#and also because i gave her a couple more cats in the fic that i'm working on :)

[bunnyinatree]

Behold what is probably my most colorful creation to date: Misa Frank 💖🐬✨

[image ID: a digital drawing of Misa from Death Note in the style of Lisa Frank, specifically the drawing from this post. Misa is sitting on a colorful surfboard beside a tuxedo cat, and her hair is up in pigtails and dyed purple at the tips. She is smiling and looking at the camera, beneath the words, "Yes, the horrors are indescribable, but you've got to serve." There are various other flourishes, like a purple dolphin in the foreground and a rainbow sailboat in the background. Misa's seashell-esque bathing suit is inspired by this post. End image ID.]

[babygirl-diaz]

Tattooed Golden Retriever

This is once again dedicated to @sarastars who gave me the idea for the fic.

Considering what's going on in the show right now, it kinda hurt writing this.

Summary: 5 Times Eddie scratches Buck's head and he falls asleep + 1 time he doesn't and Eddie kisses him.

***

i. Eddie was busy reading a spy novel on the couch when he felt something heavy on his lap. He looked down to see Buck smiling up at him.

"Uh... Hello?" Eddie chuckled, and his hand automatically moved into Buck's hair.

"Mmmm... Read to me," Buck mumbled and made himself comfortable, practically nuzzling Eddie's thigh like a cat, making him feel all sorts of things that he refused to acknowledge. "Also, give me head scratches."

"If I do that, you're gonna fall asleep, Buck, and Bobby will not be happy," Eddie told him but absentmindedly scratched his head.

"I don't care," Buck replied and made happy noises as Eddie continued to scratch his head. "Now read to meeeeee..." He whined and bumped his nose against Eddie's thigh.

Eddie sighed and started reading. "The rain slashed across the grimy windows of the safe house, mirroring the tension that thrummed through Anya Petrova's veins. She clutched the burner phone, its cold metal a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from the freshly brewed cup of tea in her other hand. The voice on the other end of the line crackled with static, but Anya recognized it instantly. It was her handler-" Eddied stopped when he heard snoring and looked down to see that Buck had fallen asleep.

"He's like a goddamn puppy," Chimney commented as he sat down on the armchair with his bowl of fruit.

"More like a tattooed golden retriever," Eddie said fondly and smiled at a sleeping Buck as he continued to gently run his fingers through his curls.

"Mmmhmm..." Chimney hummed

Eddie looked up to find his coworker and friend giving him a knowing look before going back to his fruit bowl.

***

ii. It was the end of a very long shift and Eddie was getting ready to go home when Buck sat down beside him on the locker room bench with a heavy sigh. He put his head on Eddie's shoulder and let out another sigh. "'m tired," Buck complained.

Eddie lifted his hand to scratch Buck's head, who made a delighted sound.

"Yeah, I'm tired too," Eddie replied, yawning. "We all are. It was a long-ass shift."

Eddie kept scratching Buck's head and soon heard soft snoring. "Buck?" He called out but got no response in return.

"No," Eddie mumbled. He knew he wouldn't be able to move until Buck woke up. Because Eddie would rather die than wake him up. So he instead kept scratching his head and put his own head down on top of Buck's, closing his eyes.

***

iii. The next time it happened, they were at a BBQ at Bobby and Athena's place. Eddie sat on the floor talking to Karen and Hen while eating his lunch when he felt someone sit beside him. He looked over to find Buck smiling at him like a goof. "What?" He asked.

"I need head scratches," Buck replied like a little child.

Eddie blushed a little and looked at Hen and Karen to find them giving him an amused look.

Buck removed the empty plate from Eddie's lap and put it on the coffee table before putting his head down instead. "Head scratches! " He demanded.

Eddie rolled his eyes and started scratching Buck's head, letting his blunt fingernails move through the curls in slow motion.

He went back to talking to Hen and Karen like this was the most normal thing in the world. They looked a little confused before continuing the conversation.

Soon Buck fell asleep on Eddie's lap and Eddie gave him a fond glance.

"What?" He asked when he found Hen and Karen giving him a knowing look, similar to the one Chimney had given him a couple weeks ago.

"Nothing," Karen replied with a shrug. "You two are so comfortable with each other."

"We've been friends for 8 years," Eddie replied. He couldn't believe his own ears as he said that.

"You ever thought of having something more with him?"

Eddie was taken aback by Karen's question and saw Hen bumping her shoulder against her wife's, and shaking her head.

Eddie blushed once again and shook his head. "We're just meant to be friends."

"Of course," Karen replied with a smirk.

***

iv. During one of their calls, the 118 ended up saving a puppy that was only a few months old. The golden retriever was adorable, and Eddie loved dogs, so he took charge of the dog while they waited for her family to come and take her. She followed Eddie around everywhere and Eddie fed her food that Bobby made for her and also sneakily fed her some from his plate. After dinner, Sheena, as her name tag had suggested her name was decided she wanted to play. Eddie found a ball in the lost-and-found box and threw it for her, which she went and caught and brought back to him. Then she started giving him kisses, making him laugh and roll around on the floor of the fire station loft.

"Sheena, stop!" Eddie laughed and grabbed her face, giving her kisses in return.

She put her chin down on Eddie's knee when she finished playing and Eddie immediately knew what she wanted. He chuckled and started scratching her head and behind her ear. As he kept doing that, Sheena soon fell asleep with her chin on Eddie's lap.

Eddie heard someone clear their throat and looked up from the floor to see Buck pouting at him. "What's wrong?" Eddie asked worriedly.

"She's taking my place," Buck huffed and sat down beside Eddie.

"She's a three-month-old puppy, Buck," Eddie reminded him.

"I don't care. The head scratches are mine," Buck said possessively and lay down on the floor, putting his head on Eddie's other thigh.

"Buck, what are you doing?" Eddie laughed. "Come on, get up."

"Give me head scratches!" Buck demanded, like he always did.

"Buck, everyone is looking," Eddie told him but moved his other hand into Buck's hair, anyway.

"I don't care. No one is taking my head scratches away from me," Buck adamantly told him.

Eddie sighed and ran his fingers through Buck's scalp, scratching it gently.

Just as always, Buck was soon asleep.

"Eddie, the Smith family are he-" Bobby stopped mid-sentence and raised his eyebrows.

"Do you mind taking Sheena? I can't get up," Eddie told him.

Bobby sighed and nodded, "Okay." He went to pick up Sheena, who woke up and started squirming.

Eddie gave her a sad look and let her give him kisses again. He gave her kisses too and then watched sadly as Bobby carried her away.

***

v. Buck, Eddie, and Christopher were playing video games at Buck's loft with Eddie sitting in between Buck and Christopher. Buck and Eddie were playing against each other and Christopher was cheering them on, taking Buck's side this time. Eddie ended up winning and high-fived himself while Buck and Christopher booed him. But then Buck put his head on Eddie's shoulder and yawned. "Head scratches," he demanded as always.

Eddie snorted and shook his head. "Such a child," he teased and started scratching Buck's head at an awkward angle.

He looked at Christopher to find him giving them a confused look.

"It's a new thing with him, where he wants head scratches and then falls asleep," Eddie explained.

Christopher grinned and put his head down on Eddie's other shoulder. "Head scratches," he demanded as well.

To say that Eddie was surprised would be an understatement. He never expected his 16-year-old son to demand head scratches from him but he'd be damned if he denied the request. Some part of his brain said, "Like father, like son," but he ignored it.

Smiling widely, he started running his fingers through Christopher's curls as well.

Soon both Buck and Christopher were fast asleep while Eddie stayed wide awake between them, happily giving them head scratches.

***

i. Eddie was trying to finish the novel on his bed while Buck and Christopher played games in the living room. It was summer vacation so Eddie let Christopher stay up late, but in the end, it looked like it was Buck who was exhausted. These days, he slept in Eddie's room when he stayed over because something had shifted in their relationship. Eddie wasn't sure what though. So when Buck came into the room, Eddie looked up from his book and smiled. "You good?" He asked.

Buck fell face-first into Eddie's lap. "I'm tired," he mumbled.

"And you want head scratches?" Eddie asked, chuckling.

Buck turned around and put his head on Eddie's lap before nodding, "Love how you know me so well."

Eddie ran his fingers through Buck's hair and Buck yawned but smiled goofily up at Eddie instead of sleeping like usual. He looked so beautiful, so peaceful, though.

"C-can I kiss you?" The words were out of Eddie's mouth before he could stop himself and he nervously bit down on his bottom lip.

"Thought you'd never ask," Buck replied, smirking.

Eddie leaned down and captured Buck's lips in a gentle, chaste kiss.

When he pulled away, Buck looked at him with a pout. "What was that? I expected more from you!"

Buck sat up on his knees and pulled Eddie close, kissing him hard. Eddie let out a choked sound in the kiss, which Buck swallowed. In his two years dating men, Eddie had never been kissed like this.

[dolls-self-ships]

Two Birds One Storm

heyyyy this is my first fic in a while also it’s not finished yet this is only part one so it’s a quick read if you’re interested! <3 inspired by this prompt by otp-fanfic-ideas

“Oh my, would you look at that?”

Mac raised her head with a slight curious hum in her throat at the sound of her voice, she looked over to see her .. em.. friend, sitting by the window of her hut, which was being rapidly spotted with heavy raindrops, making an aggressive tap.. tap tap.. tap.. tap tap sound on the glass.

Mac felt startled, she could have sworn she calculated this weeks weather to a T, and all accounts showed nothing but sunshine, but sometimes Mother Nature had a way of being particularly unpredictable. Either that or she had miscalculated, but Mac would rather believe the first thing than the second one.

“Why, it’s just raining cats and dogs” Daphne tsked, still observing the grey sky and the cloudy mist that now covered the island.

“Oh aye” Mac agreed as she joined Daphne at the window, looking up to study the clouds herself. “And that great big one looks like a cumulonimbus. An et looks like there’s more rolling in fast as et is.”

Daphne looked at her, a little confused at first but trying her best to remember what kind of cloud that was. She had been getting used to Mac’s way of putting things into very technical terms, on top of her thick Scottish accent- of which both she found endlessly charming- and she would hate to make Mac repeat herself, as she often had to.

After a couple seconds, Daphne was almost certain she remembered. “That means uh.. thunder right?”

Mac smiled at her, and nodded in approval. She gave a little "mhm!" as in 'that's correct!'.

"I must say hen, you're catchin' on faster than Mr. Rhodes ever did. Yer a fast learner!" Mac praised her with an approving grin and a wink. Daphne felt a small sense of pride swell inside of her when Mac said that, partially because she liked the feeling of being better than Rocky at something, but also because she liked that Mac felt understood by her.

“Maybe because we spend so much time together" she giggled.

Mac felt a little bit of a rush from that, a warmth filled her cheeks as she nodded. "Aye, that too." She looked back out the window,

After a few moments of staring out into the rain, it slowly began to dawn on Daphne that her hut was all the way on the other side of town, and getting there would be like hell in just the rain alone, let along when the storm starts picking up. She gently cleared her throat and stammered "W-well, I-I should probably start headin' out now"

Mac was shocked, what on earth was she saying? She couldn't go out in this weather. "What? Now? I donnae think that's such a good idea, lass."

Daphne sighed "If I don't get goin' now I'm not gonna make it home" she said, shaking her head, "and I would hate to be a bother to you"

The rain started to pick up more, followed by a loud crash that startled the two. Both their heads turned quickly back to the window, and their eyes slowly travled upwards to see clusters of rain clouds, more and more packing in as if they all had a personal vendetta against this one specific chicken-housing island. They could see tiny flashes of light coming from between the cracks of plush looking grey forms in the sky, but it wasn't sunshine like one would hope, the flashes were erratic and white, the lightning had already begun to start up.

"Hen, I cannae let you go out in that, ye could ge'y knocked over by de wind, lost in all de fog, shrivel up like a wee raisin from all the rain, catch hypothermia-"

Daphne watched as Mac counted on her fingers all the possibilities she could face if she went outside at this time, in an effort to get her to stop, she placed her wings overtop of hers.

"Alright, alright, I get it, I just.." She paused, shifting in her seat and taking a breath “I just don’t wanna impose, that’s all”

Mac shook her head. “Even if that was, hen, there’s no wey that wee half-built bit wuld keep you warm enough in this.”

Daphne hummed, looking back outside as she saw the first bolt of lightening hit the water around the island. She wasn’t able to get out a response in time as Mac has already gotten up from her seat.

“Sit tight while I put de kettle on.”

As Mac left to the kitchen to get started, Daphne watched her with guilty eyes. She didn't know what it was, but everytime she was being waited on by someone, it always felt off. Wrong somehow. She hated making people go out of their way for her, she didn't like the feeling that she was causing trouble or making someone get up, even when it was a simple of a task as brewing tea. So, she quickly got up from her seat.

"Wait" She followed after her,  Mac turned over her shoulder from where she stood, already at the counter with the kettle going, which had already begun to make its low steaming sound, a high pitched, barely audible 'phhhwwwwtttt' sound. Daphne came up beside her and plucked two tea bags from the little display Mac had placed on the kitchen top. Peppermint- Mac's favourite. "I'll get these for ya"

Mac smiled, holding out her hand to grab the two little bags. "Thanks hen" she said, reaching for them a bit further than she intended, and accidentally brushing her hand over Daphne fingertips.

phhhwwttt

Mac jolted, a gasp hitched in her throat. Her teeth clenched as she flinched her hand away, feeling that familiar warmth in her cheeks again. Her eyes flickered between her recoiled hand and Daphne’s face, hoping that she could read her expression just enough to predict what was going through her mind at that moment.

Ppppphhhwhwwttttt

Daphne wasn't all that suave either, she didn’t say a word, but her eyes spoke volumes. They wouldn't leave the spot on her hand that Mac accidentally touched, it was like she could still feel a ghost of what the sensation was like to have her feathertips brush hers. It was still warm. Still comfortable.

PPPPPHHHHWWWTTTTTTT

Her eyes darted back up to the maroon combed hen, who then turned away from her shyly and said in an awkward tone and held out her hand, palm up, instead for Daphne to place the bags in.

"Ah... sorry"

It was up until then that Daphne had completely forgotten about the tea.

“It’s alright…”

click

The water was ready.

[radioisntdead]

Good evening folks! I wasn't feeling the best today so I decided to treat myself and I made a sheet + some details for my sona [with a very mild redesign]

She's supposed to be a little more chubby [because I am] but apparently that vanished during my lineart and I did not have the energy to fix it.

She's a lil' deer lady who writes fanfiction and does other things in the hotel, she got taken out around the early 1930's after discovering something she wasn't supposed too.

She wrote a few books that never got published during her lifetime.

Ranging from wholesome romance, horror to children's books.

She has two sets of ears because I have a thing for elf ears, she can hear out of both pairs, the elf ears are pierced, She's more sensitive towards loud noises.

Her pupils are ink splotches, and the marks on her body resemble ink splotches.

She dyes parts of her hair brown, just to somewhat stay in touch with what she looked like before, without the brown it's fully pink [?]

Honestly has no idea WHAT she did to end up down there, has a couple of theories though.

She has a notebook with all the details about loved ones, along with doodles, just in case she forgets what they looked like, She wonders if her loved ones still remember her or if she's buried deep in their memories, forever forgotten.

She has a whole thing with being forgotten or forgetting.

She absolutely HATED some of the deer aspects she got stuck with at first, particularly her deer ears at first, definitely tried to tear them off when she got oversimulated.

She learned to adore her deer parts within time especially her hooves because hooves, they make click-clack noises, she still wants to tear her deer ears off when she gets oversimulated though.

Ended up getting involved with Alastor and temporarily [and without permission] took over his radio tower when he was away for seven years, forcing sinners to hear her sleep deprived rambles and whatever songs she felt like listening to.

Moved into the hazbin hotel because she had nothing better to do plus it gave her more time to indulge in her hobbies without worry of getting murked or something.

Wonders if she truly gets redeemed would her loved ones accept her when they're reunited again?

Her choker has a spades charm on it [Ace of spades]

Occasionally keeps cursed cat Alastor hostage, also kidnaps the egg bois to change their outfits or draw on them.

Crochets little plushies and gives them to everyone in the hotel.

Old versions

Alrighty I'm done being cringe for now, I'm writing the part two for that Velvette fic, so Tune on in later today or tomorrow for it!

[miitarashi]

You mentioned you have a Tintin oc, do you have any art of them? If not, can you describe them, like how they look or their name and personality and things? I'm so interested in people's oc's ❤️

Unfortunately i stopped drawing a long time ago so i don't have and can't make arts about neither Tintin or my oc,but at least i keep her alive through my writing on my other fic in my native language.

And yes! I can describe her for you 😘

Appearance: her name is Aisha,an young adult woman between 18 and 20 years old, 1.65 tall (5'5, almost the same height as Tintin). Long black, curly hair, usually braided or loose. She has vitiligo (I simply think people like that are the most beautiful thing 🥹) and eyes with heterochromia due to vitiligo (one is brown and the other is light green). Her clothes are very simple, long cargo pants with several pockets and she either wears a top or a tank top. Not so thin, a robust body, but still feminine.

Personality: well, here we start with the fact that she is a thief,bisexual, have ADHD and is ✨️brazilian✨️ lol. She is self-centered and thinks she is the best, always wanting to attract attention as she has a reputation for never having been caught regardless of the robbery. Debauched and manipulative, but only when necessary.

She's not a bad person, since even though she's self-centered, she has a big heart and is very charismatic, the type who makes friends after 5 minutes of conversation (in the meantime, she would probably already know about your family and be planning a visit lol). She has the energy of a Golden Retriver, but provokes like a black cat.

Background : how she and Tintin met is fun because they are the "enemies to lovers" troup. She ended up in Brussels because her parents abandoned her there and ran away because they were fugitives, a old woman called Anastacia took her to raise with two other acquaintances of hers, Alexander and Darium (they are old friends),basically becoming her adoptive relatives and calling her Aisha.

Tintin and her met when they were between 9 and 12 years old and by his looks she thought it was fun to tease the poor guy and get in the way of whatever he was doing regardless of what. Talking wasn't an option since she didn't take it seriously just to keep disturbing him, but when he started to return it in the same way it became a competition to see who hated each other more lol.

With Tintin soon becoming the hero and traveling the world, Aisha stayed, became a thief and started traveling the world always aiming to make the most eye-catching robbery possible (As she never hurt anyone and would return it if the person seemed to need the money more, her relatives let her go without any problems lol).

Every now and then he joined Tintin's enemies just to continue disturbing and making the situation worse, but there was one that was the trigger for enemies to lovers that i'll keep it short because this post is getting long lol. In short, she had joined a gang that manipulated her and to get revenge she planned everyone's arrest but Tintin was also involved and this gang hated him.

Classic one helping the other, Tintin got into an ambush in which she blamed herself because indirectly she was the one who gave the location without knowing it, they fought and you know that moment when one of the two ends up kissing the other and then they ask for one more? yeah 😏... After arresting the gang, they didn't exactly become a couple, but something close (it's deeper than that but I don't want to take too long 🥺)

Overal is it,there's some other little things but i guess it's enough for now. Thank you for the ask tho! I never thought someone would want to know about my Oc lol.

[thesupernaturalhouse]

more pregnant shelby if u feel so inclined

also idk if uve posted the fic yet but if u have is there a link?

I haven't posted the fic yet, I want to write some chapters before I do so that way if I cant/don't feel like writing I can still post a chapter, I'm hoping to get it out this weekend cause really I can't wait to start with this au

●Katherine has some cat hybrid blood. Cats are very protective of their kids before and after their born-

●Aka, Katherine, once she finds out, is practically attached to Sehlby by the hip for a week before Shelby attempts to get her back to her empire to, y'know. Rule it

●it does not work, Gem has to get involved thinking Kath is just being overprotective saying "hey, go take care of your people- you girlfreidns gonna be fine!"

●Katherine just grumbles and glares at Gem, she does this for like a month

●False cannot keep a secret for the life of her, so Oli is on lie patrol. Sausage just kinda stares at the child smiling and the child making pained noises before excepting whatever lie Oli gave him about where Shelby is

●Shelby is one of those people who don't show much during the pregnancy, so, she doesn't look pregnant. But she is very much pregnant, no Joey she's not lying-

●Sausage is the first to know and he invites everyone over for free drinks, except Joey cause let's be real that pirate has stolen from EVERYONE there's no way they wouldn't have a grudge

●Scott says the next big news he gets, he gets to spread it. Because sausage did this to be the 1st to spread it so- que flirting*

●Joey finds out. At the festival. After ehs already challenged and threatened Shelby. Katherine is not pleased.

●seriously she yells at him, and practically drags him through the ground before he threatens to tell shekbys secret and Kath responds with "what secret!? That shes pregnant....fuck." "Wait she's pregnant?"

●Joey refuses to except this because Sehlby doesn't took pregnant and he ignores things he doesn't like; like being locked in prison multiple times for stealing and not getting the memo

●Shelby is 10 minutes away from strangling him

●Shelby simply writes the witch council she spregannta nd their like "ah yes. Hormones go brrrr, we understand have a nice day. And stop practicing magic on other people or doing big spells until your hormones are back in place!"

●the couple also does debate of Shelby was pregnant before or after, but it's a 50/50 chance and they don't wanna ask because of stuff, so they just leave them be

●Gem gives the couple baby stuff randomly. No they haven't asked for it no the don't know how she got it. No they aren't asking.

●half of these people are hybrids. Instincts kick in. Hermes wants to be around Shelby all the time cause she is like, pulsing with warm motherly safe energy

●no sausage and Joel aren't sad or jealous!

●Lizzie is a cat, cats purr on pregnant people's bellies. Wanna guess what lizzie does?(I mightve said this before-) she's just glued to shelby whenever she's near.

●Fwhip too but is more of the on-your-shoulder type of glued while Lizzie is trying to lay down on shelby and curl up on her stomach.

●y'know when Joey lured Sehlby into an attack? Yeah that's like 10x mroe dangerous, and sausage is 10x more panicked

●Cleo and Xisuma are not happy when they find out. Joey suddenly feels like he's in danger.

●also she's an elytrin. Something (old)people view as dangerous......assassination plots ensue, Katherine shuts each and every one of them down almost immediately.

●As I said before, surprisingly(and ironically) it's glimmer Grove where Shelby is the most disliked everywhere else she's like, fine

●there are indeed, complications with the pregnancy, which kicks if a whole new angst arc :3 :³

●I've got stuff for when the crossover happens too, it a mix of angst nd comedy

[gnabnahc317cb97]

The Heart Flutter Game

Chan/OT8 x Female reader

Word count: 990

Synopsis: What happens when you realize Chan is capable of making your heart race?

Warnings: None but if there is something I should have up as a warning please let me know and I'll add it. Also although there is no smut or nsfw content in this fic my blog and stories are strictly for 18+ and over. MDNI you will be blocked.

You didn't know where the staff came up with these games sometimes but when you all walked in and saw a huge game board you knew you were going to have fun, especially when you all started to walk around and read the squares. Blind tasting, debate, this or that, heart flutter, fruit ninja. You didn't know what some of the games were but you knew the heart flutter game from watching tik toks.  

You all rolled a big dice to determine the order you'd go in. Once that was decided the game could really begin. You made it a couple times around the group and then it was your turn again. You rolled and Chan moved your piece for you, landing on the heart flutter game. You had watched Seungmin and Jisung play one of the other rounds, so you knew what to expect and you knew who you would pick. 

"I choose Chan." He smiled and walked over. 

"You don't think I can make your heart flutter?" He seemed up to the challenge.  

"No offence Channie but I highly doubt it." He clutched his heart. 

"I'm hurt and will now have to prove myself that much more." You laughed. 

"Well go on then sweep me off my feet old man." He made a stink face. 

"I'm not old!" Seungmin laughed. 

"You just forgot you're old because you're old." Chan feigned laughing and then turned back towards you as a staff member finished setting up the ears and sensors. Then one of the other staff members got the stopwatch ready. You just had to survive two minutes. They hit the button to start it. 

"Okay and go!" Chan walked towards you a little more. 

"Da? Ahh Da? Uwu..." Chan went straight for aegyo but you stood there expressionless the ears unchanging. He stepped closer.  

"Daaaa? Oooo cuuuute!" He poked his cheek and you still gave no reaction and he got no movement from the ears. He stepped closer, now he was definitely in your bubble and you could smell his cologne. Why did he smell so good? The ears twitched and Chan looked at you with a little smile. 

"What's wrong y/n?" You shook your head. 

"N-nothing..." His smile got bigger. He leaned in and the cat ears moved more. The guys all started teasing you as your ears started turning red. 

"Flirt Chan!" He got closer and you took a deep breath. 

"Nothing? Really? You seem flustered..." Chan's face was so close to yours that you could feel his warm breath on your neck, giving you goosebumps and the ears started moving even more. 

"Uh... I... I..." You were starting to get embarrassed that Chan was having such an effect on you. His lips were almost pressed to the shell of your ear. 

"Do I make your heart flutter y/n-ie?" He whispered, then he kissed your cheek and the ears went crazy. You gasped surprised he did that. Your whole face was burning now as the guys all laughed. Suddenly, to you, it wasn't funny anymore. You pulled the ears off and tossed them down before running off. Everyone stopped laughing. Chan looked around at the guys who were all looking up at him. 

"Way to go Chan." Chan looked over at Changbin who had said it. 

"What?! You guys told me to flirt." Minho shook his head. 

"Yea flirt, we didn't say kiss her." Chan face palmed and groaned. 

"I'll go apologize." Chan walked off in the direction you had run off in as the rest of the guys took a break. He found you by following the sounds of your sniffles. He felt terrible.  

"y/n? Hey I'm really sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I was trying to be silly and took it too far." You wiped at your face a huffed out a breath. 

"It's not that. You didn't make me uncomfortable Chan." He was confused, his head tilted to the side as his bottom lip protruded. 

"What then?" You slouched against the wall. 

"I... I liked it." Chan nodded. 

"Okay..." You rolled your eyes. 

