#and then thinking about a different thing for three more days

[blacktabbygames]

We're thrilled to announce that Slay the Princess — The Pristine Cut is releasing on PC, Mac, Linux, and consoles on October 24th! Please enjoy this animated trailer ^^

For those of you who aren't aware, The Pristine Cut is a free upgrade to the base game, that among other things:

Expands the game by roughly 35%. This means thousands of new voice lines, over a thousand new illustrations, and 17 tracks of brand new music.

Adds significant glow-ups for The Fury, The Den, and the Apotheosis, each of which has over three times as much stuff to see as they had in the base game.

Introduces three brand new Princesses that branch off of The Damsel, the Prisoner, and the Spectre.

Adds an entirely new ending to the game.

Adds a deep, interactive gallery to help you chart your progress across over 420 unlocks and that brings back your best (and worst) memories with the Princess.

Provides subtitle support for: Simplified Chinese, Traditional Chinese, European Spanish, Latin American Spanish, Brazilian Portuguese, Korean, Japanese, German, Polish, French, Russian, and Italian.

Brings the game to consoles — PS4 + 5, Nintendo Switch, and Xbox! And if you're the sort who collects things, both the PS5 and Nintendo Switch versions are getting a physical release, including a collector's edition!

And for those of you who have been waiting for an EU-friendly version version of the collector's edition that doesn't get hit by a ton of import fees, we're thrilled to finally reveal that we have one! Its contents are a little different from the US version of the CE — it swaps out the statue for a poster — but it should be a much more affordable alternative!

But wait, there's more!

You know how The Pristine Cut is coming out the day after Slay the Princess' one year anniversary? Well... we've also got something for you on 

the one year anniversary itself! Join us, Jonny, Nichole and Brandon for a big ol' livestream on our Twitch channel. Abby will be drawing EACH Princess live (new Pristine Cut princesses excluded), we'll be chatting about what it was like to work on the game, and we'll even be playing through one of the many paths through an expanded Pristine Cut route to give you a little taste of what's to come!

AND THAT'S NOT ALL!

We've also got you covered on the merch front! T-shirts and optical illusion Spectre keychains are now available on Serenity Forge's website, and for all of you Pin-Heads, we even have some extra Pinny Arcade Princess pins from this year's PAX West. Get 'em while they're hot!

And finally, a teaser for what's to come. I think you'll all really like what we've got cooking here >:3

Thank you all so much for your love and support — it's because of all of you that we're able to take big, ambitious swings with our work. If you haven't had the chance yet and you liked Slay the Princess, consider picking up our other Equally Good visual novel, Scarlet Hollow, which will be getting an enormous fifth episode next year!

All the best, Tony and Abby

[emphistic]

MEDDLE ABOUT

SYN. Being co-stars with your ex-boyfriend of three months is basically hell; or at least, that's what you think. AKA: Sukuna wants you back, whether he's acting or not.

TAGS. actor AU, fem!Reader, mean!Sukuna, exes to lovers, forced proximity, sharing a cigarette, smoking, arguing, eventual smut, Sukuna likes to shut you up with his dick, cockwarming, answering the phone during séx, orgasm denial, dacryphilia, porn w/o plot, use of pet names: baby, sweetheart, pretty girl, my dear (mockingly)

WC. 5.4k (please read anyway 😞)

AN. requested by anon (you didn't specify any genre, so i just freestyled 🤷‍♀️), animated dividers by @/cafekitsune; i'm a sucker for actor AUs; available on ao3; MDNI

“I know you wanna kiss me,” you smiled, leaning closer to Sukuna’s face. Your noses were barely apart, and you couldn’t tell where his breath ended, and where yours started. To be honest, this was far more intimate than any other kiss scene you ever had to film.

“Yeah?” Sukuna grinned, getting equally as close. “And what’re you going to do about that, pretty girl?”

“. . .Fucking slap you, that’s what.” 

“CUT!” The director yelled, groaning in exasperation. “C’mon, people. I know it’s been a long day, but put your differences aside for the sake of one movie, will ya? When you receive your paycheck, you’ll regret all of this ‘huffing and puffing’ you two are both doing right now.”

You exhaled, pulling away from Sukuna. It’s not that you couldn’t remember your correct lines, it’s just. . . You couldn’t take it anymore. Being in the same room as him, breathing in the same air as him, starring in the same movie with him. Fuck, you hated this.

