avalon

.・.・NAVIGATION・.・・

Chapter Two

snl!reader x ben marshall ── grumpy x sunshine, coworkers to loversˎˊ˗

syn: pitch day isn’t easy for anyone, no matter what your job is. you didn’t realize how much it took a toll on you until you found yourself actually smiling, too

wc: 1.3k

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The nerves and egos crowding the studio above were palpable from the lobby. When you'd done this job long enough, you could sense it from anywhere in the building.

You took a grounding breath once the elevator doors closed, affording you the last moment of privacy you’d have for the foreseeable future. 

Pitch day, hypothetically, was the day you interacted with the cast the least. They should have been busy selling half-baked sketches to the writers and silently competing with each other for air time. None of it had anything to do with you, and yet your office was a revolving door of cast members until the wee hours of the morning. 

As soon as you stepped into the studio, you were dodging past backdrops on wheels and interns with coffee orders in hand. Not soon enough, you ducked into a quiet conference room, where Sabrina Carpanter’s management team was already waiting. The meeting was cut-and-dry and refreshingly cordial and over all too soon. 

For the next three hours, you’d be holed up in your office, adjusting the pitch meeting schedule—something put in place to optimize time and provide some method to the madness. In practice, it was you keeping up with the cast, not the other way around. Having to scribble over your color-coded time blocks and shift around meticulously placed post-it notes was painful, but no one gave you much choice. 

You strolled into your office, an overstuffed purse in one hand and mug of room-temperature coffee from the break room in the other. 

Jeremy and Kam had made themselves at home without invitation. You had told the new cast members about a hundred times that they can’t camp out in your space, or at the very least, go bother someone else. It never stuck. 

Jeremy was folded up on the couch, furiously flipping through marked up pages of sketch ideas. Kam wandered between your desk and the window sill, fiddling with anything he could get his hands on. Besides a hurried hello, neither seemed particularly interested in your presence. 

“Why are you completely unbothered,” Jeremy snapped in Kam’s direction. 

“Because I don’t have shit this week,” he croaked out a laugh. “It’s not even worth stressing, bro.” 

He reached for a cup of pens but knocked it over in one swift motion. 

You dropped your bag under your desk and collapsed into your chair, thumb immediately working your temple. “Please.”

“Sorry,” he said, in the exact tone of someone who was only apologizing to avoid a scolding. 

Jeremy’s eyes were fixed on the pens scattered across the floor, but his mind was clearly elsewhere. “I can’t take this anymore.” 

“You need a therapist,” you said. “That’s not me.”

You intentionally softened your tone as you spoke. It was hard not to spare some sympathy for him, despite how badly you wanted—no, needed—then gone. 

“Where was my invite?” 

Ben breezed into your office like it was his own, smiling ear to ear. Jeremy looked as if he could kill him at that very moment. You figured you looked just the same. 

Kam stood up, leaving the pens he spilled abandoned on the ground. “How’d you do?” 

“Fine,” Ben shrugged, an easy look flashing across his face that suggested he did more than just fine. 

You grabbed the only pen left on your desk and scratched a line through the 10:15 block, then spun towards the corkboard behind you and, unceremoniously, moved Ben’s name to an unlabeled column on the left—the “you disrespected the schedule, you’re getting last pick for next week’s pitch times.”

Ben’s reaction seemed to be the last straw on Jeremy’s back. He tossed his papers on the cushion next to him and exhaled like all life was leaving his body. Kam quickly jumped in, listing each of Jeremy’s successful sketches, shouting as if it would emphasize his point.

You spaced out and let your gaze settle on the dramatic gestures Kam was throwing around—at least until Ben rounded your desk. 

You looked up at him, only to realize how intimate it felt. He was fully and carelessly invading your personal space. 

He stepped close enough that the soft cotton of his pants brushed your arm for a fleeting moment, though it didn’t seem he noticed. He bent forward, braced himself on the edge of the desk, and skimmed the to-do list on your monitor. 

You grabbed the closest paper and swatted his thigh. Undeterred, he leaned in closer and kept reading. 

“Tell him it’s fine!” 

Your head snapped up to find them wearing the exact same expressions, just dialed up to a hundred.

You tried to retrace the conversation, searching for the last thing you heard. Honestly, it was hard to hear anything when your mind was stuck on how Ben was practically on top of you. 

“It’s going to be fine, Jeremy. I swear.” 

His expression didn’t change. 

“You’re fucking hilarious. Seriously, it’s fine.”

He nodded, at least signalling he received it, but it was evident that lifted none of the weight from his shoulders. 

Ben pushed himself up to look at Jeremy, but his hand stayed right where it was, gripping the edge of the desk directly in front of you. “Go get ‘em, kid.”

Jeremy clambered to his feet and Kam planted both hands on his shoulders, guiding him out of the room. He looked over his shoulder, flashing a look of exhausted concern, then disappeared. 

At least he would be right on time for his meeting. Now that’s someone who’d never been on the probation side of the board. 

With the ruckus gone, the room felt even smaller than its usual cramped nature. The voices in the hall felt even more distant and each car horn below only drew more attention to the quiet. Ben must have noticed too because he quickly stepped back, leaving the place where he stood feeling unsettlingly empty. 

Then, with no explanation, he was gone. Usually that would be a relief, except he took your mug of stale coffee with him. Certainly odd, but mundane enough that you turned back to your work without another thought. 

You only made it through half a meeting minutes summary before he returned. Truthfully, you were close to losing your mind. 

The mug reappeared on your desk, now full and steaming. Suddenly, you couldn’t remember what you were so worked up about. 

Your brow furrowed as your weary mind tried to make sense of it. 

“Thank you.” The words came out uncertain, automatic. When you looked up, you realized Ben looked a bit stunned himself. 

“Wow. Smiling. Never thought I’d see the day.”

You didn't realize your face had done that. Sure, you’ve smiled in this office before—at Veronika, at a joke when you weren’t already at your wit’s end, at the handful of people who'd earned it. Ben was nowhere on that list. And, yet. 

You averted your eyes and brought the mug to your lips. “I just really needed it. Too lazy to get up.”

You stretched out your sip and hoped he’d come up with something to say in the meantime so you didn’t have to. 

You snuck a glance over the rim to find him still watching you. The dark rings hanging heavy around his eyes didn't match his expression—something close to smug.

“What,” you said, relenting for curiosity’s sake. 

"Nothing," he said, pursing his lips like he was trying to talk himself out of it. "You should smile more. Throws people off."

“Throws people off?”

“Yeah. Because everyone thinks you’re terrifying.”

“Really,” you asked, with absolutely no surprise in your voice. 

“Sure. But now I know the truth.” He tapped his temple. “Leverage.”

“Jesus. You think you're so charming, huh?”

He cocked his head, a taunting smile on his lips. You tried to hold out, force him to be the one to speak, but the uncomfortable silence wore you down.

“Get out of my office.”

He stood and pulled out the chair tucked into the other side of your desk—the one saved for producers and guests. Not cast. Not him. He made himself comfortable before you could figure out why you weren't actually annoyed by that.

He scanned the room, taking in all the little bits of decor that you’d placed around over the years. 

“I like it in here.” 

“You say that as if it’s your first time here.” 

He recoiled, feigning offense. “Wow, I thought you'd be a little nicer after I brought you that coffee.”

You were genuinely grateful, maybe a little caught off guard, but instead you said: “The coffee is just remediation for all the stress you cause me.”

He rubbed the palm of his hand on his chin, chewing on the words, looking for some way to spin them.

“But now, no stress. So am I finally in your good graces?”

To his credit, he at least tried to hide his smirk behind his hand.

“More like zero sum game.”

“Sounds the same from where I'm standing.”

“Sitting,” you corrected. “You’re sitting in the chair I reserve for very important people.” 

His whole face lit up, sitting up a little straighter like he was moved by the sentiment. He pouted, eyes impossibly soft, and placed a hand over his heart.

“Stop,” you ordered. His face dropped almost as soon as you said it. 

A knock drew both your attention to the door. Ashley walked in, head down in her phone, and gasped when she finally looked up. 

“Why does he get the VIP chair?”

A proud look flashed across Ben’s face. You let out a long sigh and shooed him off. 

“He doesn’t. Go.”

He locked eyes with you, as if staring you down would change your mind. It wasn’t long lived. 

“Fine,” he stood, hanging his head as he walked towards the door. He even managed a fake sniffle while hiding his face. These god damned actors. 

He stopped before crossing the threshold, bracing himself dramatically against the door frame. Working up to something, of course. 

“Nope. Not changing my mind. Go”

He slapped his hand against the frame and stood up straight. With the standard high-energy tone back in his voice, he said: “Okay, I’ll be back though.”

Ashley slipped into the seat he'd just occupied and presented a printout. You nodded along, eyes on the page, though your mind kept snagging on the exact same four words. You should smile more. 

“—so I’d need a confetti cannon, but I didn’t see one in the—are you listening?”

“Yes,” you lied, forcing your eyes to actually focus on the paper instead of replaying a conversation that shouldn't have mattered enough to replay.

“Let’s fuckin’ go!”

Kam shot up from the couch, snatching a paper bag donning the DoorDash logo from Veronkia’s hands.

He ripped into the delivery with abandon, hunting for his order and settling in, back against your desk and a satisfied smile on his face.

While everyone else was workshopping and re-presenting sketches that got the yellow light, these unlucky two decided to mourn their failed pitches over burgers and fries. It was one of those rare cases where you were more than happy to host them in your office. 

Veronika laid a paper plate on the couch and dumped out two large fries between you. With your legs tucked beneath you, you leaned forward and quickly got to work. Ten at night and you’d only had one meal, if a banana could be considered that. 

It'd been eleven and a half hours since you'd seen Ben, not that you were counting. Earlier, the silence had been a relief—one less person getting in the way of your to-do list. But things had slowed down for the moment and the lack of his pestering stopped feeling like a good thing. 

Wherever he was, he was probably fine. Better than fine, knowing him. You, on the other hand, could've used the noise.

“I don’t think they’re going to have me back next season,” Veronika supposed. 

“Neither,” Kam agreed, mouth full of food.

“You’ll be fine. I’ve seen much worse.”

What was supposed to be an off-handed comment completely raptured their attention. 

Veronika leaned in like she didn’t want to miss a single word. “Who?” 

You shook your head and grabbed your soda, breathing a laugh around the straw. 

“Who,” Kam echoed. 

“I’m not gonna say.”

“Emil?” 

“Michael Longfellow?”

They began listing names, hardly letting the other finish before throwing another one out. You almost wished you never mentioned it because they just couldn’t drop it. The conversation would drift to something else, lasting no longer than ten minutes, before another name spawned in their head. At least with all of your not-answering you were actually able to get some food in. 

By the time Veronika ran out of ideas and Kam had moved on to showing you tiktoks instead, the food was nearly gone and your shoulders had dropped an inch from where they'd been sitting all day. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

You were half invested in a comment section Kam was scrolling through when a knock cut through the room.

Ben leaned in the doorway, none of his earlier bravado from before in his posture. 

“Hey, they need you in the sound booth.”

Kam groaned on your behalf. Veronika just gave you a sympathetic look and reached for the last fry.