"I liked it a lot okay?! And everyone was there watching and laughing and I realized it was all just a joke, that I was a joke, and..." Chan's brow furrowed. 

"Hey hey no. You're not a joke." You looked down and shrugged.  

"Well that's how it felt. 'Chan kissed y/n hahaha big joke'. Even you just said you did it to be silly." Chan realized he'd hurt your feelings. 

"I'm so sorry y/n. I didn't mean it like that." You shook your head. 

"Just forget it. Okay? Let's just get back and finish the game." You started to walk off and Chan gently grabbed your wrist stopping you. 

"Hey wait we need to talk about this." You pinched the bridge of your nose. 

"Why?" 

"Well you liked the kiss and I liked kissing you. Isn't that something we should discuss." You looked at him speechless. 

"You what?" He shrugged. 

"I said I liked kissing you and I think this is something we should talk about instead of ignoring it." When you finally processed Chan's words and that he truly meant them you nodded. 

"Yea okay..." You said shyly. You and Chan sat down on the floor with your backs against the wall and started talking. Midway through the conversation Chan grabbed and held your hand and your heart started racing faster. Back in the main part of the studio the guys were all huddled around a monitor. After a moment Felix spoke up. 

"Shouldn't we tell them their mics are still on?" Hyunjin shook his head. 

"No give them their moment." Seungmin chimed in. 

"I didn't think they would ever figure it out. It was starting to get painful to watch them." All of the guys agreed in unison. They let you and Chan have your moment while they waited for you both to return and finish the game. 

Please do not repost or translate any of my works. My blog and stories are NSFW and 18+ ONLY! Minors, ageless, and blank blogs will be blocked!

[creative-kny-fics]

I luv your fics soooo much! (≧∀≦)

Could you do Ler!obanai and lee! Giyuu?? I know this is kind of a “rare” pair so please, don’t be afraid to decline!

Well, let's say that in my AU, Obanai, Giyuu and Sanemi get along better after a coexistence requested by Oyakata - Sama. Also, why does Mitsuri love Tomioka as if he were a brother- (support that Obanai) (THANKSSSS!!)

Lee: Giyuu Tomioka

Ler: Iguro Obanai

Ever since Mitsuri and Obanai became a couple, they both started spending more time together than before. They ate together on one of their farms, hugged each other, cared for each other and were very happy.

'Iguro - San, I'm so happy...'

'I am too, because I have you by my side and because you're happy'

'Giyuu - San was right. You truly love me,' Obanai froze.

For those who don't know, during a get together, Obanai confessed to Giyuu and Sanemi his feelings for Mitsuri and made them promise not to say anything. Giyuu knew the risk, but, Mitsuri was quite stubborn and literally laughed the information out of him.

'What else did Tomioka tell you about me?' 'Iguro-San. Tomioka did nothing wrong! I don't want you to hit him or be mean to him, okay?' Mitsuri puffed out her cheeks with a frown.

Obanai only sighed, couldn't he hurt him? Perfect. He would then make him suffer for his agony

'TOMIOKA!', Iguro knocked on the farm gate, but he didn't expect to find someone else.

'Shinazugawa? What the hell are you doing here?'

'Shh! Shut up snake man! I came here by mistake, okay?!'

'Anyway, is Tomioka there?', Sanemi questioned, Iguro looking for Tomioka? Here was a cat, sorry, snake locked up

'Sure... Come in,' Iguro passed, cracking his knuckles as he walked.

Sanemi was still in doubt, so he didn't leave the estate, he stayed close.

'So you broke your promise, huh?!', Giyuu was surprised, but then he remembered... 'W-Wait Iguro! I-I s-I swear I didn't want to! Mi-Mitsuri made me!'

'Now you accuse Kanroji?! You're dead Tomioka!!', well, I know Giyuu could have kicked Obanai away, but he chose to avoid it when Iguro pinned him against the wall.

'I swear! I swear I never meant to!'

Giyuu backed away but immediately started running, being chased by Obanai. Although, I think he was so focused on looking back, he didn't think straight and fell.

His panic grew, his legs didn't work the way he wanted. That short moment gave Iguro the opportunity to sink both hands into his ribs.

'Last words...'

'Sorry...?', um, no matter how many times he apologized, Iguro wouldn't accept.

Sanemi was still outside, he looked at the sky thoughtfully, why would Obanai have wanted to be with Tomioka? Perhaps...? Well Sanemi, while you're thinking, a snake is destroying your boyfriend.

'He?! A shout?! Tomioka!', Sanemi tried to open the door, but it was locked.

Obanai knew that Sanemi would not leave so he took his precautions. Sanemi peeked out the window, to find a Giyuu screaming and begging for his life as Obanai danced his fingers deviously up and down Tomioka's ribs, making sure he didn't leave any place to go and slipping his fingers between every space between his ribs.

'STAHAHAHAHAP!!! OBAHAHAHANAI!! SORRY!!! IHIHIT WAHAHAHAS-!!! MHMHMHM!! AN AHAHACCIDEHEHEHENT!!! I SWEAR!!! OHOHOHO GOHOHOSH!!!'

'Pray all you want Tomioka, I warned you, didn't I? I warned you and Sanemi not to say anything, you opened your mouth and this is the punishment for having done it'

Sanemi then stepped back, there was another way to enter. He rushed to rescue him, he had already tasted Obanai's fury once and it truly is torture.

'You're embarrassing Tomioka, look at you now. Crying like a little child'

'HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! *hip* I-I-I!! *squeak* HEEEELP!!', Giyuu couldn't take it anymore, he felt like he could faint at any moment, fortunately he has a boyfriend who arrived in time to save him.

'Move away Obanai!', Sanemi hugged him from behind and pulled him as far away as he could. '*huff* n-ne-nemi...*'

Giyuu fainted after he said those words. Sanemi glared at Obanai as he tightened his grip.

'Very brave, huh? Very well. Now you will know the wrath of the wind', well, lesson of the day, don't bother Giyuu in front of Sanemi-

[aprillikesthings]

I had originally promised msyelf I wouldn't live-tweet or live-blog my rewatch of she-ra (mostly bc it will make it take FOREVER to watch the whole thing) but...fuck it

THIS IS A REWATCH. I've forgotten plenty of it, but I still remember plenty too, and that's all going to bias how I react to things, and obviously there will be spoilers, and also I don't plan to react to EVERYTHING bc it would just take too long okay? okay

Edit: ....yeah this took me nearly two hours for one episode oops

First of all let me point out how hilarious it is to me that when scrolling back through my tags I found myself posting MULTIPLE TIMES that I wanted to write the kind of fic I'm working on but knew I'd need to rewatch the whole series to do it right and now FOUR YEARS LATER I'm finally giving up and doing it.

why am i like this lol

ANYWAY

NETFLIX IT HAS BEEN A COUPLE OF YEARS and I know he's legally changed his name WHY is Nate/ND's old name still on here

THat's....that's Angella. That's a terrible propaganda poster of Angella. I'm cracking up how did I not notice that before

Okay the very first time Adora says Catra's name I lol'ed bc I've watched this fanvid (which came out after s2) a truly bananapants number of times and it's just what I immediately thought of

I started reading a fic recently that I couldn't get into and gave up on, but it pointed out something that seems OBVIOUS NOW: the reason the Horde is all children/teenagers is like, the whole "destroying the villages of Etheria" thing. Just slaughtering the parents and stealing the kids.

Then again maybe they said that in canon and I forgot. Dumb shit like that is of course why I'm rewatching.

Someone pointed out that both Adora and Catra obviously have ADHD and I cannot unsee it

I mean yeah that's...that's her entire motivation

(I mean not quite in the way Adora means it here but)

I will never, ever be over how fast this show started baiting them as a pairing. I remember the first time I watched the first episodes saying "the people who made this came from fandom and they know exactly how to get us."

Catra nails Shadow Weaver's motivation--"She's just mad she doesn't have any real power that doesn't come from Hordak and everyone knows it." And then calls Adora a "people-pleaser." She's not wrong.

Like, Catra understands the motivations etc of everyone but herself

(...something something abused children something C-PTSD something hypervigilance)

Catra's tail swishing just like a real cat's does when angry is A+

Re: stealing the skiff: Catra's supposed to be the one with bad impulse control but Adora is just as bad!! (it's the ADHD)

...pulling a random pretty sword out of the ground that's lit up like a quest in a video game is also poor impulse control lollll

I still crack up at this one and am still surprised I haven't read a fic that makes a big deal out of hair-pulling

Bow folding up random laundry on the floor and asking where it goes while talking to Glimmer is some nice early character-building. "This boy is not a sexist douchebag."

I mean the outfit helps too lol

Okay so on the one hand I know character age wank is fucking stupid, but also I get why people were like "...are these all minors or what" considering Glimmer's being grounded and then arguing with her mom like a high-schooler. My own parents (who were more controlling than most) stopped actually "grounding" me once I was 18--they just forbid me from using the car for anything but work or school because they owned it. Which is why they owned the car. Anyway.

(True story: that was their punishment for me getting bad grades at community college, and my response to this was to quit school, buy my own car, and move in with my then-boyfriend's family)

I wonder if Adora running off to do things on her own in order to attempt to protect people she cares about without asking them if that's even something they want her to do will be a continuing theme for her 🤔

omg the way they did her eyes/face makes Glimmer look so fucking creepy here

SO MUCH HAIR-PULLING poor Adora

I FORGET WHAT THIS SAYS I know it's an actual "alphabet" and people get tattoos and shit

(so, SO many tattoos of the failsafe...)

(okay but let's be honest a tattoo of the failsafe from the last episode is a really great way of finding other nerdy sapphics, they'd be the only ones to recognize it)

This is kinda heavy-handed ("don't just believe everything authority figures tell you, kids!") but also this show was aimed at like 12-year-olds so

Yeah this absolutely reminds me of conversations I've had over multiple decades about LGBT people and how people who know us as friends, coworkers, neighbors; realize we're Just People and are less likely to be dicks to us--not always, but often. Adora has never met a princess, so it was easy for the Horde to convince her they're all evil.

OH MAN this scene reminds me SO MUCH of the one in Arcane where Ekko is talking to Caitlyn about how Piltover/the Enforcers are fucking over the people of Zaun/the Undercity

Yeah good lord I could do a line-by-line dialogue comparison.

"Woman who has always been on the side of what she thought was The Law finds out everything she's ever known is a fucking lie and actually, she's been part of a force oppressing and destroying other people and immediately wants to fix things"

*squints at Caitlyn and Adora*

We never do find out who Grayskull is, but that's because Netflix doesn't have the rights to the He-Man stuff, and I admit this was probably the best way to keep She-Ra's signature line without getting into that

OKAY FIRST EP OVER omg

[pyrrhicraven]

Can we get more headcannons for your fics? 🥺

I'm hyper-fixated on my fic The Devil's Trap, so that's what this will be for/from! Also, I wrote a lot so under the cut lol

Since Mario and Luigi lived in Brooklyn they've seen and been involved in a mugging. (Poor Luigi just gives them his wallet-Mario gets loud and in the face of whoever is trying to mug him) Both brothers will attempt to stop someone else from getting robbed or hurt. Don't even get them started on the whole New York pizza versus the Chicago pizza! And they are picky about Italian food since their Ma cooks authentic Italian dishes.

Luigi has a collection of sunrise and sunset pictures from both worlds by him and Mario and loves taking pictures of just about anything. He's taken a few from his room in Boo's castle and one of a sunset from the ramparts.

Mario is now a bit more relaxed living in the mushroom kingdom takes time to paint. During the rainy season, Luigi likes to knit which usually means someone (Family) is teasing him for being an old lady and Mario likes to bake during the cold seasons, which he also gets ribbed for.

Dogs normally like Mario but not Luigi, and the opposite for cats. Ferrets like both of them but there was an incident where a ferret bit Luigi and wouldn't let go even as he spun around the room screaming for someone to get it off of him. Mario doesn't like snakes but they love to curl up with Luigi who isn't too concerned by the behavior for some reason (He thinks they are cute, but Mario thinks he's weird)

Both brothers have some size kinks...

Luigi knew he liked people taller than him (Spike and Destiny Del Vecchio) But when confronted with King Boo's humanoid form well-

Mario hates being called small even if he's only 5'2. But he likes that Peach is taller because that means She has long legs and he is most certainly a butt-and-leg guy) I mean perfect height to get a great view of her butt for sure.

Also, I've kind of head-cannoned Luigi really had a thing for Destiny, I mean He had a big fat crush on her clearly by the way he said her name in the movie lol I mean I have him down as gay but maybe he's andro?

Both brothers have dated, not successfully before the events of the movie. Luigi, somewhat worried about his family's opinion dated a few women and knew without a doubt that they were not his thing even if he harbored a crush on Destiny for a long time.

Mario won't mention the time he got high with friends and kissed a guy, or the fact Donkey Kong grew on him a bit. He's married now so that's not going to be a thing lol

Peasly knighted both brothers, partly because he didn't want to marry Peach and knew Knighting Mario would allow those two to marry if they wanted, and partly because he hoped that he might get with Luigi-who was oblivious to that one, but Mario wasn't! As usual! Daisy had a good laugh at the oblivion and ribbed Peasly a couple of times for it.

Daisy, Rosalina, and Peach decided it was safe to invite Luigi to girls' night because he was a relaxing friend to be around when he wasn't freaking out about whatever. Plus put a few glasses of wine in his system and he's way more chill. Give him something stronger and he's a big ol flirt.

Mario is one of the rare few who are truly allergic to alcohol, went to a party when in high school and had to go to the hospital poor guy.

King Boo...This jerk has been a pain to write because there is so little known about him. So I gave him the back story that he and his family were murdered by a rival kingdom many years before any of the kingdoms as we know them were formed, their castle burned to the ground while they were in it-Boo himself stabbed and died before the fire could kill him.

Bowser is allied with Boo but would probably throw him under a bus if he thought for a second it would help his cause and Boo is aware of that.

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

the matchmatic 3000 | jake sim

✰ summary: simp, i mean, sim jaeyun is a hopeless romantic. a cursed hopeless romantic, he would say, doomed to exist as just your friend, nothing more. but when his genius (read: nerdy) best friend creates a highly accurate matchmaking app for the university, jake is ready to bribe, beg, and possibly sell his soul to make sure he gets paired with you. plan a? hack the system. plan b? there is no plan b. to jake, being delulu is the solulu, and he's all in.

✰ pairing: jake sim x y/n [ft. bestfriends!jay & heeseung]

✰ genre: fluff, comedy | college!au, matchmaking!au, friendstolovers!au, pining, pining, pining heh

✰ contains: honestly, just crack. i had too much fun with the humor in this one i think, whoops! lots of awkward tension, slow burn, pining, more pining, cute kithes (~￣³￣)~, reader is oblivious beyond saving, but no actual warnings other than maybe one or two cuss words i think!

✰ wc: ...19k (i swear this wasn't intentional...once again, i had too much fun) 

✰ a/n: it's finally done! i'm nervvy because i haven't posted a fic in almost three years now,,,but i randomly got inspo one day after seeing a tiktok about a matchmaking questionnare and now here we are! i loved writing these characters, it was so much fun,,,but i also don't know how to feel abt the whole thing so i hope people enjoy this !! :’)) ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

Simply put, Jake Sim is a simp. His name should honestly be legally changed from Sim Jae-yun to Simp Jae-yun at this point. 

Jake doesn’t fall often, but when he does, he hits the ground with the force of a malfunctioning rocket ship. Once in the third grade, a girl gave him a Hello Kitty bandage after he face-planted off the playground swings. Cute, right? Well, Jake was so smitten, he spent the next week sliding his prized dino chicken nuggets across the lunch table like they were some ancient currency to win her over.  

Did it work? Sort of. Did she eat all his nuggets without ever looking back? Absolutely.  

But this? With you? This is different.  

Jake would give up more than just his room-temp mystery-meat pterodactyls for you. He thinks he’d willingly cat-sit twelve cats—despite his strong dislike for cats. He thinks he’d voluntarily train for the national triathlon—despite always getting winded walking up the two flights of stairs to get to his apartment. He’d probably let you have the last Supreme pizza slice, which for Jake, is basically like offering you his soul on a silver platter. 

Forget falling—Jake didn’t just trip, no. He plummeted into a cartoon-style pit, the kind covered with leaves spread over the top like some dollar-store disguise. He’s still down there, metaphorically flailing around like a maniac while you’re chilling up above, completely unaware that you Tom & Jerry-ed his heart. 

In hindsight, Jake hopelessly pining for you was about as inevitable as a rom-com misunderstanding. The second his childhood best friend Grace—aka your college best friend and roommate—introduced you guys during freshman year orientation, Jake was hit with the biggest, dumbest case of whiplash known to mankind. 

You were so confident, so outgoing, so unapologetically you. You were like sunshine, and Jake was just there, squinting and hoping he wouldn't spontaneously combust into a thousand ashes from simply staring at you. 

But, as with all classic tropes (and pining fanfics), Jake knows that mixing friend groups and love interests is a recipe for disaster. And not just any disaster—a culinary trainwreck. Worse than whatever recipe the dining hall uses to make their sad excuse for tacos. Like, is it beef? Is it tofu? Who knows, and honestly, I don't think anyone wants to know.  

Anyways, that brings us to today: a couple years later, with Jake still mooning over his friend. His feelings remain the best-kept secret in the history of best-kept secrets—well, if secrets were meant to be as obvious as a neon sign in a blackout. 

In fact, Jake’s attempts at subtlety are about as smooth as a drunk giraffe on roller skates. Whenever you walk into the room, it’s like someone hits the ‘shutdown’ button on his brain. One second, he’s cracking jokes and holding conversations just fine, the next? Boom. Total system failure. You can almost hear the Windows XP error sound the moment you catch him off guard with a smile.

It’s not that Jake can’t talk to you—he’s your friend, after all. But the second he catches your sweet laugh or smile and his feelings come rolling in and the butterflies come out? Well, that’s when words start slipping through his fingers like sand, and his once confident banter turns into a cautious game of verbal Jenga. 

His brilliant solution?

Simple: stick to safe topics and keep it light. Foolproof, right? Well, if your idea of foolproof includes missed opportunities and enough internal cringe to fuel a thousand regret-filled 3am thoughts.

Luckily for him, you’ve gone all these years mistaking his massive, raging, hormonal crush on you as part of his ‘friendly, sweet, soft-spoken boy’ personality. And Jake? He’ll take that over an awkward-confession-which-may-lead-to-a-crash-and-burn-outcome any day. 

Honestly, who wouldn’t? Jake thinks as he glances at you from across the lunch table, currently laughing at one of Jay’s terrible puns. Yep, being friends with you is totally fine… totally fine… totally fine.

Jake’s totally fine.

Jake is totally not one more bad-Jay-pun away from writing tragic love haikus in his Notes app and forming a backstory about his unrequited feelings.

As if right on cue, Jay cracks a banana-physics joke (because, obviously, Jay is an expert in theoretical physics despite never having taken a class), and while everyone else is laughing, Jake’s over here, contemplating the meaning of life:

Her laugh echoes bright, I’m lost, no GPS found, Help, I’m still simping.

Jake stares down at his phone, horrified. Did he seriously just… haiku his feelings? Help. Is this what rock-bottom looks like?

"Alright listen up you peasants," Heeseung clears his throat dramatically as he suddenly approaches the group's lunch table located outside on campus grounds, interrupting Jake's poetic inner melodrama. "Your savior has arrived."  

“This better be good, Hee. The last time you said that, you tried to convince us that you could drink five Red Bulls, pull an all-nighter, and still pass that chem exam,” you smirk questionably. 

Heeseung points at you. “And I did pass.” 

“You got a 61%,” Grace says, not even looking up from her phone. 

“That’s still passing!” Heeseung declares, full of confidence. “Anyway, this time is different. I’ve been working on something life-changing.” 

Jake shoots a glance in your direction before quickly looking away. He wants to say something witty, something that could make you laugh, but his brain is like, nah bro, not today. Instead, he nervously fidgets with the sleeve of his hoodie. Since when was there a hole there?

“Life-changing?” Jay leans back in his chair, arms crossed, wearing his usual smirk. “What, are you finally going to start that YouTube channel where you rank ramen brands?” 

Heeseung rolls his eyes as he takes a seat, “First of all, that channel is coming. But no, this is better. Way better. I’ve created…” 

He pauses for dramatic effect, looking at everyone and drumming his fingers against the table,“…a matchmaking algorithm.” 

You burst out laughing, breaking the silence of the table, “What? Like a dating app?” 

“Is this about to be Tinder, but, like, nerdy?” Grace raises an eyebrow, intrigued but skeptical. 

“Not quite. It’s a scientific, algorithm-based matching system, designed to pair people based on compatibility and mutual interests. And, lucky for you all, I’m testing it out on campus,” Heeseung grins, completely unbothered. 

Jake’s heart skips a beat. Matchmaking? His mind first immediately goes to you. And then, downright panic. What if this robot thing pairs you with someone else? Oh god, what if it pairs you with, like, Jay, and he has to watch you guys flirt non-stop while he sits in the corner like a sad, dying houseplant? (mental note: water your houseplants when you get back to your dorm, jake!)

“Didn’t you also say it was ‘scientific’ when you ate an entire pack of Mentos and then drank Coke?” Grace’s brows furrow at the boy.

Heeseung scoffs at her dramatically. “That was for science. This is for love.” 

You lean forward into the table, clearly interested.

“So you’re saying this app will scientifically find me a soulmate?” Your eyes light up and Jake’s heart skips a second beat as they happen to make eye contact with him as you say that. Please let that soulmate be me. Please. “What’s the catch? You’re not the type to just… help people find 'love' for free.” 

Heeseung shrugs, pretending to be modest, “Not true! I’m doing this purely out of the goodness of my heart.” 

Jay coughs, "Cap.” 

“Okay, fine,” Heeseung admits, “it’s for a coding competition. The winner gets a year’s worth of free ramen from that noodle place near the dorms.” 

Grace’s jaw drops. “You mean Noodle Nirvana? The one with the spicy miso?” 

“Precisely, the one with the spicy miso," Heeseung nods proudly. 

You let out a giggle, “So you’re telling me, you’ve created a love machine just so you can hoard ramen?” 

“Correction,” Heeseung says, raising a finger, “I’ve created a highly advanced matchmaking algorithm to bring people together and also hoard ramen.” 

“Good enough” you shrug, raising your iced coffee in a mock toast to your nerdy friend. “Sign me up.” 

Oh no. Jake's heart skips a third beat (someone get him an ambulance please). Oh god, you're most definitely going to get matched up with someone else. And if that happens, bye-bye to the 12 black cats he’s already mentally prepared to care for. Bye-bye triathlon training.  

But on the other hand...this could be Jake's golden opportunity—that is if somehow the universe decides to play nice and matches you with him. This could be his chance, his moment, his... immediate descent into chaos. 

"Can your app match me with that cute barista that works at the campus boba shop every Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays from 12pm to 5pm?" Jay's eyes sparkle with curiosity and excitement.  

Heeseung gives Jay a look that says he’s one step away from calling campus security. "First of all, that’s borderline stalker territory. Second, no. It doesn’t work that way."

"So..there's no way you can influence the results at all? It's purely the robot’s doing?" you cock your head at Heeseung. 

"Again, it's an algorithm! Not a robot," he then shrugs, "and I’m above bribery. Unless, of course, you’ve got a worthy offer."

"ooOoOh, corruption? Me likey," Jay’s eyebrows shoot up in mischief, "I'm in. Where do I sign up?" 

“Already done, my friends. Check your emails," Heeseung pulls out his phone and points at it.  

Jake’s phone buzzes at that moment, and when he opens it, the email is sitting at the top of his inbox. He’s never been more nervous to open an email in his life. Well, except maybe his college acceptance letter. Or his professor’s recent feedback on his History of Modern Warfare essay. 

You tap your screen and start reading the email out loud:

Subject: [IMPORTANT SCHOOL ANNOUNCEMENT]  Hello there awesome students & fellow single-tons, Have you ever looked around campus and thought, ‘Wow, everyone here is either taken, weird, or impossible to talk to?’ Well, I’m here to save you from the trenches of singleness with...*drumroll please*  THE MATCHMATIC 3000  — the university's very own matchmaking algorithm!  How does it work you ask? Simple.  1. Download the app from the link in this email (no, it's not a scam or a virus, I promise).   2. Enter your name and student ID (for verification purposes only – no catfishing allowed!)   3. Answer a bunch of super fun questions that might make you question your life choices but will definitely help MatchMatic 3000 find your perfect match!  Once you’re done, the app will work its algorithmic magic to pair you with someone who’s probably just as confused about life as you are but is at least willing to share similar pizza toppings with you. The results will be sent out after a few days of algorithmic wizardry! Why am I doing this, you ask? Because who doesn’t love a good matchmaking fiasco? It’s like throwing spaghetti at the wall and seeing what sticks, except instead of pasta, it’s your love life. And hey, if it doesn’t work out, at least you’ll have some hilarious stories to tell your future therapist!  (Please don't bill me for your therapy bill. I'm broke.) It’s scientifically programmed, which means it’s flawless. Trust me, I’m very smart. Sign up now, and may your love life finally flourish. If it doesn’t, well, you can’t say I didn’t try. Questions will be released tomorrow, so sign up today before you catch a serious case of FOMO when all the cool kids start using the app ;) Sincerely, your friendly Campus Cupid,   Lee Heeseung <3  *Disclaimer: The university, nor I, takes no responsibility for any romantic entanglements, awkward encounters, or sudden realizations that you might be better off single. Please use the MatchMatic 3000 responsibly.* 

You look up, trying to hold in your laughter, “Heeseung, what the hell is this?” 

Everyone around the table bursts into muffled giggles as they take in the sight of a 240fps gif of Heeseung’s head superimposed onto a sparkly cupid’s body, dramatically shooting an arrow into the abyss of their screens.

"It's called marketing, Y/N. You wouldn't understand,” Heeseung says unbothered. 

“You really called yourself campus cupid,” Grace manages to get out, laughing so hard she’s practically wheezing.