You and Sukuna had broken up exactly three months ago despite having what seemed like a pretty healthy relationship. Seemed is the key word.

Of course, you two had your ups and downs, like an ordinary couple, but what differentiated you two from a normal couple was the fact that you guys both juggled busy careers as an actor and actress. Being booked with interviews, PR stunts, and in general, movies, you and Sukuna didn’t have the ability to spend much time together. And, as if that wasn’t enough, there was constantly a multitude of women on his arm during movie premieres. Yeah, you knew those were all for PR, but still, it hurt to see your boyfriend standing with a woman that wasn’t you every day.

At first, you thought you could take it. Being an actress yourself, you had your fair share of rumors and made up scandals. But it came to a point where you couldn’t take it anymore. You and Sukuna broke up, consequently, and fans immediately voiced their opinions and concerns, bombarding Twitter with trending tags, and posting videos on several apps. The internet had been obsessed with you guys as a couple since the first movie you two co-starred in—which was years ago—so their complaints definitely weren’t for naught.

Originally, you thought that your relationship with Sukuna would end on good terms, but boy, oh boy, were you wrong. Sukuna, just mere days after your breakup, was spotted by paparazzi walking around the city with his arm around a girl you definitely did not recognize as one of his current co-stars. And to make matters worse, he had the audacity to hit you up and ask if he could come over to your penthouse right after.

Men, am I right?

You two may or may not have slept together as exes a few times after your inevitable argument about him and that new girl, but rest assured, you did eventually break things off permanently. Well, you thought you did. As if by fate, you and Sukuna were casted as co-stars in an up-and-coming romance movie that had your fans just dying in anticipation of finally being able to see their favorite (broken up) couple together on screen again.

To be frank, you were originally going to pass up the role as the female lead—seeing as your luck had landed you as co-stars with Sukuna—but your manager apparently really, really wanted you to work on the film, saying things like Think of how elated your fans will be and It’s an adaptation from a book that made millions and Just imagine all of the PR and promoting you could do. It took a while of convincing—and coercing—to get you to finally agree to the role since, after all, PR was the main reason for your and Sukuna’s breakup. But, honestly, you would be lying if you said there weren’t any feelings left for your ex-boyfriend, Sukuna.

“I think we should all take a breather,” Sukuna began, jeering, “before someone gets all hot and bothered by just being on the same set as me. Wouldn’t you agree?” Sukuna turned to you, an expression on his face that just made you want to punch him in the nose.

“‘Hot and bothered’, seriously? Don’t make me laugh.” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest.

Sukuna tilted his head to the side, grinning. “Do you think I’m joking? I could feel the way your heart was racing earlier, when we had to shoot that hugging in the rain scene. Just admit it, this isn’t acting for you.”

He was definitely self-projecting, you scowled just by the thought of it.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, sweetheart. We all know how you really feel,” Sukuna teased, leaning down to your eye-level. His breath fanned your reddening ear as he whispered, “You want me so bad it makes you look fucking stupid.”

And when he pulled away, Sukuna added one last remark, “I know it’s been a long three months for you. Say, how’s that blondie treating you, hm? I bet his dick is as small as his future in acting.”

“Ryomen, just stop.” You shook your head. “It’s not like that with him, and you know that. Just leave me alone.”

You shoved at his chest as you walked off set, your assistants following you promptly with water bottles and towels.

In all honesty, you remembered it like it happened yesterday. Before you and Sukuna became boyfriend and girlfriend, your first meeting was in a movie that you both starred in as the female and male lead. It was a romance movie, of course, that was about a couple meeting on an island while both on individual vacations. You two spent most of your days on set in swimsuits and bikinis, consuming fake alcoholic beverages, and, consequently, sleeping together—after the tension just grew unbearable.

On and off camera, Sukuna had been growing an attraction towards you. I mean, who could blame him? You two had to be near each other while being basically half-naked. And, if your pretty face wasn’t enough to beguile Sukuna, your ass definitely was. From the moment he shook hands with you at your first meeting as co-stars, he knew he had to have you—acting or not.

That movie was the start of the skyrocketing of both your and Sukuna’s career in acting. Fans quickly noted how much chemistry the two of you had together, and how well you two could act out emotions and intimate scenes. What the audience didn’t know, though, was that you and Sukuna had started seeing each other a few weeks after shooting together.