You pushed yourself up and stretched your aching legs, already bracing for whatever berating the douchebag lead sound coordinator had prepared for you.

“What is it this time?”

“Didn't ask,” he said. “Didn't want to be the one who got yelled at for it.”

The two of you fell into step, strolling down the hallway that’d long gone dim and quiet. 

“Long day?” 

You exhaled and let the silence briefly resume, more comfortable than you thought it’d be. 

“That’s one word for it.”

“Gimme another.”

You almost laughed at that—the audacity to ask you to elaborate, as if he had the right to know. But it was the first time in a while you’d been asked, so the words began to spill out on their own.

“I had about ten fires to put out before noon. Standards is bringing the hammer down on me again. Joe insinuated earlier that I’m not doing enough to keep lighting in the loop.” You jammed a thumb over your shoulder. “I had to talk these two off the ledge for the last however long. And apparently, I smile now. Apparently, me smiling is out of character.”

He didn't laugh at that last part, which you hadn't expected.

You rounded the corner in front of the stage. It was so dark that your only point of reference was the exit sign, casting a soft red glow in your path. 

“That’s a lot,” he said. It came out so soft that it was almost unnerving. How strange it was to get a genuine response out of him, no punchline or teasing to follow. 

You entered the stairwell, taking each step slower than you normally would, an attempt at stalling. 

“And it’s only Tuesday.”

“It’s midnight.” 

“Still Tuesday to me.”

“I’m sorry.”

You rolled your shoulders and picked your head up a little higher, set straight by the pity in his voice. 

“No, I’m sorry. I’m being a complainer.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but you continued before he could refute your statement.

“How was your day?”

“Pretty shitty.”

“Really? You were gone so long, I thought you’d been working on a sketch the entire time.”

“No, I was…”

“Well that’s good. Then what happened?”

He stopped short without responding. You spun around and saw a mischievous glint in his eye, features washed out under the fluorescent light above. 

“You were waiting for me?”

You sputtered, looking for a way to deny what you pretty obviously just let slip. 

“No. I just felt like you were gone for a suspicious amount of time. I fully expected you to come back and bother me the second you got a chance.”

His smile only grew wider, eyes fixed on you for a second, then off in the distance as he walked right by you. 

“Yooou missed me,” he sang, like it was an absolute definite. 

You turned around and watched as he ambled towards the sound booth and the end of the hall, finding yourself frozen in place. 

He looked over his shoulder and stopped, waving you down. “C’mon, let’s get this over with.”

Your feet began to move without much thought. “You’re coming in?” 

“Fuck no,” he laughed. 

He began walking by your side again once you caught up, but he was still looking down on you. 

“I’m kidding. Do you want me to?” 

“Oh, please. I’m fine.”

Your pace slowed dramatically as you reached the threatening metal door ahead. An embarrassingly blatant contradiction. 

“He’s gonna make me cry. I know it.”

“You smile and you cry?”

At some point you’d stopped walking. When Ben whipped around and saw your expression, something softer flashed across his face.

“You’ll be fine,” he said, voice tender. 

Before you knew it, he had closed the distance and wrapped his arms around you. He didn’t pull you in tightly, giving you the freedom to decide what to do. You’re not sure if you ever really decided. Eventually, your arms were just wrapped around his torso, cheek pressed into his chest, and realized how badly you needed this. 

“You sure you don’t want me to come in?”

In that moment, he began running a flat hand up and down the top of your back. In a moment of uncertainty, you pulled away.

“No, I’ll be fine,” you said, repeating his own words. 

“You will.”

You stayed unmoving, an arms reach from the door. 

“Want me to wait out here?”

You considered it. You felt humiliated for considering it at all. 

“Can you?” You squinted at him and prayed the offer wasn’t some sort of joke. 

He blinked at you—apparently he didn’t think you’d actually accept. After a half-second, his familiar bright-eyed look was back. 

“Of course,” he nodded rapidly and propped himself up against the wall, just out of sight from the door. 

You drew your lips between your teeth, gazing down at his sneakers that may have been white a long time ago. Once you felt sufficiently worked up to getting barked at unrelentingly for the next few minutes, your head snapped back up to him. 

“I take no pride in saying that by the way.”

A lazy smile crossed his face. “I figured.”

“Okay,” you nodded. You let yourself notice, only for one single moment, how badly you would have liked another hug. “I’m going.”

“You’ve got this. I’ll be waiting right here.” 

You steeled yourself and reached for the door handle. 

“Should I get some tissues,” he asked in a whisper. You could picture, so clearly, the crickles around his smile and eyes as he said it. 

Chapter One

snl!reader x ben marshall ── grumpy x sunshine, coworkers to loversˎˊ˗

syn: being a production coordinator was difficult enough without ben refusing to leave you alone. he meant well but you only had so much patience and time in a day

wc: 1.3k

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While most people had Sunday scaries—the day before the dreaded grind begins—yours always came on a Monday. 

Monday’s were your easy days (if any day in Studio 8H could be described as such). The fluorescent lights didn’t feel so harsh, nor did the smell of fresh paint in the props department. Your desk waited for you in its near organized state, not yet buried under abandoned drinks and marked up schedules. Though, you knew better than to expect that to last past noon. You thrived in interfacing with the host of the week, briefing the production team, schedule building, credentials. 

There was a version of this job you'd fallen in love with somewhere between your cramped lecture hall and unpaid internships where you had a clipboard and a plan people actually respected. Monday was the closest thing to that version you ever got anymore.

Somewhere between Tuesday's pitch meeting and Saturday's broadcast, your job became herding a cast of arrogant, sleep-deprived comedians who thought deadlines didn’t apply to “creatives.” 

Working in comedy had never been the goal. But you'd have been an idiot to pass up a seat at one of the most exclusive tables in the industry. You have yet to decide if your sanity was a fair trade for it.

A production intern crept in, eyes heavy and apologetic, and set a paper on your desk without a word.

She grimaced, already backing out before she had to see your reaction.

The door latched shut behind her, blocking out the passing chatter in the hall. For a moment it was just you and the hum of your space heater by your feet. 

You scanned the memo—another warning from Standards following last weekend's wardrobe malfunction.

Before you'd even gotten through the first line, your door swung open again, and you found yourself wondering, for the umpteenth time, why you even bothered having a door at all.

“Redbull or coffee,” someone chirped, with enough energy to make your head spin. Dear, sweet Veronika, never once deterred by your sour mood.

Your eyes flicked from the memo to the time on your phone. 11:15 PM, with at least four hours of work left. And this was considered a light day.

“A gun,” you muttered, without looking up.

“Okay,” she said, undeterred. “I'll just leave both.”

A paper cup of coffee and a sweating can of Redbull landed in your eyeline. You sighed in place of a thank you, too spent to vocalize your gratitude.

You looked up to find her bundled in a burgundy jacket, a scarf hanging loosely around her neck, her large, well-worn purse slung over one shoulder.

“You headed out already?”

“I know. Shocking, right?”

“Go,” you waved her off. “Don't waste any more time here than you have to.”

“Right.” She flashed you a smile, warm and a little relieved. “See you tomorrow.”

“Bye.” Your attention was already back on your desk.

You eyed the Redbull teetering on the edge of it, leaving a puddle of condensation next to a stack of evaluation guides and your cheesy Rockerfeller snowglobe. After a moment of consideration, shoved a few stray papers aside to make space for the wet can. 

“Uh, hi,” a voice announced from the door. You pressed your lips together to hold back a groan.

Ben stood half in the hallway, one shoulder braced against the frame, hair slightly mussed after a day of anxiously running his hands through it. His fingers drummed against the doorframe, the picture of a man who had nowhere else to be. 

You looked away fast, before you could hand him the opening he was clearly fishing for. You didn't have the energy for whatever material he was saving up for you specifically.

“Yeah?” Your voice came out just as strained as you felt.

He didn't answer right away, but you could feel him still hovering in the doorway, watching you not-watch him.

“You're supposed to say hi back. Maybe even a how are you.”

“I used up all my hi's and how-are-you's on Sabrina Carpenter's team today.”

You relented and glanced up, if only to speed this along. A lopsided grin spread across his face. You could just tell he was thinking he already won.

He brought a hand out from behind his back, revealing a small bag of salt and vinegar chips. Your favorite, unfortunately. Now you knew where that look was coming from.

"I come bearing dinner," he said, then paused just slightly too long before adding, "You haven't eaten. I asked Veronika."

“Veronika's a snitch.”

“C'mon. She cares about you. We care about you.”

He dropped the chips directly in the center of your desk. The crumpled bag sat between you, almost like a bribe, and you tried very hard not to think about how hungry you actually were.

“Yeah, I’m so sure,” you muttered.

Ben folded himself onto the couch across from you, arranging his limbs into something that was supposed to pass for comfortable. His fingers twisted into the knit blanket thrown over the arm, still watching you expectantly.

As you reached for the bag, begrudging every second of it, he caught sight of the bandage on your thumb.

“Is that from Friday?”

You worked the bag open, then abandoned it as soon as he mentioned the injury. 

“Don’t.”

He grimaced. “I feel like I should apologize again.” 

“Ben.”

“I didn’t realize it was real glass.”

“It wasn’t even near the props department. And there wasn’t a single sketch with sugar glass last week. Why–”

As you paused for a breath, you realized he had slouched into the couch, clearly overcome with guilt.

“It would have been funny.”

His head instinctively pulled back, brow furrowed. “Really?”

You pulled a face and cocked your head. “Eh.”

“You don’t think I’m funny?”

You tilted your head to the other side and further exaggerated your expression. 

He shifted in his seat and folded his arms. With his lips pressed together and eyes narrowed, he looked like he was trying very, very hard to look unamused.

"Just being honest."

An easy look flashed on his face and his posture softened. “Well, I’m funny when it counts."

He leaned back and draped his arms on the back of the couch. Your attention caught on his posture—how long his wingspan was. He was obviously extremely tall, but of all the times he’s crashed in your office, you never noticed how he made your tiny, cheap couch look like doll furniture.

You peeled your eyes away and reached for the Redbull, wiggling your thumb underneath the tab without thought. A sharp, stinging sensation followed as the fresh wound peeled open. You drew your lip between your teeth and tried to keep an even expression. 

He was up in an instant, hinging forward to reach for the can. “Want help?”

“I can open a can.”

“Didn't say you couldn't,” he shot back, arm already extended.

You looked down at his open hand, the rough skin of his palm, no more than an inch from you now. Then at your throbbing thumb—after one humiliating second, then handed it over.

Your pinky was caught in his grasp for half a second, something not at all notable. 

The hiss of the can cracking made you realize how loud the silence had gotten without him talking. 

He set it back down, right on top of your papers. You snatched it up just as fast, eyeing the wet ring it left behind.

“Least I can do,” he said, grinning.

“Low bar,” you muttered into the rim before taking a sip.

“So I cleared it?”

You let out a dry laugh, despite yourself. “Sure.”

He pumped a fist and pushed to his feet. “Nice.”

You idly swiveled in your chair, staring at the piles of past host planners that needed to be logged. The idea of trudging through these—until the whole floor went still and the only light coming from your desk lamp and the skyline outside—felt suffocating. 

“Okay,” you said too quick, like you had to say it before you changed your mind. “I have work to do. Go home.”