“I said what I said,” Heeseung replies, puffing out his chest like a self-proclaimed genius. “And it’s true. I am your cupid. My algorithm is perfect. You guys are just haters. Just wait until I go viral and become rich and famous. Jake, you support me, right?"

Jake, who hasn’t uttered a peep in maybe a century, suddenly finds himself put on the spot. Oh no, I’ve been radio silent. They probably think I’m plotting my grand escape or something.

You turn towards Jake, waiting for his response and with a smile on your face, which is enough to send him into a decade long coma he thinks. 

“Uh... yeah, for sure. Whatever it takes for that ramen, right?” he blurts out, awkwardly throwing in a finger gun for good measure.

Nailed it.

"Jakey here is too sweet to disagree with you, Hee, “ you look up at him, flashing him a soft, teasing smile. 

And that’s it. Jake’s soul exits stage left. 

He nearly chokes on his own saliva at the casual way you let the pet name roll off your tongue. It’s as if you’ve just handed him a ticket to a new dimension where 'Jakey' is a thing and he’s suddenly the happiest (and only) person on the planet.

Jakey, you called him Jakey. His mind takes an ad-break as he tries to recover. Is this…flirting? Is this how normal people flirt? Or are you just trying to send him into cardiac arrest for fun?

Either way, Jake’s officially malfunctioning. He deduces you’re just being your typical, outgoing self—completely oblivious to the heart palpitations your simple actions send to Jake’s heart. How can someone be so effortlessly charming yet unaware of the chaotic consequences? 

“Y-Yeah, totally, sorry man,” he croaks out, praying to all higher powers above that this brief interaction is over. Heeseung's love machine may be flawless, but Jake? He’s barely functional.

Jake stares at the floor, trying to process this entire ordeal, as the rest of the table returns to their everyday conversation. This is happening. This is real. He needs to find a way to get matched with you, or else he can kiss Salt and Pepper (two of the twelve cats he’s already mentally named and is now emotionally invested in) goodbye. He glances over at you, who’s already—bless your curiosity—downloading the app. 

Jake gulps. He’s doomed. 

Today's the day. Jake’s internal doomsday. 

Also known as, MatchMatic-3000-launches-it's-questions-day. 

To the group's surprise, Heeseung’s love machine has gone viral across campus—it’s been the buzz of the school since his mass email blast 24 hours ago. 

“Alright gang, let’s see if this app is as magical as Heeseung’s ego claims!” you declare, your eyes sparkling with excitement as you join everyone at the usual lunch table outside.

Jake, sitting beside you, is staring at his phone like it holds the secrets of the universe. 

“I’m just hoping it matches me with someone who understands the sacred bond between a man and his video game console,” he mutters, sneakily glancing at your screen to see if you’re answering questions about your favorite video games. Because obviously, that’s the secret to his heart. 

You’re too engrossed in the questions on your phone to notice his subtle mission.

“Even better,” you say without looking up, “I hope it matches me with someone who’ll actually play video games with me.”

Then, you look up and throw him a quick wink. Casual. Effortless. But to Jake? It’s like being a victim of a hit and run to the heart. 

He’s definitely as red as his Asian Flush after two shots of soju. Maybe three.

Jay suddenly chimes in, “What if the app pairs us with people who have weird hobbies? Like, what if I get matched with someone who collects miniature spoons or lives in a house made entirely of cheese?” 

Grace snickers at the overly dramatic boy. “Jay, I think you’d thrive in a cheese house. You’ve already mastered the art of cheesy puns.”

Jake, still staring at his phone, suddenly gets an epiphany, “Wait, do you think it can match you with someone who’s just as obsessed with obscure internet memes as I am?”

You let out a giggle towards his direction, amused by his question, which makes Jake realize that he said that out loud. Well, if he made you laugh, that's a win in his book.

Heeseung, noticing Jake’s moment of glory, nods. 

“Oh, definitely. You might end up with someone who can appreciate a well-timed ‘Doge’ meme or has a shrine dedicated to Rickrolling."

“These questions are so random! A black cat or a golden retriever? What does that even mean?” you exclaim suddenly, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. 

“Excuse me, it’s all about the science of psychology, Y/N—” Heeseung stabs his fork into his pasta with an almost theatrical flair, “—the algorithm needs to understand your deepest preferences. It’s not about cats or dogs; it’s about what your choices say about your soul.”

Jay, munching on his questionable-looking dining hall taco, grins. “So, basically, the app’s trying to figure out if we’re more ‘moody cat person’ or ‘happy-go-lucky dog lover.’ Got it.”

Jake’s thumb hovers nervously over his screen as he reaches the same question himself. His eyes dart back to your screen but can’t seem to make out what you’ve selected. You’re biting your lip in concentration, and Jake’s brain glitches for a second because, wow, how can someone look so cute answering stupid personality questions?

Heeseung notices Jake’s expression from across the table and leans back in his chair with a knowing smirk. “Jake, you look like you’re solving world hunger over there. What’s the deal? Just pick whatever, man.” 

“I’m—I’m just being thorough, okay? This app’s gonna decide my entire love life. No pressure or anything,” Jake shifts uncomfortably, his face heating up.  

Jay snorts, stuffing yet another taco in his mouth, "Jake’s acting like the app’s about to determine the rest of his life. Just chill, man. You’ll get paired with someone. Even if it’s someone who only eats purple foods or, I don’t know, makes miniatures of their exes.” 

"Y/N's definitely getting paired with someone awesome," Grace teases, nudging you playfully from your other side. "Someone tall, athletic, probably knows how to cook gourmet meals."  

Jake internally winces at the description. Tall? He's definitely 6 feet...on a good day...with the right shoes. Athletic? Jake plays soccer! Well..played. In, like, middle school. Gourmet meals? He considers dino nuggets a gourmet meal so...he's practically a Michelin-star chef.  

You laugh at Grace's comment, shaking your head, "Honestly, I'm just hoping for someone who doesn't ghost me after three texts. Low bar, I know."  

Jake swallows besides you. Three texts. Got it. Don't ghost her, even if you do forget what words are in her presence.  

Suddenly, you look up from your phone and turn to lock eyes with Jake. "What did you put Jake? Black cat or golden retriever?"  

Jake freezes. Oh no, is this a test? This is definitely a test. He panics for a split second while his brain scrambles for the lobe that contains actual, cohesive, vocabulary.

"Uh, golden retriever. Definitely," he blurts out, voice higher than usual. "Golden retrievers are...loyal. And fun. Kinda like...you?" The last part slips out before he can stop himself.  

The table goes silent. Jay chokes on his suspicious taco. Grace's eyebrows shoot up in amusement. Heeseung stares at Jake like he's watching the most entertaining drama unfold right in front of him. 

You blink at Jake, then follow it with a soft giggle. "You're comparing me to a dog now?"  

Jake goes bright red, stammering as he's viciously shaking his head, "No—I mean—not like that! I just meant—"  

But you're still laughing next to him, he can feel your shoulders happily shaking against his, and while he's completely mortified, he can't help but feel the tiniest flicker of hope. At least you're laughing with him, not at him. Right? Right?  

"Did anyone consider the fact that we might get matched up with one another?" Jay changes the topic as he wipes the remaining taco shell crumbs off his mouth.

Jake notices the look of pure horror plastered on both you and Grace's faces.  

"Ew," you pretend to gag, while Grace laughs next to you. "Hard pass. You've got the same level of commitment as a first grader has with finishing their homework, and Heeseung’s definitely gonna end up marrying a computer. Plankton and Karen style. I think I'd rather date a Roomba. And you know I hate Roombas."  

Jake can't help the smile tugging at his lips. He knows you're joking, but hearing you rule out the other two makes him feel just a little better. But then...wait.  

You didn't say anything about Jake. What if you’ve already ruled Jake out, too? Not even a contender against Jay and Heeseung? The panic sets in as he thinks oh god, maybe she sees me like an actual Roomba—just following her around, waiting for crumbs of affection. 

Heeseung feigns hurt by dramatically clutching his heart. "Oh no. I'm so heartbroken," he deadpans.  

"I'd date you, Hee, don't worry," Jay winks, and without missing a beat, Heeseung blows him an exaggerated air kiss. "Thanks, babe." 

Jake, still lost in his thoughts, wonders if he’s been friend-zoned so hard he’s transcended into actual appliance territory, right next to the Roombas.

Everyone's laughing over Heeseung and Jay's antics, while Jake here is spiraling into a full-on existential crisis over accepting his fate as the Roomba of your heart. 

Is this my life now? I'm a...self-cleaning vacuum?

Jake comes to a realization the next morning: he can’t just settle for being the human equivalent of a non-sentient vacuum in your life. He needs to take action—and he needs to do it fast. Especially before the algorithm matches you with some 6-foot-tall, athletic, five-star chef who probably wakes up with flawless skin and has a perfectly curated Spotify playlist.  

Jake’s brain scrambles for ideas, as he stares hopelessly at the blank essay document on his laptop titled: "History of Modern Warfare (with revisions)" His essay can wait. World War II may have been a big deal, but this? This is you. Only the most important thing to walk this earth (in Jake's eyes, at least).  

What would a normal human being do? Grow a pair, march right up to you, and say something charming (probably, Jake wouldn't know). But Jake? Jake knows there’s a higher chance of him learning to speak fluent French in the next 24 hours than actually telling you how he feels.

Because that would require practice—in front of a mirror, at least five times a day, for three days straight. And by then, the matches will already be out, and you'll be swept off your feet by some handsome demigod in human form.  

Jake sighs as he tries to type at least one sentence of his essay, hoping it will distract him from his lingering thoughts of you. Your smile, your laughter, your wink, your voice saying ‘Jakey’... 

“The Battle of Normandy marked a significant turning point…” 

Jake frowns. Turning point. Oh, great. That’s exactly what Jake’s waiting for—a turning point with you. Except his 'battle plan' is to let Heeseung’s love algorithm do the work for him. Yeah, sure. Because nothing says romantic courage like leaving your fate up to a glorified love machine. 

Jake groans at the screen. He tries to type more, but his brain is already spiraling into worst-case scenarios. What if you get matched with someone who can bench-press a refrigerator? Or worse—someone who actually knows how to emotionally open up to you?

Frustrated, Jake slams his laptop shut, earning dirty glares from the students studying quietly around him in the library. His essay is long forgotten at this point. Who cares about The Battle of Normandy when his entire (nonexistent) love life is crumbling right in front of him?  

He pulls at his hair in sheer desperation, searching for answers, any answers, to this disaster. Think, Jake, think! 

Wait. 

That's it.  

Answers. He needs answers! Not the kind that would magically fix his social dysfunction around you. No, not those—that’s way beyond saving.

But your answers. The ones you put into The Matchmatic 3000. If Jake could somehow get a hold of those, he could match his responses to yours perfectly. Then BAM! Instant match. One foot in the door. Then maybe, just maybe, you'd stop seeing him as some automated dust-sucker. 

A smile forms across Jake's face. Pure genius (self-proclaimed, of course).  

Yes, this is the solution to all his problems. Well, except for the crippling anxiety and social awkwardness part. But one thing at a time, right? 

Now he just needs your answers.  

And possibly a therapist.  

“Jake! What's wrong?" Grace appears at Jake's table tucked away in the back of the library, her hair frazzled and disheveled from her sprint across campus as a result of Jake's ‘SOS’ text.

Jake is sitting at the table, hands folded, looking perfectly intact, totally not at all in an ‘SOS’ situation, and has a small smile on his face as he looks up at his best friend. 

“I figured it out!”

"You better tell me you just figured out time travel or the cure for world hunger, because I just full-on sprinted across campus thinking you got your laptop stolen or, heaven forbid, you got your hand trapped in the printer again,” Grace's eyes narrow as she takes a seat across from him. 

"I told you not to mention that again! It was an honest mistake," Jake's eyes widen, afraid people around them heard about Jake's embarrassingly tragic battle with the library’s printer. "But no, it's even better than that. It's kinda...off the books though."

Grace blinks back at him. "How off the books? Like...'help me hide the body' off the books, or 'expose the secret recipe to the dining hall's mysterious tacos' off the books?”

Jake glances around to make sure no one's eavesdropping, then lowers his voice, "More like...'help me get Y/N's answers to the Matchmatic 3000' off the books?"

There's a beat of silence as Grace struggles to process the absurdity of what she just heard.  

“Wait, hold up. You want me to help you cheat the dating app?”

Jake nods fervently, if not a little desperately. 

"It's not cheating! Call it...strategic alignment. I need to make sure I match with her. That's the only way I could ever get a chance, and you're the only one who can help me!"

Grace leans in from across the table, clearly in disbelief, yet amused, "So let me get this straight...you want me to somehow get her answers, so you can change yours to match hers, in hopes that Hee's magical AI or whatever pairs you two together?"

Jake attempts to give her his best 'please help me' puppy eyes, but it's clear he's more of a lost kitten right now.

"And you're asking me to get my hands dirty...why exactly?" She smirks at the fidgety Jake, finding his over-the-top desperation for you both amusing and oddly endearing.

"Uh..because you're my best friend, duh. And also, you're the closest to her—if Jay and Hee found out, they'd never let me live it down! And Jay would probably make a TikTok about it just to watch me die from embarrassment," Jake rambles, hoping he can convince the seemingly unimpressed girl in front of him.

“Uh-huh," Grace raises an eyebrow. "And what’s in it for me? Sure, I'm your best friend, but I'm also her friend and ever-so-loyal roommate. You're asking for a lot here, bud."

Jake looks flustered for a moment, as if he hadn’t really thought about that part. 

“Uh, well, I could—um—maybe buy you coffee for a week? Or, I don’t know, do your physics thesis project you've been avoiding."

Grace pretends to consider his offer for a second, but the second he mentions the ‘physics thesis project’, her decision is instantly made.

"Fine," she sighs, leaning back in her chair. "But just so you know, if this goes sideways, I was never here."

Jake smiles like he just won the lottery. Salt & Pepper, here I come!

"But also…," Grace begins, looking right at Jake, making him squirm. Not in a cute Y/N-noticed-me type of squirm, but the oh-no-I'm-about-to-get-lectured kind. "Take my advice, Jake. Stop being a wuss."

Jake's grin falters at his friend's sudden, but painfully true, words.

Grace leans in, her voice serious, "I mean, you can't just hide behind an app and hope for the best. If you really want a shot with Y/N, you need to actually, I don’t know, tell her your feelings? She's not some untouchable goddess who's going to smite you for shooting their shot." 

Jake winces. "But what if she's not interested? What if I make it weird? What if—"

"Jake," Grace's voice cuts through his spiraling thoughts. "You won't know unless you try! And you're a great guy, but how would Y/N know that if you don't open yourself up more? Seriously, what's the worst that could happen?"

"Uh. Spontaneous combustion? If I look her in the eyes for longer than 5 seconds, I just might implode. Or, you know, cease to exist," Jake deadpans, his hands gesturing wildly to emphasize his impending doom.

Grace snorts at her poor, poor friend, clearly amused by his romantic spiral. "Okay, first, no one's ever died from eye contact, buddy. Second, I'm not saying you should storm out there and go ask for her hand in marriage or anything—please, don't do that. I'm just saying, just at least try talking to her more maybe.” Baby steps, Grace thinks, baby steps. 

Jake blinks. She's right. Of course she's right. He can’t let some algorithm control his entire love life, no matter how advanced or magical Heeseung claims it is.

Grace, seeing Jake's gears slowly turning, throws him a lifeline: “Alright, fine. If it makes you feel better, she may or may not have called you cute once. Better?"

Jake freezes. His eyes widen like a deer caught in headlights. Cute? You called him cute? All the oxygen leaves his lungs, and he’s pretty sure he’s about to pass out right here in the library. 

"Wait, what?"

"Don’t get too excited," Grace smirks, clearly enjoying watching Jake short-circuit. "She said it in passing. Once."

Jake, now on the verge of a mental breakdown, blurts out, "Like, ‘aw-that-puppy-is-cute’ cute? Or like, ‘he’s-so-cute-I-wanna-kiss-him’ cute? I need specifics, Grace!"

Grace’s grin widens, watching her friend spiral into oblivion. "Jake, you’re overthinking it again. Relax. Just take the win."

"Grace, please, I'm begging you. On a scale from 'puppy' to 'kiss', where do I stand?!" Jake's eyes are practically bugging out of his head at this point. 

Grace rolls her eyes, but her teasing smile doesn't falter. "If you keep freaking out like this, you’re gonna drop down to 'awkward goldfish' cute real quick." 

"I’m doomed,” Jake groans, burying his face in his hands. 

Grace pats his back with mock sympathy. "Yep. But at least she'll think you're cute while doing it."

Jake peeks at her through his fingers. “You think she meant 'kiss' cute?”

"Finish your plan first, lover boy. Then we’ll talk."

Jake can’t help the ridiculous smile growing on his face.

Kiss cute, he decides. It has to be. 

You think if you have to read one more sentence about human anatomy, you might actually cry. You sigh as you close your textbook and push it aside to reside with the unnecessary amount of highlighters scattered on the café table between you and Grace.

"I hate this. I hate the circulatory system. Why do I even need to know what the ‘superior vena cava’ is," you groan as you take a sip of what's left of your watered down iced matcha.

Grace hums in front of you as her eyes continually scan the textbook, desperate to absorb just enough information to survive tomorrow's anatomy quiz.

"Because it keeps you alive, Y/N. Duh," Grace jokes as her eyes stay peeled to her textbook.

"Screw that," you scoff. "I don't need the circulatory system to keep me alive. I just need caffeine and BTS's entire discography pumped through my veins to live."

Grace finally glances up, giving you an amused side-eye at your usual dramatic flair, before she remembers she has an important mission at hand: 

Operation Jake & Y/N. 

Grace slams her textbook closed with a dramatic thud to show she's finished studying (she's not). 

"Sooo...speaking of circulatory systems and...hearts and...stuff—did you ever finish filling out the questions for Hee's love app thingy?"

You, oblivious to the sudden change in topic, shrug as you fish your straw around your plastic cup, hoping to find more drops of watery matcha to savor. 

"Yeah, I finished it the other day. It took me forever though. Like, why does it need to know if I'd rather have a personal trainer who can only teach me interpretive dance versus a personal chef who can only cook cereal? I swear Hee was on some drugs or something while creating those questions."

"Not drugs, probably an unhealthy amount of caffeine and ramen though," Grace snorts, still trying to play it cool.

"Caffeine is a drug, doofus," you say pointedly, right before you get a smack in the forehead by Grace's crumbled up straw wrapper.

"Whatever," Grace laughs. "Hey I'm curious—what did you put for your answers? Wanna compare? See how similar we are?" Grace's leg is bouncing under the table, trying to keep up the ‘smooth’ façade, hoping you won't find her sudden interest weird.

"Sure, why not?" you nonchalantly agree, not thinking twice about the random request.

Grace blinks in surprise. That was...way easier than expected. She was ready to prepare some elaborate excuse, like ‘I need your answers to match you up with my desperate best friend who's head over heels for you!’

Oh wait. That part is real. You get the gist.

"Unless...," you pause suddenly. Uh oh. "Unless you're going to sell my answers to some mad scientist and they try to make an evil clone of me to take over the world and end up framing me and I'll have to clear my name in a dramatic world-televised court trial."

Grace blinks, before rolling her eyes, as her nervous heartbeat returns to a normal rate. 

“You're so goddamn weird sometimes.” 

You beam at your friend, clearly amused at yourself, as you scroll through your answers and send screenshots to Grace without a second thought. "Sent! Oh, and send me yours—I wanna know what you put for 'Stuck in a room with Shrek for 24 hours' versus 'Fight 100 duck-sized horses.'"

“Oh, vibe with Shrek, 100%,” Grace answers without skipping a beat, earning an agreeing high five from you.

Grace is ecstatic. This was so much easier than she thought. Not only does this mean her desperate best friend will finally get his shot with you (which also means she won’t have to hear his dramatic overthinking questions about whether you sharing a sandwich with him was a cosmic sign or just a sandwich), but it also guarantees her a week of free coffee and an A+ in physics for this semester.

She quickly types out a quick message to Jake as you're still distracted by your now near empty matcha cup:

Grace [1:26PM]: "mission accomplished. prepare for epic matchmaking success and a lifetime supply of guilt-free caffeine. for me, ofc"

Grace leans back in satisfaction, practically tasting the sweet (and caffeinated) taste of victory. She's done her end of Mission Impossible, and now it's up to Jake to do...well, whatever Jake does in these situations.

Her phone buzzes with a reply from Jake:

Jake [1:28PM]: THANK YOU!!! also...not a lifetime supply...just a week. don't get it twisted"

"Look, all I'm saying is," you declare, leaning back on the couch, "if all five of us pitch in, we could most definitely rob a bank." 

What had started as a group study session two hours ago in your and Grace's apartment has, as usual, turned into your friend group's typical day of hanging out: wildly imagining scenarios so far removed from reality that there’s absolutely no chance you’d end up in them—but entertaining the idea anyway, because what else are you going to do when you're supposed to be studying?

Grace snickers from beside you, "Yeah, and with your stealth skills, we'd get caught in about three business seconds. You literally screamed when I dropped that piece of paper yesterday."

"It startled me! Gravity's such a scary concept, okay?" You huff, arms crossed. Jake, sitting on your other side, fights back the slight grin growing on his face as he watches you scrunch your face in that way he secretly finds unfairly cute, even if it is over your fear of inanimate objects. So weirdly adorable.

Heeseung, sitting cross-legged on the floor from across the couch, raises an eyebrow, “Y/N, do you even know how banks work?”

“She’s got the spirit. I’d give her a solid 7/10 for enthusiasm. Execution, though? Negative two,” Jay says as crosses his arms with a grin from beside Heeseung. 

You grab and throw a couch pillow at him, which he dodges with ease, sticking out his tongue. Jake instinctively shifts closer to you, to your oblivion, like he’s ready to shield you from any incoming retaliation missiles.

“What, and you’d be the brains of the operation? Mr. ‘I forgot my own phone password for two days?’” You fire back.

Jay shrugs, unfazed, “Hey, no need to bring up the past. We all make mistakes.”

“Yeah,” Jake finally chimes in, hoping you will notice how smooth he sounds, “but not all of us text our own phone ‘Why won’t you let me in?’ while the password is literally ‘1234.’”

Everyone laughs, except Jay, who gasps and points dramatically at Jake, “Betrayal. How dare you?”

“It’s public knowledge, bro. You told everyone,” Jake raises his hands in defense, but his eyes keep flickering back to you, wondering if your sweet laughter is because of him this time. And call him delusional, but he really thinks it is. You throw your head back from laughing so hard, at some point your hand graces Jake’s knee next to yours to stabilize yourself. 

It’s no secret—well, at least not to Grace—that Jake’s newfound confidence around you is all thanks to that one tiny lifeline Grace threw him: you called him cute once. Just once. And now, Jake’s running with it, holding on for dear life, and convincing himself that maybe, just maybe, you think about him the same way he thinks about you. Maybe. 

“I told you all in confidence! That was a moment of weakness!” Jay crosses his arms, looking like a child who just got scolded at. “I trusted you people.”

Grace, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the coffee table, pouts at Jay, “And that, my friend, was your first mistake.” 

“Et tu, Grace?” Jay gasps, clutching his chest like he’s been personally victimized by the betrayal of his closest friends. Well…he was. 

Heeseung, shaking his head, cuts in, “Okay, but if we’re robbing a bank, I’m in charge. I’m the only one here with any common sense.” 

You frown, “What do you mean? I have common sense! I brushed my teeth today and everything!”

Jake watches you with a soft smile, finding even your exaggerated outrage so weirdly adorable.

Grace bursts out laughing, “Y/N, sweetie, that’s basic hygiene, not common sense. But good job. We’re all proud of you.”

Jake, clearly riding his boost of confidence from earning that one (1) laugh from you, decides to add in and nods, looking completely serious, “Honestly, I think we should celebrate that. Maybe get you a gold sticker or something.” 

“You guys are bullies,” you mutter, sinking into the couch, but you're laughing too. Jake tries to hide how melted he feels when you laugh like that—all bright and simply, you.

“It's nothing personal, Y/N,” Heeseung adds, smirking, "but you can't easily get startled by inanimate objects and claim you have common sense."

Jay snickers, pointing at you, “Remember that time you thought the vacuum was attacking you?”

You shoot him a glare, debating on throwing yet another couch pillow at him, “It moved on its own, okay? That’s suspicious.”

"The Roomba was doing its job. You nearly declared war on the thing," Grace, mouth full of popcorn, can't defend you on this one.

Jake, on the other hand, feels compelled to defend you, even if he knows it’s ridiculous. You know, since he could relate to the whole impending-mental-doom-by-a-Roomba thing, "The Roomba was being weird that day.”

Jay side-eyes Jake, “Oh, so now you’re on Team Roomba Conspiracy? That’s rich.”

That is rich, considering Jake nearly signed up for therapy just days ago after having an existential crisis about being recruited to join your arch-nemesis—Roombas. Now here he was, ready to go to battle for your anti-automated-dust-sucker stance.

Jake shrugs, refusing to make eye contact with anyone, suddenly hyper-aware of your attention on him, “I just think we shouldn’t dismiss Y/N’s concerns so quickly.”

You turn to him with the softest smile he's seen in the history of smiles—one that fully knocks the breath right out of him. 

“Aw thank you, Jake! Someone around here finally gets it,” you momentarily rest your head on his shoulder for two fleeting seconds—short enough to show your appreciation but long enough to utterly dismantle the boy’s composure. 

He’s frozen. Brain empty, no thoughts…except for the scent of your shampoo rushing his senses. He’s not sure if he’s about to pass out or propose.

“Simp,” Jay mutters under his breath, just loud enough for Jake to hear. Jake shoots him a warning look, making Jay’s smirk grow wider. 

Grace, still giggling at the memory of you running away from a Roomba, then turns to Heeseung with a curious grin, "Speaking of concerns, how's the app going? When are we gonna find out who's paired with who?"