Sukuna had invited over the whole cast and team for drinks after a successful movie premiere, and you two ended up talking and conversing in his kitchen whilst a little under the influence. You two hit it off, and learned that being an aspiring actor wasn’t the only thing you two had in common. One glass turned into two, and two turned into stumbling into Sukuna’s bedroom after everyone had responsibly ordered a cab home.

Waking up the morning after, and deciding it wasn’t just going to be a one night stand, you and Sukuna thus began your new relationship. At first, you two avoided being spotted in public together, but it came to a point where your relationship just couldn’t be hidden anymore and you both decided to go public. The internet responded almost immediately with cheers, enthusiasm, and occasionally, expressions showing how un-surprised they were. I mean, you two had been shipped together almost constantly; making it official was almost expected. 

Years passed, the honeymoon stage was over, your careers were more demanding and busy than they had ever been, and, well, you know the rest.

—

“Fancy seeing you here.” 

A grimace immediately made its way onto your face at the sound of Sukuna’s voice calling out to you from behind. 

“Hilarious,” you deadpanned, turning to face Sukuna as he sat down beside you and slung an arm around the back of the couch, “I was hoping the next time I saw you would be at your funeral.”

“A little harsh, don’t you think?” chided Sukuna, as he brought out a cigarette and lit it.

You crossed your arms over your chest, leaning back against the couch. “What do you want?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Sukuna leaned his face closer to yours, his eyes running down your face and naturally drifting to your lips.

“Unless you’re being your usual asshole-self, and here to annoy me in my dressing room, I’m afraid not.”

After you stormed off set, the director decided it was best to just call it a day and continue filming tomorrow. You went outside for a bit to get some fresh air, before deciding to return to your dressing room and get unready. Stripping down and putting on nothing but your robe, you had sat yourself down on the couch and picked up a magazine, planning on spending a few minutes relaxing before making your way home. Sukuna barging in, despite being off the clock, was something you definitely weren’t expecting. He wasn’t supposed to be here, and if someone found out. . .

“You’ll be in a lot of trouble if my makeup artist comes in here and sees you,” you commented. “Go smoke somewhere else.”

At this, Sukuna’s eyes flickered up to your own, and he removed the cigarette from his lips before blowing out the smoke right in front of your face. Your nose scrunched up, as if on instinct, and Sukuna booped your nose with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“I swear,” you began, snatching the cigarette out of Sukuna’s hands, “if I don’t kill you, I hope these will.” Now was your turn to put the cigarette between your lips. You inhaled, and took a deep breath. But, only moments after, the cigarette was out of your hands and abruptly stubbed on a nearby ashtray.

Sukuna looked at you with an intent look on his face. “As much as I find that hot, I’d rather I be the one damaging my lungs. Not you.”

“Looking out for little old me? How cute,” you smiled, your tone sarcastic. “I see you’re not over us, yet, hm? Did that new girl change your mind?”

You leaned closer to Sukuna, your shoulders brushing ever so slightly.

As soon as you mentioned that other chick, Sukuna rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. It was nothing, we didn’t even hold hands. C’mon, all we did was sit next to each other at a party, and now you’re on my ass about her?”

You shrugged, picking up the magazine you had previously discarded and flipping through the pages with faux interest. “Oh, really? Didn’t look that way to me. You two sure seemed buddy-buddy.”

“Like hell we did. Fuck, do you want me to bring up that twig you were with last week? Kid’s got no meat on his arms. Can’t even call him a man. Is that seriously how low you’re willing to go, babe?” Sukuna scoffed at your lack of attention to him. “Shit’s even worse than a downgrade.”

“You can think that all you want. But I definitely disagree.” You struggled to stifle a giggle.

Sukuna, furrowing his brows, narrowed his eyes at you. “The fuck do you mean by that? Don’t tell me you’ve seen his dick.”

“I dunno, have I?” You turned to Sukuna, meeting his gaze with an equal amount of irritation.

“Must’ve been pretty small, though, if you can’t even remember it,” Sukuna pressed, leaning closer to you, your noses touching, before pulling away. “Whatever, this is boring. Say, how about we get back to where we left off, and practice that kissing scene, hm? I think it’s a great idea.”