“Yes ma'am.”

He took one step toward the door, faltered, then doubled back just long enough to steal a chip. You watched the entire maneuver with far more attention than it deserved.

“Goodnight,” he called, grin still stuck on his face, already halfway into the hall.

“See you tomorrow.”

Chapter Four

Chapter Three

Chapter Two

Chapter One

Chapter Four

f!oc x katie b ── friends to lovers slow burn ˚₊‧⁺˖

syn: melanie fully enters the public eye, and fans start speculating about what (and just how much) she means to katie

wc: 3.3k

a/n: IM SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY. I started my first big girl job so I've had no time to write. **IMPORTANT NOTE: I went back and made some edits/changes. The most major one being that the mc is no longer the reader. She's essentially the same but her name is Melanie now <3 I made some plot updates, not anything too crazy. If you're interested in catching up, you can check here for a short summary of what's changed!

moodboard

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Melanie writhed in her bedsheets, her eyes still closed as she rolled over and grabbed for her phone. 

She’d come to expect waking up to a text from Katie. Normally, in the middle of the night, she’d share pointless thoughts or Tiktoks. Sometimes there was a good morning text, followed by her recounting a dream or asking Melanie what her agenda was that day. Occasionally both, if her sleep schedule was off. 

The how or why didn’t matter. Just that her name was the first thing Melanie saw everyday.

As her eyes tried to adjust to the harsh morning light, her attention skipped right past Katie’s message to a string of texts from Emily. Seeing as she was normally an everything-in-a-single-text kind of person, she was alarmed.

There were six links waiting for her in the chat—that was the only thing that registered at first. She sat up gingerly and wiped your eyes, trying to recalibrate.

Emily you’re welcome ;))))

Above were edits of Katie, or so it seemed. The memory of how she put Melanie on blast last night hit her like a truck. 

She had a shut the fuck up text half-typed before noticing her name in one of the captions. Her stomach dropped before her mind could make sense of what that meant. 

Without hesitation, she clicked the first like and the edit began to play. It was clip of Katie at her stream setup with a romantic song playing softly in the background.

“Oh my god, Katie. You’re so funny.” 

It was Melanie’s voice, but with a silky tone and breathy voice she didn’t recognize. A comment she didn’t even recall making. Her stomach knotted at how pathetically flirtatious she sounded.

The video zooms into Katie’s face, beat red and lips drawn between her teeth to suppress a smile. She looked just as embarrassed as Melanie felt right now, though, much less mortified. 

Following that was a compilation of clips from Larray’s stream, the day her and Katie met. Moments so insignificant that they could be construed as quite literally anything—brief eye contact slowed until it looked intentional, clips that highlighted their proximity, bits of mid-laughter smiles. 

The other videos were much of the same, but each one felt more damning than the last. It felt like someone had compiled evidence proving she was head over heels in love with Katie. 

She'd spent the last few weeks carefully and very deliberately not examining anything closely, and now it was laid out in front of her in twenty second intervals with a love song underneath it. The most honest thing she could say was that the people who made these weren't wrong.

She knew that Katie's laughter lingered in her chest longer than it should, that she checked her phone a little more often after sending her a text, that the hoodie draped over her vanity chair hadn't moved in two weeks because she couldn't bring herself to wash it. She knew. She'd just been doing a very convincing job of not knowing.

What she didn't know was what Katie thought about any of it. She'd seen these—there was no possible way she hadn’t. She couldn’t swallow that part. Her own feelings she could manage. Those, apparently, had already been decided. It was the not knowing what was on the other side of them that made this so horrible. 

As she saw it, Katie could be embarrassed by the whole thing. She could be regretting the stream. Maybe associating with her publicly at all. She could be trying to figure out how to let Melanie down gently without making it weird for Emily.

And because that all felt so bleak, she forced herself to include one positive option. Maybe Katie was just fine with it, maybe even a little flattered. Not that she felt the same way. That felt like way too much to ask for. Just that she wasn't mortified by the association.

When she stepped back and considered it honestly, the bleaker options had a much stronger argument.

Melanie Emily I’m going to die I’m mortified I’m ghosting her I don’t think I can ever speak to her again

Emily what’s the problem??? i think it’s cute. please don’t ghost her

Melanie Its embarrassing. And you’re partially at fault

Emily WHY

Melanie You’re an instigator and you know it The call on the way home from Larray’s The stream yesterday God knows what you’re saying to her about me on the side And don’t think I don’t know you’re doing that

Emily oh please i barely said anything to her. im 100% sure you would have fallen in love regardless of anything i’ve done

Melanie Were not in love

Emily mmhmmm. also i get no credit for not denying that we talk about you?

Melanie I was willing to give you credit before but actually reading “we talk about you” makes me want to kill you

Emily it’s not much different than how i talk about her to you though

Melanie That’s so so much worse I would have rather you said anything else I really can’t stand you

She pushed herself out of bed before Emily could reply. 

That day needed to be a productive one considering how her morning had gone. That stupid half-finished (hardly started) cover letter was first on the to-do list. 

After locating her laptop charger, making a cup of coffee, and leaning against the fridge while the dread settled in her chest, the stiff feeling of sleep had worn off. Though her mind only grew more tired with each menial task. 

Opening her laptop was something that needed a pep talk. She mistakenly thought the writing would naturally follow that. When that fell through, she checked her bank account balance. Then there was no hesitation to start. 

After a full one-pager and seven applications, most all unrealistic, the mid-day sun wasn’t filtering through the windows anymore. At the first crack of thunder, Melanie picked up her phone to check the weather and, to no fault of her own of course, never put it down. 

“Jesus Christ,” someone shouted from the foyer just before the front door slammed shut.

A soaking wet Piper strode into the living room, stray hair pasted to her forehead and running clothes clinging to her body. 

Just before she could collapse on the couch, Melanie startled. 

“Wait, wait—”

Piper looked at her with wide eyes as she finished Melanie’s sentence. “Wet.”

She disappeared into her bedroom and after some clattering, appeared in dry clothes and an air of catharsis. 

“Hi,” she said plainly, as if nothing had just happened. 

“Good run?”

“Sure, you could say that.” 

She pushed back her long wet hair and hummed as she rummaged around the kitchen. 

Melanie’s phone buzzed with another link from Emily, followed by “I’ve been liking every one I come across.” 

“How’s your day?” 

Melanie threw her head back and groaned as she tossed her phone to the other side of the couch. 

Piper walked over with a bowl of apple slices in hand, moving the phone out of her designated spot before cautiously lowering herself onto the couch. 

“Okay…”

She let the sound of rain battering against the window fill the silence.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Like,” Melanie started, then stopped to rub her hands over her face. 

“No?”

“No, yes. Yes.” 

She considered the best way to go about telling her this while sparing her dignity. 

“So you remember how I told you about Katie?”

“I do,” she replied between crunching. 

“Well, do you remember how I said she was a streamer?” 

“I think that’s like, the only thing you told me about her.”

“Okay, well. So—“ Melanie stalled. “So I streamed with her and Emily last night.” 

Piper nodded for her to continue. 

“So, some people are making edits.”

“Of the… stream?”

“Of Katie and I,” Melanie admitted, barely above a whisper. 

Instantly, Piper set the bowl of apples aside and reached for Melanie’s phone. 

“No,” she barked, reaching her phone first. 

Piper, undeterred, reached for her own phone on the coffee table. 

“No!”

With both phones in hand now, Piper gave her a look that said you’re not getting out of this. 

“Can you let me explain first?”

Piper slumped back against the arm of the couch with a soft frown. 

“I think she’s probably seen all these by now and it’s really embarrassing. I don’t think she likes me so she’s probably like ‘oh god, what the fuck.’ And she texted me good morning like she always does but I don’t know if it was before or after she saw the edits.” 

The words started coming and refused to let up until Piper interrupted. 

“Wait, she texts you good morning… every morning?”

“Yes,” Melanie waved her off. “Not important.”

“Feels important,” she muttered under her breath.

“I haven’t answered and usually by now I would have. I don’t want her to think I’m acting weird because I’ve seen them. I mean, that is why, but still. And this morning Emily told me they talk about me.”

She took a strained breath. 

“And she was the one who sent me the edits in the first place. I wouldn’t put it past her to send them to her. So basically, there’s literally no world in which she doesn’t know—“

“Wait,” she blinked. “So, you like her, yeah?” 

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t, but like… you do.” 

The words lodged in her throat long enough to be an answer itself. 

She brought herself to look at Piper who was grinning from ear to ear, looking as if she was about to jump out of her seat. 

“You like her,” she sang, an irritating mix of taunting and fondness in her tone. 

Melanie sat in silence, a blush creeping up her neck, hoping waiting her out would end the line of questioning. 

“When’s the last time you even liked a girl? Do you like her enough to date her? Because—“ Piper interrupted herself with a squeal she couldn’t hold in. 

“I don’t really have any answers,” she replied in an even tone that hid her discomfort well surprisingly well. “I don’t know what’s going on. I just know that I like her.”

Her chest felt a little lighter when she was finally able to string the words together out loud. 

With her eyes fixed in the distance, Piper smiled she was overcome with her own case of the love bug, probably trying to imagine everything Melanie had been feeling. 

“I remember when I liked Brian that much,” she sighed. 

“I didn’t even tell you how much—“ Her face twisted in thought. “Do you not like him as much as you did then?”

Piper brushed past the question as if she didn’t hear  it. 

“Okay. Hand it over.”

As reluctant as she was to show her the edits, part of her wanted to keep pulling at that thread—the one discovered after admitting she liked Katie. Would it make the load even lighter if she divulged more? 

She fumbled with the phone, looking for one of more tame videos she’d come across. 

Piper could see the moment Melanie was close to satisfied and snatched the phone from her hand. 

Her eyes stayed locked on the screen as if in a trance. 

“Oh, my god,” she breathed, voice muffled through the hand over her mouth. “She’s in love with you.” 

She held up the phone as if it was proof, as if Melanie hadn’t already seen it. Though, her impression of the clip—the memory of it—didn’t feel that way. 

She remembers walking into Larray’s living room draped in Katie’s hoodie. The way she faltered as she realized Katie wasn’t going to leave a comfortable distance between them. 

She didn’t notice it as it happened—the way Katie stared up at her with wide eyes and a gentle, absentminded smile. 

When Melanie settled in, back pressed up against the couch, Katie leaned in and cupped her ear. She whispered something along the lines of, “I have no idea what to do when they’re fighting.” 

A laugh escaped Melanie.. Her hand came up to her mouth to stop the sound. Katie locked eyes with her, a very incriminating blush across her cheeks. 

So, sure. Piper was making a reasonable inference based on what she saw. If you wanted to see it as attraction, you very well could. 

But that was barely half the truth. In private, Katie didn’t make any moves. She said nothing close to flirty. There was nothing there. 

With an even tone masking the pain of it, she said, “Believe me, it’s platonic.” 

Piper set the phone face down in her lap. Something had shifted and suddenly all the joy was gone. In its place was a look that meant business. One that read like she was stepping into a negotiation. 

“Okay, I believe you. You would know better than anyone else.”

Melanie deflated, back curling further into the couch. She didn’t realize that, subconsciously, she’d been holding out hope that she was wrong and Piper could prove otherwise. 