Heeseung immediately groans, frustratingly running a hand through his hair, "It's...going, alright. Some people are weird, man. I don't even know how to process some of these answers."

"Really? How so?" You perk up at this, interested. 

Heeseung sighs as he pulls his phone out of his pocket, "Okay, look at this—someone put 'ramen' as an answer for what they're looking for in a partner."

Jay snorts, "Sounds like something you’d put, honestly. You should match yourself up with them!"

"And this person," Heeseung continues, scrolling and displaying his phone to the rest of the group, "just answered 'vibes' to every single question. Every. One. What does that even mean?!"

Everyone shrugs around the coffee table in confusion as the exasperated boy dramatically tosses his phone to the side like it personally offended him.

"Anyways. I should be done tonight, so hopefully the matches get released tomorrow," he reveals, to everyone's excitement.

"Ohmygosh, tomorrow?" Grace claps her hands lightly. "I can't wait, I hope I get paired with someone who, like, is secretly Spiderman or something. You know, someone with substance."

"I'm nervous, what if I get a total weirdo?" You mutter, eyes widening at the thought.

Jake thinks to himself: as long as he gets paired with you, he doesn't mind being a total weirdo. He'll be your total weirdo. He'll dye his hair neon rainbow, start collecting Russian nesting dolls, and live in a treehouse if that's what it takes.

"Y/N," Jay speaks up, cocking his head out from the bag of potato chips he's currently annihilating, "if anything, you're gonna be the weird one in whatever relationship you end up in."

You instinctively reach for another pillow to throw at him, but Jake is faster, shielding his arms around you, "Okay, okay, let's be nice. I'm sure Y/N will end up with someone perfectly normal, and anyone who ends up with Y/N will not find her weird at all." 

That's because Jake better be the one that ends up with you. And he definitely doesn't think you're weird. Well maybe a little. In an endearing way.

And hopefully, in your eyes, he's normal. Or not—it's all the same to him, as long as he's the one by your side. 

All the steps are set in stone. Now, he just needs the algorithm to do its thing and simply match you two together—which is bound to happen, given Jake is practically a Y/N 2.0 after copying all your answers. If this doesn't work, then the universe is officially out to get him. 

Yes. Everything will happen according to plan.

It has to.  

Nothing goes according to plan.  

Jake's eyes dart in panic between Grace's look of confusion and your phone screen, currently displaying to the rest of the lunch table your so-called soulmate's name, which, surprise surprise—it's not Jake.

Instead, it reads:  

Match: Park Sunghoon 

You shrug as you glance up from your phone, completely unaware of the Tom and Jerry hole Jake is crawling back down right now, "I think he's that new transfer student. I've seen him around in my psychology class, he's kinda cute!"  

Jake's heart sinks deeper than he thought was humanly possible. Cute? Like 'puppy' cute or 'kiss' cute? Oh god, his worst nightmare is coming true. He's about to be banished back to the sad category of 'automated vacuums' in your heart, left to raise 12 kittens on his own.  

Jay frowns, crossing his arm, "No fair, I haven't gotten my match yet, and Y/N gets the cute new kid? This is rigged."  

Heeseung smirks, leaning back in his chair like some algorithm god, "Patience, child. The results are rolling out throughout the entire day. I added that feature for the 'element of surprise.'" 

Grace, meanwhile, subtly leans towards Jake while everyone else rambles over your match, "Looks like the universe hates you."  

"I can't believe it didn't work. It doesn't make any sense, it has to be broken or something,” Jake says, visibly upset, trying his very best to not dig himself a grave right then and there in the middle of the university's quad.  

Grace shrugs, feeling confusion on behalf of her best friend as well, "At least you can say you tried. Maybe the universe is trying to hint at you to actually talk to her and get into a relationship the normal, organic way."  

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbles. But Jake is too perplexed to listen to Grace's—very, very, valid—logic right now. 

Jake's thoughts spiral faster than a malfunctioning Roomba trapped in a corner, repeatedly slamming into the same wall with no hope of escape. Honestly, Jake wishes there was a wall around him right now to repeatedly slam his head into. Maybe that way the delulu in him—the one that convinced him he could hack his way into your heart—can finally escape his brain.  

His brain is short-circuiting in panic, bouncing between the reality of his failure and the absolute tragedy that Sunghoon—the cute transfer student (you probably think he's kiss-cute too) is about to waltz in and steal his entire future. Jake can already picture Sunghoon effortlessly holding all twelve hypothetical kittens, while Jake is left alone with nothing but his shattered dreams. 

Before Jake can imagine another over dramatic scenario in his head of you and Sunghoon that would make him physically rip out his own heart and stomp all over it, Grace's phone suddenly pings.

"You've got to be kidding me."  

Everyone turns to look at her, as Grace glances up from her phone, the look of pure horror on her face.  

Grace slowly turns her phone around for everyone to see, and there, in bold letters, sits:

Match: Park Jongseong  

A beat of silence (or as Grace would call it, moment of silence for the fallen. The fallen being Grace), then... 

“HA!” Jay cackles, pointing at her. “Sucks to be you.” 

"Oh, you think this is funny, Park?" Grace glares at him, and at everyone else for giggling at the absurd match. "I would literally rather match with my chemistry TA who wears socks with sandals."  

Heeseung perks up, clearly overly amused at the match drama ensuing around the table, "Wait, that chem TA's not that bad lowkey..."  

Grace throws him a look, "Hee, this isn't about Steve the TA! This is about my life being ruined in real time!"  

Jake tunes in and scoffs, so shocked at his friend's statement, he forgot the setting they're all in, "Your life being ruined? What about mine?"  

Jake quickly silences himself after he realizes what he just said..and in front of you. 

"What about your life getting ruined, Jake? Did you get your match yet?" You look up at him from across the table, curious who could possibly have Jake in such shambles (Ironic, isn't it?). 

"Err—no, not yet. What I mean is..uhh," Jake stammers, his remaining brain cells (which isn't many at this point) trying to muster up the best lie they could to cover himself. "My life would totally be ruined if Grace and Jay end up together because...uhh..because I'd totally have to third-wheel them all the time!"  

Yes, that's good Jake. Good job, good job.  

You seem to be convinced enough by the excuse, your eyes suddenly widening in fear.

"Oh god, you're so right! This means Jay's gonna be over at our apartment all the time now. He'll probably never leave,” you visibly shudder.

Grace gestures wildly at the entire table in disbelief, "You guys! What in the world makes you think Jay and I are going to end up together just because some love algorithm thinks we're good for each other? No offense, Hee."  

Jay, on the other hand, reclines back in his chair, looking entirely too smug for someone who just got called out as a last-choice match, "Hey, the algorithm knows what's up. Maybe this is fate, Grace. This could be fun." He points between the two of them, as if sealing a deal.  

"Fun?! Wrestling a bear made entirely of thorns sounds more fun," Grace physically recoils, like she just touched something soggy in the sink's drain, her expression sending the whole table into laughter. 

"Honestly, I see it. Can't fight the science," you speak up, throwing a knowing look at Grace before Jay gives you an appreciative high-five from across the table.  

Grace snaps her head towards you and gasps, "Traitor! How dare you—you better sleep with your door locked tonight or I swear—"  

"ALL I'm saying is—" you raise your hands in defense, interjecting before Grace can vow to eliminate you and your future lineage from the face of this planet, "—I think it’s kind of sweet you matched with someone you actually know, you know? I mean, I wish I got paired with a close friend. I’ve always believed in the friend-to-significant-other pipeline." 

Friend to significant other? Jake's internal monologue screeches to a halt. Y/N, I'm right here! I could be the one, not Sunghoon! That could be us!

Then, as if you could read his thoughts, your gaze meets Jake’s for just a beat too long, lingering in that space where words usually get lost. Jake swears your expression softens for half a second before you casually shift your focus back on Grace. His brain is officially overheating. Was that a hint? Was it? 

Oh my god. She’s totally hinting at me.

Or—no, wait. Maybe he's reading into it again. Maybe he's so deep into this 'delulu' life that now every sentence feels like it's tailor-made just for him. 

Yeah, that has to be it. Definitely the latter, right? Right. 

Heeseung perks up from his seat, pointing at Grace, "See? She's right. Trust the science. And the friendship! But mostly the science. Science doesn’t mess up, man. It must've sensed some... undercurrents between you and Jay." 

Grace looks like she’s about to leap across the table and strangle Heeseung with his own hoodie strings, but Jay interrupts with a wide grin. 

"Yeah, undercurrents, Gracey-poo. We’re destined." 

You lose it, breaking into uncontrollable laughter as Grace pretends to dry heave at the sound of the pet name. 

"And just like that," she says, dramatically standing up from her seat, "I think that’s my cue to leave. If I hear Jay call me ‘Gracey-poo’ again, I’m going to bleach my ears." 

The entire table is still laughing while Grace makes her swift escape to her next class. You finally manage to catch your breath, turning to Jake with a small smile (which also casually happens to send his brain into overdrive. No big deal, really). 

"I'm excited to see who you get paired with, Jake! I bet she's amazing."  

Jake feels his heart sink a little, but he forces a casual smile. No one is as amazing as you though (cheesy, but painfully true).

Trying to cover his disappointment, Jake shrugs, "I don’t know... I’m not really that into this whole matchmaking thing anyway." He leans back, feigning nonchalance. "I don’t think I’ll actually do anything with whoever I get matched with." 

Jake can’t tell if the small breath you let out is in relief or if, once again, he’s feeding his delusional part of his brain that’s been working overtime. 

But before he can overthink it, you raise an eyebrow, teasing him, "What? You’re not even curious? What if it’s someone perfect for you?" 

Jake laughs awkwardly, desperately trying to keep his cool. It would be perfect if it was you. But instead, he blurts out, "Yeah, maybe they’ll match me with my future laundry partner. Who knows?" Laundry? Really, Jake? 

"That would be a miracle," Heeseung looks up from his phone, gesturing towards Jake, "this guy never does his laundry."  

Jake shoots him a sharp look, "Not true! I just need...some motivation.." 

"Motivation from your future girlfriend?" Jay chimes in, raising an eyebrow. "That's gotta be a new low, dude."  

You nudge Jake's arm from across the table, grinning, "Hey, maybe the algorithm’s just that good. It knows you need a laundry-loving girlfriend in your life." 

Jake snorts, playing along, but his thoughts are a mess. Laundry-loving girlfriend? Nah, Jake needs you as his girlfriend—no question about it.

As you turn your attention back to your phone, the smile fades from Jake’s face, just for a second. His eyes linger on you longer than he means to, before he leans his head on his hand, pretending to care about whatever random TikTok Heeseung is showing him right now.  

But the video’s a blur. All Jake can focus on is how wrong everything feels. This isn’t how it was supposed to go. You were supposed to be his match. You are his match. He knows it.  

Forget laundry-doing-girlfriends or algorithm-approved pairings. If the app really knew what Jake needed, it would’ve led him straight to you. 

And honestly, Jake’s pretty sure he’s smarter than the sleep-deprived, ramen-fueled algorithm Heeseung cooked up. So yeah, screw the love machine. 

If the app won’t do it for him, then it’s time he takes matters into his own hands. 

(About time.)

“Please please please pleeeeease!” Jake’s trailing behind Heeseung throughout their shared living room like a toddler whose candy got snatched, but way more desperate.

Yeah, uh, this is Jake's idea of taking matters into his own hands.  

This is officially the billionth time Heeseung’s heard this in the past 24 hours. At least this time Jake managed to wait until Heeseung was out of the shower and fully clothed before launching into his regularly programmed meltdown. Progress, right? 

“Jake! You do realize what you’re asking me, right? You sound insane.” Heeseung's patience is thinner than the cup ramen noodles he’s survived on for the past week. He takes a seat on their couch, before pointedly looking at his desperate roommate. “You’re being ridiculously dramatic.” 

Jake scoffs, like the mature adult he is. “YOUR FACE is being ridiculously dramatic.” Yup. Like the mature adult he is.  

Heeseung came out to the living room in hopes of being able to catch up on the latest episode of The Bachelor, but to no avail, as the younger boy was waiting to catch him all day (not that Heeseung was actively avoiding Jake or anything, no definitely not). But instead of screaming at the TV in frustration at the bachelor's terrible decisions, here he was, staring at Jake, silently contemplating how many years in prison throwing him off their apartment's balcony would cost him. 

Three? Maybe four? Would it be worth it? Possibly. 

“All you gotta do,” Jake begins to launch his TED Talk, “is send out a mass email to all your participants and be like, ‘Oh noooo, the AI or robot or magical unicorn or whatever messed up!’ Then you just re-release the answers, but this time, pair me with Y/N, bada-bing bada-boom. Easy peasy.” 

Heeseung stares blankly. Honestly, prison doesn’t sound that bad. 

“First off, it’s not a robot. It’s an algorithm,” Heeseung says for the seventy-millionth time, contemplating launching his side career as a 'broken record'. “Second, if people found out it ‘messed up,’ my reputation would be in shambles. Can you imagine all the couples who met their match, only to find out it was a giant, steaming load of—” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Jake waves him off, deploying his best attempt (key word: attempt) at puppy-dog eyes. “But what about my soulmate?” 

Heeseung groans and rubs his temples, “Jake, if she’s really your soulmate, maybe try telling her how you feel like a normal human being instead of begging me to rewrite reality?” 

Jake pauses, then, in true Jake fashion, says: “Yeah, but like...nah.” 

Heeseung looks at Jake, who is now staring at him with the intensity of someone waiting for a miracle, “You really don’t see how unhinged this sounds, do you?” 

Jake blinks. 

“I mean, yeah, but, like, what if it works? I’m just saying, you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take. Wayne Gretzky said that.” 

Heeseung rolls his eyes so hard he’s pretty sure he saw his past life flash by, “Did Wayne Gretzky also say, ‘Be a total weirdo and bother your friend to break all ethical codes and rig an algorithm because you’re too chicken to tell a girl you like her?’” 

Jake shrugs. “He might’ve. We don’t know his whole catalog of wisdom.” 

“I’m begging you—just talk to her. Or, I dunno, send her a meme on Instagram or something. Do anything other than harass me. Please.” 

Jake's face scrunches up like Heeseung just suggested he swim with sharks. “A meme? Really? Do I look like some kind of loser who communicates through memes? I’ll have you know I’m a very mature adu—” 

SMACK! 

A flying sock lands squarely on Jake’s head. He blinks, confused, as Jay strolls in from his room and plops next to Heeseung, looking way too pleased with himself, “Dude, you’re begging like a guy who just got ghosted by an ATM. Have some dignity.” 

“You’re not helping,” Jake glares, throwing the sock back at Jay. 

Jay, with the wisdom only a seasoned disaster like him can possess, shrugs, “Honestly, Heeseung, just rerun the thing. I’m pretty sure the universe would implode if this dude doesn’t get matched with Y/N. And frankly, I don’t want to deal with that level of cosmic drama.” 

“Jay, not you too,” Heeseung pinches the bridge of his nose as he realizes he needs to find a new spot to watch his show from now on. 

Jay raises his hands in mock surrender, “Hey, man, I’m just looking out for you. If Jake doesn’t get his way, he’ll never shut up. You’re one day away from him showing up at your room's door with a PowerPoint presentation. Think of your sanity. Plus, we all live together which means I have to see the presentation too. Think of my sanity.” 

“PowerPoint, huh? I could probably whip something up. Maybe add some pie charts and bar graphs,” Jake, clearly inspired, mutters to himself.  

Heeseung stares at the ceiling, wondering if this is his villain origin story (it most definitely is). “There’s absolutely no way I’m risking the integrity of my algorithm just because you can’t grow a backbone.”

Jake’s face falls, but Jay’s wheels are already turning on behalf of his friend, Mr. Simp, “Hold up, hold up. Hee, think about it. There’s gotta be something you want. I mean, everyone’s got a price, right?” 

Heeseung raises an eyebrow, still annoyed, yet intrigued. What? A good deal is a good deal.

“And what exactly do you think I want, Jay?” 

Jay flashes a grin that screams mischief. 

“We know you’ve been grinding on this algorithm for weeks, man. Barely sleeping. Barely eating,” Jay narrows his eyes in dramatic fashion, as though he’s about to uncover a deep secret. “You’re like two ramen packets away from full-on malnutrition. Sad really.” 

“Yeah, bro. We care about you. You need... balance. Maybe a reward for all your hard work?” Jake suddenly adds, nodding vigorously, picking up on Jay's scheming. 

Heeseung stares at them blankly, “Are you bribing me with...food?” 

“Not just any food,” Jake adds, gesturing dramatically. “Free food. Unlimited food from anywhere, for a month. On me. You’ll never have to eat those mystery meat tacos from the dining hall ever again.” 

Jay interjects, pointing at Jake, "Hey, I'll have you know, those tacos are actually quite good! You just have to deal with the initial frequent toilet trips when you first try them..." 

Heeseung’s resolve flickers for a moment. His stomach growls at the mere thought of having actual, edible food (for free!) that isn’t microwavable...or whatever they put in those tacos. 

Jake, sensing weakness, presses on, “AND… AND! I’ll do all your laundry. One month. No questions asked. I’ll even iron your shirts.” 

Jay, impressed by Jake's bargaining methods, nods his head along as if to convince the skeptical Heeseung, hoping to save himself from also having to hear Jake's consistent whining around the apartment any longer.  

Heeseung narrows his eyes. “I don’t iron my shirts.” 

“I’ll iron them anyway. Luxury service.” 

A pause. Heeseung’s brain is doing some serious mental gymnastics. On one hand, his precious algorithm. On the other… food that didn’t come from a vending machine and clean clothes that weren’t dug out of his laundry basket which is somewhere in the abyss that is his closet right now. 

Jay nudges him, whispering like he's the devil on Heeseung's left shoulder, “Think about it, man. What’s more important? Some random algorithm, or free pizza from that one place around the corner every day?” 

“I swear, if this comes back to bite me..,” Heeseung sighs, rubbing his temples but already thinking about the mouth-watering cheesy goodness he could be having every day.

“So, you’ll do it?!” Jake’s eyes suddenly light up with hope, reflecting the picture-perfect image of a golden retriever right now. 

“Fine,” Heeseung glares at him, feeling the last of his integrity slip away. “But if anyone asks, you never heard this from me. And I expect my meals hot and my laundry folded.”

Jake gleams and practically starts bouncing off their living room's walls. “Yes! Yes! You won’t regret this! I mean, you probably will, but thank you!” 

Heeseung shakes his head, regretting every life choice that led to this moment. Jay claps him on the back. “See? Was that so hard? Now you can live like a king for a whole month. I’d call that a win.” 

“A king with a crumbling empire,” Heeseung sighs.  

“Y/N, here I come!” Jake’s already halfway out their apartment's front door, with no destination in sight—just overjoyed with excitement that he feels he could run ten laps around campus right now (plot twist: he doesn't—he ends up running down the stairs just to get winded and comes right back up to the apartment). 

As Jake sprints off, Heeseung groans, “I’ve made a terrible mistake, haven’t I?” 

"Nah," Jay shrugs, already opening his phone. "Probably.” 

Heeseung realizes he, indeed, made a terrible mistake when he looks up from his phone at lunch the next day and sees a particular you, storming up to the table.

Once you reach the table, you thrust your phone into his face, the ‘rematch’ email, that Heeseung had sent out only a few minutes ago, on display:  

Subject [SCHOOL ANNOUNCEMENT] : MatchMatic 3000 Oopsie Alert  Hello there, awesome students & fellow singletons,  Sooo...this is awkward. Despite weeks of blood, sweat, and ramen going into the creation of the Matchmatic 3000, it appears that a tiny part of the code had a full-on meltdown 🤖💔  As a result, some of the matches you received earlier this week were... well... not exactly what the love gods (or the code) intended. But hey, don’t panic! Not everyone’s match was wrong, just a small handful (I swear, please don’t come for me!).   I truly apologize for the mix-up, and I’m already back at my desk (and caffeine-mixed-with-ramen-fueled) fixing it.  The correct matches will be sent out ASAP—right after I double, triple, and quadruple check that this algorithm doesn’t throw another tantrum.  Thanks for your patience, and please don’t hunt me down! 🙏 I promise I’ll do better next time... or, at the very least, make sure the matches don’t require emergency therapy sessions.  Your (struggling) Campus Cupid,   Lee Heeseung,   Creator of the Slightly Dysfunctional Love Algorithm™ 💘 

”What happened to ‘Oh, the science is never wrong! I’m very smart, trust me, I’m King Romantic Algorithm!’” You mock in your best Heeseung impression, earning amused looks from everyone around the table—well, everyone except Heeseung. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Heeseung groans, holding up his hands defensively. Heeseung still can’t believe he’s apologizing for absolutely no reason, except for the looming fact that his hopelessly-in-love-with-you roommate is making him. “I swear, it must’ve been all the sleep deprivation. Maybe the algorithm glitched somewhere between my tenth cup of ramen and a power nap.” 

Heeseung shoots a knowing side glance towards Jake without anyone noticing, and Jake looks anywhere but at the older boy, avoiding eye contact at all costs.  

Jay raises an eyebrow as he chews on his sandwich, “Honestly, I’m not mad about it. I was still holding out hope for that cute boba barista.” 

“Excuse me?” Grace smacks Jay’s arm without hesitation from beside him. “What’s wrong with being matched with me?” 

Jay blinks at her in disbelief. 

“You literally said you’d rather wrestle a bear made of thorns than go out with me.” 

“Yeah, but it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t want to go out with me,” Grace mutters, crossing her arms as Jay chuckles and nudges her back. 

“I don’t have time for your boba barista fantasies, Jay,” you grumble, feeling clearly annoyed over the rematch debacle.

Jake, sitting across from you, has been…well characteristically quiet, probably because he’s still trying to figure out how to comfort you without feeling a pang of guilt for being the reason you’re frustrated. But he gives it a shot anyway, turning to you with a cautious, almost-too-casual smile.  

“Are you really that upset over the rematch, Y/N?” His voice gentle, almost laced with concern, you would think. 

You glance up at him, instantly feeling less annoyed…for some reason. Jake’s always had this weird ability to calm you down without even trying. Maybe it was just his soft and steady demeanor that made you feel the need to match his. You take a deep breath, smoothing out the sharp edges of your mood before you speak.  

“It’s not that I was desperate to be with Sunghoon,” you start, your voice softer now. “I don’t know…I guess it was just kinda exciting and meeting someone new is always fun, you know? I think I’ve just been wanting something new or different in my life.”  

You trail off, and when you meet Jake's eyes again, you catch the way he's nodding along, completely absorbed in what you're saying. His attentiveness is cute, it makes something flutter in your chest—an unfamiliar warmth. You, a little curious, let the feeling linger, before quickly brushing it aside. 

But Jake? He feels that warmth too, though for him, it’s coupled with a twinge of jealousy. He's bothered. The thought of you seeking something ‘new’ with someone else twists in his chest, but he hides it with a smile, determined not to let you see how much it bothers him. 

“Well,” Jake begins, voice light but with a subtle undertone of something more you pick up on and you wonder what it is. “Maybe it’s a good thing. The rematch, I mean. It’s like a second chance. Everything happens for a reason, right? Maybe Sunghoon’s secretly a serial heartbreaker…or into collecting voodoo dolls or something.” 

You laugh, his humor breaking through any of your remaining frustration, and you raise an eyebrow at him. 

“You sound awfully optimistic about this,” you tease, trying to figure out if there’s something more to his words. Was there? Probably not, you deduce. Definitely not.  

Jake’s heart stutters, wondering if he's been caught red-handed. He fights the urge to panic and instead flashes you a cheesy grin and that somehow makes your stomach flip, though you can't exactly figure out why. 

“Just saying, it could be a blessing in disguise,” he shrugs, his tone playful but sincere. “Maybe this time, it’ll match you with someone who’s right in front of you.” 

Your breath catches as you take in his words quite literally. He’s just speaking metaphorically, right? But when your eyes meet again, there’s something in the way he looks at you—something that makes your heart skip a beat.  

For a moment, you don't know why, but you feel vulnerable in front of Jake. Jake, of all people. He’s always been sweet, always been there, but right now, the way he’s looking at you feels different. Maybe it's the way he's talking to you like you two are the only people at the table, like everything you're saying is heard and understood, and you feel seen amidst all the chaos. Like he’s seeing you in a way you’ve never quite noticed before. And it sends warmth radiating through you, mixing with the confusion already swirling in your chest. 

You blink and shake your head, you're overthinking. Jake is just being Jake—kind, supportive, and always ready to listen. That's just who he is. That's all.  

So why can you still feel his lingering gaze on you even as the conversation moves on? And why does it make you feel...something? Shy? Nervous? Excited? Maybe all of the above.  

Grace suddenly claps her hands together, breaking you out of your confusion, “Well, I think this whole rematch thing is the universe giving me a shot at a real love story,” she announces dramatically.  

“Right, because nothing says ‘romance’ like a computer’s ruling,” Jay rolls his eyes.  

Grace glares at him, “Maybe it’ll match me with someone who’s not emotionally unavailable for once.” 

You laugh at your friends' banter, but your thoughts are still stuck on Jake's words, and all you can think about is the possibility of getting paired with Jake. You feel a fluttering sensation at that thought, and as if you were afraid he could read your mind, you try to sneak a glance at him, only to catch him looking at you at the exact same moment. His eyes quickly dart away, making the interaction short enough to avoid any awkwardness but still long enough for you to catch the same gentle, almost longing expression, on his soft features.  

Your heart skips. 

Feeling exposed, you clear your throat, trying to break the silent tension you’re sure only you’re feeling. 

“Anyway,” you say, forcing a smile, “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. I’m sure it’ll all work out in the end.” 

Your friends all nod and murmur in agreement at your statement, but your heart lingers on Jake. You can't help but glance back at him, your mind refusing to shake this unfamiliar feeling of...something—maybe the slightest flicker of hope—that you match with him. 

And maybe, just maybe, you wouldn't mind that at all.  

And for Jake, well, there’s only one version of ‘everything working out at the end,’ and it's simple, really—it's you. And for him, that’s the only ending that matters. 