“Ryomen, let’s not. You know we’re done. Been done. We’re through.”

“You don’t really mean that.”

“Oh, is it not obvious? I think it was pretty obvious when you had the nerve to get with a new girl just days after we broke up. And then you have the balls to call me right after the paparazzi catches you two. Really, Sukuna? I don’t mind the idea of us ending on neutral terms, but . . . 48 hours? Two days after we broke up, and you’re already fucking some girl? Way to go, Sukuna.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself there, baby. We didn’t even kiss, did you see any pictures of us kissing? No. And, besides, it’s called provocation. Honestly, you should be praising me, because it worked in the end, didn’t it? I came ‘crawling back’ like one of your little bitch boys, and what happened? Oh, I remember; you let me right the fuck in to your apartment.”

As much as you hated to admit it, you couldn’t deny Sukuna. He was right. And, just the mere thought of what you two did after he hit you up brought heat to your cheeks.

The very same night after pictures of Sukuna and that new girl started circulating around the internet, Sukuna decided to text you:

hey pretty girl,

you up?

You were drying yourself off with a towel when you received two notifications on your phone, and when you saw the contact name, you frowned and turned off your phone without giving a response. Minutes after, there was a ring on your doorbell, and when you checked the camera, lo and behold, stood none other than the last pink-haired man you wanted to see that evening.

When you opened the door, wearing nothing other than a towel around your still dripping body, Sukuna couldn’t help but shamelessly check you out, deciding then and there that this definitely wasn’t going to be the end of your relationship. Of course, an argument ensued soon after, because that’s what life was like dating a dick like Sukuna. Luckily for you, however, Sukuna’s bulge in his pants was bigger than his ego, and so it made up for all of the playful bullying and teasing remarks that he frequently gave.

Sukuna—because he wasn’t born yesterday—knew his looks and charms fairly well, and often used them as a weapon or bargaining chip. That’s why, after you spent a minute or two berating and yelling at Sukuna near your front door, it only took the man one look into your eyes and one sultry comment to have you both stumbling into the . . . bedroom? No, you two had been apart for two days too long, and just decided to utilize your expensive kitchen counters for purposes completely unrelated to cooking.

The next morning, you two woke up—after getting just half an hour of sleep—and didn’t untangle from each other’s limbs until your manager called you nearly a hundred times, and forced you to get up and attend some interview or something. That, however, was not your last night with Sukuna. You two met up—intentionally or not—within the same week, whether it be at interviews or just random outings, and meddled with the other until one of you would fold (usually Sukuna) and consequently do something you would end up not fully regretting the next morning.

This affair continued until you finally came to your senses and blocked Sukuna out from your life in all ways possible. But, due to his bank account, Sukuna did end up purchasing multiple different phones just to be able to contact you. You may or may not have given in a few times, but in the end, you did end up leaving Sukuna for good.

“Reminiscing, are you? It’s okay, I’ve been doing that every night since you left the penthouse,” Sukuna laughed, noticing the way you went silent. You hated the way he referred to his place as The penthouse, and not, simply, his penthouse because, to be frank, for the years you both spent as a couple, you practically lived together despite having individual residences.

“What the hell, Sukuna. Just—Why are you even—?”

Sukuna cut you off, rolling his eyes. “I find it pretty hard to believe that not a single part of you misses me. Don’t lie; lying is a sin, y’know.”

“Sukuna—Excuse me? Don’t give me that shit. ‘Lying is a sin’ my ass. You must have to ask for God’s forgiveness pretty often, then. I can’t believe you want to call me a sinner, I mean, just—just look at you! You’re no saint, either, and you know that damn well.”

Sukuna raised his hands in defense, humoring you. “Woah, looks like I’ve been caught,” he laughed, before getting a little more serious. “But, don’t try to avoid the fact that you’re not innocent. Okay, we broke up due to not being able to make time for each other, and because of how much women I had to be around. Yeah, I get that. But it’s not like I was the only one taking up PR stunts. You did the same, too, didn’t you? So don’t try and paint me out to be the bad guy, when, at the end of the day, we did the same fucking thing.”

Irritated, you pinched the space between your brows. “I barely have any energy to say something to your stupid face right now. We broke up because of that, but also because of how much of a fucking dick you were and are. I knew you weren’t a total angel when we got together but—”

“Look. Do you want a nice guy?”