“But at the end of the day, you like her. You can’t let that just sit and fester—“

“Yes I can.”

“No,” she shot back firmly. “It’ll eat you alive.” 

“I’m not telling her how I feel.”

“I’m not telling you to do that.”

Melanie needed to turn that over for a moment, like it was some riddle. 

“Then what?” 

“Just think about it.” 

She said it with such finality, but Melanie was too foggy on the meaning to let it go. 

“And then what?” 

“Well I’m not going to tell you what to do.” 

Melanie recoiled. “That’s exactly what you’re doing!” 

Piper shrugged in response, which was probably the worst response she could have gotten. 

“I hate when you’re cryptic.” 

Piper went back to the kitchen and Melanie studied her the whole way, trying to make out if she was imagining the maniacal smirk on her face.

“I will tell you this, though. You’re way out of her league. She'd be so god damn lucky.”

Melanie and Katie continued texting as if nothing had happened, a little less frequent if anything. 

She expected the normalcy to register as relief, and in some ways it did, but there was a barely detectable knot in her chest that refused to work itself out.

Between spending time with friends, job applications, and the general ambient discontent of how her life looked at the moment, her attention shifted away from the underlying tension she felt. It was still there, she noticed it whenever Katie would take longer to respond or when she rambled a little less about things that didn’t matter, but her life wasn’t derailed by any means. 

Piper had questions in the following days, as did Emily—ones she didn’t have answers for. After a week of no changes, they either gave up or stopped caring. That part was a relief for Melanie, at least on its face, but part of her wondered if it was a sign that Katie was slipping away. 

And by all logic, that was fine. 

She had a life outside of Katie. She could acknowledge there was a difference between wanting and needing her, despite how she felt. 

“Any updates on the job situation?” 

Emily was hunched over on the couch, a nail polish brush in hand and her toes just out of frame.

Melanie paused mid-folding. “What do you think?”

“It’ll happen sooner or later.”

She said it so coolly that it was hard not to believe, but Melanie had no response to that. Thankfully, Emily took the hint. 

“Whatever. Are you bringing that Tigermist dress? I’m going to be really upset if you don’t wear it.”

Melanie looked at the black lace dress, existing in a state of limbo beside her suitcase. 

“It just feels like a lot…”

“Oh, please. Mostly everyone that’s invited are influencers. You literally might be underdressed in that. Plus, it’s my birthday party. I feel like I get a say in what you wear—”

Emily’s voice faded into the background as she got stuck on the beginning of what she said. 

Melanie had so much going on that she hadn’t actually slowed down and considered what Emily’s part would look like. 

Influencers—of course they’d be there. She’d met almost all her closest friends that way, one of them being Katie. 

Her eyes drifted away from the phone and back towards the dress on the floor. 

Once Emily had finished, Melanie finally spoke up. 

“Okay, fine. I’ll wear it.”

She cheered so loud, so abruptly, that her audio cut out. 

“You’re going to look amazing. And if you know what, if you change your mind I have a million other things you could wear. Feel free to raid my closest when you get here.”

Melanie nodded absentmindedly, mind running elsewhere. “Okay.”

“Fuck!” 

Emily bent over and looked at the floor, a frustrated look crossing her face. 

“I spilled my nail polish all over the ground. I gotta go.”

Emily hung up without saying goodbye. 

Melanie’s room filled with a stifling silence, filled only by the occasional passing car outside. 

Katie I’m having the worst day ever

She leaned forward to read the text, eyes scanning over it a few times before it disappeared. 

Before she could think it over, she made a facetime call to Katie. 

She answered within seconds. Once Melanie saw her—rubbing her forehead beneath her beanie, lips drawn into a line and a faint look of surprise on her face—she became confused by what had come over her. A hint of regret followed. 

“What happened?”

She shut her eyes and shook her head. “Everything happened.”

This was the first time she’d heard Katie’s voice since the stream—at least, the first time she heard it outside the edits. Of all the things she expected to feel once they called again, if they ever called again, an overwhelming wave of sympathy wasn’t anywhere on the list. 

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Unless you know how to fix a PC so hot it’s about to catch on fire, then no.”

“Yeah,” she grimaced, “I can’t help you with that.”

“That’s okay,” she sighed and sat up straighter in her bed. “At least this will get my mind off of it.”

Melanie lit up, she could see it on her face in the camera. It happened too fast for her to hide it. 

“I’m glad I can help,” she responded softly. 

“So, what have you been up to?”

Not watching every new edit Emily sent her. Not dying to know what Katie has seen, what she was thinking. She could never admit that.

Not packing for a trip where she would potentially see Katie. She couldn’t say that either. She was scared of what Katie would say to that. She didn’t want to know.

“Nothing exciting. Applying to jobs mainly.”

“Oh, right. You mentioned that the other day. Anything yet?”

Now she wished she’d said literally anything else. 

“Uh,” she responded, voice strained. “No, not really. Have you been streaming?”

“Oh, you don’t keep up with my streams?” She scoffed, “I’m kind of offended.”

Melanie shrugged, a smile creeping in. 

“I’m kidding. I’ve been trying to but since my PC is about to blow up I haven’t really been able to.”

Her eyes fixed somewhere in the distance as she added: “And I’m going on break this weekend so lowkey I’m really stressed about it.”

Nope, she wasn’t touching that. 

“So you’re basically broke now?”

“Not as broke as you are.”

Melanie rolled her head back and feigned offense. “Alright chill on me.”

“Am I wrong?”

“Am I wrong,” Melanie mocked.

Once the jokes began, the conversation felt lighter. This was the easiest things have felt between them in a little while. And that was the problem. 

The call didn’t last long and they didn’t discuss much of anything with substance, but that didn’t stop Melanie from walking away with her head consumed by a feeling she had no name for.

Important plot updates

Chapter One:

Emily didn't/doesn't admit to trying to set Katie and Melanie up before the first stream.

She only has the vague idea that the chat was filled with conversation about her and Katie.

Chapter Two:

Katie doesn't directly ask for Melanie's number. Instead, it goes like this. “So… you want her number?” “Oh, my god,” she sighed under her breath, sinking into the seat as if hiding would help anything.  “I definitely did not say that,” Katie shot back quickly, a smile evident in her words.  “So you don’t want it,” Emily asked, slowing her pace as if it made no sense to her.  “Vanilla.” “Emily,” she warned simultaneously.  Emily let the silence stretch out. Melanie could tell by how still she was that it was completely intentional.  “Well, like,” Katie paused after stumbling on her words. “Did she say I could have it?”

Chapter Three:

I’ve read all of it ur writing is gen so good, I need more..

Omg thank you. My writing on that story is so trash because I haven’t edited it but I’m so glad you love it.

Chapter Three

f!oc x reader ── friends to lovers slow burn ˚₊‧⁺ ˖

syn: katie invites melanie to stream, which is simple enough, but she walks away with an entirely different mindset on where they stand

wc: 2.8k

moodboard

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The cover letter had been open for the better part of an hour and Melanie had written one sentence, decided it was terrible, and rewritten a slightly worse version of it twice.

She leaned back in her chair and fixated on the cursor’s methodical blinking. This marketing coordinator role had seemed perfect when she stumbled upon it at midnight two weeks ago. Now, trying to explain in three hundred words about why she wanted to work at this company, it felt like a mistake. There’s only so many lies you can write to hide “I am broke.”

Her roommate was out on a work trip, she had the music on low and a glass of wine. It was a fine enough Wednesday.

When her phone buzzed by her side, she wasted no time abandoning her work.

KatieYou said you play Fortnite yeah?

She looked at it for a moment, then the name, date, and nothing more on her cover letter.

Up until now, she and Katie had mostly been texting. More than she'd expected, frankly, but nothing that felt out of the ordinary. They had the kind of back and forth that could easily still be nothing. While she was impatient at times, sometimes paranoid, she was fine with things as they were.

But this text was a change of pace. If Katie was asking for the reason she suspected, hopping on a call and playing together, this would be the closest she'd come to actually spending time with her since Larray's stream. This time by choice.

She laid back against her chair and tried to name the feeling clouding her thoughts. Embarrassment, maybe. She shoved it aside before it could take root. If she let herself dwell on it, she'd never end up responding.

Melanie I'm in love with fort 

She responded almost instantly.

KatieCome play with vanilla and me rn. We’re streamingIf you're not busy watching love island of course

MelanieLove island isn't on tonight KatieYou should know this by now

KatieOh rightAre you saying you would pick love island over me if it was on?

Melanie If the shoe fits

She closed the cover letter without saving it.

Once everything had booted up, she sat back and looked at the Discord call request blinking on her screen. She'd streamed with Emily enough times that she wasn’t afraid of a camera—not any more than she was at Larray’s. But Emily's streams felt more secure. Melanie was sitting by her side in her cozy little bedroom, talking like they always would when they hung out. Emily was the buffer between her and the screen, and whatever people had to say about her. 

While Vanilla would be there, she was miles away on the other side of the call. Additionally, she was new to Katie’s audience. They had thoughts and opinions, and on a random Wednesday in her apartment with her cover letter sitting unfinished in another tab, she was about to be thrown in the middle of that.

"Turn your camera on," Vanilla ordered before any hellos were exchanged.

"Oh, give me a second to figure this out," she lied. She raked her fingers through her hair and reached for the closest blush she could find.

Her eyes flicked between the mirror and the two girls on screen. Vanilla was curled up in a dimly lit room with a blanket draped across her. The sight of her, looking so tranquil, how familiar it was, felt like an exhale.

Katie was looking up to the left, a cool blue light washing over her, face pinched tight in concentration. She adjusted her beanie and then her hand came to her mouth, fiddling with her lips.

When Melanie finally noticed that the beauty blender in her hand had gone idle, she figured she was running out of time to stall. She turned her camera on and did her best to keep her expression light and even.

"There she is," Emily sang, her wide smile almost absentminded as her attention drifted elsewhere.

Katie perked up, then leaned back in her chair with a sigh like she could finally relax. "Hi!"

It had been only a handful of days since she'd last heard her voice, yet the feeling it stirred was just as potent as the first time.

"Are you guys live?"

"Yes ma'am. They're saying they missed you. Nobody is talking about me anymore," Emily theatrically rolled her eyes.

"Hi, guys. I missed you too." Her words came out more airy than she expected. Or maybe she was more conscious of her voice now.

Emily scoffed. "Someone says 'who's that.' Ban them."

"Can they see me?"

"No, do you want them to?"

Her answer was decidedly no, but she didn't have time to give it.

"Oh, I have you guys up on my stream," Katie let out a choked laugh. 

Melanie smoothed over her hair as discreetly as possible before offering a small wave.

Emily gave a hurried hello before begging to start a game, claiming she'd been waiting a lifetime. Melanie obliged, though she kept Discord open in the corner, admittedly sneaking a glance when she heard a smile in Katie's voice.

The first few matches passed in a blur of gunfire, repeated reminders that she was running into battle too fast and Emily begging for help.

Meanwhile, Katie seemed quietly determined to keep her alive.

"Come here," she said at one point, mid-match.

"Why?"

"Just come here."

When she finally found her, Katie was waiting with two weapons she hadn't seen before, rare enough that she didn't know what they did yet. She gave her a heartfelt thank you and watched the flush creep up Katie's neck in the small square at the corner of her screen.