Maybe Jake bit off a little more than he could chew this time. 

Sure, we’ve established that Jake’s inner simp—Jake Simp—is willing to do just about anything to end up with you. Training for a triathlon? Done. Cat-sitting twelve cats? He’d do it, no questions asked. So, naturally, promising Grace a week’s worth of iced coffee deliveries, finishing her physics poster, funding Heeseung’s meals and doing all his laundry for a month didn’t seem that bad in comparison. 

That was, until now—when he's speed-walking across campus, juggling an iced matcha latte (with two pumps of chai, because of course), a dry-cleaning bag with freshly ironed clothes, and a trifold poster board tucked precariously under his armpit, praying the drink doesn’t melt before he gets it to Grace.

Jake hastily rounds the corner by the library, barely keeping his balance when— 

Smack. 

Jake runs straight into someone, thankfully only sacrificing a few drops of the matcha as he stumbles, trying to keep everything from falling out of his grasp.

"Woah! Easy," an oddly familiar voice says, and when Jake looks up, he's met with your adorably amused expression. Of course it's you.

“Y/N!” Jake nearly chokes on his words, trying to steady himself. “I—uh, didn’t see you there.”

You laugh softly, your eyes flicking over everything in Jake's hold. 

"Is that a...physics project? I thought you took that class last year." 

Jake stalls, trying to recollect himself and somehow explain why he's running around campus with a trifold poster, (at this point, half-melted) iced matcha, and someone's else's dry cleaning, all over trying to end up with you. Because, yeah, there's really no way to explain that. But then...wait.

"I did take it last year," he says, eyebrows raised. "You remember that?"

Now you're the one seemingly flustered, as if you're the one that just ran into their crush, sweating beads over running a million of chores. 

You think your face is as red as a beet right now, well, at least it feels like it. 

"Uh—yeah, I guess I did," you give a sheepish smile, nervously tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and Jake thinks he's about to faint from lightheadedness right then and there.

"Plus, you were always talking about how the professor went on tangents about wormholes...but you would secretly enjoy them because you always swore you could survive getting sucked through one, remember?" 

Jake’s heart skips at the way you're ever so casually recalling these details that even he didn't remember. He doesn't know which one takes the leaderboard, you calling him ‘Jakey’, or this.

"Wow," he breathes, unable to hide the smile spreading across his face. "I didn't think you’d notice all that. I thought I was just rambling half the time and the group would nod along to just be nice."

You shrug, looking up at the boy in front of you while trying to play it off casually, even though your heart feels like it's about to break free from your ribcage. 

"Well, I guess I’ve just always remembered the stuff you talked about. It’s...kind of hard not to when you go on about it with that excited look on your face,” you quickly clamp your mouth and your eyes widen as you realize what you just said out loud. Yup, there goes your heart—broken out of your ribcage, running wild and free.

Jake blinks, mentally putting this interaction at the top of the leaderboard, for sure. 

"Wait, seriously?" Jake's eyes widen as he asks with his voice softer now, as if he's not entirely sure he heard you right. He shifts the matcha latte in his hand, trying to ignore the way his heart just did a little flip at your words.

You're mentally kicking yourself for blurting that out loud, what is going on with you? You swallow hard, feeling trapped in the moment. 

"I mean...yeah," you admit, your voice even quieter now, feeling the gaze of his eyes on you, as you fiddle with the strap of your bag. 

"You get really into the stuff you care about, and it's kind of cute. In, like, a wholesome way," you quickly add, feeling even more heat suddenly rush to your face, "it's just...you know...cute." 

You trail off as you realize you said cute twice but Jake's smile just widens even more at that, and suddenly the mountain of things he's carrying feels a teensy bit lighter. 

"So you think it's cute, huh?" 

Jake feels a newfound confidence, noticing how you're not your typical outspoken self, in fact, you almost look nervous around him. This is his delusion speaking right? Have you always been paying attention to him this way and he's been too blindsided to see it? Regardless, for whatever reason—delusion or not—in this moment, Jake feels a little more out of his comfort zone in front of you. 

"I didn't say that! I said wholesome!" Your eyes dart up to meet his as you protest, but the flustered look on your face betrays you and Jake thinks he could definitely soar to the moon right now.

Jake, still smiling, shifts his weight, and without thinking, takes a small step closer. 

"You totally did," his eyes peer teasingly at you and he doesn't know how he's still breathing, let alone talking, with you looking up at him, like that. "Guess I’ll have to keep talking about stuff I care about, then."

You try to muster something witty back, but the way he’s looking at you—and the way he’s talking to you—is making it so incredibly hard to focus on anything but the fluttering in your chest. 

"Yeah I guess you do," you smile back at him, noticing the lack of space between you two all of the sudden. You've never seen this side of Jake, and you can't help but enjoy it...the banter, the flirty glances, the way he makes you feel—

You clear your throat, snapping yourself back into reality, "So..what is with the project poster and…dry-cleaning?" Your eyes go back to everything he's juggling to avoid further eye contact, grateful for the distraction to give you a chance to catch your breath and regain your composure.

"Oh, this? You know, just doing my daily round of favors for Grace, Heeseung, and the rest of the world apparently," Jake chuckles, more so to himself, at how ridiculous of a situation he really did get himself in. 

You smile, your heart warming at the thought. Jake's always been this way—kind, thoughtful, always helping the people he cares about. Well…in reality, he technically is doing this for someone he cares about…you. 

"Damn, guess I should ask for the same treatment then, huh?" You tilt your head, lips quirking into a grin, eyes lit up.

Typically, that look on your face would have Jake in absolute shambles and he'd probably want to curl up into a turtle shell for life. But whatever cosmic forces that orchestrated this recent shift between you two had given him a much-needed confidence boost.

"I mean, I'd totally do that for you, if that's what you're asking," he leans in with another playful smirk on his face, "anytime."  

Your breath catches, the butterflies in your stomach fighting to escape. 

"Oh? Even if it means running across campus with an iced latte in one hand and my dirty laundry in the other?"  

“For you? Yeah. No problem.” 

For a second, you don’t respond, just watching him with a curious, unreadable expression that always drives him crazy. Now, Jake feels like he might actually pass out from how intensely you’re looking at him. 

Finally, you smile. “I'll hold you to that, Jakey.” 

Jake freezes. It's like you know exactly what that name does to him. 

You giggle, clearly amused at the way he stumbles over a reaction and quickly add, "Anyway, I'll leave you to it! Grace is gonna kill you for bringing over a watered-down matcha. But I'll see you later tonight for movie night, right?"  

Jake suddenly remembers the long-awaited (it was planned one day ago) movie night the group set for tonight, and he gets excited at the idea of seeing you again in just a few hours. 

"Definitely, I'll save you a seat?" 

"Mmm," you nod as you start walking away slowly, still facing him, basking in the way he's watching you. "See you later, Jakey!" 

You finally turn and stroll away, thankful your back is to him now so he can't see how your smile is growing wider than you thought was possible.  

On the other hand, Jake blinks, eyes on you as you walk away, still trying to process what just happened. Confidence or not, you always have the last word. But that doesn’t matter. 

One thing is for sure—Jake Simp is in full throttle, and he’d happily run across campus a hundred times, coffee and laundry in hand, if it means hearing you say his name like that again. 

Not that Jake’s been counting down the hours until movie night or anything—no, definitely not—but it’s been approximately five hours since he ran into you, and—if he’s being honest—about four and a half of those hours were spent thinking about how he’ll be seeing you again. The other 30 minutes? Well, they were spent explaining to Grace why her matcha was delivered watered down, which was a scolding he’d rather forget about. 

Needless to say, he's even more excited than usual to see you tonight, for no particular reason. But after your last interaction, Jake feels closer to you than ever before. There’s a tiny flicker of hope, but he keeps reminding himself not to get ahead of himself. After all, he’s only recently mastered the art of saying more than one sentence to you without hyperventilating. Baby steps. 

Jake’s eyes scan the coffee table of the living room, mentally checking off all the important snacks (important as in your favorite ones, of course).  

"What vibe are we going for tonight?" Heeseung calls out from the couch, as he flips through the Netflix homepage on their TV. "Horror or coming-of-age rom-com?" 

Jake grimaces, "Please, no horror. I’m still having nightmares from the last movie night." He shudders at the memory. 

"Dude," Jay strolls into the room, chuckling, "Coraline is a kids movie!" 

"A scary kids movie! That thing should be rated at least PG-13!" Jake protests, while still scanning the room to ensure everything’s perfectly set up. Snacks, check. Drinks, check. Your favorite blanket neatly folded on the seat he’s reserved for you? Check. 

As if right on cue, a knock sounds at the door, and Jay casually starts, "I got it!"—but because Jake's Spidey senses (aka Y/N-senses) are sure it's you at the door, he's already sprinting and launches to the door, parkour style, slightly nudging Jay out the way and making it to the door before him—all in a second's time. 

"It’s okay! I got it!" Jake blurts, a bit too breathlessly, leaving Jay with a mixed look of disbelief that quickly morphs into amused pity. 

"Oookayyy," Jay drawls, turning to Heeseung with a knowing look, clearly entertained by their roommate. "He’s officially lost it." 

Jake takes a breath and quickly runs a hand through his hair in an attempt to not look disheveled, before pulling open the door. 

"Y/N. Hi." 

"Jake. Hi," you smile up at him, dressed in what you would call your "comfy movie night outfit"—but what Jake would call Met Gala worthy. He's pretty sure you could wear a paper bag and it'd be Met Gala worthy. 

For a split second, Jake’s brain malfunctions as he stalls at the door. The moment he’s been daydreaming about in his head for the last five hours is happening, but now that it’s here, he has zero idea what to do. Think, Jake, think! 

"Congrats, you’re the first one here!" he blurts, mentally face-palming as soon as the words leave his mouth. 

You giggle as you step inside, "Well, that would make sense, since you guys live here, and Grace is always late to everything. But thanks, Jakey, I’ll take it." 

You turn to grin at the boy once more, and he's officially a goner. RIP.  

"Oh—right," Jake stifles a sheepish grin as he rubs the back of his neck, shooting Jay and Heeseung a death glare as they're both silently roasting him with their eyes.  

"Hi boys," you greet the others as you step into the living room, eyes immediately going to the table lined with snacks. "Wow, you guys really went all out!" 

"Hiii Y/N," Heeseung and Jay say in perfect unison. You give them a raised brow, but shrug it off, too used to their weird behavior to question it. 

"Sooo, which seat is mine?" You excitedly turn back to Jake, scanning the available spots.  

"That one! Best seat in the house, guaranteed,” Jake practically beams, heart pitter-pattering as he's pointing to the cushion right next to his favorite spot. 

"Oh really? What makes it the best?" you ask, plopping down and curling up instantly into the cushion, which makes Jake wonder how much more his heart can truly take before it spontaneously implodes on itself. 

“It comes with your favorite blanket and easy access to the snacks. All your favorites, by the way," Jake slides into the seat beside you, keeping his voice cool.  

He’s very proud of himself for that one. After all, he did scour three different stores near campus for watermelon Sour Patch and strawberry Pocky. 

Jay butts in, grinning like the devil himself, "And the fact that you’re sitting next to Jake makes it extra special, right, Jakey?"

"Oh? Is that so?" You tilt your head, feigning innocence, although you've always known that the middle seat cushion has always been Jake's sacred seat on movie nights. 

"He’s...joking. I can sit anywhere! I just, uh... think this seat happens to have the best angle of the TV." Jake’s heart is definitely about to combust. 

Smooth, Jake. Real smooth. 

You smile and place a hand on Jake’s knee, patting it lightly, "I trust you, Jake. I’m already enjoying this seat more than you know." 

Jake swallows thickly, his body going rigid under your warm hand briefly against his skin. He thinks if he tries to say anything else, it'll come out sounding like a goose giving birth to fifty eggs. 

From Jake’s other side, Heeseung chimes in, obliviously saving his hopeless roommate, "So, Y/N—horror or rom-com tonight?"

"Horror!" you gasp excitedly, eyes widening immediately, "I need those jump scares to make me feel something, you know?" 

Jay breaks out in a coughing fit, nearly choking on his sudden laughter, while Jake shoots him yet another death glare.  

“Y/N, I completely agree with you! Any objections anyone?” Jay announces almost animatedly, leaving you slightly confused but, once again, unfazed by your friend’s weirdness. 

"Nope, none from me. Jake?" Heeseung raises a brow, also trying not to laugh himself. 

Jake looks at you, seeing how excited you are, and yep—he’s screwed. More nightmares for him, it seems. 

"Nope! I’m...totally down for horror." 

You lightly clap your hands in excitement, making Jake realize that, yeah, the nightmares are probably worth it if it means seeing you this happy. 

