there was no more ammunition for people to continue using.

… Until now.

One early morning in Cody’s hometown of Atlanta Georgia, he had invited Y/N to stay with him for the week so he could show her around. SmackDown was going to be there that Friday so he figured they could spend a few days before just hanging out before the show. It wasn’t the first time she had stayed with him, but it had definitely been a while. He had gotten her up early Thursday morning and forced her to go to the gym at the Nightmare Factory. She protested, wanting to sleep in, but he wouldn’t allow it. Said she’d feel better if they got their workout out of the way first so they could have the rest of the day to themselves.

She hated it, but she knew he was right. She’d despise herself more if they waited until later. So she begrudgingly forced herself out of the comfortable bed in his spare bedroom and went with him to the gym.

Y/N enjoyed working out at the private gym at Cody’s training facility. It once belonged to his dad, but it was passed down to him after Dusty passed. That was a hard time for everyone, especially considering the amount of time Y/N spent with the Runnels family.

Things had been going well. It was a chest and shoulders day, so they went through their usual workouts, doing their separate weights and stretches until they met up to spot each other at the bench press. Cody went first, smirking as he slid more plates on the bar. Y/N rolled her eyes at his cockiness but nonetheless kept herself ready just in case his muscles weren’t strong enough for his ego.

Then it was her turn. She got into position, adding more weight than she normally does. It’s that time of the year where she bulks before doing a huge cut so she’s pushing herself to lift more than usual. Cody raises an eyebrow but says nothing, knowing better than to question the strength of his best friend.

But he quickly realizes that maybe he should have. Y/N is fine for the first three reps, until he notices the smallest quiver in her arms as she goes to press up for the fourth time. He watches as her back begins to lift off the bench and he moves to help her rack the bar before she hurts herself.

Unfortunately, right as he goes to grab the bar, she pushes up at the exact same time which makes him lose his balance.

“Shit,” Cody yelps as he uses his unnatural reflexes to toss the bar to the floor before it could crush Y/N. Unfortunately it wasn’t fast enough to stop his frame from toppling forward with the momentum and crashing on top of her on the bench.

Y/N lets out a loud grunt as she’s crushed by her best friend. It takes her a moment to realize the precarious position they now find themselves in. She freezes as her eyes settle directly on Cody’s crotch which is definitely too close to her face for comfort. She can feel him tense on top of her as he comes to terms with how close his own mouth is to her lower extremities.

Neither of them move. If anyone were to walk in or look on from the many windows, all of the times they denied being just friends would no longer matter. No one would believe them if they were caught like this. But for some reason they stay like that. Breathing heavily as they sit in the electrified silence.

If Y/N were to listen to her intrusive thoughts, she would have leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the slight bulge in his sweatpants, but thankfully she has some sense of self control.

Cody swallows roughly, not able to look away from where his eyeline is currently lined up. He could easily slide his fingers up through her spandex. He mentally scolds himself for thinking that about her, but the thought in itself is enough to make his face flush red.

He finally snaps out of his trance, rolling off of her and onto the floor. Y/N keeps her eyes on the ceiling for a split second longer before finally sitting up and looking at Cody. They both were at a loss for words as they tried to figure out what to say to each other after what just happened.

Cody’s the first one to finally speak up, “Are you okay?”

Y/N nods slowly, “Yeah… Are you?”

“Yeah,” he replies.

Y/N can feel her neck heating up as her mind continues replaying the incident that just unfolded. Her eyes flicker down to his lips, biting the inside of her cheek trying to find a way to control herself. She finally finds the right words to say to try and move them forward. “Wanna go get breakfast?”

Cody stares at her blankly until an amused laugh leaves his lips. He shakes his head, pushing himself up off the floor before sticking his hand out to her. “Yeah, let’s get out of here before you try to kill me again.”

“You fell on top of me!” She exclaims playfully, taking his palm in hers as they walk out of the gym and to his car.

The two of them playfully bicker, things falling back into a natural rhythm as they try to forget the heated exchange that happened at the gym. Cody brought her to his favorite bagel place, the two of them enjoying their protein bagels in peace. Until Y/N’s phone begins blowing up. Her brows furrow as she sees Savelina’s name pop up. Cody takes a bite of his food before nodding his head, silently telling her to take the call.

Y/N does, “Hey, Lina. What’s up?”

“Please tell me you’ve checked at least one of your social media accounts in the last thirty minutes,” the woman rushes out, her voice containing an edge of panic.

“No…” Y/N trails off, sharing a worried look with Cody. “Why, what’s going on?”

