{ VIRTUAL DELUSIONS | PHIGHTING & BLOCKTALES X READER | ONE SHOTS. }

"CAFÈ WITH LOSERS." FINN MCCOOL & GRIEFER X PLAYER!READER

burps
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The Iron Café wasn't built for peace.
It was a low-ceilinged, neon-bathed madhouse that smelled like caramel syrup and overheated amplifiers. Fairy lights dangled from copper pipes, multicolored lasers painted the floor, and a small stage up front hosted a local band singing a half-decent pop remix through cheap speakers.

It was crowded — shoulder to shoulder, voices mixing with laughter and music. People were dancing near the bar, others chugging neon smoothies under posters of past performers. You, though? You just wanted caffeine. A simple drink. Maybe some fries.

And unfortunately, the universe decided that meant being sandwiched between Finn McCool and Griefer.

You were halfway through ordering when Finn leaned against the counter, flashing his usual grin. "Hey, hey, hey — get them the good stuff, yeah? They've got taste. Unlike some people here."

Behind him, Griefer scoffed — voice cutting through the music like feedback static. "4S 1F Y0U W0ULD KN0W WH4T T4ST3 3V3N M34NS, MCBUG."

Finn turned. "It's McCOOL."

Griefer's pixelated grin glitched wider. "N0T WH4T TH3 R3ST 0F US TH1NK."

You pinched the bridge of your nose. "Guys—"

Too late.

Finn slammed his hand on the counter dramatically, startling the poor barista. "Oh, here we go! What's your deal, man? You got some kind of crush or something?"

"WH4T?! N0! 1—UH—" Griefer's face flickered green, a faint stutter in his voice codec. "1 JUST D0N'T W4NT TH3M H4NG1NG W1TH L4M3RS."

"Oh, sure. Because calling me lame is totally subtle," Finn shot back. "Newsflash, neon boy: they're hanging out with me because I'm fun. You? You sound like a corrupted Minecraft server."

"1'D R4TH3R B3 4 C0RRUPT3D S3RV3R TH4N 4 CLOWN," Griefer hissed, taking a step closer. "TH3Y'R3 M1N3, Y0U L1TTL3 L4TTE DR1NK1NG P4NK."

Your drink hadn't even been served yet. You just stared between them, already tired.

"Mine?" Finn repeated, pointing a thumb at himself. "Buddy, they came here with me. You're just—what, their stalker? Their emotional support malware?"

Griefer growled. "C4LL M3 TH4T 4G41N, 4ND Y0U'LL B3 W1P1NG Y0UR F4C3 0FF MY CR0WB4R."

"Oh, I'd love to see you try, glitchface!" Finn shouted, standing up from his stool so fast it fell over with a clang.

Someone on stage stopped mid-song. Heads turned. The lead singer mumbled, "Uh... are they fighting?" into the mic, and a few people laughed.

You buried your face in your hands. "God, please just let me evaporate."

The barista, deadpan, slid you your drink. "If they break anything, I'm charging you."

"Fair."

Meanwhile, Finn and Griefer had turned the café floor into a battleground. Finn's energy was pure chaos — wild hand gestures, words spilling out faster than he could think. "You're just mad 'cause I've got charm. They like me. They actually laugh at my jokes!"

Griefer jabbed a finger into his chest, voice booming over the bassline. "TH3Y L4UGH 4T Y0U, N0T W1TH Y0U! 1'M TH3 0NLY 0N3 H3R3 WH0 C4N PR0T3CT TH3M, Y0U W4LK1NG 404."

"Protect? Bro, the only thing you protect is your KD ratio."

"TH4T'S 4CTU4LLY PR3TTY G00D, TH4NK Y0U."

Someone in the audience yelled, "Fight! Fight! Fight!" which only made things worse.

Finn threw his arms out, addressing the crowd like a performer. "Okay, people, before this guy short-circuits, let's get one thing clear—" He pointed to you, dramatically. "They came with me. That means they're with me. Case closed."