Somewhere around the third or fourth match, the game started becoming background noise. She couldn't pinpoint exactly when the conversation drifted somewhere else, only that it had. Her and Katie were mid exchange  when Emily's voice cut through.

"Are you two even playing right now?"

Melanie checked the map. She and Katie had both died and neither of them had said anything about it. Emily was, miraculously, carrying the torch by herself.

"We're strategizing," Katie said.

"You're dead."

"Like I said, strategy."

“Chat is backing me up, by the way,” Emily taunted.

Only then did Melanie realize that if she pulled up one of their streams, she would be able to see every single thing people had to say about her. The second it dawned on her, the whole thing felt so immediate.

She remembered bits and pieces about her she caught from Larray's stream, not all of it kind, and figured tonight would be no different.

Anyone would say it was best to stay out of it. Focus on the game instead of looking into what they were saying. But also, anyone who had thousands of people actively talking about them wouldn't be able to resist.

She muted herself and searched for Katie's stream, moving fast before her inattention raised any more suspicion. The blinding wall of text next to her video seemed like a good sign at first. Surely with that volume, anything about her would be barely noticeable. 

As it turned out, she'd underestimated how much there was to say. The chat moved too quickly for anyone to fixate on one topic for long, but a quick skim proved people kept finding their way back to her. To her and Katie.

She steered her character aimlessly across the map, hoping the movement looked intentional, and started combing through the messages.

Bye why are they actually funny together Are we interrupting something… so they gettin it on after this or what Does Riley know about this? ok vanilla third wheel EVERYTIME SHE SPEAKS KATIE GOES TOMATO RED do they know it's legal They have such sibling energy And you know what… I called this the first time they streamed together Yall read into everything oh my god fym someone said “sibling energy” NO THEY DONT LMAO

"Hey, are you still there?" Katie asked in a voice too soft to be meant for stream.

She clicked back to the game and realized she'd died. Again. Katie had run back in to revive her. She was itching to know what they were saying about Katie’s checking in on her. Now that that box had been opened, she'd never be able to stop thinking about the chat. The flutter in her chest the comments had given her was apparently sticking around too. This was the first thing that stoked the fire of her crush since the day she met Katie.

"Look who sucks now," Emily taunted, ignoring the fact that she'd been spectating for most of the last game.

"Sorry, I got distracted."

"Watching edits,” Katie asked, a tone in her voice that Melanie had never heard before. 

"Katie," she chided. She'd never specified that she couldn't tell anyone about that guilty pleasure, but she'd thought the embarrassing nature of it implied it.

Emily shot up in her chair. "Sorry?"

Katie leaned back, her hand coming up to cover her face. "Shit," she laughed, voice muffled as her hand slid over her mouth.

"I'm not moving past this until you explain."

"I don't know what she's talking about." The strain in her throat, the uncomfortable pause—it wasn't convincing in the slightest.

A smirk crept up Katie's face as she asked, "Hey. Do you ever watch edits of me?"

Apparently she didn't feel so bad anymore. And did Melanie do that? Perhaps. The ones made up of the handful of clips from Larray's stream, at least. And only when they came across her feed. She couldn't blame the algorithm for figuring out she was interested in seeing more.

She made a show of dropping her controller. "I'm getting off."

Emily responded with a drawn-out "no," barely audible over Katie's laughter.

"No, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please don't," Katie said, trying to compose herself.

Something mischievous took over Melanie as she heard that. "What? I didn't hear you.”

"I said please don't leave. I'm sorry."

She hummed, a smile growing on her face. "One more time for me."

"Ooh, Katie's begging," Emily sang, giving her away entirely.

She looked over to the call and saw Katie making a show of dramatic frustration to the stream.

"Sorry," Melanie sighed, no remorse in her tone. "It was too easy."

"Oh, so you're saying I'm easy," she said, voice sharp at the edges.

"If the sh—"

"If the shoe fits," Katie finished for her, sounding rather annoyed. "Yeah, yeah. I knew you'd say that."

Melanie was relieved when she double-checked to make sure the bite in her tone was an act. It was, of course, with her bright eyes and dimples showing. 

Her being able to finish the sentence was not.

Katie looked off screen, eyes scanning the chat. She mouthed a silent stop through a smile she couldn't seem to wipe away. Melanie was smiling to herself now, even if she couldn't pinpoint exactly why.

"Okay, I feel like I'm interrupting something so I'm going to go."

"Vanilla," Katie pleaded, "we just got her to stay. You can't leave now."

Emily let out a brief chuckle, so loud she startled at the sound. "I'm kidding, but I do actually have to go. My food's here."

After she left, it became clear she'd been the one filling every gap in the conversation. It only made sense that Katie had said she was ending the stream.

It took the pressure off having to be entertaining, which felt impossible now. With just the two of them in the call, everything Melanie said felt more permanent, like each word counted for something it hadn't before.

She wasn't sure at what point people usually left a call like this. If it were up to her, sooner would be better than later. She had no idea how to fill the space Katie's outro had been occupying. Still, it felt rude to leave without saying goodbye. She pulled up the stream again, reading the chat to kill time. That's what she told herself, anyway.

The messages had calmed down now, everyone collectively seeming to move on. Katie's eyes scanned the left side of her screen just as Melanie's did the same. There wasn't anything that piqued her interest, except one comment:

Are you guys dating. Holy shit pls answer so everyone can shut up already

As if it was commanding the spotlight, the chat slowed almost to a halt. With pursed lips, she tracked Katie's eyeline and waited.

Katie jerked back slightly, a sheepish smile breaking out on her face. She lowered her head, the screen light making clear how red she was. When she opened her mouth, realization crossed her face. A few clicks and suddenly her audio from the call was gone.

Melanie was reclined in her chair, too far to turn the stream audio on in time. All she caught was Katie throwing up her hands, shaking her head, laughing as she seemingly stumbled over her words.

By the time Melanie reached her keyboard and she was certain she was muted, Katie gave a little wave and the stream cut to black.

Then, her audio came back amidst a dramatic sigh. Melanie startled at the interruption but the tension didn't settle.

"Sorry 'bout that," she hummed, typing noises filling the empty space.

"No worries—"

"Wanna play a few more?"

She expected a qualifier. I'm not tired yet, I've got some time to kill, I need more practice. There wasn't one.

"Yeah. Let's do it." She exhaled, quiet enough to go unnoticed, and suddenly her entire mindset shifted. Maybe she was the only one feeling as awkward as she did.

It took some time to notice how stiff her legs felt, longer to realize the street below had gone silent. But only when she reached for her drink the third time, only to find it was empty and had been for some time, did she realize just how much time had passed.

The two of them missed easy shots and let it pass without comment so many times that it had stopped meaning anything. The conversation had drifted somewhere else long ago.

She was hesitant to say she needed to refill her water, fearing it would give Katie the excuse to call it a night. She debated it silently until, after a few minutes, Katie said she needed to do the same, followed by, "Don't go anywhere."

Melanie stole away to the kitchen and made it back just before Katie did. She walked back in, glass in hand, an absentminded smile already on her face. It wasn't until Melanie saw her that she realized she had a soft smile of her own, one that didn't have a single clear reason behind it.

Neither of them picked up their controllers. As Katie scrolled on her phone, Melanie kicked up her feet and sat in the silence. An easy one, this time, but short.

"You know," Katie said, head still buried in her phone, "I don't do this with a lot of people."

"Fortnite? Yeah, it's pretty niche."

Her face went blank, so quickly she almost didn't catch it, as her thumb hovered above the screen. In an instant, her attention came back. She tossed her phone on the desk and sighed, remnants of a smile still on her face.

With arms stretched above her head, she replied, "I kinda put it on the map, actually."

"I've heard people say that," Melanie nodded, a laugh suppressed in her throat.

"It's no big deal, really," she shrugged.

She watched the rise and fall of her shoulders as Katie's face moved closer to the camera, eyes gliding across the screen as if she was studying something, another content smile playing on her lips.

"I really need to go. I have to be up early tomorrow," she murmured, staying exactly where she was and making no motion to leave.

"Busy, huh?"

"Sort of." She slumped back, interlaced hands coming up behind her head. "Worth being tired, though."

"Eh,” Melanie shrugged.

"Okay so we're not playing again sometime?"

She hesitated, scared to let the joke go too far. "We will." And after a moment, she added, "The stream part is scary, though."

Katie perked up in her chair. "Why?"

"I don't know," she said quietly, having no explanation to offer.

"You shouldn't be scared. They loved you."

She wasn't sure how true that was. It wasn't exactly her impression of what she'd read—not all of it, anyway. 

"Okay," she said, without much conviction.

"I swear, Melanie,” she said, voice tender, followed by a long sigh. “But I really should go."

She was relieved to see her own reluctance mirrored on Katie's face. As much as she wanted to keep talking, knowing she did too was a consolation.

"Okay," she pressed her lips into a smile that hopefully hid her disappointment.

When the call disconnected, she slipped her headphones off and traced the indent by her ear that they'd left behind. She stayed in her chair and adjusted to the quiet. Her thoughts ran but she couldn't stay on one long enough to examine it.

It wouldn't hurt to go to bed, even though she was far from tired. As she stood, her legs protesting any movement, her phone buzzed against the desk.

Katie Goodnight :)

Chapter Two

f!oc x katie b ── friends to lovers slow burn ˚₊‧⁺ ˖

syn: vanilla loves to meddle in melanie's social life, and that extends to whatever is happening with katie.

wc: 2.5k

moodboard

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The traffic towards West Hollywood was great at convincing you you were making progress when you absolutely weren't.

Every few minutes the line of cars ahead lurched forward just enough to feel promising before settling again, brake lights stretching endlessly down the boulevard. Melanie had watched the same silver Prius change lanes three separate times only to end up exactly where it'd started.

Emily, meanwhile, had spent nearly the entire drive on the phone with her mom.

"I’m serious. I told him if he buys another air fryer one has to go. No one needs three.”

A muffled response crackled back.

"I don’t care if this one has a little window, mom. It’s weird."

Melanie smiled to herself, eyes still fixed on the traffic ahead.

Emily's family always spoke to each other as if they were either furious or having the best time imaginable. Usually both. They interrupted each other with complete confidence that whoever got cut off would simply pick up where they'd left off a minute later. It used to overwhelm Melanie when they were kids. Now she found it oddly comforting, so familiar that it hardly registered. 

It also had the added benefit of giving her something else to focus on, because every time the conversation faded into the background, her attention drifted somewhere she was trying very hard not to let it.

The hoodie that sat folded across her lap.

The air conditioning in Emily's car was so cold you’d think she was transporting a body. After twenty minutes of pretending she wasn't cold, Melanie gave in and laid it over herself. It did little to help, really. She could've grabbed the blanket from the backseat (Emily practically lived in this car), but she didn’t.

She sighed quietly and pretended like she didn’t understand why she felt the way she did. Nothing had happened. They built Legos, Katie loaned her a hoodie because she'd been shivering and too polite to admit it. That was all.

Her brain accepted this information, considered it thoughtfully, then offered up another memory anyway.

Katie, sweet and unrelenting, standing in front of her. The smile playing on her lips as she said, "Arms up.”