“Is Cody with you?”

“Yeah…” Y/N trails off with a nervous chuckle. “You’re scaring me, Lina. What’s going on?”

“Here, I’ll send it to you,” she answers.

Y/N takes her phone away from her ear to check her text messages. When she opens their thread, her eyes practically pop out of her head. “Holy shit!”

Cody jumps from the sudden raise in her voice. There’s a tad bit of cream cheese on the corner of his mouth which makes her want to giggle but her mind is still focused on the photo Savelina just sent her. Y/N puts her on speaker so Cody can hear. “That wasn’t even an hour ago,” Y/N says exasperatedly.

“Yeah, I guess a fan was walking past at the wrong time and snapped the photo.”

Cody looks at his best friend, “What photo?”

Y/n sighs before pulling up the picture again and shows it to Cody’s who’s face mimicked her own expression from moments ago. “Shit…” he mumbles.

“You guys are trending number one on X right now,” Sav warns them. “So I would lay low for the next few days if I were you. I’m sure one of you will be getting a call from someone soon.”

Y/N exhales frustratedly, running a hand over her face. Not even three seconds later, Cody’s phone begins to buzz. Both of them tense as they watch Paul Levesque’s name pop up. Y/N hits her head on the dash compartment before speaking again, “Thanks for the warning, Lina.”

“Yeah, good luck guys.” The woman says sympathetically before hanging up.

Cody begrudgingly answers Paul’s call, putting him on speaker. Both of the best friends prepare themselves to get yelled at by their boss. “Hey Paul,” Cody says with a sigh.

“I’m assuming you’ve seen the photo,” Paul says, not angry or disappointed, maybe even slightly amused.

“Just now, yeah,” Cody answers, his hand running over his jaw.

“Is Y/N still with you?”

“Hey Paul…” Y/N greets awkwardly.

“Yeah, I figured,” he says. They hear papers shuffling on his end of the line which indicates that he’s probably already at the arena. “I need you guys to come in a bit earlier so we can do some… damage control on this whole situation before it gets blown out of proportion.”

“All right,” Cody agrees. “We’ll be there.”

“Perfect. See you in a few.”

As soon as Paul hung up the phone, the first thing that came out of either of them was one simple statement.

“We’re fucked.”

By the time they showered, got dressed, and drove over to the arena, an hour had passed. No other talent was there yet and they were specifically instructed by the execs to avoid getting on social media today at all costs so they’ve been actively avoiding their phones.

They had gotten calls from pretty much everyone on the roster and from their families asking what is actually going on. After the fifth or sixth time of telling the story, they both wanted to just send a massive group text to everyone in order to prevent themselves from going insane.

Cody could feel Y/N’s nerves as they walked through the halls to go find Paul. She wrings her hands together, not even realizing she’s doing it. He noticed it was a habit she had when she was anxious. Without putting much thought into it, he reaches over and grabs her left hand with his right. They both flinch from the sudden shock wave that’s sent through them. Y/N’s arm buzzes from the sensation, but she can’t help lacing her fingers through his.

They fit together like a puzzle piece.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he tells her with a nod. She looks in his eyes and he really isn’t just saying that to make her feel better. He actually believes it, and his confidence is enough to make her believe it too. “Nothing bad’s gonna happen. We’ve been through worse.”

Y/N laughs but it lacks the humor it usually has, “I don’t know about that,” she says.

“We have,” Cody insists as they continue walking. “Remember two years ago when you broke your collarbone and we didn’t know how long it would be til you could come back?” He brings up the incident, a brief flash of pain crossing his face as he remembers the tumultuous time. “That to me was definitely worse than this.”

Y/N huffs, “Okay, maybe I am being a bit dramatic, but this is serious. I don’t want this to affect our careers and the business. And I really don’t want people thinking we’ve been dating this whole time and lying about it.”

“Would it really be so bad if we were?” He says out of nowhere, almost like it was an afterthought.

Y/N stops just outside of Paul’s office, her head snapping towards Cody. “What?” She asks incredulously.

“I’m just saying it wouldn’t be that bad if people assumed we had been dating this whole time,” he defends. “We do spend a lot of time together. It’s not completely out of the blue.” He takes note of the shock on Y/N’s face. “Unless you’d be embarrassed to say you were with me.”

Y/N blinks, “I never said that,” she scoffs. “I wouldn’t be embarrassed, I’m just saying I don’t want either of our careers to be focused on a relationship,” she explains. “We’ve both seen what happens when two superstars start dating. They get linked to each other and it’s almost impossible to be separated afterwards. And I don’t wanna make it a gender thing, but it’s a lot easier for the guy in the situation to not be reduced to a piece of eye candy.”

