g!p popular!manon x fem!reader x g!p nerd!megan
sumarry. Manon, the most popular girl in school, and Megan, the class nerd, have nothing in common. Except for one tiny little detail: they both want you. Behind your back, they start competing non-stop to see who can win your attention. But the more you get to know them, the more an impossible question begins to emerge: Why should you have to choose only one?
content. g!p Manon, g!p Megan, mean!reader, throuple, smut, suggestive content, use of y/n, competition, p in v, happy ending for everyone 😉
The cafeteria was especially noisy that afternoon. The cafeteria was always noisy, but that day the decibel level had reached a point where hearing yourself think was almost impossible. Which irritated the four of you easily.
You were sitting at your usual table. Olivia was to your right, her head resting on your shoulder, completely exhausted from classes. Quen was across from you, telling some story about her weekend that not even she seemed to remember well, and Conan, as always, was looking at his phone — it was routine.
Until your phone vibrated in your pocket. You didn't pay attention to it at first, but the second vibration made you take out your phone, more out of habit than anything else, and you opened the message without many expectations.
megan: do you maybe want to meet after lunch to work on the project together?
megan: i already organized the notes so it might be easier that way.
megan: only if you want to, though.
The message was so formal, so carefully written, that you almost smiled. There was no one else who wrote like that, with so many courtesies in a single text. It was as if Megan was asking for a huge favor instead of something as simple as working on a school project together.
You put your phone away and finished your sandwich in two bites, which caught Olivia's attention. She lifted her head from your shoulder and looked at you with a raised eyebrow.
"In a hurry or something?"
"I'm meeting up with Megan after this," you said, wiping your hands on a napkin. "For the physics thing. We're going to plan the project."
"The genius girl?" Quen asked, and there was no mockery in her voice, just curiosity. "Wasn't she going to do everything herself?"
"No, I just don't like taking advantage of people like that," you replied, getting up from your chair and picking up your tray. "I won't be long. See you later."
Conan looked up from his phone for the first time in ten minutes. "Want us to wait for you outside the library so we can walk to class together after?"
"Yes, please," you said, and before they could keep asking questions, you were already walking toward the trash cans to dump your tray, your backpack hanging from one shoulder and your mind elsewhere.
The hallway leading to the library was emptier than usual, because most people were still in the cafeteria or had gone out to the courtyard to enjoy the sun. Your footsteps echoed on the tile floor, and the echo accompanied you as you walked, thinking about the books you had to return and what this meeting with Megan was going to be like.
But someone interrupted your thoughts.
Manon was leaning against the wall, right next to the water fountain, with her arms crossed. Her friends weren't with her, which was strange because Manon almost never appeared without her entourage, but there she was, alone.
Your first instinct was to keep walking as if you hadn't seen her. Because Megan was waiting for you. And Manon, with her way of dragging out conversations, wasn't going to be quick, so the easiest thing was to avoid her.
But Manon saw you. And Manon, of course, wasn't going to let you walk past as if she were invisible.
"Hey, wait," she said, pushing off from the wall and taking a couple of steps toward you. "Are you going to act like I don't exist now?"
"I'm in a hurry," you replied without stopping completely, just enough not to be rude. "I have something to do."
"After school?" Manon asked, and her tone changed abruptly, becoming lighter, more casual, as if she were asking an unimportant question when in reality her eyes were locked on yours, waiting for the answer. "Because I was thinking we could hang out. I don't know, grab a drink, go for a walk. Whatever you want."
The offer was so direct, so typical of her, that for a second you wondered if she was joking. But no. Manon didn't joke about that kind of thing.
"I can't," you said, and this time you did stop completely, because lying or making up an excuse would have been more complicated than simply telling the truth. "I'm meeting up with Megan for the physics project."
The change in her face was immediate. She didn't get angry, not exactly, but something in her expression tightened, something in the way her lips pressed together just a millimeter. Her eyebrow arched, almost like a child whose favorite toy had been taken away.
"Megan?" she repeated, as if the word tasted bad in her mouth. "The class nerd?"
"Yes, Megan," you said, and your voice came out sharper than before. You didn't like how she'd said "the nerd," with that tone that turned the word into an insult. "She's my project partner."
Manon let out a short, incredulous laugh. "You'd rather be in the library with that… brainiac, than go out with me?" she asked, and although she tried to sound relaxed, there was an edge in her voice she couldn't fully hide.
That tone. As if Megan were a thing, a weirdo, someone who didn't even deserve to be named. And something inside you ignited like a match, hot and fast.
"First," you said, and your voice came out cold, "don't call her that. She has a name. It's Megan."