As you reach over for a snack, Jay mouths the word "SIMP" at Jake. Jake responds with an eye roll, but yeah, Jay’s not wrong. 

~~~ 

The movie is only 20 minutes in when you frown looking at the coffee table, “How is it possible we’re out of snacks already?”  

“I blame Grace for showing up late. I got hungry, okay?” Jay says, pointing at her. Grace responds by smacking the back of his head. “Ouch.” 

Heeseung pauses the movie. “Vending machine run, anyone?” 

“Jake and Y/N, go! Perfect candidates,” Jay suggests without skipping a beat, rubbing the back of his head from the provoked attack.  

You raise an eyebrow at Jake, feeling your heart race a little faster. You're trying to play it cool but the thought of having a moment alone with him sends a buzz through you. It's the kind of opportunity you didn't realize you were hoping for—wait, were you? You have no idea. But what you do know is that being around Jake has felt different lately, in a good way. There's something about his presence that makes you want to be near him more and more. It's confusing, whatever this is, but all you can admit to yourself right now is, feelings or not, you want this time with him.  

Jake opens his mouth to respond, but doesn’t manage to get anything out before you quickly grab his hand and pull him toward the door. 

“Okay! Be back in a few!” you call back to the group, trying to sound casual. 

Inside, you’re freaking out just a little. Or a lot. Definitely a lot. The feeling of his hand in yours is warm, almost comforting, but there’s...something that you swear is there. It just feels right.  

Jake follows behind you down the hall, and you can feel the warmth of his hand lingering even as you let go. You sneak a glance at him, and for some reason, he just seems... different. You've always found Jake cute. That's not news. But this—this is different, this isn't your typical ‘oh he's cute’ feeling...but you can't pinpoint what it is either. You shake the thought off.  

"Soo…" you start, looking up at him from the corner of your eye. Your heart pounds a little louder, and you hope he can’t hear it over the sound of your sneakers hitting the hallway tiles. He’s just so cute standing there, slightly awkward, but making it work. How can someone look this adorable just existing? 

“Sorry for dragging you out like that. I hope you don't mind,” you finally say as you both step into the elevator. You try to sound casual, but the slight bubble in your throat betrays you.  

“Oh—no, not at all. I totally wanted to...go with you...” Jake says, and then he quickly adds, “I mean, you're practically saving me from all the jump scares.” 

You laugh softly after a beat of silence, raising an eyebrow as the elevator doors open. “I thought you said you didn’t mind horror movies?” 

“Well,” Jake hesitates, but then says quietly, “how could I say no when you were that excited to watch one?” 

You blink, feeling your breath catch for a second. Did he just—? You look up at him, searching his expression, but all you see is that sweet smile of his, and your mind goes a little fuzzy, trying to piece together what that meant. 

You roll the thought around for a second before giving him a playful nudge. 

“Wow, who knew Jake Sim was such a people pleaser?” You’re teasing, but there’s an unfamiliar giddiness in your chest when he simply grins at you in response.  

As you step into the vending machine room, a soft hum fills the space. You glance at Jake again—he's studying the snack options with a small, focused frown, and you can’t help but smile. Why is everything he does so...frustratedly cute? 

Eventually, he sighs, giving up on his snack mission, and leans casually against the machine. Meanwhile, you're slightly bent down, continuing to mentally analyze the shelves, but you're hyper-aware of the fact that his eyes are definitely on you. And because you can feel the heat from his gaze, you swear you're turning ten shades redder by the second.  

“Are you gonna help me pick out snacks, or are you just gonna keep staring at me like that?” you ask, trying to sound casual, even though your brain's in overdrive. Your eyes stay glued to the snack shelves, anything to avoid the tension of locking eyes with him right now. 

“Hmmm,” you can hear the teasing smirk in his voice, and it sends a spark through you. “Nah, you can handle the snacks. I’m perfectly okay where I am.” 

You roll your eyes playfully, but your pulse quickens. Punching in the numbers for a random snack, you slide a dollar into the machine, stalling a little before you finally stand up and look up at him. “Oh, are you?” 

You don’t expect him to be this close when you're fully standing up. The space between you shrinks, and suddenly, you can almost feel his breath on your skin. Your pulse thumps loudly in your ears as you try your best to swallow the lump in your throat.  

“Still perfectly okay?” The words come out softer than you intended, almost a whisper. You’re holding his gaze now, neither of you wanting to break it. You swear you could probably hear a pin drop if it wasn't for your loud heartbeat right now.  

Jake swallows, and for a split second, you see him hesitate. His eyes flicker down to your lips, and that simple, unintentional move makes your breath hitch. You could lean in right now—close the gap between you—and you wonder if he’s thinking the same thing. Maybe you're hoping he's thinking the same thing. 

But then Jake chuckles, breaking the silence with his soft laugh that makes your stomach flip for maybe the hundredth time tonight. 

“I, uh… yeah, I’m still okay,” he says, though his voice exposes just how not okay he actually is. You see the faintest blush creeping up his neck, and it’s endearing—so much so that you almost forget you were nervous too.  

You swear you can sense him shuffle just a little bit closer and you're subconsciously wanting to lean into the feeling... 

Plop! 

The sound of the bag of chips landing at the bottom of the machine breaks whatever moment you thought was forming between you two.  

You blink. Jake blinks. 

For a split second, the two of you just stare at each other, wide-eyed, before Jake is the first to snap out of it. His hand quickly goes to rake through his hair, his eyes darting anywhere but yours, and the flush on his cheeks is unmistakable. It almost matches the heat you feel creeping up your own face. 

You can’t tell if you’re more relieved or disappointed that the moment broke so abruptly. You can't tell anything at this point, if you're being honest.  

“Uh—um,” you clear your throat, reaching for the snack like it’s the most important thing in the world. “I hope you like sour cream and onion chips!” 

You hold up the bag with a nervous laugh, trying to shake off the tension in the air. Jake just gives you this soft, searching smile, like he's trying to figure out what just happened—or maybe he's wondering if you felt it too. 

The way his eyes are so gentle, so open, makes your stomach flutter, and because you think you might actually crumble if he keeps looking at you like that for a second longer, you break eye contact to immediately turn back to the vending machine, hoping the heat in your face isn’t as obvious as it feels. 

“What other snacks do you think they’d like?” you hum, trying to sound casual, but inside you’re mentally screaming at yourself for not just going for it earlier. Great going, Y/N. 

From the corner of your eye, you catch Jake letting out a small exhale before he chuckles softly. 

“Honestly, as long as it has sugar, I think everyone will be happy,” he says, and you instantly feel yourself relax, his lightheartedness simmering the tension a bit.

"Hmmm... sour cream and onion and sugar. Got it," you punch in a few more random numbers into the machine, feeding it your remaining cash. "Looks like we’ve hit all the major food groups for today. Nutritionists everywhere will be so proud." 

The air between you both feels a lot lighter now, but there’s still a lingering warmth under your skin—a little too flustered to fully shake it off. You wonder if Jake is feeling the same, but if he is, he seems to be handling it way better than you are. Of course he would be. Cool, calm, collected Jake. (Also ironic, isn't it?)  

"Honestly, we should just unplug the machine and rob the whole thing," Jake playfully adds as you grab the last snack from the bottom slot. "You already know Jay’s gonna inhale all of these the second we walk back in." 

"You’re so right. I say next time, Operation 'Y/N and Jake versus the vending machine' needs to happen,” you laugh, feeling a little more like yourself again. 

"Oh, so what I'm hearing is there’s gonna be a next time?" Jake raises an eyebrow as the two of you start heading back to the elevator. "Count me in." 

You instinctively roll your eyes at how annoyingly smooth he was being, but you can't help the giddy smile growing on your face as a result of his words. As you two stand side by side to each other in the elevator, there's a new quiet that's settled and it's...nice. It's not awkward, just...heavier than before. As if there's a shared secret between you—something you both know but aren't ready to speak aloud just yet. But it's there—just for the two of you to mutually share in comfortable silence.  

Before you reach the apartment, you feel a light tug on your sleeve, and you stop. Looking up, you see Jake holding onto the corner of your sleeve, his expression...soft. Like, too soft. And for a moment, you swear time just stops. If he was on a mission to officially kill you, he can officially say mission accomplished.  

"Y/N, I—" he hesitates, his voice quieter again, like he's about to say something serious, and your heart picks up speed again. But then he stops himself, his grip loosening.  

You blink up at him, wanting him to continue so bad, but also unsure if you're ready of what might come next. 

"Mmm?" you hum, almost afraid to say anything louder. 

Jake bites the inside of his cheek, looking like he’s at war with himself. He finally lets go of your sleeve and gives you a small smile. 

"Sorry, it’s...nothing. Just... you look really nice tonight." 

The sudden, sincere comment catches you off guard, and you feel that familiar warmth rush to your face once again.  

"Oh," you manage to squeak out, because apparently, that's all you're capable of in the moment as your heart is spiraling. "Thanks, Jakey."  

You smile and look down at where his hand just was on your sleeve, and you almost want to reach out and grab his hand again, just to see if it'll feel as warm as it did earlier. Why do you want to reach out so bad?  

Jake's eyes flicker to yours, and for a split second, you swear there's a flicker of something in his eyes—something vulnerable—but then, just as quickly, his gaze shifts to the apartment door behind you, and he clears his throat.  

"Yeah," he says almost breathlessly. "Sorry, we should...probably go in. They probably think we got lost or something at this point."  

You finally let out a breath and snap yourself back in reality from staring at him. 

"Right, yeah. Wouldn’t want them sending a search party," you joke, though your brain’s still fuzzy from the million thoughts and feelings swirling around. 

As Jake unlocks the door, you can’t help but wonder if whatever just happened between you two was all in your head. But it can’t be, right? That feeling had to be real... Right? 

You step inside, and your friends’ commentary barely registers. It’s all background noise compared to the whirlpool of emotions screaming inside you. You sit back down on the couch, and so does Jake, in his seat next to yours.  

And while the movie plays for the rest of the night, you can't seem to focus on anything but the memory of everything that's happened tonight. That and the feeling of Jake’s arm resting right up against yours.  

You’re doomed. 

Jake has never been more confused in his entire life, like, ever. The past few days for him have been more confusing than that one semester he took Postmodern Interpretations of the Emoji Language and actually had to write a ten-page paper on the laughing emoji (don't judge, he had to fulfill his last two elective credits somehow).  

Life has been an absolute whirlwind for Jake—mainly due to the fact that his emotions have been spinning out of control. And to top it off, today’s the long-awaited rematch day.  

Normally, Jake would be a complete wreck by now, bouncing his leg under the table or fidgeting with his phone, but today? Today, he's nervous in a completely different way. The kind of nerves you get when you already know what's about to happen… but after everything that’s gone down lately, he thinks there’s something more between the two of you. And it has nothing to do with Heeseung’s so-called love algorithm. 

At least, he hopes there’s something between you two. Unless—oh god—he’s been totally delusional this whole time, and you’ve just been nice, and Jake’s fully lost it. Perfect, that’s exactly what he needs right now, on top of everything else. But the scariest part? In just a few moments, when the app refreshes and pairs you two together, Jake's going to have to face whatever's been simmering between you both—whether he's ready for it or not.  

And as if Heeseung could read his trembling thoughts, he breaks the silence at the lunch table, "Are you guys ready?"  

Grace and Jay's heads are nodding so fast for Heeseung to just push the 'send' button already, Jake thinks they look like bobbleheads. But when he glances over at you, you don't seem nearly as eager. Which is...weird. Considering how only a couple days ago, you were fired up about the rematch. But now? You look almost...conflicted?  

Jake's eyes linger on you for a second longer, taking in the way you're biting your lip, clearly deep in your thoughts. He can't help but find the sight of you zoned out like that so ridiculously adorable.  

"Y/N?" He nudges you gently. "You good?"  

"Huh?" You blink, snapping out of your daydream. "Oh, yeah. Sorry, Just...thinking, I guess."  

"You'll be fine, Y/N!" Grace chimes in, ever the optimist. "I bet you're gonna love whoever your match is!"  

Well, gee, Jake really, really, hopes so. If not, the last few days will have been a very confusing rollercoaster of emotional whiplash. 

"Right," Jake agrees, trying to act normal, though his voice sounds a little too tight. "Everything's going to be fine." Please, please let everything be fine.  

Jake can tell you're hesitant about something—you open your mouth like you want to say something, but then just as quickly, you press your lips closed again. If Jake didn't think you were the most precious being in the world, you could say you look like a fish out of water right now.

"Hypothetically speaking," you slowly speak up, eyes flicking up to your friends. "What would you do if...let's say you started catching feelings for someone...but then the app might pair you with someone else?" You pause, swallowing hard. 

"Hypothetically…of course.”

Grace raises an eyebrow. Heeseung freezes mid-bite. And Jake? Well, let's just say his heart is already running a mile into the marathon. Hypothetical? Feelings? That has to be about him, right? What were the chances?  

Jay lets out a snort. "Lucky for you, in a hypothetical situation, you do absolutely nothing. Cause it's...you know, hypothetical."  

"Yeah, you're right. Forget I said anything." You wave your hand, brushing it off, but Jake notices a blush growing across your face. "Okay, Hee! Let's get this over with."  

Jake's mind is spinning. What could you have possibly meant by that? That had to be about him...right? Because that is all he's ever wanted, all he's been pining for. But at the same time...it's too good to be true, so Jake refuses to believe it. He can't get his hopes up—not yet.

"Okayyyy," Heeseung's still lifting an eyebrow at your odd behavior before he clears his throat, “everyone ready?”  

Jay and Grace drum the table in anticipation, and Jake? Jake's pretty sure he's going to throw up. 

Heeseung taps his screen, and the table collectively holds its breath. Then, all at once, everyone’s phones light up. 

Grace and Jay scramble to grab their phones first and Jake thinks he's actually developing an incurable case of heart failure.  

“WHAT?” Grace shrieks before she whips around to Jay with wide eyes. “I got you, AGAIN!”  

Jay, unbothered, raises his hands defensively, “What can I say? It’s science, Gracey-poo.”  

"Sure. Science," Grace rolls her eyes so hard it's a wonder they don't get stuck. "Like how you scientifically forgot how to text me back after last night's study sesh?"  

Before Grace can verbally throttle Jay, Jake's entire focus narrows in on you, and how your phone is still face down on the table. You haven't even touched it.

The suspense is killing him, especially knowing his name is going to be on your screen. And if it's not? Well, then the end. End of fanfic. Cue the end credits.  

You, on the other hand, are staring intently at the Grace v. Jay debacle, as if focusing hard enough on other people's life issues will prevent the existential crisis you're about to have. Honestly, your phone could've exploded into a million pieces next to you and you'd still be pretending to care more about anything else.  

Because honestly? You couldn't care less about whoever Heeseung's magical powers paired you with—you're more focused on whatever's been going on between you and Jake. Or at least, you hope, there’s something happening between you and Jake. Unless, oh god, he's just being nice, and you've fully lost it. Please, please don't tell me I've lost it.  

"Y/N! Jake! Who did you guys get?" Grace turns towards the two of you, breaking the both of you out of your respective spirals. 

"Right, yeah. Um—okay. Let's see,” you let out a shaky laugh as your hands fidget in your lap before they finally reach for your phone, as Jake does the same next to you.  

You take a breath, click on the daunting email notification on your screen, and finally look down.  

You blink down at your phone. You squeeze your eyes to make sure they’re not deceiving you.  

Match: Sim Jae-yun  

Your brain is absolutely jumbled beyond saving, you seem to have forgotten how to breathe, and your stomach feels like it was just turned inside out. You don’t know what’s happening, is this what dying feels like?

You blink once. Twice. And maybe a third time just to make extra, extra sure.  

Suddenly, the whole room seems to slow down, like you're watching a replay of your life recently at 0.5 speed. All the moments between you and Jake flash by: the vending machine run, the shared glances, the oddly adorable way he got flustered over you calling him 'Jakey.' But you don't have time to fully process everything because the fact is:  

You’ve just been matched with Jake. Jake.  

You finally look up, heart racing, and try to see if Jake's opened his notification yet, but his face is still too normal at whatever he's looking at on his phone. Or, more accurately, he's pretending to be normal, because the tips of his ears are a little too red for someone who's ‘chill’ (he's most definitely not chill, right now).  

"So, uh..." Jake's voice finally comes out quiet, his gaze slowly meeting yours, and it makes you feel like you two are the only ones at this table. Scratch that, in this world. "Did you open yours?"

"Yeah,” you nod, trying to act nonchalant, “I did.”

Jake lets out a soft chuckle, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

"Same here."

The way he says it—soft, like he’s addressing the shared secret between the two of you—makes the air feel warmer. Or maybe it’s just you overheating. Get it together, Y/N.

Grace, across the table, catches the tension happening in front of her, her eyes darting back and forth like she's watching a slow motion scene of a k-drama unfold in real time. Then—

“Oh my god,” she gasps loudly, before violently clapping a hand over her mouth. 

Her eyes fill with excitement and just as quickly, she jumps up, grabbing both Jay and Heeseung by the back of their shirts and yanking them to their feet. 

“We’re getting boba! Be right back!”  

Heeseung’s brows scrunch. “Wait, what? I don’t even wan—“  

“Too bad! We’re going.”  

And just like that, you’re left alone with Jake next to you—and his flaming red ears that could probably power a small country. 

“So…” Jake clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he finally turns to look at you.  

“So..,” you softly say, your fingers tapping nervously on the edge of the table, hoping he'll say something, anything. 

"So," Jake repeats for the third time, followed by an awkward chuckle. “Uh...what do we...do now?”  

You blink.

“Do now?”  

Jake’s eyes dart to yours, and for a second, you think he’s about to up and bolt from the table. 

“I mean, like, uh...we’re…well, I don’t know, is there something to do now..? Or not do? That’s okay too! I have no idea. I’m just—wow. Sorry.”  

You smile endearingly at him before breaking out into laughter as your heart does a little Olympics routine. How were you this oblivious before?  

“Jake,” you say between laughs, catching your breath as you instantly feel eased by him. "It's okay. I've been thinking...I—" 

You mentally high-five yourself and give yourself a pep talk for what you're about to say. Please, for the love of all things holy, don't let me be wrong about this.

"I can't stop thinking about you," you say, voice quiet, but steady. "It's like you've taken over my brain, Jake, and it's driving me crazy. And I don't know—I don't know if it's just me or if everything I've been sensing between us is real, but I think my brain might explode if I didn't tell you. Plus, I was terrified the Matchmatic would pair you with someone else and I had lost my chance."  

You finally feel like the weight of the world has been lifted off your shoulders, but when you look at Jake? He's gone. Eyes wide, looking like a malfunctioning robot. His mouth opens and closes, and you're 110% sure he's about to glitch out of existence right in front of you.  

"Wow."  

You blink. Wow? That's it? Is this a good wow or a wow-she's-crazy wow? Naturally, you think it’s the latter, so you mentally prepare yourself to fake your death and move to Norway.  

But before you're about to flee the scene and start your new life as a mountain goat herder, Jake's eyes lock on yours, filled with the softest, most fond expression you've ever seen.  

"Y/N, I like you. A lot. And I have for, like...forever, I think." His voice is quiet, but his shoulders are more relaxed the more he looks at you. "I didn't think you'd feel the same way. You know, because we're friends and all." 

Your smile grows impossibly wide as you nudge his shoulder playfully with yours. 

"Well, surprise surprise, you're wrong."  

Jake chuckles, now fully facing you, his face flushed from wearing his heart on his sleeve. But for you? He thinks he’s about to stand on this lunch table and scream his feelings into a megaphone. 

"So...maybe we could try out this 'more-than-friends' thing?" you suggest, finding it hard to form a coherent sentence without sounding like a fifth grader. But Jake? Jake thinks seeing you stumbling your words over talking to him, for once, is the cutest sight ever. "I mean, unless you don't want—"  

"Oh, I definitely want to!" Jake practically launches himself forward, his smile so big you wish you could keep a mental image of it forever.

You laugh, suddenly feeling lighter. "Okay, then. Let's do it."  

"Here's to doing it!" Jake echoes, his voice warm and soft as he moves closer to you, finding it hard to resist just simply being in your close presence. Then, his eyes widen and he clears his throat, "I mean, not like do it, do it—wait, but not saying that I wouldn't—oh god—"  

Your giggles are uncontrollable once again as you watch Jake's face turn into the deepest shade of red you've ever seen. Without even thinking, you reach for his hand, seeking stability, as if he's a magnet drawing you in and you can't resist the pull of his warmth.

You finally take a breath, calming yourself down as Jake's eyes flicker down to your intertwined fingers, and his smile softens into something that makes your heart so full.  

For a moment, neither of you say anything, just letting the weight of everything finally settle, your hand resting under his in between you two. Then, Jake's thumb brushes softly over your knuckles, and he looks up at you with that newfound confidence that somehow makes him even more irresistible.  

“So…now what?” Jake's corners of his mouth twitch into a smile as he subconsciously leans in closer than before, and this time, you know there's no way you're backing out. 

A playful smile tugs at your lips as your eyes flicker between his soft brown eyes and his mouth. 

“Well, I mean…you still owe me from the vending machine.”  

Jake freezes. He blinks in confusion, and you're pretty sure you can hear the whirrr of his brain rebooting right in front of you.  

“Oh, you mean for the snacks? How much do I owe you? I can Venmo you, or, uh, buy you more snacks?” he stammers, completely caught off guard by your random comment, especially when he thought this was the moment. But, you know...priorities, I guess?  

Now you freeze, blinking at him before you let out a giggle that surprises even you. Seriously? You reach out and gently cup his adorably confused face.  

"Jake, you lovable dork," you say, shaking your head, unable to stop the giggles bubbling up. "Not what I meant."  

Jake doesn't even get the chance to respond (and honestly, he doesn't know if he could even form words right now, not with you so close, holding his face so gently). Before either of you even know it, you lean up and close the gap, your lips softly pressing against his.  

Jake freezes for a heartbeat. Or maybe two. He's unsure if he's even still breathing (is oxygen even necessary at a time like this?). But then, instinctively, his hands find their way to your waist, and he's gently pulling you closer on the table bench, as if he's afraid to let you slip away. He's pretty sure the world hit pause, and all that existed was the softness of your touch, the sweet warmth of your lips, and the faint vanilla scent of your shampoo that's doing a great job at scrambling his brain right now.  

He tries to stay cool—he really does—but his lips curve into a smile against yours, and he can't help but think, well, this is it. This is peak life. I've peaked. This? This just knocked anything else right off the leaderboard of his best life moments. 

It’s short. It’s sweet. It’s everything you didn’t know you needed and everything Jake’s been dreaming about.

He's savoring every little moment, every little movement guided by you, feeling like he's on cloud infinity, before you pull away, a soft pink blush growing on your entire face.

You lean your head back slightly to look at him, the warmth of the moment still lingering between you. Jake’s eyes are wide, his cheeks flushed, but there’s a soft, almost dazed smile playing on his lips, like he’s still processing.

"W-wow," he stammers, his voice barely above a whisper as he's trying to process if he's actually alive or in a sugar-induced dream. 

"Yeah," you breathe out, smiling as you gently run your thumb across his cheek, enjoying the way his face heats up even more under your touch. 

"So...," you say playfully after a beat of silence, leaning in so close that you're sure you’d be kissing him all over again if it wasn’t for your self-control, "do I still get my snacks?"

Jake laughs, officially breaking the heavy tension. He drops his head on your shoulder, completely and utterly overwhelmed by the pure sensation of you, but in the best way possible.  

"You can have all the snacks you want," he mumbles into your shoulder, his voice muffled but filled with so much affection that you think you might actually burst with joy. "Take my whole bank account while you're at it. Take whatever you want."  

You can't help but laugh as you wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him even closer to you. 

"You're ridiculous, Sim Jae-yun." 

"I know," he admits, voice still muffled into your shoulder. "But I'm your ridiculous, algorithm-proven match, right?"  

Jake feels your laughter from under him. "Mmmhmm, Jakey. 100% mine. Algorithm or not."  

You feel his smile grow against your shoulder as your arms squeeze him tighter. The perfect moment settles and you think you could die happy right now. For the first time in days, everything feels right.

But then, Jake pulls back just slightly, still under your hold, his eyebrows furrowing like he's about to say something very important.  

"Wait—" he raises his eyebrows at you.

 "—does this mean you never saw me as a Roomba?"  

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

epilogue: 

“If your next words are that you’re Spider-Man,” you say, your head nestled in Jake’s lap as you absentmindedly watch the TV, “then congratulations, you’re officially the world’s coolest boyfriend ever.”

Jake lets out a soft laugh, his fingers gently playing with the ends of your hair. It’s movie night—a rare, private one this time, much to your friends' annoyance. No horror films tonight (thank god, because Jake still hasn’t fully recovered from the last one), but honestly, the movie has long been forgotten. The moment Jake blurted out that he had something ‘dire’ to tell you, all plotlines flew out the window. 

You told him, unless it's about a sudden worldwide ramen shortage or that he's secretly a bug-themed superhero, then it could definitely wait until after the movie. 

But Jake had shook his head, claiming no, it’s like…life-changing important. 

Which is why you’re here now, his lap a perfect pillow, waiting for him to speak. He looks down at you, and you finally catch the serious gleam in his eyes. Oh wait, he’s actually being serious. 

“No, unfortunately, I don’t have Spidey senses,” he laughs nervously, gently nudging you up until you’re sitting face to face on the couch. “I do think I’ve developed Y/N senses, though.” 

“Oh? What are your Y/N senses telling you now?” you raise an eyebrow, smirking. 

“Um… that you hopefully won’t be mad at me?” Jake’s voice wavers slightly, hands fiddling with yours, and your playful smile fades just a little, confusion and worry taking over your face. 

“Oh. Okay. What’s up?” You straighten up, fully turning toward him, sitting crisscrossed.

Jake hesitates, looking down at your intertwined fingers, and takes a deep breath.

“Well, remember the Matchmatic thingy from a few months ago?” 

“Mmhm,” you hum, studying his expression. 

“So… um…I may or may not have done something…to make sure you got matched with me,” Jake’s eyes immediately squeeze shut, bracing for impact, like he’s expecting an explosion, or worse, your wrath. 

There’s a beat of silence. And then— 

You burst into laughter. Full-on, head-thrown-back, shoulders-shaking laughter. You drop your head back into Jake’s lap, your cackles muffled by his hoodie, while Jake sits frozen, staring at you like you’ve grown two heads. 

“I—uh… I’m confused?” He stares down at you, unsure if you’re about to pull a full-on Joker moment. 

“Jakey,” you coo, your laughter softening into giggles as you sit back up and cradle his cheeks. “You are so adorable. You really thought I didn’t know?” 

Jake blinks. 

“Wait, what?” 

“I knew.” You grin, watching as his brain seems to stall for a second. 

“…You knew?” 

You nod, leaning back on your hands. 

“Yeah, I knew. I mean, I kind of just put two and two together after we started dating. And Hee? He's a genius, no way he messed up the first way around,” you roll your eyes playfully. 

“But the thing is, Jake… the algorithm didn’t make me like you. I already did.” You reach forward and tap his forehead lightly, preciously smiling at how utterly stunned he looks. 

“You—wait, what?” Jake’s mind is catching up at the speed of 3G internet. 

“Yeah,” you laugh again, softer this time.  

He’s still staring at you, wide-eyed, like you just casually told him you're moving to the moon tomorrow. Honestly, he looks like his entire world just got flipped upside down, but in the best way possible, of course.  

“So…you’re not mad?” 

"Nope."  

"And you still wanna be with me?"  

"Yup."  

"And you're not just saying that because I buy you all the snacks you want?"  

"Nope."  

"Oh thank god," Jake exhales dramatically, hand flying to his chest like he barely survived a life-threatening situation. He looks at you with the softest, dopiest smile that makes you feel like you're staring at a puppy in a rom-com. "Because you are, hands down, the most perfect person for me. Like, ever."  

"You are so cute, Jakey," you scrunch your nose at him before leaning up to plant a quick kiss on his blushing cheek, which only makes his ears turn an even deeper shade of red.  

But before you can pull away, he's already frowning playfully.  

"Wait, wait��one more question." 

"Mhm?" 

"Cute as in 'kiss' cute or 'puppy' cute?"

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

the end! i hope you guys liked it ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

m.list here!

tagged: @climbingmandevillas @byeoltual @junhuiste-ficrec

cue all the tags now...

[writebethany]

❤️🧡🤍🩷💜A WLW ASK MEME❤️🧡🤍🩷💜 List the top 10 ladies you’ve been obsessed with Ever Of All Time! Then send this on to 5 sapphic mutuals 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

Mentally listing these off I have a type and I'm not sorry about this in the slightest ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ so in no particular order:

Astra In-Ze. (Supergirl) General badass who wants to do the right thing in the completely wrong way? There was never a universe in which I did not love her. It was inevitable. I watched the first season of supergirl for Cat Grant, and ended up loving Astra more. It's the enemies to lovers of it all. It's the Laura Benanti. It's the being a twin on a world where that was an aberration. It's the ability to take the framework and run to create a whole lot of backstories for fun and profit. *chef's kiss* Really had everything I needed to sink into a character and think about them for all time.

Kommissar (Pitch Perfect 2) Condescending European tall hot lady? By god the movie gave us nothing and yet I kept digging. I literally had to pick out a name to write about her, but I was out here giving her the full random side dude character treatment because she had the trifecta of 'qualities I'm obsessed with.' I followed the actress and watched Danish TV for her. I started learning Danish. That is how obsessed I was with this character. The OT3 fic I wrote with Kommissar/Becca/Pieter is still one of my favorite things I've ever written. It's just so soft while Kommissar doesn't manage to lose the sass or edge. Mmm.

Miranda Priestly (The Devil Wears Prada) It's Miranda Priestly. I'm a millennial sapphic. Need I say more. Never mind that she fits with the overall theme so far of 'mean and pretty (and usually older with a backstory with just a *touch* of softness). I watched the movie as a baby gay who didn't know(tm) yet and zeroed the fuck in on Miranda and then watched it in college and YEP. There we were. Several hundred thousand words of fic later.

Regina Mills. (Once Upon a Time) Mean. ✅ Tragic backstory ✅ Secretly Wants to be good ✅ *GOD* the brain rot I had over Regina Mills. Still love her, but I burned so brightly and that fandom was so. Well. We all know what OUAT was like if you were there Gandalf. She's still such a baby girl, but not *the* baby girl, you understand. She led me to Lana's other works and Swingtown most importantly which also lives in my head rent free, but Regina. Regina will always be that original GOAT from my first *big* foray into fandom and only just got passed with fics from another fandom recently, that's how much I wrote about her.

Narcissa Malfoy. Sometimes when you're a baby gay and the teacher you just realized you have a crush on and finally admit you're gay to yourself writes HP fanfic and writes a version of Narcissa Malfoy that haunts you for fifteen straight years to the point where it becomes your pandemic fic pairing of choice and here you are four years past that with *gestures* yeah. Alas.