Cody sighs knowing she’s right. Y/N has put her heart and soul into her career and he would hate himself if she became tethered to him over this rumor. He didn’t know why he brought up the fact they could pretend they’d been together, but the more time that goes on, the more he realizes he wouldn’t mind calling her more than his best friend.

“I don’t want you to think I’d ever be ashamed or embarrassed to say that I was with you,” Y/N says softly, almost like she read his mind. “You’re my best friend and a great guy. I just don’t want to be a show girl that accompanies you out to your matches and then I get none of my own.”

Cody’s half grin finally shows, his dimple poking out, “You’re too badass for that. They couldn’t make you just a show girl even if they tried.” He rubs his thumb on the back of her hand, “If anything I’d be out there as your piece of ass.”

Y/N and him both share an intimate chuckle, “Okay mister quarterback of the company,” she teases as their eyes meet at the same time.

“A quarterback is nothing without their left tackle,” he says, his voice lowering as his eyes flicker to her lips briefly. Y/N feels her heart begin to race, wondering if she imagined his quick glance.

Suddenly his head ducks down closer to her face, their noses only inches apart. Y/N does her best to try and diffuse whatever tension is bubbling between them, “I don’t know anything about football…” she mumbles humorously, “so I’m starting to regret my reference.”

Cody laughs, the sound rumbling deep in his chest, “It just means I wouldn’t be successful without you,” he explains.

Y/N is no longer in control of what her body does. She finds herself leaning forward towards him as well. If either of them budged even the slightest, that photo would make them look even more incriminating. Now they would actually be guilty of lying about their relationship.

“You’d be fine without me…” she mumbles, her breath fanning his face.

“I wouldn’t want to be.”

Just as he says that, Y/N reaches up to loop her arms around his neck. Both of them are clearly running on autopilot as the heat of the moment seems to fog their brains and distract them from why they’re even at the stadium this early.

That is until they’re reminded.

“There you two are,” Paul’s voice rings out as he opens up the door to his office. Cody and Y/N jump apart, thanking their lucky stars that Paul’s face is buried in a folder with papers in complete disarray. It gives them enough time to look like they weren’t about to make out in the middle of the hallway. Cody and Y/N share a look, both of their faces burning up from whatever just occurred between them. Paul glances between them when neither of them make a move, “You guys gonna come in?”

Y/N’s the first to snap out of her trance, “Uh, yeah. Sorry,” she apologizes before following Paul into his office, Cody trailing in closely behind. “Just a little thrown off by everything going on,” she explains.

“Yeah, that’s why we wanted you guys to stay away from the internet for right now,” Paul rattles off, gesturing for them to sit down as he puts away whatever paperwork he was working on. “Things get crazy when stuff like this happens.” He finally takes a seat behind his desk, putting his whole attention on the two adults across from him. They might be considered adults by age, but by the way Paul is looking at them, anyone would think they were getting called to the principal's office.

“Listen, I’m not gonna beat around the bush, I respect you both too much to do that. I need you both to understand the severity of the situation. This incident alone might just break the internet,” Paul reveals, folding his hands together. “People are speculating that you two have been together this whole time and have been lying about it. Normally it wouldn’t be that big of a deal, but with both of you being the top two babyfaces in the company, lying doesn’t look good on you guys.”

Y/N sighs, running a hand over her face once again, “Yeah, we figured that’s what was gonna happen.”

“Long story short, we don’t want it to affect how fans look at you guys,” Paul explains. “If we have people booing you for lying then it throws off the balance of all the stories we’re trying to create for you now and in the future.” He leans forward, “So I talked to a couple of the execs and writers and we think we’ve come up with a solution.”

Cody and Y/N remain silent but nod their heads, telling their boss they’re interested in what he’s come up with. If there’s any way Paul can fix this, they’re all ears. “We want you two to come out as a couple in Kayfabe.”

Silence.

Y/N’s mind buzzes with white noise. She should have expected this. It was a logical solution to their problem. But it doesn’t change the sudden wave of nerves that takes over her at the thought of being Cody’s girlfriend, even if it is just for storyline purposes. She voiced her concerns to him in the hallway about this exact situation. She didn’t want to become his sidekick that just supported him whenever he had a match.

“I can see a look of apprehension on your face,” Paul looks at Y/N with a fond smile. “What’s up?”