“. . .”

“Don’t feel pressured to answer, baby. We all know how you really feel.”

“Go. to. Hell. Sukuna. Seriously. This? Again? Do you even know how much of an ass you are? I should deserve an award for putting up with your shit for so long, God—”

“Yeahh, just keep talking,” said Sukuna in a teasing manner, as he leaned back against the couch, spreading his legs apart. You had never wanted to sit somewhere so bad.

“Are you fucking kidding me—mmph!”

You would’ve continued yelling and cursing Sukuna out for being such a dick had he not roughly pressed his lips against yours, immediately shutting you up. Because you still had some self-respect left, you fought back, throwing weak punches at his chest; but when Sukuna caught your wrists in his hands, you knew it was game over. Your muffled complaints soon turned to whimpers and sighs, as you shut your eyes and let your body do the talking.

Minute after minute, you gradually turned to putty in Sukuna’s hands. Fuck, as much as you hated to admit it, you had truly missed this. The feeling of his large, coarse hands roaming your body, tracing your curves, the feeling of his soft, but unruly hair under your fingertips, but most importantly, the feeling of his lips on yours.

At this point, you couldn’t even remember why the two of you broke up.

“Sukuna,” you murmured, pulling away for a moment to breathe. “We’re not together anymore. We shouldn’t—”

“Shouldn’t?” repeated Sukuna, eager to get back to where you left off. “Are you in a relationship with someone else? Am I in a relationship with someone else? No, and no. So enlighten me, my dear, why should we stop?”

“. . .” It was like he was challenging you, except, this time, it was a battle you could afford to lose. You wanted Sukuna, you really did. But admitting it was the hard part. You chewed on your bottom lip, contemplating every outcome, as Sukuna continued to stare at you with so much desire you could practically feel it.

“Are you hesitating because,” Sukuna paused, “—because you fucked someone else while I was gone?”

You sighed, swallowing the lump in your throat; you had never been more conflicted in your life. Placing your hands on Sukuna’s shoulders, you pushed back until Sukuna was sitting on the couch, and you were sitting on top of him—seated on his lap. As if on instinct, his hands made their way from your hips to the curve of your ass.

Sukuna gripped the globes of fat and muscle with a purpose, and let out an exaggerated groan at the missed feeling of you practically sitting on his dick. You were wearing nothing but a dainty, silky robe, and you clearly didn’t cross it over your chest too well, as Sukuna could see almost everything he had been missing out on during the past few months.

“Don’t even think about lying to me. I can feel you throbbing on my thigh, y’know.”

“. . .And?” You raised a brow; whispering in Sukuna’s ear, “What about it?”

Biting your lip, you let your hands wander up and down Sukuna’s neck, the spot you knew he liked you touching. When you broke things off with Sukuna, you didn’t know you could miss being able to trace his tattoos as bad as you did.

“Oh?” asked Sukuna. But when his fingers wandered up your robe, there was a sudden change in Sukuna’s demeanor, and he sucked in a breath.

“Adorable,” you laughed. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Shit, baby,” Sukuna groaned, “I bet you were expecting me to come and visit your little dressing room, huh. Even planned ahead and gave me a little surprise. Cheeky thing.”

Just seconds earlier, Sukuna’s fingers had been teasingly ghosting where you wanted him most, but when he noticed the lack of underwear you had on, he nearly lost it. You clearly weren’t making it easy for Sukuna to stay composed, he was sure of that much. Despite all of his belittling and teasing remarks, he definitely wasn’t as unaffected as he let himself seem to be.

“We’ve just been apart for so, so long.” You looked into Sukuna’s eyes, a faux pout on your lips as you looped your arms around his neck and pressed your tits up against his chest. “Can you blame me?”

“Fuck, girl,” Sukuna kissed his teeth. “You’re dripping wet. All for me?”

“Who the fuck else?”

Sukuna’s fingers danced around your entrance, collecting your slick as you pressed your thighs together, trapping his hand between your legs (not like he was complaining, though; that was probably the closest to Heaven Sukuna would ever get in his lifetime). “Mmm, that’s what I like to hear.”

It wasn’t a surprise when you pressed your lips against Sukuna’s, bringing him in for another zealous kiss. In an effort to get impossibly closer, your body curved into his, like you were puzzle pieces molded and created just for each other. You two moved in sync, as if you had both rehearsed this before; but, in truth, you two had just made out too many times to count, so kissing Sukuna was basically like breathing air. You needed it to survive, and, it was light work. What more could you say?