This was going to be a long ride home. 

Melanie looked out the window just in time to catch traffic rolling forward another hundred feet before slowing again. 

Emily laughed suddenly, shaking her head.

"No, Mom, I love you more.”

Her mom began to argue before Emily cut her off again. 

“No. I literally do. Okay, bye."

She glanced over at Melanie, who raised an eyebrow.

"My mom says hi."

“I remember. And I told you to tell her I said hi and you didn’t.”

"I did."

"You didn't."

Emily looked away. "I was going to."

"You forgot."

"I got distracted."

Melanie let out a dry laugh, knowing best to give up now. 

“Can you get me a coffee from the back?”

Melanie looked between her and the rear of the car, brow furrowed. “You have coffee in here? Multiple?”

“Yeah,” Emily shrugged as if it was normal.

Melanie waited a beat too long for Emily’s liking. She waved towards the back seat, almost as if shooing her away. 

She begrudgingly maneuvered in her seat and practically dove into the back. She picked through bags and piles of clothes, unsure what exactly she was even looking for. 

Another call rang through the speakers.

"Oh,” Emily breathed. The single syllable said enough to make Melanie look over her shoulder.

"What?" Melanie asked.

A smile crept across Emily’s face, one that meant trouble. "Nothing.”

"I know that face.”

"You absolutely do."

She accepted the call before Melanie could sit up enough to see the caller’s name on screen.

"Hey."

"Hey, Vanilla."

Katie.

The sound of her voice hit with an embarrassing amount of immediacy. She sounded undone—her words came slower, easier. 

Without having her face to focus on, Melanie found herself paying attention to little things she'd missed before. The slight rasp when she'd just started speaking. The way she let a sentence settle before beginning another.

"Did you guys make it home?" Katie asked.

"Not even close," Emily answered, glancing out at the unmoving traffic. "I think we've traveled six feet since you left."

"I was wondering."

"You were worried about me,” Emily cooed.

"I was worried about the hoodie."

Emily laughed, but something was strained in it. "The hoodie?"

"I forgot to tell her the pocket has a hole."

Melanie looked down instinctively. She slipped her hand into the front pocket, fingers brushing the soft lining before one poked straight through the bottom. She looked up at Emily and tried to gauge her expression. She didn’t see why this was a concern. 

Emily slapped the steering wheel.

"I cannot believe that was your opening line."

"What?"

"You called to check on your sweatshirt,” she shouted, sighing in disbelief. 

"I called because I realized if she put her phone in there, it'd probably end up on the street somewhere.”

"I definitely would've put my phone in there,” she said, intending for it to be inaudible over the phone. 

"I figured,” Katie responded.

Melanie stuck her finger through the pocket again. Emily looked between her and the road with an expression that had become deeply familiar over the course of twenty-three years. 

Opening line. God damn it, Emily.

And with that smile on her face, the one that usually preceded a terrible idea, Melanie knew this was only the beginning and there was no getting out of it now.

She gave Emily a warning look, to which she didn’t budge. If anything, her grin only grew wider. Melanie leaned back in her seat with a quiet groan.

Emily had been introducing her to people since kindergarten like she was pitching investors. Somewhere along the line she'd appointed herself Melanie's social chairperson, platonic and romantic alike—a position she was never asked to fill and refused to relinquish.

Katie, blissfully unaware of the silent exchange happening miles away, spoke again.

"So..." she said.

Emily perked up immediately.

"So?"

"...Did she survive being around all of us?"

Melanie relaxed in her seat. That wasn't the question she'd expected, but she knew it wasn’t much for Emily to work with. 

Emily, disappointed by how normal it was, answered anyway.

"I think so."

"I did," Melanie offered.

Emily held a finger up. "She says she did."

"I can hear her."

"I know."

Katie laughed, the sound quieter than Emily's but left her just as warm. 

"I appreciated the effort."

Melanie felt herself smiling before she could stop it. She turned back toward the window, watching the city light up as the sky dimmed.

Upon second thought, maybe she wasn't replaying the afternoon because she'd met someone she liked. Maybe it was simply nice meeting people who felt exactly like themselves. Larray didn’t hold back his volume or complaints, even on camera. Riley moved in the room without performing at all.  Katie had offered her a sweatshirt like it was the most ordinary thing in the world.

That thought settled much more neatly in her chest, and she decided to hold onto that for as long as possible. 

Emily glanced between the windshield and the phone sitting in the cupholder, waiting for as long as she could manage. Apparently deciding everyone had been emotionally responsible for long enough, she inhaled dramatically.

“So… you want her number?”

“Oh, my god,” she sighed under her breath, sinking into the seat as if hiding would help anything. 

“I definitely did not say that,” Katie shot back quickly, a smile evident in her words. 

“So you don’t want it,” Emily asked, slowing her pace as if it made no sense to her. 

“Vanilla.”

“Emily,” she warned simultaneously. 

Emily let the silence stretch out. Melanie could tell by how still she was that it was completely intentional. 

“Well, like,” Katie paused after stumbling on her words. “Did she say I could have it?”

Melanie froze, turning the question over in her mind. Never once did she consider having a say in this, especially with Emily around. She was surprised, almost impressed, by her consideration. And, honestly, the answer seemed so obvious she never considered objecting at all. 

Emily turned to her, eyebrows raised expectantly. Without having to think about it, Melanie knew what came next. She wasn’t holding out for an answer. She already knew what it was. The question was whether Melanie was going to say it out loud.

For better or worse, Emily would push just far enough to force Melanie out from behind wherever she was hiding, then stop and let her decide whether to step over the line.

It was infuriating, but it was also, more often than not, how Melanie ended up with the things she'd wanted in the first place.

When traffic flowed forward, Emily eased off the brake, rolled ten feet, then stopped again. She glanced back at Melanie with a look much softer than before. This part she couldn't do for her.

Emily could meddle. She could orchestrate introductions, manufacture opportunities, trap people on speakerphone. What she couldn’t do was answer the question. 

If Melanie wanted her to hand over the number, she would. If she wanted her to end the conversation and never bring it up again, she'd do that too.

For the first time all evening, Emily was actually waiting.

"Yeah," Melanie muttered, the answer slipping out before she'd fully committed to it. 

She cleared her throat.

"Yeah," she repeated, a little steadier this time. “This feels weirdly official, though.”

The words hung in the air longer than she’d expected, so when Katie laughed it felt like everything loosened. 

Emily’s grin was already waiting for her, along with her vibrating with the effort of keeping her mouth shut.

“That’s kind of why I asked,” Katie replied. Out of nowhere, her voice had morphed back into that easy confidence from the kitchen. It took Melanie a second to recalibrate after hearing it.

Emily pressed her lips together so tightly they disappeared. She gave Melanie one slow nod.

There she is.

Melanie rolled her eyes before Emily could say it out loud.

Emily sighed dreamily. "God, I love love."

“Okay,” Melanie shot up in her seat and reached for the end call button. “We’re done. You’re done.” 

Emily made no fuss about it. She knew she’d pushed it, now, but it was hard to feel remorseful when the discomfort in the car was so amusing. 

“Bye, Katie! Love you,” Emily called out. 

“Oh, okay. Bye. Love you—“

The end call tone rang out before Katie could finish. 

A thick silence brewed in the car, one that both expected the other to break. Melanie was taking a moment to decompress, process, and convince herself not to reach over and strangle Emily. 

Only now in the calm did she notice a warmth creep up her neck, too close to excitement for her liking. 

“What’s wrong with you,” she stated, not unkindly. 

“Oh, you loved it.” 

“Not really.”

“You will,” Emily shot back. “I know her and I know you and I have a vision.” 

Melanie climbed out into the evening air, stretching after sitting in traffic for what felt like half the day. She rolled her shoulders, letting the cool air find its way beneath Katie's sweatshirt.

She should probably give it back tomorrow…

She'd think about that tomorrow.

"Emily," she called, already halfway to the curb. "Can you hurry up?"

No answer. She looked back to find Emily was still sitting in the driver's seat, head bent over her phone, thumbs moving suspiciously fast.

Melanie's stomach dropped.

"Emily."

"Hold on!"

"Emily."

"One second,” she begged.

"What are you doing?"

Passersby gave them curious looks as Emily repeatedly shouted, "Wait!"

A few more frantic taps, then she froze and slowly, almost ceremoniously, her head lifted.

Even through the tinted window Melanie could see the grin spreading across her face.

"Done."

She slammed the car door shut behind her and hurried to swipe into the building. Emily felt the urgency of someone running up the stairs in the dark. It was almost as if she moved fast enough, she could escape whatever scolding that was burning on Melanie’s tongue. 

In the elevator, she realized she misread the silence. 

Melanie leaned into the far wall, keeping her eyes on the floor and hands in the sweatshirt pocket. And just as Emily was about to look away, she caught the ghost of a smile on her face. 

Emily began cautiously. “You’re not mad at me?”

The question caught her off guard. Enough so that her pride dissolved, leaving an unguarded delight on her face. 

“No,” she responded softly. Warmth spread across her face and then she was certain there was no point in hiding it anymore. 

The elevator went quiet, filled only by a soft mechanical whirring and the ding of each floor. She knew Emily was intentionally not continuing the conversation. Melanie decided to give her what she wanted. 

“She seems cool.”

Emily’s face lit up, matched with a relief that washed over her posture. 

“She is! She’s so funny and outgoing. Reminds me of you a bit. And,” she paused, “she’s just one of those people you don’t come across too often, y’know.”

Melanie didn’t know, really, but she didn’t ask. Either because she wanted to find out herself or because she was scared she’d latch on to this whole thing too fast. 

The doors pulled open on Emily’s floor, revealing a long, well lit hallway. Before they stepped out, Emily added: “I think you’ll really like her.”

Melanie sat with that as she watched Emily exit. 

“I think so, too,” she admitted. 

Stepping into Emily’s apartment felt like the first time Melanie had relaxed all day. Exhaustion quickly followed. She kicked off her shoes at the entrance and checked her phone quickly before collapsing on the couch. 

Unknown Number Hey it’s Katie From today

Melanie read it over a few more times than necessary before bringing it to Emily’s attention. 

“From today,” she breathed a laugh. “Smooth.”

“Hey,” Melanie frowned. 

“Oh, defending your girl already,” she teased.

She dug around for a pot and placed it on the stove, then slid a cutting board and a knife across the counter. 

“I’m not,” Melanie said without much conviction because that really was what it sounded like. 

Emily thumped two cloves of garlic in front of her without instruction—the routine that came with preparing their favorite meal, her mom’s pasta puttanesca, was ingrained in them before Melanie was even allowed to use the sharp knives. 

“Well, what do I say?”

“Just,” Emily stopped moving as her mind began to work, “I don’t know. Literally anything.”

Melanie groaned and rolled her head back. 

“Fine,” she grumbled. 

Melanie Hi Katie from today Emily speaks very highly of you you know

Not long after, her phone buzzed again. She wiped her garlicky hands on a tea towel and picked up her phone more eagerly than she was comfortable with. Emily heard the noise and came running up behind her without asking who it was.

Katie Did she tell you to say that?

Emily laughed once, loud.