She looks at Cody for a moment before turning back to Paul, “I just don’t want us to be stuck in a romance trope for the next ten years,” she voices a little too bluntly. “No offense to them, but I don’t want this to turn into a Scarlett and Karrion situation where she’s only out there to support him. I want to continue fighting the same way I’ve been doing. I won’t be benched.”

Paul tilts his head endearingly, “I wouldn’t dream of benching you, Y/N. I wouldn’t do that to either of you. This whole thing will just be a subplot to everything you both have going on,” he clarifies. “You both are frequently seen together in the ring anyway, so this just makes it a bit easier to explain. We can easily say that the photo and gym session was going to be exposed anyway to reveal your relationship in the storyline. It’ll line up perfectly for the business and won’t affect your lives outside of it.”

Cody couldn’t help but stare at her. She seems relieved at the situation being presented. He will admit that it is the best case scenario. Neither of them are in trouble and they found a solution to their problem. It’s panning out wonderfully. He just gets to spend more time with the woman he’s considered his best friend since the day they met.

But it doesn’t change the fact that he’s become much more attune to the small things that make Y/N, Y/N. Like the little dimple on her right cheek that is much deeper than the one on her left side. Or the little mischievous smirk she sports when she knows something someone else doesn’t. Or the way her voice speeds up when she’s excited to talk about something she loves. Even the little divot in between her eyebrows that appears when she’s angry or anxious about something.

Are these all things best friends take note of? Is this normal? To suddenly become obsessed with the way she tilts her head when mocking someone, leaning in close when he catches a whiff of her signature perfume. He doesn’t know when she managed to set up camp in his mind, but she’s been a resident there for the past few weeks, and he’s not sure if he’ll ever be able to get her out.

Paul notices Cody’s eyes focused on the woman next to him and he can’t help but let a small smile show. He recognizes that look. It’s the same one he remembers sporting when he first realized he was in love with his boss's daughter. It’s clear they’re both not completely ready to admit how they feel, but maybe this storyline angle will push them in the right direction.

Paul clears his throat, swallowing any teasing remark he had locked and loaded to fire at Cody. The blonde man snaps out of his thoughts and turns back to Paul with a stiff nod. “Yeah, if you think it’s best for business, I don’t see why it would be a problem.”

Y/N agrees, “We can make it work. Whatever you give us, we’ll run with it and make sure even the people who know it’s fake believe it.”

Paul’s eyes flicker over to Cody with a smirk, pushing up his reading glasses as he goes to grab another stack of paper. “I’m sure you will… Now both of you get out of here. One of the on scene writers will bring you the new scripts for tonight.”

Y/N and Cody both thank their boss profusely before walking out of his office. It’s obvious Y/N is in much higher spirits walking out than she was walking in. “Well, that went better than I expected,” she says happily.

“Yeah, yeah it did.” Cody tries to reciprocate her excitement, but part of him feels like somewhere along this road something is going to happen that’s going to throw them all for a loop.

═══════•°• ⚠ •°•═══════

The reveal went better than they could have imagined. Fans were thrilled to see two of their favorite wrestlers admit their feelings for each other on screen. The writers did an incredible job building the story and telling them why they kept it a secret for as long as they did. It was received very well.

It’s been about a month since the big reveal and things couldn’t have been better for Cody and Y/N. They’ve been spending much more time together, most of their promos and matches involving the other as moral support. They’ve even started a storyline with Seth trying to poach Y/N from Cody, wanting her talent to be used to support him.

Tonight is one of the many charity galas that they get the pleasure to attend. Cody and Y/N were put in coordinating outfits, making them seem even more cohesive as an on screen couple than they already were.

The event was in full swing, everyone mingling and sharing lovely conversations. The two of them never drift very far from the other and whenever they’re together, one of them is always touching the other. Whether it’s Y/N having a hand on his chest or Cody keeping his hand leisurely on her waist or the small of her back.

Sometimes it got hard to tell the difference between the storyline and reality. Some days it really felt like they were an actual couple. Y/N didn’t realize how much she’d actually enjoy pretending to be in a relationship with him. There wasn’t a huge change from their usual dynamic besides the extra touches and kisses shared on screen. But the air between them had definitely shifted and neither of them knew what to do with it just yet. So they kept pretending it wasn’t there.

“Dang they really got you guys out here doing the most,” Phil Brooks walks up to them with a small smirk on his lips as he looks between the two younger wrestlers. “Matching outfits and everything.”

Cody laughs, his arm still comfortably around Y/N’s waist, “Gotta keep the fans happy, y’know?”