The tension and lust between you two grew, and your dressing room soon filled with the sound of sensual desire, moans and quiet gasps, and the creaking of the framework of your unfortunate couch, which had the misfortune of being beneath the two of you.

From the moment you had begun straddling his lap, you had pretended not to notice the growing erection below you; but, by now, it was pretty hard to ignore the bulge pressing against your ass. It was like, during the months you two spent apart, Sukuna’s dick was growing even larger than before. You didn’t remember it being so big. And, just the sight of it was enough to make you lick your lips in fear? Anticipation? . . .Definitely a mix of both.

As Sukuna made a show of removing his belt and pants, he grinned at the evident look of unfamiliarity on your face. “Scared?”

“Of course not,” you quipped, trying to put up a front, but your body betrayed you, displaying otherwise.

“Naturally,” Sukuna mocked, “that’s why I can practically feel your arousal, right?”

You bit your lip, “Shut up.”

Sukuna laughed, pushing the ends of your robe up to rest on your hips, and sliding his hands to your ass, squeezing each cheek with an equal amount of force. Damn, thought Sukuna, he had missed his favorite girls.

“Just because we haven’t done this in a while doesn’t mean you have to be afraid of it. C’mon,” Sukuna slowly repositioned and lowered your hips and spread your legs apart, easing his dick through your cunt, “there’s nothing to be shy about. I know you’ve been missing this.”

It was true, you and Sukuna hadn’t fucked in three whole months, and your body was definitely starting to forget how he felt. The feeling of your walls stretching to accommodate Sukuna’s length and size burned pleasurably, and you bit your lip to stifle a moan, which, in turn, just came out as a whimper instead.

Bracing yourself, you planted both palms on Sukuna’s broad shoulders as your lashes fluttered and your eyes shut tight. “So—nngh—So big, Sukuna. God.”

“Bet you’re real glad you decided to accept this role, after all, huh.”

Your eyes snapped open, and you glared at Sukuna. “Will you just shut—oh!”

Just as you were about to yell at Sukuna, he decided it was the absolute perfect time to give a rough thrust; and you could’ve sworn you felt him in your womb. Throughout all the years you two had been together, you rarely had the opportunity to actually sit on his dick, and, now that you had the chance, you realized how full you felt in this position compared to how you two usually fucked. Sukuna knew you liked it rough, but this . . . was like nothing you had experienced before.

Sukuna—laughing—leaned down just enough to whisper in your ear, “You were saying?”

“Fuck,” you gritted your teeth. “Just move, Sukuna, goddamnit. What’s the holdup? Don’t tell me the late twenties are catching up to your libido.”

“Ha! in your dreams. I was just thinking of a new way we could have fun. Let’s see, just how long can you go without moving, hm?”

You gulped. “W-What? Why would you—?”

“Because it’s exciting, and spices up things. Don’t you think so?”

“. . .”

As the minutes idly passed by, you grew hot and bothered, and exasperated. You couldn’t believe Sukuna was making you do this. Nearly ninety days you two spent apart, and now that you had gotten back together, he had the audacity to leave you high and dry? In a final attempt at getting any satisfaction, you moved to roll your hips, desperate to create any amount of friction to free you from this everlasting state between Heaven and Hell; but two rough hands abruptly caught you in motion, and swiftly held you down.

“Ah, ah, ah,” tutted Sukuna, in a mocking tone. “Did I say you could move?”

Clearly frustrated, you let out a whine; but as your hands move to give punches against Sukuna’s chest, he catches your wrists in his hands with ease, an evil smile on his face, like a predator that had successfully cornered their prey and was just seconds away from latching their teeth in.

The belt was already pretty loose, so when one of the sleeves on your robe slipped down your shoulder, revealing your bare chest, no one was that surprised.

“Oh?” Sukuna began. “What have we here?” His scarlet eyes roamed up and down your figure, as his grip on your wrists turned almost deathly.

“You . . . bastard,” you—suddenly feeling a bit shy—tried to tug your wrists out of his grasps, in order to cover yourself up, but your attempts were futile. “Let go of me—hnngh, shit.”