H.G. Wells. (Warehouse 13) HOOOOO BOY baby's first fandom. This was another case of me watching the first couple seasons before I knew(tm) but also buying them on DVD because you see I needed them. Mmm complicated villain backstories. I can redeem her, etc, etc. But just the sheer fucking chemistry of HG and Myka and the perfection of HG being this didactic woman who didn't let time define her and then going absolutely ape to avenge her daughter? Yes. Just yes. Love her. Also Jaime Murray. Mhm.

Eve Baird. (The Librarians) Oh Eve. The newest addition to the list. She just wants to protect her people, for all of them to live and be happy. Will forever have a part of my mind rotating her, Jenkins, and Cassandra together like a snowglobe. It just makes sense and I am a sucker for poly.

Rebecca Welton. (Ted Lasso) *screams in we could have had it all* listen. Listen. Listen. I loved the first two season of Ted Lasso. I loved the arc that Rebecca had in them of being a conniving bitch because she was hurt and wanted everyone else to hurt with her. I loved the switch from that to finding family with the team. What the fuck was the third season. What was that ending. Some random fucking dude with a kid? Forever will be angry about it and how it just...took everything that she had with Ted and went 'surely this other random dude will do'. They should have just left her alone if the ultimate goal was for Ted to go. I would have loved that for her, to stand on her two feet. Just. AGH. Anyway seasons 1 and 2 live rent free in my head and we don't talk about bruno after that.

Cat Grant. (Supergirl) While I ended up liking Astra more than Cat Grant. Cat Grant. The parallels between Cat and Miranda are *paralleling* and I still fucking love her to this day. The check boxes are checked. The plucky assistant to fall in love with is right there. Honestly if the show had aired any other time than when I was in grad school, and if Cat had been a main for more than a season I would have been even more obsessed.

Rita Repulsa. (Power Rangers) Listen. Listen. Listen. Six year old me loved Power Rangers. Six year old me also thought Rita Repulsa was the prettiest woman ever to exist. Dear god if you have only seen the Elizabeth Banks Rita, google the original. 0 idea what my six year old self was thinking. Like without the crazy costume yeah, but the crazy costume was there. So. I mean I still think about her on occasion, but usually in the context of HOO BOY I'VE ALWAYS BEEN LIKE THIS about villains. So. She counts. Also the Elizabeth Banks version is certifiably hot so like. Was six year old me wrong?

[dear-mrs-otome]

So, let me preface this by saying, I got your notification at probably 5 AM this morning (when I was awake, bleary-eyed, dealing with a small someone who had had a nightmare) and I had a hard time keeping myself from just diving in right then and there. BUT I HELD THE LINE - mainly because I knew I would be so effin amped when I got the change to properly sink my teeth into this delight.

And you know what? I was right. I've read this three times already this morning, and I'm certain it won't be the last. This is such a masterpiece from top to bottom, if I could print this fic out I would make a thousand copies and just roll around on them like a cat with the world's largest pile of catnip. But where do I begin extolling its virtues??

The pacing? Which is on point, and I adore the narrative break for the story within a story of Silvio's adventures. (shoutout to the Tanzanite mention, woo! And how poetic it was, very Coleridge of you ma'am!) Your decision to jump from moment to moment, hitting the high points of the scenario without giving it a chance to drag, was spot on and kept the tension rolling so well. We all knew the destination here…but the journey. The journey was the adventure.

The imagery? Obviously we all know this is one of your strong suits, but there were so many themes and motifs that served to add so much dimension to the story. The storm and how it waxed and waned and echoed their interaction, from violent and chaotic to something exhilarating. The way our characters emerge from it like the world the next morning, scrubbed maybe just a bit cleaner of their pre-existing notions of each other. Ready for a fresh start. The ocean metaphors which are so, so satisfying when it comes to Silvio because beyond just the colors it fits him - the volatility of it, the allure even if you know it might not end well for you, how it can be both harsh and nurturing. Also please let me flail a moment over the dress. The dress! Choosing those two tones to hearken back to his crest and his own coloring and the converse notion that despite associating himself with such stark tones it's impossible to see him or things related to him in mere black and white. And this was carried on with mentions of the inn-keepers white hair, the white bed, his white shirt. The blackness outside of the storm, her black shawl. Bravo.

I love that you let the reader snark. I love the frustration and irritation and reluctant attraction to this disaster of a man because frankly, we've all been there I think. I love that you let her say fuck. I love that you let HIM say fuck. (Bless you for this!!) I love that we got that little hint of vulnerability from him and that intriguing glimpse of integrity which we all KNOW exists despite Silvio's best efforts to convince us all otherwise. The tension and the sexual tension which is just so so so… chefs kiss Braised to perfection. You gave it the time it needed to open up sumptuously - and leave us wanting more. Just like our couple.

Favorite lines perhaps, though it's impossible to pick any, but this feels like these encompass everything about this fic succinctly and beautifully:

Just your gaze locked with his, your chest rising and falling as you stare into those azure depths, wondering if the tempest outside will be what causes you to helplessly fall into all that blue, another voyager lost in the ocean of his eyes.

Being this close to him feels right in a way you don’t want to explore, a nebulous thing on the horizon of your heart that you want to keep at bay.

Thank you, for taking on my request. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for the obvious sweat and tears and effort and love that went into this. I feel so very fortunate to have my favorite be graced so.

A/N: @dear-mrs-otome your request has taken me on quite the journey. I hope I've managed to do your Prince right and that you have as much fun reading this as I had writing it. 💜

Technically, this is part of my Broken Heartstrings series under the prompt: Only One Bed which I have been dying to write and was really excited to do with Silvio, demanding as he is.

Silvio x f! reader

Word Count: 5093

Of all the people to share a carriage ride back to the palace with, Silvio Ricci is the last one you would have chosen. You glance at him, sitting there across from you in the darkened carriage as it sways over the uneven country roads. His face is currently set to a sharp scowl, his impossibly blue eyes staring out the glass window. Not that he can see much. The world outside is black, streaked with shots of gray as the rain continues to fall, pelting the carriage’s roof and windows with a loud rat-a-tat-tat sound. 

Only his occasional annoyed sighs interrupt the steady drumming of the rain. You pull your thin, black silk shawl tighter around your bare shoulders, turning to stare out your own darkened window. You’ll be grateful when you reach the palace and can change out of your tightly corseted ball gown. As enchanting as it is with its ivory-colored satin and black lace trimming, you are looking forward to being able to breathe again. And bend properly. 

“Only Rhodolite would have a ball way out in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere.”

Your jaw clenches and the rolling sound of thunder echoes the irritation you feel at his snide tone.

“The Count holds this ball once a year at his country estate which is one of the most elegant–”

The Prince of Benitoite scoffs loudly. “Elegant my ass.” 

You are really beginning to question Sariel’s decree that you ride back to the palace with this pompous royal. You’re more likely to lodge your heeled shoe in his temple than make pleasant small talk. 

“Prince Silvio, do you have to be so-” You’re interrupted by another boom of thunder, this one loud enough to rattle the carriage. You hear the frightened whine of the horse over the continued sound of heavy rain. Some part of you is not surprised when it rolls to a stop. A moment later there is a rapping at the window and you lean over, opening the carriage door. A rush of wet, cold air invades the dry interior.

“The hell we stopped for?” Silvio yells above the din of the downpour.

The driver, battling the gusting wind to keep his hat on his head and the rain out of his eyes, has to yell back in order to be heard. “‘Storm has gotten too bad, your highness! We can’t keep traveling in this weather!” He glances over his shoulder, blinking against the water pelting his face.. “We passed an inn just a short ways back! We should head there for shelter!”

You expect him to argue and for a half a moment, his lips part and it looks like he might. But then the sky explodes into a sheet of white as lightning bares its teeth. Silvio’s gaze shifts from the sky back to the driver and you’re given a glimpse of a man who understands and respects the power of a storm. He nods once in affirmation.

The driver looks relieved that he won’t have to argue with the haughty prince and closes the carriage door. A moment later you feel it turn, heading back in the direction it came. You wonder whether or not you should comment on the prince’s amenability when he snorts in disgust, moving his expensive leather boots away from a puddle of water that the rain had blown onto the carriage floor.

Nope, still an ass, you think with a sigh and ride the rest of the way to the inn in silence, with only the turbulent sound of the storm echoing through the carriage.

“Whaddaya mean there’s only one room left?” Silvio’s jewelry and the many gold adornments on his ocean-blue jacket gleam in the light of the hearth fire inside the common room of the inn. “You’re talking to a Prince of Benitoite! I could buy this whole place out from under ya in a day.”

The beleaguered innkeeper crosses his burly arms, glaring at the prince from under bushy white eyebrows. 

“As I said already, Your Highness, I got one room left. You can take it or leave it.” He turns to the driver who has returned from securing the horse, safe and sound in the barn. “It’s not much, sir, but you can have a spot in front of the hearth. It’ll warm you up, dry you off.”

Silvio’s booted foot hits the wooden planks of the inn’s floor. “And your room? What if I demand to commandeer your bed?”

The innkeeper grins through his full, white beard. “You’d certainly give my wife the thrill of her life, Your Highness.”

You would laugh at the startled look on Silvio’s face but you have another pressing problem. “So I have a choice between the floor and….sharing a room with him?”

Genuinely sorry, the innkeeper nods, his gaze darting to the prince. “I apologize, my lady. Truly.”

You turn to face Silvio and his scowl. With a jangle, he snatches the room key from the counter where the innkeeper left it and marches off toward the narrow, winding staircase that leads to the second story of the inn.

You follow with one last glance at the common room.

Maybe the floor wouldn’t be that bad.

The room is at the very end of the hallway, nestled under the slanted inn roof. You notice several things right away when you step inside: There is one round glass window through which you can watch the way the rain is being flung through the night by a restless, howling wind. A small oil lamp is lit, resting on the nightstand of the lone bed. It is larger than you expected, taking up close to half of the small room. A tiny, worn table and single chair are tucked into a narrow corner. And there is absolutely nothing else in the room except a Prince of Benitoite, whose pale head almost brushes the rafters, standing in the middle with his arms crossed, glowering in disdain.

“What a dump.”

Irritation trumps politeness and you hear yourself snap at him. “You’re welcome to take your royal ass back down to the common room and sleep with the driver. Or perhaps the barn with the horses is more to your liking.”

He turns sharply, his clothing and jewelry jingling softly under the sounds of the storm. His gaze, the blue of a midsummer sky, lingers and you wonder if he’s going to snap at you for speaking to him that way. Or comment on your language. Instead he surprises you by doing neither. His lips curve into a grin and you are utterly unprepared for the way a smile changes his face. What was begrudgingly handsome transforms into blindingly beautiful. Butterflies are born, fluttering their wings in your stomach, sending up a breeze that comes out as a huff of air as you march over to the side of the bed closest to the window and sit, leaning down to undo the straps of your shoes.

He watches you, crossing his arms. “Whatcha doin’?”

You keep your back to him as you pull off one shoe and begin undoing the other. “Getting ready for bed.”

He glances at the bed with its single, quilted blanket and two pillows. Then he begins unbuttoning his dress jacket. “Fine. You can have the blanket. Maybe it’ll make the chair or floor more comfortable.”

Standing, you turn around to face him. He’s carefully removed his jacket and has folded it so all its golden ornaments are wrapped inside of it. 

“What do you mean ‘the chair or floor’? The bed is big enough for us both. I refuse to–What on earth are you doing?” You watch, brows raised as he begins tucking his jacket underneath his pillow.

“My clothes are worth more than everything in this room. Hell, one of my rings probably more than this whole fucking inn.” He steps back, satisfied that you can’t see the jacket anymore and then faces his next bothersome obstacle, the one shaking her head with her hands on her hips. Hips, he notices, that are temptingly accented by the flair of her ballgown. His gaze follows the stiff waistline up the strapless bodice where he can’t help but notice other things the gown accents. How had he not noticed your–

Your voice snaps him out of it.

“Prince or not, that’s ridiculous.” 

Aaaaaand you’re yappin’ again. He ignores your comment, kicking off his expensive leather boots in a move so casually effortless it stirs those annoying butterflies again and then with a sigh, lays down on the bed. He’s left all of his jewelry on, his golden rings and earrings and necklaces which strikes you as very uncomfortable but he seems right at home, stretching out his long limbs in a way that seems to swallow all that space the bed seemed to have at first glance.

Best to get ready and go to sleep immediately. 

With that thought, you realize something-and the raucous storm outside has nothing on the roar of panic flooding your body.

Your ivory and black ball gown is beautiful. And you were laced into this beautiful ivory and black ball gown by a trusted female servant. Laced into it wearing nothing but a pair of soft silken drawers which stop mid-thigh. 

You consider trying to sleep in the gown. No. You wouldn’t be able to move. It’s too tight at the waist and chest and too voluminous in the skirt. 

Which means…..you turn slowly to see Silvio has rolled over, his back to you. Great. He’s gone to sleep already.

You clear your throat. 

No response. 

You do it again louder. 

He doesn’t move.

“Silvio!”

His name does it. “The fuck you want, lady?!” He’s rolled halfway around, glaring at you over his shoulder.

“I….” This hurts to admit and you wish you were in the room with anyone else. “I can’t undo my gown.”

“So sleep in it,” he says, each word drawn out slowly like he’s talking to a small child. He mutters something in the language of Benitoite you can just tell is rude and insulting.

You grit your teeth. He starts to roll back over.

“I can’t. It’s too tight to sleep in and the skirt is big.”

Outside the thunder rolls, low and foreboding. Silence swallows the room and you know your cheeks are warm. Maybe he won’t notice in the dim light.

He jangles as he pushes himself up now, hair pale as moonlight falling across his forehead and cheek as he tilts his head. And then slowly, oh so slowly, he grins in a way that corkscrews a blaze of heat right through you.

“So lemme make sure I got this. You’re askin’ me to undress you?”

You steel yourself. “And to give me your shirt.”

That wipes the grin right off his face. “Whaddaya mean ‘give you my shirt’? Do you know-”

“I’m sure it’s more expensive than all the buildings in Rhodolite but I am going to sleep in that bed and I am not going to do it in just my undergarment!”

Your tone is firm, much more confident than you actually feel. Again the thunder outside is the only sound as he stares, those cobalt blue eyes fixed on you with the intensity and depth of a storm-tossed ocean.

“Please.” It comes out small, a tiny crack in the wall of confidence you’ve been presenting him with. The word has slipped out, unbidden and the heat in your face feels unbearable. Have you lost your mind, asking him to do this? “N-Nevermind, I’ll-”

Your stammering drops off as he stands, his elegant fingers reaching under soft white ruffles to begin unbuttoning his shirt. He does not meet your gaze and you wonder if that darkness in his face is a blush to match your own. Then the white shirt is off and he’s standing before you, his upper body surprisingly sculpted and shockingly bare. His necklaces lay against his fair skin and there is something so intimate about the sight your breath catches.

“So the lady likes what she sees.” Dragging your gaze away from all the exposed skin and corded muscle, you see that grin has returned to those lips and you draw a quick breath, spinning around and presenting him with your back (which happens to conveniently hide a blush so fierce it must be glowing.)

“Just get on with it.” 

The wooden floorboards creak underfoot as he crosses to where you are standing. You’re not sure you’ve ever been this close to him before. You didn’t dance together at the ball and as far as you can remember the only time you’ve ever touched was when you first met and he offered you his hand, a sharp thrust in your direction that felt more like he was going to stab you with an invisible dagger than an introduction.

But now he is so close you can smell his cologne, something unexpectedly soft that vaguely reminds you of the sea on a dark, clear night. Your body is electric with an awareness that ripples across your skin with every inhale and exhale he makes. Outside, the rain is endless, the thunder unflagging. But their sounds are drowned out by the sudden pounding of your heart, by the beat of a thousand butterfly wings sending your blood rushing through your veins like the current of a wild river. He begins pulling on the satin bow of your gown, undoing the careful knot.

“The laces can be tricky,” you say just to say something, anything. Is that really your voice, so breathy and soft?

You realize your mistake instantly because he answers you and his voice is right by your ear, curling around the shell of it.

“I got more than enough experience with knots,” he murmurs.

“Because of all the people you’ve bedded,” you mutter. Why did you say that? And why does the thought of Silvio in bed with anyone make your fingers curl into your palms?

He’s released the knot and begins loosening the stays, tucking those nimble fingers underneath each crisscross and tugging, not roughly as you would have imagined but with precision, loosening each section deliberately, skillfully.

“Because I’m a sailor,” he says matter-of-factly, surprising you yet again. He tugs again and the bodice of your gown suddenly slips, sending you scrambling to keep the whole thing up. He leans closer still, his lips mere centimeters from your ear. “And because of all the people I’ve bedded.” He’s undone your gown but you’re being wrapped up again, this time in his silken, serpentine words..

Your heart leaps in your chest and you stumble away, holding up your dress with both arms, swallowing against the unexplainable tightness in your throat.

“Your shirt.” You hold the ivory satin to your chest with one arm and hold out your free hand, palm up. He practically strolls back to the bed (how he manages to do that in such a small space is a mystery), picks up his shirt and with a shameless grin, throws it at you.

You don’t reach for it with both hands as he may have hoped, instead catching it one-handed and there is a flash of something in his eyes. Disappointment? Admiration? Both?

“Turn around.” 

He lifts his hand, jeweled rings on nearly every finger and covers his eyes. 

“Silvio.” Consternation swells his name. It looks like he’s peeking.

“What? I ain’t lookin’!”

There is too much running wildly through your mind, too many blurry thoughts twisting in incomprehensible circles to worry about whether or not the man is going to sneak a look at you or not. You turn your back to him and let your gown drop to the floor with a whoosh.

He didn’t plan to look. But the rings on his fingers don’t allow him to hold them together completely and when your dress makes that sound, his eyes open of their own accord and through the narrow space between his fingers he catches a glimpse of your naked back. The curve of your hip and dip of your waist. The shapely line of your legs. 

The thunder rumbles a warning and he quickly closes his eyes again, alarmed at the sharp, hot pang of want slicing its way through his body. You? No. He doesn’t want–

One blue eye slowly opens, this time without any excuse. You’re wearing his shirt. It falls to the back of your knees and somehow looks better than any dress ever would. There is a tension slowly winding its way across his neck, his shoulders, a tightening in his gut at the sight. And then you turn, buttoning the final few buttons and his mouth goes dry at the fleeting glimpse of your décolleté. . 

What the fuck…..He forces his eyes closed again, his jaw clenched against the swift desire you unknowingly provoked.

You scramble towards the bed and dive under the blanket, pulling it up and over your chest.

“Okay,” you murmur. “You can look now.”

He mumbles something that sounds like “Finally”, his voice oddly hoarse, as he lays back down but on top of the covers. 

“You can get under the covers. You’ll get cold if–”

“I’m fine, lady,” he snaps, a dog snarling at the hand offering it a pet.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You have no shirt on and it’s not all that warm in here. You’ll get sick.”

“I don’t get sick,” he says haughtily and for a moment, your exasperation overrules the awkwardness. 

“Fine. Whatever you say.” You pointedly roll away from him, trying to ignore how soft his shirt is, how good it smells, how comforting it is against your skin as the world outside rages with wind and water.

“This bed sucks.” His voice is rough, irritated. You glance over your shoulder. He’s laying on his back, his hands behind his head, staring at the slanted wooden beams of the ceiling. Despite the bareness of his upper body, it’s his profile that captures your attention. The fall of his pale hair. The slant of his cheekbones. The straight, aristocratic nose. His perfectly sculpted lips. A sudden, wild thought bursts through the chaos of your mind: what would they feel like on your lips? On your skin?

Outside the thunder booms, a furious sound so powerful it shakes the window, like a giant quaking the earth with its powerful steps. A small cry of surprise and trepidation escapes you.

He turns his head. “Don’t tell me you’re scared.”

You roll onto your back, not wanting to face the window and the darkness outside. An uncontrollable shiver rolls through you and you tug the covers up, closer to your chin.

“Rhodolite doesn’t have storms like this often." Your heart is hammering because of the deafening clap of thunder, right? It has nothing to do with the preposterous thoughts spinning like coins through your head just before. 

“Benitoite does.” He returns his gaze to the dark wooden beams above. “Be grateful you’re not on the deck of a ship durin’ a storm like this.”

You glance at the window, illuminated by a burst of lightning and then turn, rolling completely away from it to face him. 

“What was it like?”

Silvio glances at you, then quickly back to the ceiling. “This little rain shower’s got nothin’ on a storm that crept up on us while we were out to sea, sailin’ back from Tanzanite…..”

He speaks and you listen, each word a small fairy light blinking into existence, leading you down a path, away from the storm outside the small guesthouse in the middle of the Rhodolite countryside, and into the eye of a hurricane. One that rocks the carrack Silvio is on, homeward bound from far-away Tanzanite. 

He paints the picture so well, his voice low, blending in with the unrelenting barrage of rain on the darkened window pane. You can see him in your mind’s eye, soaked through, swallowing salt water and his fear as he clings to wet, stinging ropes, his boots sliding across the slick deck. Men’s shouts fade into the roar of the wind. A body is plucked from the ship and tossed like a ragdoll through the howling wind, lost forever to the churning, briny depths. The ocean is enraged, a wild beast bucking and kicking blindly. The ship groans and tilts, battered by the winds, tossed by the wild waves. Silvio’s vision is blurred as he seeks out the helmsman, valiantly still at the massive wooden wheel and makes his way across the dangerously open deck. A wall of water slams into him and he knows if he doesn’t fight, he will be washed out to sea. Dogged determination fills him. Out here he isn’t a prince, fighting for his father’s approval, fighting to be seen as someone worthy. Out here in the elements he is a man, fighting for his very survival, all his gold and jewels and titles worn down to nothing by the wild storm, like mighty mountains that have been reduced to pebbles by the persistence of rain over centuries. He roars in the face of the wind and the rain, clawing his way up to the petrified helmsman. “Insieme!!” Together.. His ringed fingers wrap around the wooden handles, between those of the helmsman. Their gazes meet and as lightning blanches the sky, they both turn with all their might……

“The sea claimed four men that night. Ain’t small, the price of lovin’ her.” He trails off, the experience slowly fading back into the mist of his memory. His blue eyes, darker and softer than you’ve ever seen them, blink as he returns to the small room at the top of the inn and the woman lying next to him.

You’re still on your side, facing him, your gaze held completely at attention by his face, his voice. His story not only distracted you from the storm outside, but had pulled you in, had you inching closer, heart hammering in your chest as you hung on every word. 

But he’s run out of words, that barrier now gone, and there is nothing between you. Just your gaze locked with his, your chest rising and falling as you stare into those azure depths, wondering if the tempest outside will be what causes you to helplessly fall into all that blue, another voyager lost in the ocean of his eyes.

You may be balancing on attraction’s razor-thin edge, but he is no better off. All he can think about is the softness in your expression, the part of your lips, and how he wants nothing more than to capture them and steal the taste of your mouth for himself, hoard it along with the other treasures he already has of you from tonight. The line of your bare back, the light in your eyes, the whisper of your breathing. Just a few centimeters and he would touch you. A few more and he could-

A loud clap of thunder breaks the moment, snapping it in two. You jump, shaken from the hold his gaze had on you, a loud gasp escaping your throat. He jerks back, suddenly aware of just how close the two of you were. There is a faint flush across his cheekbones as he runs a hand through his soft, silvery hair.

“Stop bein’ such a baby. I just told ya how this is nothin’.”

That imperious tone feels like an affront after hearing him speak so softly before. You pull away as if stung and then gather yourself together so he won’t see the glimmer of hurt in your eyes.

“I’m not a baby. I was just startled and–” The way he’s tilting his head, a derisive smirk on his lips sends a flare of annoyance through you. “You know what? Just forget it.” Angrily you roll away from him, yanking the covers up over your shoulder. You don’t see the flash of disappointment in his eyes, the way his fingers reflexively uncurled when you turned away, his body knowing what it wants long before his mind. 

You don’t see how long his gaze lingers on you before he finally forces himself to look away.

Sleep does not find you. You lay there as the oil lamp sputters out and the room is filled with dark shadows that scatter briefly when bright bursts of lightning illuminate the sky, a sky that continues to rampage with gusts of wind and cries of thunder.

Every single inch of you is aware of how close he is. You feel when he shifts his body, the movement disturbing the bedding. You’re still wrapped in the softness of his shirt, surrounded by his scent. And now you can hear the even sounds of his breathing. 

Taking a chance, you glance over your shoulder.

He’s asleep on his side, still facing you, his pillow tucked between his arm and his head. You should turn away and continue your battle with wakefulness. You should stop staring at the locks of argent hair across his forehead. The curve of his arm. The graceful line of his torso.

Outside the thunder rolls. Your heart echoes its tremor.

You do eventually turn away from him but find yourself very slowly inching your way backwards, moving towards him until your body is touching his, the blanket still between you. Despite the coolness of the room, he has stayed on top of it. There is an almost palpable relief in the feeling of his form, the solidness of his body. The storm feels less angry, less destructive. Being this close to him feels right in a way you don’t want to explore, a nebulous thing on the horizon of your heart that you want to keep at bay. 

And then he shifts in his sleep, throwing his arm around you and pulls you even closer against him.

You’re grateful he’s asleep or else the sudden galloping of your heart would surely wake him. It takes several breaths to calm the storm of butterflies in your chest, kicked up by your heart’s sudden racing. They settle down, wings still opening and closing at the feel of his strong arm, the curve of his body around yours. But there is also something warm slowly washing over you. A cocoon, a safe haven where you can finally close your eyes, finally feel the storm’s energy not as an enemy but as a companion, accompanying you as you drift off to sleep at last.

Silvio feels the way your body relaxes, the tension seeping from your muscles as you fall asleep, soft and trusting in his embrace.

If you only knew he has been awake throughout.

He stays awake for a long time, loath to move even a centimeter, feeling the warmth of your body through the blanket and listening to the sound of the rain.

Epilogue:

“Get up, lady. I need my shirt back.”

That voice falls into the still waters of sleep, hooking itself into your consciousness and drags you slowly to the surface.

Sleepily you push yourself up, raising a hand against the bright beam of sunlight spilling into the room.

Pushing your tousled hair out of your face, you find the Prince of Benitoite standing beside the bed, his jacket flung over his bare shoulder, one hand on his hip as he stares down at you. “Let’s go. We’re gettin’ out of this dump. Driver’s already waitin’.” 

Irritation rears its little horned head and your eyes narrow.

“Good morning to you too.”

He ignores that and stretches out his hand. “My shirt.”

And we’re back to this. You sigh.

“Go wait outside the door.”

He regards you a moment and then turns on his boot heel and leaves the room. With a grimace you climb out of the warm bed, padding barefoot across the wooden floor until you’re by the entrance. As quickly as you can, you unbutton his white shirt and then stick your hand out the door with it dangling from two fingers.

He mutters something that you cut off with a slam, eyes closing for a moment as you catch your breath.

Did last night really happen? Was he….kind? And….warm? Did you really sleep in his arms?

A bang on the door jerks you out of your thoughts. “Move it or lose it!”

Oh for fuck’s sake. “Go already! I’ll be there!”

Somehow you are able to wrangle yourself back into your ball gown. Tying the back is tricky but you manage to get it closed enough to avoid any indecency. A quick re-pinning of your hair and buckling of your shoes and you're making your way down the wooden staircase. The innkeeper is at the counter, smiling through his fuzzy white beard in greeting.

“Morning, my lady,” he calls cheerfully. 

The door to the inn is open and you can see the driver loading a few things back onto the carriage. Silvio is already inside.

“Thank you again for your hospitality, sir. I’m afraid I don’t have any coin for our stay, but I’ll be sure to return as soon as possible to pay-”

The older man shakes his head, waving you to a stop with his hand. “Oh no, no need for that my lady. Your…er…roommate already took care of it.”

You’re unable to hold back the surprise in your voice as you glance at the carriage and then back to the innkeeper. “He did?”

His eyes gleam as he reaches into the pocket of his worn vest and again, shock squeezes a silent gasp from your lips. In his work-worn, calloused hand, he’s holding two of Silvio’s bejeweled rings. His words from last night flash through your mind.

—“My clothes are worth more than everything in this room. Hell one of my rings probably more than this whole fucking inn.” –

The innkeep is oblivious to your stunned expression. “These’ll pay for any damage the storm caused and then some. I told that young man, he's welcome here anytime.”

You finally find your voice. “I….I’m glad to hear that. Thank you again.”

He bids you farewell as you walk outside into the startlingly bright sunlight. The smell of petrichor fills the air, the ground still damp as you walk towards the carriage.

The hazy feeling of something born in the fury of the storm….

Something nameless.

Something undeniable.

Something Silvio has awoken.

….is rising on delicate butterfly wings, inching its way closer to the realm of your heart. 

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart @bubblexly

[onlyyvette]

Teasing the Demon Brothers(Satan)♡

NSFW Minors dni

Warnings: DOM/TOP reader + SUB/BOTTOM character + AFAB reader but is referred to with the title of "sir" + feminization + humiliation + threat of public humiliation + pegging + use of cockcage + consensual filming + semi-public sex + aftercare

Word Count: 3019

A/n: Okay, I've finally got to time to do this! Because I couldn't choose, I'm going to do both orgasm control and overstimulation. Not only that, but you didn't specify what sex and gender you wanted the reader to be. I hope AFAB reader is fine, but if not, I can remake the fic with a few tweaks to make it gn or AMAB reader. This will be a part of my "Teasing the Demon Brothers" series, I hope you guys enjoy it

Satan♡

Satan absolutely loved the way you treated him. As lovers, the two of you were just…as in love as the two of you could be. You would sometimes hold hands as you walked down the road, share the same drink at your favorite cat cafe, having him sleep against your shoulder as you read a book, it was all wonderful. But sometimes, the two of you would do something that you wouldn’t find most couples doing..

Today, the two of you decided to visit a mall in the human world. As you walked through the mall with your boyfriend, you found him clinging onto your arm, squeezing it at times. He would sometimes tremble slightly as the two of you walked, and it would always make a little snicker come out of your mouth. People would sometimes stare at you, causing Satan to look down at the floor, but you didn’t mind it too much.