He looks in between them, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “I don’t know… you guys don’t seem too torn up about being attached at the hip,” he says teasingly.

Y/N chuckles, patting Cody’s chest with her freshly manicured nails, “It doesn’t feel much different than before,” she admits. “I’m sure he’ll piss me off eventually though.”

Cody smiles at her, “I’m sure I will too.”

Phil simply shakes his head with a knowing expression, “Careful,” he warns. “You guys keep looking at each other like that and people might start thinking this is more than just a storyline.”

And with that he walks away, leaving Cody and Y/N feeling slightly flustered though they don’t show it on the outside. They continue walking around the venue, trying the small treats here and there. Y/N grabs a mini cupcake she had noticed were Reese’s flavored before turning to Cody with a small grin. She holds the cupcake to his lips, knowing that Reese’s is his favorite candy.

Cody smiles, “Really?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Just eat it,” she huffs playfully.

Cody shakes his head but does as he’s told. He leans forward, eating the small delicacy from her hand. While he wishes he could focus on the explosion of flavor in his mouth, his focus only seems to be on her. How she’s staring at him like he’s the only other person in the room.

Her teeth sparkle underneath the lighting, “Was it good?”

“Yeah,” he replies, his mind in an otherworldly place. “Really good.”

Y/N notices the tiny bit of frosting that didn’t make it to his mouth, “Oh, you got a little something–” she reaches out, swiping it gently with her finger. Cody feels his body ignite with chills, their eyes meeting in such an intense way it makes him forget how to breathe.

Y/N pauses for a moment, her hand lingering near his face as they sit in the moment for a bit longer than necessary. Butterflies erupt in her stomach as Cody’s blue eyes bore into hers. He truly is the most handsome man she’s ever seen. Her mind runs on autopilot as she raises her finger to her mouth, sucking off the sugary icing. His eyes narrow as she does so, his pupils dilating. She smiles at him as if she wasn’t aware of the effect she just had.

“There,” Y/N says, her voice much quieter than before. “All better.”

Cody’s chest rises and falls with every bated breath as he tries to regain full control of his mind and mouth, “Thanks…”

“Of course,” she tilts her head, fixing his tie and smoothing over his suit. Her hands rest on his broad chest, loving the feeling of his muscles under her fingertips. “Can’t have my man walking around lookin’ like a mess, now can I?”

Her man.

That felt way too good and slipped off her tongue far too easily. He could get used to hearing that come from her. He’s tired of pretending like this little gimmick they have going on isn’t affecting their real relationship. It’s clear to anyone the different way they look at each other now. He would love to have her on his arm like this from here on out, but he has no idea how to approach that conversation.

“C’mon,” she nods over to a couple reporters who are asking questions to the talent. “We need to go do our interview.”

Before he has a chance to respond, her fingers are laced through his as she walks him over to one of the reporters. He’s not even sure he understood one word that came out of the journalist's mouth. The only time his hearing came back into focus was when Y/N was speaking. She would laugh, answer their question, and glance at Cody to see if he wanted to answer. They were on the fourth or fifth question by now, the American Nightmare not having uttered a word the entire time.

Y/N squeezes his bicep, “You okay?” She asks tentatively, knowing how overwhelmed he can get with press interviews at events like this. Her eyes shine with concern, silently telling him he can leave if he needs to take a breather.

It’s touching how well she knows him. He smiles, simply pulling her closer into him as he looks back at the interviewer. “Sorry, I swear, sometimes she walks into a room and I forget every word in the English language.” His compliment makes the woman questioning them coo. But there’s a deeper level under Cody’s words that steals the breath from Y/N’s lungs. It’s more than just for Kayfabe, but they can’t let anyone, including their colleagues know that. He glances back down at her, “She doesn’t even try, and somehow I’m standing here like I’ve never seen a beautiful woman before."

“Totally understandable,” the woman smiles. “She is definitely one of the most gorgeous women in the world. No one can blame you for getting caught up in that.”

Y/N feels herself becoming shy due to all the compliments being thrown her way, “Guys, you’re gonna inflate my ego…” she says, trying to make a joke out of it.

“Well, I only have one more question for you guys and you can go back to being WWE’s power couple for the night,” she looks down at her notepad. The interviewer leans forward, a knowing smile tugging at their lips. "So, you two have insane chemistry on screen — and let’s be honest, off screen too. Is there ever a moment you catch yourselves forgetting where the characters end and real life begins?"