Melanie No but she is looking over my shoulder right now

Sorry if you follow me and that shit is spamming your feed. I love her too much not to write even if it gets 0 reads

katie b x reader── fake dating ᝰ .ᐟ

syn: when katie discovers her ex will be at the streamer awards, she asks for a favor: help make her ex jealous.

wc: 4.8k

one shot/unedited*

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Katie meant to take a brief look at her phone. Instead, she saw Vanilla's text, and her mind went blank—so blank that she didn't notice when another player lit her up on screen, costing her a victory royale.

The chat went into a frenzy, the sudden blur of white text in her periphery snapping her out of her daze. She caught glimpses of comments telling her she sold and that she’ll never win Best Battle Royale Streamer at this rate. She forced a frown, attempting to feign frustration.

“And you know what,” she gestured dramatically, “watch. I’m going to win this next game and you’re all going to be sorry. Watch, I’m telling you.” 

The very instant the loading screen popped up she reached for her phone again. 

Guess who’s coming as a plus one to the streamer awards 

Katie didn't have to guess. There was only one person whose name would make the answer feel that obvious.

Her fingers froze mid reply as the gears in her head began to turn. She clicked out of the conversation and opened your contact before she’d even fully decided what to say. 

Her head snapped up at the familiar honk of the battle bus, the new match starting inconveniently fast. Her eyes flicked between the phone and your recent messages, thumbs dancing above the screen as if the perfect combination of words would magically appear. 

And when they didn’t, she typed out the first half–sufficent thing that came to mind.

are you doing anything the night of the streamer awards?

You startled as a loud groan cut through the air, causing you to drop a nail polish brush. Pink paint across the top of your foot, barely missing your comforter. You sighed and screwed the lid back on, reaching for your laptop to lower the volume—just in time to for another one of Katie’s screams. She tossed her controller behind her and ran her hands over her face while the chat lit up in response to her loss. 

You picked up your phone, careful not to smear your freshly painted nails, and took a picture of a distraught Katie on your screen. Only when you were about to send her the photo did you realize you missed a text from her. A smile played on your lips as you read it. Without meaning to, you began thinking about the dresses that hung in your closet. 

is that an invitation? 

She must have heard her phone vibrate because no more than twenty seconds later she pulled her hands away from her face and peaked down at the desk.

A softness came over her features—barely detectable if you weren’t familiar with each curve of her mouth. Each crinkle around her eyes. The way each unique emotion transformed her face. 

A laugh escaped you as her typing bubble appeared, but disappointment replaced your amusement when you watched her place her phone back down. She minimized the game, her face taking up the entirety of your screen now. With her eyes wide, she tried to force a tear, muttering how she’ll never win a streamer award now. 

Before she could follow the thought any further, she righted her posture, promised she’d be back tomorrow with more game play, and abruptly ended the stream. 

As your bedroom went silent, you noticed the rise and fall of your chest, then warmth that bloomed beneath it when your phone began to ring. 

You pinned the phone between your shoulder and ear, then reached for the nail polish bottle again.

“Tough loss.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Katie said, and you could hear her smiling through the phone. 

A beat of silence passed, tense enough to make you feel like she was waiting for you to bring up the text. 

“So,” you said, drawing it out, “was that an invitation or…”

"Uh, yeah," she said, "but it’s also a favor."

Confusion warped your face. "A favor?"

"Okay so—" she paused, and you could practically hear her deciding how to phrase it. "You know my ex, right?"

Truthfully, you didn't. Katie was very tight lipped about the girl. Occasionally she'd offer a clipped anecdote, then swiftly moved past it before you could pry anything out of her. Despite your curiosity, you'd never broached the topic on your own. Either it was too raw to discuss or not significant enough for her to care, and neither seemed like an invitation. 

"Sure," you said.

"Vanilla just told me she's going to be there, so I figured—" she stopped, then started again. "It would just be easier if I had someone with me. You know how it is."

Another thing you didn’t really know, because Katie had never seemed like someone who needed backup for anything.

“You just want someone with you? Or do you want to make her jealous,” you asked hesitantly. 

“Oh, good idea!” 

Another moment of silence followed. 

“So, that’s a yes?”

“Yeah, let’s do that,” she responded rather quickly. 

“How do we do that,” you questioned before you figured out what exactly you were asking.

There was a loud sigh on the other line. Then, “I guess we just act like we're dating, right?”

“Sounds easy enough,” you said, but the way the thought refused to settle neatly felt anything but. 

You began getting ready two hours ago, giving Katie plenty of lead time to start her significantly shorter process. It was absolutely no surprise instead of utilizing that, she decided streaming was the best use of her time. 

“Too many people telling me to get dressed and not enough telling me to get undressed,” she winked at the camera, spinning in the desk chair across the room. 

“Katie,” you chided. 

“Sorry,” she muttered before you could finish the word. 

You grabbed your dress from the hotel closet and waved to catch Katie’s attention. You gestured that you were about to change and asked for her to keep the camera where it was on the desk.

“Oh,” she smirked at the camera, “she’s getting undressed for me.”

You faced the wall, ignoring the comment because you’ve learned to pick your battles. You also chose to ignore the wolf-whistle and the way your ears got hot after you stepped out of your sweatpants, choosing instead to focus very intently on the wallpaper. 

You walked over to her and turned your back again. Katie adjusted the camera to hide your exposed back and zipped your dress without being told. 

“Katie, I have my hair done, my makeup done, and I’m dressed and you’re still not ready,” you sighed, checking the time on your phone. 

“I don’t even need to get ready,” her voice took on a syrupy tone, “you look good enough for the both of us.”

“You’re stalling.”

You stepped into the frame and waved hurriedly into the camera. “Bye guys.”

Katie groaned in response and offered a begrudging goodbye.

You eased yourself onto the edge of the bed and adjusted the way your dress sat over your legs, minding the intricately beaded fabric. 

“You’re really playing it up, huh?” 

She hoisted her suitcase onto her side of the bed and dug through it, clothes spilling out across the comforter and onto the floor.

“I’m just practicing,” she said, and then you ignored the thing that dulled in your chest. 

“I didn’t realize we needed to practice.” You drew your lip between your teeth and considered it for a moment, “Is it going to be hard? Or,” you paused, formulating a question you’d actually want the answer to, “is it that serious?”

“I mean,” she looked off in thought, brushing away a loose strand of hair, “no, not really.”

You watched her closely, expecting her to elaborate. Instead, she turned back to her suitcase, relief washing over her face when she spotted the bright pink of her suit peaking out. 

“You do look fantastic by the way,” she smiled in a way that was much less intimate compared to the moment on stream. 

“Oh,” you brushed your hair over your shoulder, feeling different with her eyes on you, “thank you.”

She turned to face the opposite wall and began to undress. You reached for your phone and saw a missed call from Vanilla, followed by three texts. You deflated at the thought that this moment was on borrowed time and realized, only for the first time, the tension in your chest at the thought of what came next. 

“Are you nervous to see your ex,” you asked once the question began burning your tongue. 

She was silent for a moment, which felt like an answer enough, but she eventually spoke. 

“I mean,” she paused, “no. It’ll be fine. It’s not a big deal.”

When she turned around her expression was even, revealing to give anything away. Suddenly you wish you had waited to ask just to see her reaction.

She looked down at her outfit, fussing with the way the jacket sat over your shoulders. Without thinking, you stood and took the collar in your hands, adjusting it slightly. When you looked up at her you noticed shock overcame her features, paired with something fonder. 

You locked eyes with her and let the moment breathe before whispering, “Practice.” 

Her brows relaxed and a smile crept along her face. “Practice.” 

You pulled away first and collected your belongings, then busied yourself with touching up your lip combo in the mirror. 

“Can you call the–”

“Already am,” Katie cut in, holding up her phone to show she’d called the Uber. 

Somewhere along the ride to the theater, your adrenaline morphed from anxiety to excitement. You cared about the event as much as Katie did—which is to say not at all—but you were buzzing about something and that was the most logical conclusion. 

As you pulled up you saw groups of well dressed people chatting as they ascended the steps. You snuck a glance at Katie, wondering if seeing her ex would show on her face. She did one brief scan of the crowd, seemingly indifferent to it all, and then thanked the driver with a toothy grin. 

She startled as you reached for your door handle and instructed you to wait. She quickly exited and rounded the car, stopping only to adjust her jacket again. As she opened your door, you were hit with a wave of dry heat and a beaming Katie. 

“Not bad, huh!” 

“Not bad.” You patted your shoulder as you passed her. 

She caught up quickly, closing the distance in long strides. Her attention was immediately captured by the crowd, scanning for familiar faces. You wondered if she was looking for someone in particular, but dropped the notion shortly after. 

As you approached the double doors, held open by sharply dressed ushers, you made the split second decision to hold her hand, swooping up her hand mid-swing. She didn’t miss a beat, lacing her fingers in yours and keeping her focus elsewhere as if this was normal. To be fair, it almost did feel that way. 

Vanilla stood in the aisle, mingling with faces you didn’t recognize. When she spotted the two of you, it was as if the others never existed. 

Her face lit up as she grabbed your waist. “Oh my god, hello!” 

She homed in on Katie’s hand in yours, but made no mention of it. When Katie offered no explanation you realized she may be in on the operation, which somehow made this all the easier. 

You flexed your fingers once Katie pulled away from you, noting how cold your hand became. She and Vanilla hugged and exchanged a hushed joke, leaving you standing on the outside of it. Your eyes wandered to the stage where workers buzzed around, wires and microphones in hand, under the shifting spotlights. You had no idea this would be such an opulent event and you found yourself wondering, again, if this performance with Katie was more important than she was letting on. 

“Shall we sit,” Vanilla asked, linking her arm with yours and leading you down the aisle before you could answer. When Katie took your hand again you slyly looked around for a woman who could pass for Katie’s type—then realized you couldn’t remember even a small crush she had in the past, let alone a fully organized type. She had mentioned Kim Possible was a sort of awakening for her, but what you remember most from the interaction was the jokes you made about how similar she looked to the character. 

Round tables crowded the floor and shrouded in the dim light. The seats were nearly filled, those already seated leaning in to hear each other over all the noise. As you squeezed through the crowd to your table, Katie’s hand came flat against your low back but it was gone before you could react. You noted the appearance of a fleeting thought—she seemed really good at this. 

Vanilla led you to your seat and gestured for you to sit, remarking on how she already had so much to tell the two of you. Katie’s hand wrapped around the top of your seat, pulling it out for you before tending to her own. 

As Vanilla began to gush about the controversial faces she’s seen tonight, you snuck a sideways glance at Katie and swatted her shoulder, letting her know you were impressed with her performance. She nodded along to Vanilla’s story, but a nearly undetectable smirk crossed her face. 

You did your best to seem like you were listening intently, but the buzz of the room stole your attention. The more you took in the sheer volume of people in the room, the more you shrunk into yourself. You were completely tuned into your body, mind falling completely silent until Katie’s hand rested across your lap, fingertips gently pressing into the top of your thigh. As much as you wished you could act unaffected, your eyes betrayed you. You stared at her hand with wide eyes, making it extremely obvious how foreign this was to you.

Just as you were working on recovering, Vanilla asked if you wanted to step out with her and find the bar. A small seed of panic planted in your chest and you found yourself wondering if Katie would put her hand back when you returned. 

