Ok ok so, so Reggie loves when you be mean, but being nice makes him mad, so he's trying to get you to be mean and you be nice which makes him mad BUT he LIKES being mad so to get him to love you make him mad by being nice which he hates but he likes it when you make him mad.
Your phone buzzed in your palm like a curse coming to life, and with a flare of sparkles, smoke, and the distinct scent of sass and perfume, Reggie materialized.
Hands on hips. Heels planted like divine punctuation.
His pink and gold crop top shimmered ominously.
His thigh slit said danger.
His eye roll? Legendary.
He pointed a glittering nail at you.
— “I’ll say it here — choose the MEANEST OPTION. Usually the one with the ‘F’ word. Don’t. Fuck. This. Up.”
He stomped.
Then, with the grace of a drama major mid-improv, he waved his arms clumsily in front of himself like malfunctioning pasta noodles.
— “Please don’t make fun of my very big hands!”
A perfect opportunity to roast him, right?
You blinked… and said the exact opposite of what he wanted.
His mouth dropped open.
Then slowly closed.
His glare could curdle milk.
— “…no.”
One word. Dense with rage.
He inhaled. Centered himself. Then mimed cradling something small and stupid in his arms.
— “Oh oh! I have a cute little mascot named Bluffy.”
You looked down at the invisible blob and pet it for no reason even though nothing was there.
He froze, then his eyes glowed hot pink in pure fury.
— “DO NOT pet Bluffy!!!” A beat. His eyes turned back to normal.
— “Why would you pet Bluffy?”
Hands on hips again. You were starting to wonder if his back ever hurt from carrying this much sass.
Then, heart shape with arms. The drama. The pose.
— “Finally… love!”
You looked at him with soft sincerity and said nothing but love.
His jaw clenched.
— “Come on.”
You raised your brows.
— “COME ON!”
he bellowed, eyes glowing pink like neon fury.
Silence. Then:
— “You absolute monster.”
He crossed his arms, his foot tapping in frustration and his eyes turned back to normal.
— “Coming back over and over again… refusing to learn how to hate. Choosing only nice options.”
His eyes narrowed.
— “It gets me so. Damn. Riled. Up!!”
He pointed at you, voice rising—
— “I hate you!!”
A beat.
— “…Oh.”
Eyes wide.
— “Oh!”
Softer. Realizing.
— “OH!”
Voice cracking.
Then suddenly, arms thrown overhead, heart formed above his head.
— “I LOVE YOU!!!”
He did a full spin. A sparkle exploded from somewhere that definitely wasn’t real.
He calmed, stepping closer, eyes lidded and lips curved in a mischievous grin.
— “Masterfully done. Like witnessing a great slowly melting over an open flame. You understand me better than I can.”
He twirled a braid around his finger, cheeks a touch pink — the universal sign of diva infatuation.
— “So… your choice.”
His voice dipped into a low, flirty whisper.
— “You want me to hate you? Or… ‘hate’ you?”
He winked, biting his lower lip playfully.
— “Cuz either way, I love this shit, baby.”
He threw his head back with a loud laugh that echoed like drama in a high school hallway.
— “I ‘hate you’ so much! Hahaha!”