Y/N lets out a soft laugh, playing it cool as she leans back in her chair. “I mean… that’s kind of the job, right? Sell the story, make people believe it.” She shoots Cody a quick sideways glance, teasing but guarded. “We’re just really good at our jobs.”

Cody’s smile twitches, like he’s holding back a laugh — or maybe something else. “Yeah,” he says slowly, thoughtful. “It’s… kind of funny, actually. Sometimes the line gets blurry. Not because we forget, but because it doesn’t always feel like we’re acting.”

Y/N blinks, her smirk faltering just for a second. The air between them tightens — barely noticeable to the camera, but tangible to anyone watching closely.

Cody doesn’t break eye contact. “We’ve known each other for years. That kind of bond doesn’t turn off just because the cameras are rolling. If anything, it makes the performances more honest.”

Y/N’s voice is quieter when she speaks next. “I guess when you trust someone that much, the feelings start to feel… real. Even if they’re not supposed to be.”

The interviewer raises a brow, sensing something. “So are you saying there are real feelings?”

Cody chuckles, looking down briefly, but his thumb taps anxiously against his knee. “I’m saying… there are moments where I look at her, and I forget the difference.”

Y/N’s breath catches, just for a second. Her smile returns, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes this time.

“Well, thank you both for your time,” the woman smiles at them. “I’m looking forward to hopefully interviewing you both in the near future.”

“Us too,” Cody nods respectfully before moving to guide Y/N away by her waist. “Thank you.”

The two of them slip away and travel back to the heat of the party. They smile at their friends, sending polite nods to the people they aren’t as close with. Cody leans down to whisper in her ear, his gorgeous smile still plastered on his face. “You really threw me under the bus with that ‘real feelings’ bit,” he says playfully.

Y/N shrugged, cocking a brow. “What can I say? The fans love blurred lines.”

“Blurred, huh?” He looked at her then, head slightly tilted, the corner of his mouth twitching like he knew something she didn’t.

She rolled her eyes, pretending she wasn’t already hyper-aware of the heat rolling off him in waves. “Relax, Runnels. I didn’t tell them about that time you cried during The Notebook.”

He scoffed, grabbing the door and holding it open. “Once. I cried once. And Rachel McAdams was very convincing.”

The room was still buzzing but much more lowkey than before — the usual mix of tired talent, sparkling water, and event food passed off as fine dining. Y/N weaved her way to the snack table and grabbed a chocolate-covered strawberry, eyeing Cody from over her shoulder as he joined her with two drinks in hand.

“What?” she asked around a mouthful of strawberry, juice slipping unexpectedly onto her chest just as she bit into it.

Cody blinked, his gaze shifting downward. “You, uh—” He pointed vaguely. “You got a little… right there.”

Y/N looked down, groaning when she spotted the spot of red on the silky material just above her neckline. “Ugh. Of course I did.”

Without thinking, Cody reached for a napkin and stepped closer. “Here, I got it.”

She froze when his hand gently dabbed the spot, the fabric dipping slightly under the weight of his touch. Her breath caught. So did his.

Neither of them spoke.

The space between them thinned to something taut, like a rope pulled too tight.

His hand hovered a beat too long before they were interrupted.

“Well damn,” came a drawl behind them. “This still a PG show?”

They turned sharply to see Demi Bennett sauntering toward them with a knowing smirk. Matthew Adams stood beside her, brow raised in amusement.

Cody took a sharp step back, napkin still in hand. “It’s not what it looked like.”

“Oh, no,” Rhea teased, eyes flicking between them. “It looked exactly like what it looked like.”

“It was strawberry juice,” Y/N added quickly, wiping at her dress herself now. “He was just helping.”

Buddy snorted. “Helping, huh? That what we’re calling second base now?”

Y/N’s mouth opened in protest, but Cody beat her to it.

“Alright,” he said, half-laughing, half-grimacing. “Noted. No touching near fruit.”

Rhea just winked. “Next time, try grapes. Less messy.”

As the couple walked off, Y/N avoided Cody’s eyes and instead fixed her gaze on her dress. “Well. That wasn’t mortifying at all.”

Cody rubbed the back of his neck. “Nope. Totally normal. Just a guy helping a friend clean juice off her—chest.”

The air crackled with everything neither of them said.

Y/N looked up at him, a teasing spark in her eyes. “So, uh… you always that hands-on when it comes to helping friends?”

Cody smirked, but his voice was quieter now. “Only the ones I don’t wanna just be friends with.”

Her heart skipped. “What?”

But he was already walking away, tossing his cup in the trash without looking back. “C’mon. Let’s head back before someone else tries to bet on us.”