A look of vague amusement crossed Katie’s face. “Go.”

Your head snapped over to Vanilla and you nodded eagerly as if it was never a question. 

The bar was marginally quieter than the floor, the noise dulled enough that you didn't have to lean in quite as much when you ordered your drinks.

"So," she said, looking around, "how is she doing? Really."

You relaxed a little, feeling relieved to be able to acknowledge the unfamiliar arrangement with someone else. "Good, I think. She seems unbothered."

Vanilla made a small sound that wasn't quite agreement, then muttered something under her breath about how the bartender seemed to have forgotten your drinks entirely. 

"She's better when you're around." She said it simply, like it was just a fact she was reporting. "I don't think she fully knows that yet."

"I'm sure anyone would help," you said.

Vanilla looked at you, something flickering across her face. "Sure," she said, and turned back to the bar.

The drinks arrived and she picked hers up, already scanning the room.

"About time," she said.

You reached for your glass before you realized she wasn't looking at the drinks.

The theater was practically brimming with attendees when you returned. You latched onto Vanilla’s arm as she fought through the crowd. It felt like an hour by the time you escaped the sea of people, relishing in a deep breath when you finally had a small bit of personal space back. 

Vanilla stopped short and said something that sounded like “oh, shit.”

You followed her line of sight, finding Katie deep in a conversation with a girl draped in a beautiful satin gown. She was short enough that Katie had to bend down to speak to her, her mouth hovering close to her ear. 

Vanilla pushed forward, wrapping you up in her orbit and leaving you no choice but to dive into this head on. Katie spotted you before Vanilla and for a fraction of a second, there was something that crossed her face—something akin to recalibration. Then it was gone, smoothed over so fast you almost didn’t catch it.

As soon as you were in reach, Katie’s arm snaked around your back and pulled you in tightly to her. “Oh, here she is!”

The girl in the satin dress turned to you with a glimmering smile, a soft, distant intimacy left in her expression from when she was looking at Katie. You were certain now—this was the ex and she was nothing like you imagined. She was polished, composed, and absolutely striking. 

“This is my girlfriend,” Katie said coolly. You held your glass a little tighter and focused on the sweat covering the glass.

"Gosh, she was just talking my ear off about you," she giggled. The melodic sound of it settled over the group and you made an effort to keep your reaction measured.

"Sounds like her," you managed, and glanced at Katie.

She was wearing the same smile she did on stream, the one she’s had on all night—the one she used when she was on. You’d never had it aimed at you quite like this, something like a shield. 

"I can see why she likes you," the ex said, and the comment landed somewhere between you and Katie in a way neither of you could cleanly swallow.

The chatter swelled, then quickly died down as the house lights dimmed. You weren’t sure when Katie’s grip on your side had gotten so tight. 

“Well, I’ll leave you to it.” She looked up at Katie with a genuine smile, “Tell your parents I said hi.”

“Will do,” she gave a curt nod. 

Then the girl shifted forward, leaning towards you and resting a hand on your arm. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh my gosh,” you cooed, your voice an octave higher than you expected, “you too, girl.”

And with that, she turned and made her way across the room. As she slinks into the distance Katie’s arm falls back to her side, leaving a small distance between you two. She exhales, eyes fixed on the distance, and you pretend not to notice. 

You take your place at the table, immediately catching Vanilla’s eye. Her eyebrows shot up and her mouth pinched, a combination that felt far more concerned than you felt about the whole thing. You scrunched up your face, smiling with a sly shake of your head. It’s nothing. 

She looked impressed, nodding with an infectious amusement that had you laughing. Katie peered forward, trying to catch a glimpse of the interaction, but couldn’t make it out before the show began. 

In a spare moment between awards, you leaned over and whispered into Katie’s ear. “Are you scared to present?”

Her gaze fell to your lap where she’d been incessantly playing with your bracelet for some time now. A look of surprise crossed her face—as if it was a ridiculous question—and you realized you mistook her restlessness for nerves. 

“Hell no,” she whispered back, lips ghosting against your ear. You fought off a shiver that came with the chill down your neck. 

She folded her hands in her lap, but her warmth remained because of how close the two of you had grown throughout the show, almost as if gravity was gradually pulling your chairs together. It didn’t take long for her to sling her arm around the back of your chair, sharing hushed jokes throughout the next presentation. 

By the time Katie spotted her cue across the room and stood to head for the stage it came to your attention time had slipped by so fast. The realization hit like disappointment, but the thought had no time to settle. 

Before she left, while the room’s attention was still captured by an acceptance speech, Katie braced herself with one hand on your shoulder and planted a kiss on your head. You weren’t able to catch her eye before she left, which you assumed was a good thing because you didn’t have any control over what your face was doing. 

She glided through the tables with ease, the pink of her suit catching even the low light. Your eyes followed her without meaning to, and somewhere in the watching you reached for the familiar distance—the one that usually sat so neatly between tonight and everything else.

It wasn’t there. 

Katie returned shortly after she stepped off stage, beaming and flushed from the stage lights. She pushed her seat in and gestured for your hand. Once your fingers were secure in hers, she led you up the aisle and towards the bar. 

"Finally, now I can have a drink," she laughed as you reached the lobby. You trailed behind her wordlessly, trying to reconcile her with the version of herself that existed before she kissed your head and walked away.

She ordered for you, which you appreciated—you haven’t spoken since she presented and you weren’t sure if your voice was there anymore. Her hand found your low back once the bartender stepped away, absentmindedly brushing her thumb against you. Once the silence between you stretched long enough for her to notice, she looked down at you with tender eyes, brows pulled together in concern. 

“You okay?”

You hummed and nodded rapidly, looking away as soon as you could get away with because here, just the two of you and an occupied bartender, the cheers of the crowd just a distant rumble, you felt crushed under the weight of her attention. 

While your attention was on the shelves of bottles stretching along the wall—mind elsewhere—Katie took your drinks and looked at you to make the next call. 

Your eyes flicked from the theater to her, then you asked, softly, “Do we have to go back in yet?”

Her brows scrunched together and her eyes went soft. “No, of course not.”

The two of you silently walked the lobby, your fingers twisting in your bracelet as you watched her scan the surroundings for somewhere to sit. Towards the back of the room, you came across a secluded set of stairs and simultaneously decided that was the spot. 

You adjusted your dress and eased onto the steps, bracing yourself on the carpeted step until your back rested against the next stair. She collapsed beside you with a sigh and held out your drink without looking. 

You took it and stared into the glass, transfixed on the bubbles way the bubbles floated to the surface.

You took a deep breath, exhaling as silently as possible, then prepared a light, airy tone. 

“Was it weird? Seeing her?” 

You took a sip of your drink, then leaned back as if the question cost you nothing. 

She laughed a little, looking down at her own glass. “Not as weird as I thought it would be.”

You could tell when Katie was lying—the way her voice shook, muscles taught. This was the truth, but you’d watched her long enough tonight to know it was incomplete. You resolved to push, just to test your theory. 

“What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know,” she said, quieter this time, then took a breath before continuing. “Something. More than that.”

You nodded, letting that be enough. You hardly expected anything more. Her remaining closed off about her ex was the only shred of normalcy you’ve encountered tonight.

Then, impossibly soft, voice raw, “I think I was more worried about you.”

You whipped towards her, caught entirely off guard by the statement. “Me?”

She looked at you for the first time since you sat down. "Yeah." She said it simply, like it was obvious. Like she was a little tired of it not being obvious. "I kept… I don't know. I was thinking about you more than I was thinking about her,” she breathed a laugh, “even when she was right in front of me.”

You didn’t say anything. You had a slew of theories on how she felt about her ex but you being a factor was nowhere on that list. 

"The whole thing with her," Katie continued, a little more confident now, "Honestly I made it sound like a bigger deal than it was. So I'd have a reason to—" she stopped and laughed once at herself. "Nevermind."

"No," you said. "Finish it."

She groaned and rolled her head back, smiling as she did, as if she was in disbelief to be admitting it. The theatrics of her reaction took a bit of the weight off your shoulders, but your breath was still caught in your throat. 

“I just wanted you to be here.” She pursed her lips, knowing that wasn’t enough. “I wanted you to be with me.”

“Like,” you started to ask, but wasn’t brave enough to say it out loud. 

“I just wanted to know how it felt,” she turned her glass in her hand. “What it would be like to be together.” 

“And what did you think?” The words came out before you realized you had anything to say at all. 

She laughed again, then looked at you sideways. “What did you think?”

The corner of your lips drew up. “I asked you first.” 

“No you didn’t”

“Yes I did!” Your voice shot up in the way it always did when she said something ridiculous, and suddenly you realized the Katie in front of you—this version—had been there the entire time. All of it had been, you just never let yourself look right at it.

“I liked it,” she shrugged, face twisting up in a sheepish way you rarely ever say. 

“Yeah,” you asked in a taunting tone, peering forward to meet her gaze that was fixed on the ground. 

“Yes,” she responded, looking at you this time. She held a serious expression for all of two seconds before dissolving into a smile, teeth on full display. “Your turn.”

You fixed your face to mimic her practiced evenness but couldn’t bring yourself to look at her. “Yes.”

“Say it again,” she said through a laugh. “I didn’t hear you.”

Her fingers pinched your chin and she pulled your face. You couldn’t fight the smile that came after, but you jerked your face away to try and hide it. 

“Yes?” Her hands came to your shoulders, trying to gently coax your body to face hers. “Is that what you said?”

“Yes,” you giggled, wriggling under her grasp, “I liked it.” 

“Really?”

She seemed intent on teasing you at that point—there was nothing you could do to stop it. You let her turn your body, your knees brushing against hers and you folded yourself to fit by her side. She looked you dead in the eye and this time, you let it happen. Some of her amusement dissolved and was replaced by a tender solemnity. 

And because you knew what was coming next—that inherent, unavoidable knowing—you set it into motion. You braced yourself on her knee and leaned in, then let her close the distance. 

Somehow, the thing you never let yourself imagine was exactly as you expected. Her lips moved against yours reverently, like this was something she wanted to get right. Like she wanted to live in the moment for as long as you would allow. 

The kiss only broke when the two of you were smiling too hard to continue, which was, again, exactly the kind of thing you expected. 

“Are you proud of yourself,” you asked, eyes drifting down to her swollen lips. 

“Yeah,” she nodded, breaking into another laugh. 

“I didn’t realize this was such an elaborate operation.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Alright, chill. It wasn’t that elaborate. I’m not that desperate.” 

You raised your eyebrows, feigning offence.

“Okay,” she conceded, “maybe. Whatever.”

You took a second to soak the frown that did little to mask how smitten she was before pressing her. 

“I mean, you told Vanilla. I’d call that elaborate.”

A look of earnest confusion crossed her face. “No I didn’t.”

“Yeah you–” you paused and reframed your earlier interactions. How she wasn’t caught off guard when she saw the hand holding. When she said Katie was better when you were around. About time.

“Nevermind.”

“Okay,” she drew out the word and took your hand in hers, fingers quickly finding your bracelet again. 

“So when am I off the clock,” you asked, biting back a wry smile. “I take Venmo by the way.”

She wrapped you in a hug without warning, tucking your head under her chin. “So are you saying this is a one time thing?”