During a stop at a boba stand, the cashier gave the two of you a compliment. Motioning to you, she said, “Is that your girlfriend? If so, you two are such a cute couple.” Satan let out a tiny gasp as he clung onto you even closer. “Thank you,” you replied. “And yeah, she is my girlfriend. She doesn’t talk too much though.” The cashier let out a laugh, telling you about her own girlfriend. It was no surprise that she thought that your boyfriend was a girl.

Today, you had Satan dressed up in a cute outfit: a pale blue blouse with puffy sleeves and a red ribbon around the collar. At the end of his sleeves, his nails were painted white, decorated with cat stickers. He wore a blue plaid skirt with white ruffles underneath it. It was a bit too short on him, but you didn't get any verbal complaints for him. White, thigh length stockings decorated your boyfriend’s legs. Brown knee-high boots covered the rest of Satan's legs, the small platforms on the bottom making him a bit taller than usual. Around his neck was a white choker, a heart-shaped pendant attached to it.

You had paid extra attention to Satan’s face. You did his eyeliner for him, giving him neatly done wings and gave him more volume to his lashes. Since you wanted to be extra, you gave him pretty heart stickers to put under his eyelids, adding a little bit of sparkly blush to them. You applied a pale lip gloss color to Satan’s lips, making them perfect for kissing. Lastly, you put a longer wig with wavy twin tails on him, completing the final look.

When you look at Satan now, you can’t help but feel a sense of pride from making him look so pretty and so erotic. The makeup complimented his natural features and the frilly skirt he was wearing made you want to ravish him completely. You almost regretted taking your boyfriend out today due to the fact that you would have to wait a few hours before being able to touch him. Now, while you couldn’t touch him, you still had a good way of tormenting him.

Right before the two of you left for the mall, you had slipped a vibrator inside of Satan(you also made him cum two times). He had pleaded with you to not keep the vibrator because he knew that he would get too excited easily, so you added a cockcage to make sure that he didn’t get hard in public. It wasn’t easy putting the cockcage on him because while no one would know if he was getting hard because it would be impossible, it was still so frustrating to Satan. He wouldn’t be able to get hard, which meant not being able to cum. You only found this amusing. If you couldn’t touch him, it was only fair that he couldn’t touch himself too, no?

Throughout the trip to the mall, you would turn the vibrator on from time to time, startling poor Satan, causing him to jump or cling on to you, waiting for the vibrations to stop as his voice got too loud. Even when the two of you were talking to that friendly cashier, you had turned on the vibrator, causing him to try to stay as mute as possible so that the cashier couldn’t catch onto his predicament. Still, he let out a gasp that was too loud in your opinion, causing you to secretly glare at him, quickly turning the vibrator off.

Satan should have been relieved that you were turning the vibrator off, but he knew you better than that. As the two of you continued to explore the mall, Satan was antsy, waiting for the next time that you would turn on the vibrator. Yet you never did.

Satan should have been relieved that you were turning the vibrator off, but he knew you better than that. As the two of you continued to explore the mall, Satan was antsy, waiting for the next time that you would turn on the vibrator. But you never did.

Your last stop at the mall was a pretty store with many different varieties that you just had to stop and take a look. As the two of you were browsing the store, your boyfriend had almost forgotten that he had that vibrator inside of him or had a cage restraining his cock. Once the two of you had picked out some clothes, you led Satan to the dressing room. The women’s dressing room.

Satan was a bit nervous, forgetting that he could pass as a girl now and considering the fact that he usually doesn’t go into the women’s changing room. Nevertheless, you shoved him into the dressing room, locking the door behind you. The dressing room was a little bit over a medium size, only one stall and was made for 1-2 people to be in. Pushing one of the outfits that you chose for him and ushered him inside the stall.

A few minutes after Satan went inside the stall, you came with an idea. Coming up to the door, you knocked a few times. “Satan, are you done yet?”

“If I was, don’t you think I would be out yet,” Satan called out, an exasperated tone showing in his reply. “Besides, I’m still taking off my clothes.” You knocked on the door again. “Satan, let me in.” Your voice seemed light and cheery, but something about it made your boyfriend shiver. “What do you mean let you in? I told you, I’m still taking off my clothes.” 

“Satan, let me in.” Your voice seemed more demanding this time. Satan went silent for a few seconds, and opened the door. When you could finally see his body fully, you had to stop yourself from jumping on him right then and there. 

The first thing your eyes were drawn to was Satan's shirt. It was halfway unbuttoned, down to his navel. Where you would have seen your boyfriend’s nipples were instead covered up by a lacy, light pink bralette. Your eyes traveled lower, to his thighs. He still had his skirt on, but it was lowered a bit so that you could see his panties peeking out a bit. His boots were off, one of his stockings was pulled down to his ankle, but the other one was still fully on, making a mouth watering sight. You pulled your eyes up to see Satan’s face. He was furiously blushing as you were unabashedly checking him out.

Finally done with your inspection, you looked Satan straight in the eyes, a small smirk growing on your face. “You’ve been in there for a while, Satan,” you sneered. “Mind telling me why you’re not fully undressed?”

“...” Silence.

“Don’t tell me,” you started. “You were staring at yourself in the mirror? Were you so mesmerized by your new look?” Satan turned away from you, his blush spreading. “That’s not it…” he said in a small voice, despite the fact that you both knew it was a lie. “You don’t need to lie, dear. I guess you really enjoyed my make-over. "So,” your voice suddenly took on a serious tone. “How about you let me help you undress, hm?” Satan stayed quiet for a bit before startlingly clinging onto your arms, causing you to be taken aback a bit. “Please…” he pleaded, his lips trembling as tears gathered in his eyes. “Please touch me!”

“Slow down there, I’m not going anywhere,” you began, as your eyes darkened. “But…what if I do? Will you follow me out of here like a lost puppy?” You could see your boyfriend about to interject, but you narrowed your eyes, warning him to stay quiet. “What if…what if I let you cum here, but you’re too loud? The customers and employees will know everything that happened in here. Are you going to walk out of here and face all their judging stares?” By the time you finished speaking, Satan clung onto your arms even tighter as he imagined the scenario you were presenting. What if that happened? What if I walked out, knowing I was so loud, having everyone judge me? Just thinking about it… Just the thought of being found out caused Satan to rub his thighs together, an action not gone unnoticed by you.

“Well, Satan, let’s start! Do you want me to start taking off your shirt, or your skirt? Your choice,” you piped up, your voice taking a sharp turn and becoming cheery. “Please, Y/n, just touch me,” Satan begged, his tears about to fall as his grip on you wavered. “Okay, skirt it is then!” you ignored his pleas, shrugging off his hands from you. You pressed yourself against your boyfriend, slowly taking off his skirt. Satan whined under his breath as you went so painstakingly slow. “C’mon, faster!” he urged. You sighed. “Fine then,” you said, your tone making Satan even more nervous. “Since you clearly want to go faster, turn around for me and face the mirror. I want you to put your hands on the wall with it.” 

Satan’s eyes widened as he realized what you wanted him to do. Obediently, he turned away from you and faced the mirror, placing his hands on the wall. He was silent as he waited for your orders, but was only met by your silence as well. “Hey, Satan, can I take a picture? I really like this angle,” you said after a while. “...Fine,” Satan lowered his head in embarrassment as he heard the shutter of your phone. Of course you had to have your camera at max volume. Suddenly, he remembered how short his skirt was. “Oh, Satan, your panties are so cute from this angle,” you exclaimed. It was like you were reading what was on your boyfriend's mind. “Too bad it’s not completely visible. Still though, it’s pretty erotic considering how half of your underwear is showing right now. I knew I picked the right color! Pink really suits you.”

How can they talk about this like an everyday conversation? Satan felt so exposed under you. He could feel his body getting hotter by the second. His poor cock in its cage had began to throb long ago. Satan really couldn’t take this torture any longer. “Please Y/n…” your boyfriend called out softly. “Please touch me, I-I’ve been a good boy!” Satan was getting very desperate now. “Oh come on, Satan. It’s only been like, what, 10 minutes,” you rolled your eyes. “Besides, I haven’t only been leaving you untouched just to mess with you. I think you forgot who I am to you.” 

Oh. Of course. How could he have forgotten? “Please S-sir…I’ve been a good boy for you Sir. Will you please touch me!” Satan turned his head and was elated by the fact that you seemed satisfied. And you were. It felt so empowering to have the fourth strongest demon brother in the Devildom at your mercy, crying for your touch. “Well, Satan, since you asked so nicely, of course!” you said, getting closer until you were right behind him. You lifted up his skirt completely and pulled his panties to the side, revealing the purple plug nested inside of him.

“...Aren’t you going to take the underwear off?” Satan asked nervously. “Nah,” you replied casually. “I’m gonna keep it right here,” you pushed on the plug without warning, eliciting a sharp gasp from your boyfriend. You had been nice enough this whole time to not turn on the vibrating plug, but you decided that now was the time. Reaching for the remote in your pocket, you set the vibrator to a low setting. “Ah—” Satan cut himself off by slapping his hand over his mouth. Despite the vibrator being at a low setting, your boyfriend still had to muffle his moans, and boy, was that pathetic to you.

“Come on Satan, I haven’t even gotten to the higher settings and you’re already moaning. This is just sad to see.” Satan whined, muffled by his hand. “Actually, move your hand away, dear. I want to hear the sounds that you make.” Satan hesitated at first, then reluctantly removed his hand from. “Good boy,” you raised the vibrator’s level to the highest setting without any warning. “O-Oh! Y/n—S-Sir, please–MnngGHH!” Satan couldn’t hold back his filthy cries any longer. Oh how he wished you would take that cage off him. He wanted to cum so badly, but the cage wouldn’t allow him. It was driving him crazy!

“Hahh, Sir! Pl–AnngGH! Ngh! Please, the c-cage,” Satan begged, his moans disrupting the flow of his sentence. “You want the cage off,” you taunted, waving the key to the cage in his face. He nodded desperately. “Fine then, but you need to cum a different way then.” You unlocked the cage on your boyfriend’s cock, causing him to sigh in relief. Before he could cum, you grabbed the base of his cock, ruining his orgasm. “...Huh? B-but why Sir?” Satan sobbed. All that torturous pleasure and he wasn’t even able to cum in the end. “Relax, Satan,” you rolled your eyes. You took a cockring out of your bag and slipped it on his still hard dick. “You can still cum, even with a ring on, but it’ll be a bit difficult–” you paused in the middle of your sentence to get something else out of your bag. You were taking a while, so Satan looked behind him. He was greeted with the image of you wearing a 9-inch(at least he thinks so) dildo harnessed to your waist. You had a small bottle of lube in your hand and you were already opening it.

“Today is your lucky day, Satan,” you claimed. “You’ll have to wait even longer to cum now,” you had a sadistic look in your eyes. “I’m not luck—Unghh!” You cut Satan off by plunging your lube coated fingers inside of him. Your fingers scissored his insides, loosening him up for your strap. “Hahh, S-sir, hur—Annhhgg, hurry up please!” Satan pleaded. You had been purposefully slow and avoiding his prostate—it was torturing him! “Sir! I’m ready for you to–Oh! To fuck me!” You finally decided to take a little bit of mercy on your poor boyfriend and take your fingers out of his ass. “Well, I hope you’re ready, Satan,” you said as you placed the tip of your strap at his entrance. You began slowly pushing into him, causing Satan to whimper as he tried to grasp at anything to steady himself. All nine inches of the dildo was finally inside of him and it was driving him mad. “Gghhhgh…S-Sir…I can feel it—mnghh… inside me. It’s f-filling me up~” Satan mumbled half to himself, a delirious smile on his face.

Unable to restrain yourself, you began to roughly thrust your strap into your boyfriend, causing him to let out loud, unrestrained moans. “Shut up,” you hissed. “You don’t want others to hear us, do you?” you wrapped your hands around Satan’s throat, startling him and causing him to choke as you picked your pace. “GgHHKK—S-si-UunnGHHhh!” Satan’s eyes rolled back into his head as he tried his best to collect his thoughts while you continued with your harsh pace. He would have cum already, if it hadn’t been for that ring on his cock! “Come on, Satan, cum,” you taunted as if reading his thoughts. “You can cum with the ring on with the right kind of stimulation!” you tightened your grip on his throat as you began to bite the outer shell of Satan’s ear.

He couldn't stand it. Even though your hands had already left his throat, they had sneaked under his bralette and were now busy playing with his nipples, pulling on them until they become red. Satan keeps whining that it’s too much and that it won’t be possible for him to. Yet you keep on pushing him to do it! As you continue to thrust into him, he feels the climbing feeling of his orgasm coming back again. He could feel it multiple times when you were touching him, but it felt different this time. Like he would actually have a proper orgasm. “W-wait…sh-shlow–MMmnnGHhKK! H-hahh, Sir~! Feeshls like m’ gonna…” your poor boyfriend slurred as he tried to voice his thoughts, being interrupted by his own moans. “I said you could have an orgasm,” you said in a triumphant voice. Then you grabbed Satan by the face and leaned close into his ear.

“Cum for me, Satan. I know you can. do it”

That’s all he needed to cum. Satan let out a long wail as he shook violently, his long-awaited orgasm washing over him. Finally, he stopped moving and you set him down on the bench and began to admire your work. Satan’s makeup was ruined, his mascara and eyeliner running, lipgloss smudged, but it made him look even more appetizing. His clothes were still partially on but were a bit wrinkled and frazzled. Once you finished looking over your boyfriend’s wrecked body, you turned to get some wipes and water for him. Satan was still conscious, but barely. As you ran the wipes all over his body, you kissed him all over, whispering sweet praise whether he was listening or not. He seemed to have heard based on the way that he was slightly humming. Once you were done, you gave him some greatly needed water and kissed on the top of his head while he nuzzled your touch.

“Good job, Satan. Now don’t be surprised if we get kicked out of the mall though."

[black-moon-bunny]

Little Bunny, Jealous Bunny, Naughty Bunny. // Mob!Bucky x PlusSize!Reader

Bucky wanted to be a good man, he wanted to take things slowly with her, getting to know her and don't make her feel like he just wants to use her. But when he sees her with another man at their bar, he loses completely and decides to punish his good little bunny girl.

Word Count: 2.547

Warnings: Pure filthy Smut! +18! Minors DNI. A little bit of degradation kink, and overstimulation, and also public sex on a parking lot because horny me. Use of pet names, dumbfucked. Oral Sex F receiving, also reader being insecure as fuck because i project my own feelings in this so excuse me.

A.N: Hi there, so I had this drabble that I worked on a long time ago and never finished it, but I decided to give it a go with my other fic. Im thinking of putting up the next part of this filthy thing at some point, let me know if you are interested in reading it. I hope you enjoy it and leave a comment or a reblog. Pictures taken from pinterest and edited by me. DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE.

🟣🔵🟣🔵🟣🔵🟣🔵🟣🔵🟣🔵🟣🔵🟣🔵🟣

She was running from him directly to the parking lot, after he put her in the most embarrassing situation that she had ever lived. She was pissed off to a limit, and she was done with the mobster who was inside the bar creating trouble. She heard him calling for her at the backdoor of the bar, but she ignored him, this pissed him off even more than he already was after finding her sharing a drink with an unknown man at their spot.

—Doll, I just want to talk something with you... come here, let's talk. I just want to know why you were with him, drinking…in our bar, at our spot. —He seemed more and more threatening by the minute. Getting closer and closer to you at that dark parking lot.

—James I already told you, we are nothing more than friends for you to act like that, and I can talk who ever I want, and don't "doll" me. I just wanted to meet somebody, and maybe get laid who fucking knows.

The true was, that this cat and mouse game has been on since their first meeting at the local bar a couple of years ago, they were not friends at the time but had seen each other multiple times and each time since the first one it was the same type of interaction; he bought her drinks that she refused at first but seeing that he was very persistent and charming she started to accept. After a while he sent his business card as a way of introducing himself to her and they ended up talking until the bar closed about his life, her life and other things. With each conversation the sexual tension grew more and more but never reach anything, not a kiss not a desperate fucking in a bathroom, nothing so she assumed that it was pure friendship that he was looking for in her. It was not until a year after the two of them meet that she found out the truth about his business, he was fine with talking about the issue but he had to learn if she could keep it a secret. After that, they grew closer and closer, became really good friends and while there was some sort of sexual tension between them he never made any advance on her. So she gave up and decided to flirt with another guys, and then he caught her flirting and all of that lead to the mess that forced her out of the bar.  

—Are you trying to make me jealous? because if you are doll, you are doing a great fucking job. —He corner her between a wall and her car, getting each time closer and closer to her, he was losing his cool. He wanted to kill the guy and wanted to make her choke on her dick to shut her up because he was losing his patience. His voice was calm but full of a darkness that she couldn't understand, but that made her thigs clench with each well-spoken word.

- Jealous of what? We are nothing James! You walk around town with a different woman every night and when you are with me we just talk, I get it I'm not hot, not pretty and totally not your type so what's your fucking prob—He grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him, cutting her mid-sentence. Grabbed her chin and forced her to look him in the eyes.

-Doll, were you jealous? ...So all of this was because you were jealous? Those ladies make my father company and I'm the one in charge of take them to her houses or to drink when they get bored. You know how this business works and that my father is not a patient man. I can't say no to his commands. But I can swear to you, that since we met I lost interest in those women…

-...You are a fucking liar...let me go, I want to go home and I don't want to see you. —She looked down, not able to sustain the stare that he was giving her because if she did, she was not going to be able to hide the fact that this little exchange was turning her on.

-Oh doll...—He pulled her even closer to his face, almost brushing her lips. He took one hand of her wrist and caressed her cheek with it, slowly almost romantically, almost sweet but there was something else in that touch that was driving her mad —Oh my за́йка (little bunny, záî-ka] ) — He purr up her neck and stop at her ear— I wanted to be a good man, I wanted to take things step by step to show you that I'm serious about us...about my feelings for you—He grabbed her throat a little bit hard, but not making too much pressure— But you make me this…and I find you drinking in our spot with an asshole who does not deserves you…— His voice sounded like a growl of an animal in heat, and his eyes were dark with lust — And now I have to think to myself if I should punish you and show you how hard has been to me ...—She felt how his metal arm went down her back and above her ass and she let go a sight when she noticed how he was pulling her skirt up little by little — How fucking hard has been to me not eating you out every time we meet at our spot, how excruciating has been for me not to bend you down on the fucking V.I.P lounge and make you come in my face while I eat your delicious pussy over and over again—With almost no resistance from her, he placed himself behind her pressing her body to the door of his car, with one leg between hers and slowly pushing, while talking smoothly into her ear and lowering his hand under the skirt—...But you had to do this, and now I cannot give it to you without a punishment...—She was stunned, she was totally in shock but without any intention of stopping him, this was turning her on like a stove, she felt her legs trembling, such power dripping from the tip of his fingers lingering in each phrase, but also, the hidden love confession between his act and speech

She never picked up the sings, she just thought that they were only friends, that she was not his type. Not a sexy model, with a body not “pretty” in the standards of the type of girl he was expected to date, her chubby cheeks and thighs, his thick frame and hips did not look bad but surely were not the great thing, and after knowing him for a year and not notice any type of attraction from his part she resigned to being the cute friend, nothing more. But all this time he was controlling himself?

But truth be told, he was going feral for her. He was trying all days his best to not fuck her in every place of that bar; it was his so he could throw everyone out and do whatever he wanted of her in each and every room, sit and table but he didn't. He didn't because he was not only locking at her with lust and desire. It was true that he did at first when they first met, but who could blame him? Those thick hips moving to the rhythm of the music, that ass bouncing to the beat and that sexy waist that was begging to be grabbed. But after meeting her, he learned with each conversation they had that she was a wonderful person, she was sweet and caring and someone who deserved real love. Not just a fuck-toy. So after a year of knowing each other he decided that you were going to be his bride. His only love and he was dead serious about it. So he decided to take it slow, each date at the bar ended up in him reaffirming his statement. And he was planning on confessing soon, with the whole deal, roses a date under the stars in a private yate until he found her there in the bar, flirting with other asshole at their spot. He knew that there was a misunderstanding, and that he maybe should told her sooner but, at the time being he was enjoying every moment of the punishment, and he was going to make it last.

—B-Bucky…w-what are you doing? —She stuttered a bit, feeling the cold door of the car beneath her and the warmth of Bucky’s body over her, his metal hand ever so slightly caressing the skin of her thigh and threatening with go upwards to her soaked panties— Mnhg…Bucky not here…

—Why not my dear, no one is going to see us and besides that…—He moved his fingers up to her lacey underwear and touched right over her clothed clit, making pressure and feeling how wet her underwear was just by this little playing between them— Your body seems to be enjoying the attention it, and I know for a fact that you feel it…—He pulled down her panties with such care while kissing the back of her neck down the exposed skin of her neck— This are coming with me…—He tugged them inside of his pocket and winked at her, while she was looking through their reflection on the window of the car — And now beautiful, you are going to let me eat as much as I want of this gorgeous pussy but…you cannot come until I told you so, we agree on that?...

Before receiving an answer, he kneeled behind her and begging to devouring her as a depredator devours his prey, he was unleashed like a savage beast down her core, wet and sloppy kisses directly to her clit, his tongue playing with her desperate hole pocking it without entering and drawing circles around it, just to move up to her clit to mess with it again. This, over and over again. She was trying her best to keep it quiet but it was too much, the way that he kept pressure with one hand on her back pushing her towards the car and keeping her there while with the other he was pinching her nipples under her bra, all of this while giving her the best oral sex of her life. She was close to the edge, he couldn’t keep it quiet anymore and tried to move her hips away from his hungry mouth. Only to be held against his face.

—Oh my dear за́йка…you taste delicious; I’m going to become an addict to your flavor —He left her nipple and kept one of his fingers tracing circles around your throbbing hole. — You want this my sweet little disobedient girl? You want me to fuck you with my fingers like the dirty little girl you are?

—Please bucky…please I…I want to come, I need to….—She tried her best to articulate a coherent phrase, but her senses and mind went on overload with the amount of pleasure that she was feeling, each filthy rotten word that he said to her ear was like a knife to her core, she wanted more of that, her hips rocking almost for instinct

—Oh my dear…look at you... —He pushed two fingers inside of her, slowly moving them inside looking for the special part that was going to make you lose every piece of conscience that you had until that point— So wet and tight for me little doll…look at this gorgeous pussy eating my fingers, do you like that little bunny? Do you like being fingerfucked outside a bar like the dirty slut that you are? —He moved his fingers deeper inside, making her moan and gasp every time he push them. The way he was talking, his fingers inside of her, the possibility of being caught outside the bar, everything was too much for her brain who started to collapse and surrender to pleasure

—Mnhg oh fuck! Bucky! Please! Keep moving …mnghfuck! —She was blabbering an intelligible mess while he kept fucking her with his fingers stopping for a moment to feel her walls clenching begging for more and returning to his pace soon after. She felt so close to her orgasm, so close to making a mess outside a freaking bar.

—What’s wrong dear bunny…you cannot talk? Come on, use your big girl words…the same ones that you were using to scream at me that I was an asshole and to go fuck myself…—He kept going, he sucked at her clit while moving his fingers at the rhythm of the techno that sounded from inside the bar, keeping at steady pace but going as deep as he could with his fingers. He incorporated and let his free hand traveled to her throat and squeeze it, not to hard but still noticeable by her gasps — Look at you, a complete mess…do you see yourself…look right there —He pointed one of the lateral mirrors of the car, in which she could clearly see her face contracted in pleasure, and behind her face his face, his eyes full of lust and pleasure while her mouth was open moaning and gasping his name— Look at you…keep in mind that I’m the only one who is going to make you feel like that…the only one that is going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours. Do you like how I make you feel right bunny? How could you lie tho…just look at yourself completely fucked out just by my fingers…so cute all dumbfucked by me…Are you going to come little bunny?

—Y-Yes! Oh dear…. Bucky I’m so close please don’t stop!  — She moan triying to connect the words inside of her head, but that was the only coherent phrase that she could pull out of it. She was a complete mess under his fingers, she was so close to her smashing orgasm that she was rocking her hips on his fingers just to feel them more…

Until he stopped, all of the sudden. He moved backwards and looked at her, a total mess, wet and dripping, no panties and all trembling leaning on his car. She looked at him disoriented, and he flashed her the most sinful smile that she had ever seen on him

—I told you little bunny…this was a punishment, not a reward…now, you are going to get on my car, we are going to my loft and then…only then I will deliberate if you deserve to come…—He smiled at her, pulling her skirt down again and grabbing her closer for a deep kiss, letting her taste herself on his tongue—

—I cannot believe you….—He pulled her closer again and kissed once more, but more softly this time, in a more lovable way.

—Don’t look at me like that, bad girls deserve punishment…but don’t worry —He opened the door of the car for her while looking directly at her eyes— After this punishment you are going to feel me for weeks.

[lavellenchanted]

hi!!! Would you consider posting more of ur gmw maya/lucaya fic??? I loved reading the lil snippet u posted about the purple cat painting!!

Hiya! Thank you for sending this, I'm so glad you enjoyed those snippets. Honestly most of the doc is just bits like that that I haven't woven together properly which is why I've not posted any more, but here's one of the scenes I've started with both Maya and Lucas.

“Well, that’s how we work, right?” Maya shrugged. “Riley’s the good one, I’m the bad one. She fixes things, I break them. Light and dark, night and day, and whatever. It’s how it’s always been.”

For a moment there was only the sound of the swing chains creaking as she slowly drifted back and forth, and then Lucas said in a blunt, matter-of-fact tone, “That’s such bullshit, Maya.”

Her eyebrows shot up. While Lucas was by no means puritanical, and she had heard him do his fair share of swearing over the years, he didn’t swear often - so she always knew when he did it was because he felt particularly strongly about something. 

(With effort, she managed to ignore the way her heart beat just a little harder at the thought that he might feel strongly about something, anything, to do with her.)

“Excuse me, Sundance?” 

“It is. You’re not ‘the bad one’. And you don’t break things. That’s bullshit.”

Maya couldn’t help giving a snort of laughter. “Okay, now I know you can’t be serious. I absolutely break things.”

But apparently she was the only one to find it funny, as Lucas just gave her a flat, unamused look. 

“No, you don’t.”

“Come on -”

“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?” He cut across her, surprising her enough with the question that she didn’t answer right away but just frowned at him in confusion. “What is it that makes you the bad one?”

She gave an exasperated sigh, waving her hand out as though gesturing at a hundred thousand examples laid out for him to see.

“I vandalised a park.”

“With a beautiful mural that the entire neighbourhood loves, and that’s been featured on multiple Instagram accounts for sight-seeing in New York. Sure, you should have gotten permission but don’t pretend like it’s not something to be proud of.” 

Maya could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, because yes, okay, she was very proud of that piece of art. It had been one of the few good things at a difficult time in her life, a beacon to remind herself not to give up and she still felt a quiet burst of hope every time she saw it. She had also seen it on Instagram, on several accounts dedicated to pictures of New York, and each time she did she felt such a triumphant, excited surge of having accomplished something and created art that spoke to other people. She hadn’t realised Lucas had seen them, though. 

“Okay . . . well. I’ve lost count of how many detentions I’ve had.”

“For things like being tardy or talking back to the teachers.”

“Exactly! I’m a smart-mouth and disrespectful.” 

Now it was Lucas’s turn to snort. “Those aren’t exactly heinous crimes.”

Maya wasn’t sure why, exactly, she was trying to argue someone into calling her a delinquent, but even so she wasn’t about to back down. Stubbornly sticking her chin out, she continued, “I broke out of detention.” 

“And I was right there alongside you. As I recall, all we did was put some paint on our faces and run down a couple of hallways.”

“We kidnapped Riley.”

“And took her into the hallway to talk. We weren’t exactly punk rock.”

Now that was an accusation that couldn’t stand. Maya levelled a finger at him, narrowing her eyes, “Speak for yourself, Ranger Rick. Some of us are punk rock to our bones.”

Lucas grinned, a brilliant flash that lit up his face and for a moment made it difficult for Maya to breathe. Lifting a hand, he tipped an imaginary hat to her. “My apologies, ma’am, for slandering your good name.”

It still made her insides flutter when he played the game with her.

“Apology accepted. This time.”

“Thank you. So what else have you got?”

Maya thought for a moment. “I set my homework on fire and led a homework rebellion.”

Lucas chuckled. “Oh, man, I’d forgotten about that. That was my first day at Adams. It seemed bad to me then, but now? I don’t know. You didn’t do any permanent damage. You did the homework later. And you only started your rebellion because it was Mr Matthews and you knew you could get away with it.”

That was, frustratingly, true. And as much as Maya might have liked to romanticise her rebellion, it hadn’t really been about rebelling for the sake of it. She had just been trying to cover up her embarrassment and shame at having to hand in what she knew was a bad assignment, because she hadn’t understood it and her mom had been working night shifts and hadn’t been there to help her.

It wasn’t a good thing to do - it wasn’t the sort of thing Riley or Farkle would do - but did that necessarily mean it was a bad thing?

“All those things you did? That was you acting out, but it wasn’t being bad. Or breaking anything beyond repair. You’ve got a tough front, but do you really think everything you just listed are the worst things you could have done?” 

“Okay, well, if you’re going to put it like that . . .” Maya grumbled, though she couldn’t help feeling flattered that he was so insistent about it.

The corner of his mouth quirked up in a small smile. “I hate to break it to you, Shortstack, but comparatively speaking, you’ve not really done that much.”

“Compared to who?” Maya challenged.

His smile immediately faded, and there was a sudden seriousness in his gaze that Maya had never seen there before. “Compared to me.”

“To you?”

“Maya, the worst thing I ever did was to put someone in the hospital.”

His voice nearly broke on the last few words, and there was a shame and a self-loathing in his eyes that Maya had only seen there once before. It made her heart ache to see it again, and she found herself shifting round on the swing and leaning forward like she might reach out and take his hand - but at last moment leaned back again.

“Is this the . . .”

“Why I got me expelled from my old school? Yeah.” Lucas let out a breath and stared up at the night sky. “So trust me, Maya, you’ve never been a bad person. I’d know.”