She stood frozen for a beat longer than she should’ve, chest tight and lips twitching with something she wasn’t ready to name. But her feet followed him anyway — straight into the night, straight toward the conversation neither of them could avoid any longer.

═══════•°• ⚠ •°•═══════

Once the party was over, everyone headed back to the hotel where they were staying for the weekend. Cody and Y/N bid their goodnights to their friends before traveling up to their shared room. They always shared rooms even before the whole dating fiasco, so that was nothing new.

What was slightly different was the way their hands never disconnected as they traveled back.

Cody slides his key into the mechanism of the door, a small click indicating it is now open. The two of them shuffle into the room, both letting out a relieved exhale at finally being able to lay down in a quiet space. The two full sized beds in the room are like heaven on earth for the two best friends.

Y/N falls face first into the mattress, not even bothering to try and take off her dress or shoes. Cody laughs at her dramatic behavior, loosening his tie before taking off his vest. “Yeah?”

Y/N simply grunts in response, the noise coming out muffled as her face is still buried in the comforter. Cody shakes his head, the smile never disappearing from his face. “Didn’t know spending an evening with me was so exhausting,” he teases, removing his long sleeve shirt, leaving his upper body and torso completely bare as he searches for his pajamas.

Y/N rolls her and body simultaneously. She sits up, looking at Cody but her breath gets caught in her throat. She’s used to seeing him shirtless due to the nature of their work, but it’s never been in an intimate environment like this. She also wasn’t expecting to flip over and come face to face with his god-like body.

She manages to find her voice, “I never said you were exhausting,” she corrects. “I just need like ten hours to myself to recover. I hate people.”

“You don’t hate people,” Cody laughs, throwing his shirt on. “You just hate being around them. Key difference.”

“Tomato, potato,” Y/N chucks her pillow at him as he collapses onto his own mattress.

Cody caught it midair with an exaggerated grunt. “Ah! Deadly.”

Y/N smirked, rolling onto her side, propping her head up on her hand. “You’re lucky I’m too tired to actually fight you.”

He gave her a sly grin, tossing the pillow back. “Oh, I’d win.”

“Ha!” she snorted, half-laughing. “Yeah, okay, Nightmare. I literally know all your moves.”

Cody stretched out on his back, arms folded under his head. “Nah. You don’t know all of them,” he said casually, a little too casually.

Y/N narrowed her eyes, tossing the pillow aside. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He smirked without looking at her, like he knew exactly what he was doing. “Just sayin’… I got a few tricks you haven’t seen yet.”

The room felt warmer suddenly. Y/N swallowed, her face heating up before she could stop it.

She sat up a little too quickly. “Anyway,” she cleared her throat, running a hand through her hair, “I should probably change or something.”

But Cody’s voice stayed soft, less teasing now. “Hey, Y/N.”

She paused, halfway off the bed. “Yeah?”

He pushed up on his elbows, watching her with an expression that made her stomach knot. “You okay?”

She blinked. “What? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’ve been…” He exhaled, scratching the back of his head. “I dunno. Since the day we got locked in that supply closet — you’ve kinda been pulling back a little.”

Y/N inhales, closing her eyes briefly as she thinks. It’s not that she’s been pulling back, it’s more along the lines of not knowing how to control herself and the growing feelings she was obtaining for her best friend. She sat down on the edge of her bed, chewing her lip. “I’ve just been trying to adjust to the new things that have been handed to us and our relationship,” she tells him, her eyes flickering in his direction. I guess I just feel like I don’t know how to act around you anymore,” she admitted quietly.

Cody’s brow softened. “Yeah.” He shifted, resting his arms on his knees, elbows propped forward. “Me neither.”

They both sat there for a beat, staring at the floor like it might explain what the hell was happening between them.

Y/N laughed under her breath, shaking her head. “This was supposed to be easy, you know? We’ve always been easy.”

Cody gave a small smile. “Yeah. Best friends, right?”

She glanced over at him, heart stuttering. “Right.”

His gaze met hers, and suddenly the air shifted — thick, humming, like neither of them wanted to say the next thing but both needed to.

Cody stood slowly, running a hand through his hair. “I keep thinking,” he began, voice low, “about how weird it is that it took some stupid accidental moments to make me realize how much I… care about you.”

Y/N’s breath caught. She turned fully, legs swinging off the bed, hands clenched nervously in her lap. “Cody…”

He stepped closer, almost hesitant, like he didn’t want to spook her. “I keep waiting for this to go back to normal. For us to laugh it off and move on. But I don’t want it to go back.”