Manon blinked, surprised by the change in your tone. Her smile disappeared completely now.
"Second," you continued, and now you couldn't stop even if you wanted to, the words came out on their own, pushed by that hatred you felt toward those who thought they were superior, those who looked down on others, those who were like Manon. "Yes, I'd rather be in the library with her. Because Megan isn't an idiot who spends her time judging others to feel important."
The silence that followed was so dense you could almost cut it with your hands.
Manon stared at you with wide eyes, her mouth slightly open, as if you'd just slapped her in public and she didn't know how to react. No one talked to her like that. No one. That was the thing with Manon: she lived in a bubble where everyone treated her carefully, with admiration, with that fear of saying something that might upset her. And you had just burst that bubble without even thinking.
"Why are you defending her so much?" Manon finally asked, and her voice had lost all its previous confidence. Now she sounded almost confused, as if she genuinely hadn't done anything wrong. "Are you girlfriends or something?"
The question was absurd. So absurd you almost laughed. But you were still angry, still felt that hot rage running through your chest, and because deep down, in a very small corner of your mind, the idea of annoying her felt a little pleasurable.
"That's none of your business," you said. You didn't confirm, you didn't deny, you just left the phrase hanging in the air like a time bomb.
Manon opened her mouth to say something more, but you had already turned around and were walking toward the library with firm steps, your backpack hitting your back in rhythm with your accelerated breathing.
But as you walked, your hands still slightly trembling from the adrenaline, you hated bullies.
The library was almost empty when you arrived. The librarian was at his desk, as always, with his reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose and a stack of books waiting to be sorted beside him.
Megan was sitting at the back table, her notebook open in front of her, a blue pen between her fingers that she spun with a nervous, constant motion.
When she saw you appear, her face lit up.
"You came," she said, relieved.
"Sorry I'm late," you said, dropping your backpack into the chair across from her and sitting down. "I had a little… inconvenience."
"No worries," she said, and you noticed she was much more relaxed than the first time you'd talked. Less shaky. It was as if the library setting, with its books and its silence, gave her a security she didn't have in other places. "I just got here too. So don't worry."
You stared at her for an extra second, just to confirm it was the same person from physics class. Megan seemed different when she wasn't surrounded by strangers. She was still shy, yes, but there was something about her that was… looser. More present.
"Okay," you said, taking out your own notebook from your backpack and opening it to a blank page. "Let's talk about the project."
And you talked. You started planning it.
Or at least, you tried to.
Because what started as a work meeting started veering off course almost without you realizing it. Megan had made an outline in her notebook, a kind of concept map with colored branches — such a nerd, god.
"So the formula for final velocity would be initial velocity plus gravity times time," she said, and you nodded without fully listening, more focused on the way her eyes lit up when she talked about something she was passionate about. "See? It's easier than it seems."
"For you, maybe," you said, frowning. "I still don't understand why gravity is always nine eight."
"Nine point eight," Megan corrected, and when she smiled, her smile was so wide that little dimples formed under her eyes — ones you didn't know she had. "It's not that hard. Think of it like… I don't know, like jumping off a diving board. You start slow and then you go faster and faster. That's gravity."
"Right, because jumping off a diving board is something I do every weekend," you said sarcastically.
Megan laughed. A loud laugh, noisy, almost silly, that she didn't try to hide or cover her mouth for. It was such an unexpected laugh that for a second you just stared at her, surprised, because you didn't know Megan could laugh like that.
"What?" she asked, noticing your look. Her smile became a little more shy, but it didn't disappear.
"Nothing," you replied, which was a lie. "I just didn't know you were so funny."
Megan blinked, as if she didn't quite know how to take the compliment. Her cheeks turned pink, and she looked down at her notebook for a moment, playing with the edge of the page.
"It's just… I don't know," she said quietly, "I feel comfortable with you."
The phrase lingered in your head for a while. She felt comfortable with YOU. Something in your chest moved when you heard it. A small warmth, barely perceptible, that settled behind your ribs and stayed there.
Talking to Megan was easy, you discovered. You didn't have to overthink your words, didn't have to measure every gesture to avoid giving the wrong impression. She laughed at your jokes in a way that didn't seem forced, and you laughed at hers — because yes, Megan had a strange sense of humor, sometimes so unexpected it caught you off guard and made you burst out laughing.
"And then Yoonchae got mad at me," Megan recounted, and you laughed so hard that the librarian looked up and shot you both a warning glance. You covered your mouth with your hand, but the laughter kept coming, choppy, and Megan was laughing too, her head tilted back and her eyes closed.
"You're going to get me kicked out of the library," you said when you finally managed to calm down, wiping away a tear that had escaped from the corner of your eye.
"It would be worth it," Megan replied, and her smile was so genuine that you felt that warmth again, that weird tingling in your chest that you tried to ignore.
The project progressed, though slower than it should have. You divided the parts, decided Megan would do the calculations and you would do the drawings and the model, and when the bell rang announcing the end of lunch, you realized you didn't want to leave.
You started packing up your things. You were about to get up when Megan spoke again, and her voice sounded different. More insecure. Like the first time you sat together.
"Hey… can I ask you something?"
"Sure," you said, not thinking much of it.
Megan fiddled with the sleeve of her sweatshirt, pulling it, letting it go, pulling it again. She wasn't looking at your eyes; she was looking at the table, the notebook, anything that wasn't you.
"Do you… are you dating Manon?"
The question caught you so off guard that for a second you didn't know what to say. The anger from before, the one you'd left in the hallway when Manon had asked you the same thing, came floating back into your head.
"No," you said, sharper than you intended. You took a deep breath, forced yourself to soften your tone. "No, nothing like that. Not at all. Why?"
Megan shrugged, and her shrug was so exaggerated it looked like she wanted to hide her head inside the neck of her sweatshirt. "I don't know. Just curious. I saw her talking to you earlier and I thought…"
"Megan and I aren't dating," you cut in, and the phrase sounded definitive. Then, because the silence that followed was too heavy, because Megan was still staring at the table as if she wanted to disappear, because something inside you needed to break the tension somehow, you added: "Why, are you interested in me being single?"
It was a comment thrown into the air, without thinking — the kind of joke you made with Olivia or Quen without giving it importance. But when you saw Megan's reaction, you realized it wasn't the same.
Her cheeks, which had been pink, turned red. Red red. Her eyes opened wide as saucers and her mouth moved without making a sound, opening and closing. "I… no… I didn't say that…" she stammered, scratching the back of her neck nervously.
"Relax, I was joking," you said quickly, because seeing her so nervous was making you feel a little guilty and also, though you wouldn't admit it, a little tender. And without thinking, without measuring the consequences, you reached out your hand and placed it over Megan's. "Really, it was a joke. Don't get like that."
The contact was brief. A second, two at most. Your hand on hers, the warmth of her cold fingers contrasting with yours, the feeling of her bony knuckles under your palm.
But this time, both of you turned red.
You too. You felt it in your cheeks, in your ears, in the back of your neck. That heat that rose from your chest to your face and settled there like a mark.
"What I meant to say," Megan started, and her voice was barely a thread, "is that… it doesn't matter. It's fine. That you're not dating anyone. I mean, it's fine that you're not dating Manon. Or anyone. I mean, if you were dating someone it would be fine, but… I don't know what I'm saying."
Her response was so incoherent that you would have laughed if you weren't just as nervous. You pulled your hand back in a motion you tried to make casual and stood up from the chair with your backpack hanging from one shoulder.
"Well, I have art history," you said, and your voice sounded higher than normal. "See you."
"Yeah, sure," Megan repeated. "See you."
You left the library with steps so fast you almost tripped over the door. The hallway was full of people now, students heading to their last classes, and you melted into them as if that could erase what had just happened.
But the warmth in your chest didn't go away. It stayed there.
Outside the library, in the main hallway, your friends were waiting for you.
When they saw you appear, all three looked up at the same time. And all three smiled.
"What's with that face?" Olivia asked, pushing off from the wall and walking toward you.
"What face?" you replied, trying to sound natural.
Conan looked up from his phone and stared at you, squinting exaggeratedly. He held his face in his hands. "Stop messing around," he said, and his tone was so tired it sounded like a father talking to his teenage daughter. "Don't tell me you've fallen for the nerd now."
The heat returned to your cheeks. This time it was impossible to hide. You felt it in your ears, in your neck, everywhere. Your friends laughed in unison, a guffaw that echoed in the hallway and made several students turn to look at them.
"I haven't fallen for anyone," you said, and your voice was so unconvincing that even you would have laughed. "You're already hallucinating."
"Sure," Olivia repeated, with a tone so sarcastic it looked like she was going to choke on the word. "That's why you came out of the library blushing like a tomato."
"It's just hot," you lied, and you started walking toward your class, leaving your friends behind. They followed you, laughing, pushing each other, making comments under their breath that they knew you could hear but said anyway.
"IT'S NOT HOT," Quen imitated, and her voice was so shrill it was embarrassing. "In a building with air conditioning."
You didn't respond. You walked faster, your cheeks burning but with a small, indelible smile spread across your entire face.
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