Her throat felt tight. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

He gave a soft, almost helpless laugh. “Because I didn’t wanna mess this up.” His voice dropped to a near whisper. “You mean everything to me, Y/N.”

She stood slowly, heart pounding so loud she was sure he could hear it. “Cody, I—”

Before she could finish, he was there, right in front of her, one hand gently cupping her jaw, the other hovering like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch her waist. His eyes searched hers, hesitant and vulnerable in a way few people ever saw from Cody Rhodes.

“I don’t wanna be just your friend anymore,” he murmured.

Y/N let out a shaky breath. “I don’t either.”

That was all it took.

His mouth met hers in a kiss that was slow, careful — like he was memorizing every second — but it didn’t take long before her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, kissing him like she’d wanted to for weeks.

When they finally broke apart, Cody leaned his forehead against hers, smiling, breathless. “Well,” he said softly, “guess we’re not just platonic soulmates after all, huh?”

Y/N laughed, her heart full and wild. “Guess not.”

Cody chuckled low in his throat. “So… can I stay over here tonight, or do I still get my own bed?”

She raised a brow, playful now. “We’ll see.”

═══════•°• ⚠ •°•═══════

Backstage was buzzing — crew members running cables, wrestlers milling around in sweats and ring gear, trainers moving between rooms. Cody stood near one of the black crates, absentmindedly rolling his wrists, waiting for his cue.

Y/N appeared at his side, slightly breathless from her segment, her hair still pinned up from earlier. “They ran me long,” she murmured, exhaling as she tugged lightly at the uncomfortable neckline of her top. “I swear, I’m two seconds from ripping this thing off.”

Cody gave her a quick once-over, a small amused smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t tempt me….”

Y/N snorted, elbowing him lightly. “Shut up.”

He just chuckled, watching her fiddle with a bobby pin. There was something easy between them — always had been — but lately, it sparked under the surface in ways neither of them could fully ignore anymore.

Without really thinking, Cody reached over and brushed a stray hair off her face, his fingers lingering just a little too long against her cheek.

Y/N froze slightly, her eyes lifting to his.

Cody shifted his weight, his voice dropping a little. “Y’know,” he said quietly, “we don’t gotta keep pretending we’re just best friends.”

She gave a small, nervous laugh. “I mean… we are best friends.”

“Yeah,” Cody murmured, his thumb grazing her jaw lightly. “But I’d say we’re a little more now too.”

Y/N’s breath caught, eyes flicking briefly to his mouth before darting away. Cody saw it — of course he saw it.

Screw it.

He slid a hand to the small of her back, gently pulling her closer, and pressed a kiss to her lips — soft, sure, no hesitation.

For a second, it was just them — quiet in the middle of the noise.

But then they heard the unmistakable throat-clear from behind.

“About damn time.”

Cody turned, arm still draped loosely around Y/N, to see Randy Orton leaning against a crate with an infuriating smirk on his face. Behind him, Kevin Steen and Rami Sebei pretended to be very engrossed in their phones, though the poorly hidden grins gave them away.

Y/N huffs a laugh, shaking her head. “Y’all are unreal.”

Randy shrugs, pushing off the crate. “What, you thought nobody noticed the way you two look at each other?”

Cody leans forward to kiss Y/N’s forehead, half laughing, half mortified.

“Hey,” Randy sticks his hand out to Kevin and Rami. “Pay up.”

Y/N gapes, laughing. “You bet on us?!”

Kevin gave a non apologetic shrug. “You weren’t exactly subtle.”

“We saw the way you two were looking at each other months ago,” Rami tells them.

“Congrats lovebirds,” Randy tells them as he and the guys start to walk off. “Just don’t get anymore sappy than you already are in the ring, yeah?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Cody replies, fist bumping the Viper.

Y/N watches them go before looking up at Cody, still tucked against him, her cheeks warm. “I still can’t believe they bet on us.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Cody drawled, brushing his thumb along her back, “I’m pretty sure half this locker room’s been waiting longer than we have.”

She smiled softly, resting her forehead lightly against his chest.

And just like that, there was no big announcement, no stage lights, no performative gesture — just two people standing backstage, in a stolen quiet moment, grinning like idiots because they were finally exactly where they wanted to be.

#female reader #love story #cody rhodes x reader #cody rhodes imagine #world wrestling entertainment #wwe imagine #wwe imagines #rhea ripley #randy orton #kevin owens #sami zayn #paul levesque #triple h #nia jax #wrestling

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