Your back arched, body curving closer to Sukuna’s as his lips abruptly wrapped around one of your already hard nipples, catching you off guard. You had never felt so overwhelmed; the feeling of Sukuna sucking on a tit while his dick was buried inside of you—unmoving—was nearly enough to make you cum, despite the lack of movement that Sukuna allowed.

Bringing you out of your dazed state was the sudden ringing of your phone on the table beside the ashtray. Your eyes widened in surprise, as you softly pushed Sukuna off of you. “Just—Just ignore it. It’s not important.”

“Right. But where’s the fun in that, huh?”

“You don’t mean. . .”

“You know what I mean. Answer it, on speaker,” Sukuna pressed. His tone told you he wasn’t going to repeat himself.

With shaky fingers, you reached for the phone, answered the caller, and put it on speaker. “H-Hello? Katayama?”

Katayama was the name of one of your co-stars. Or, in other words, the blonde dude, which Sukuna kept mentioning earlier.

“Hey, you! It’s pretty late right now, perfect time for us to go out and get some drinks, y’know? I’m a bit bored, as of lately.”

You were about to respond with an apologetic declination to his offer, but Sukuna cut you off as he roughly lifted up your hips and abruptly slammed them back down, causing you to choke back a moan, and cover it up with a faux series of coughs. “I’m, ah, a little . . . busy,” you whimpered, wincing at the tight grip on your hips—which was sure to leave a bruise in the morning, “right now.”

“Are you sick?”

“Uhm, no—I mean, yes!” You let out another fake cough just to seal the deal. “Yup, just a little under the weather.”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a string of moans and curses as Sukuna continued slamming your hips up and down onto his.

“Well, if you’re ever in need of an extra warm blanket, don’t be afraid to—”

“Hahh.” A breathy moan slipped past your lips, and you could practically see the surprised look that was probably on Katayama’s face right now.

“—call . . . me. Uhm, are you sure you’re sick? You sound like you’re in the middle of . . . something. Is everything okay—?”

“Yup! Yeah, everything is totally okay,” you forced out, with an enthusiastic tone. Gripping Sukuna’s shoulder with your free hand for leverage, you shut your eyes tight as you quickly ended the call. “I’m a little occupied at the moment, I’ll call you ba—I’m gonna go. Bye!”

As swiftly as you hung up the call, you threw your phone across the couch, and let out all of the noises you had been previously bottling up.

“I’m so c-close.” You mewled, now even more desperate than you were before.

“If you dare cum,” Sukuna began, his voice low, “I’ll stop.”

“Sukuna!” You whined, scratching at his back and leaving little crescent shaped marks from your nails on his tricep. “I need to—ahnn!”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you held onto Sukuna’s shoulders for dear life as he quickened his pace. Lifting your hips up with ease, and slamming them back down with equal force. Fucked out of your mind was not enough to describe your current state, as your eyes rolled back into your head, and your lipstick was smudged across your mouth.

Sukuna leaned down to whisper into your ear, never stopping his movements. “Bet the little blondie didn’t fuck you like this, huh?”

It was obvious that Sukuna wasn’t an insecure guy; I mean, he had no reason to be. He had nice muscles, a good body, overall, sharp features, tempting eyes, and tattoos for days. But, you had to admit, the spark of jealousy was definitely a good look on Sukuna, one that you wouldn’t mind seeing every once in a while, if it meant seeing him like . . . this.

“. . .S-Sukuna, we never—we never even fucked in the first place.”

“Oh, yeah? How long you been without cock, then, huh? Must be why you’ve been acting like such a bitch. I almost feel bad; all this time, my baby’s just been depraved.”

“. . .F-fuck you,” you shivered, body practically shaking with need.

“No need to state the obvious, sweetheart. Fuck, even your tears taste sweet,” Sukuna groaned, licking a stripe up your cheek. “It’s as if you were literally made for me to devour.”

“Please, please let me cum! I’m so—hnngh—close.”

“Yeah, no. C’mon, I know my girl can last just a little longer, can’t you?” Sukuna grinned, biting his lip as he admired your dazed state. He hadn’t been able to touch you in three months, ninety days, 504 hours. If anyone was going to get their fill, it was him.

—

“Oh!” Your stylist exclaimed, after walking into your dressing room and noticing you lying asleep on the couch. “You’re already here. And, Sukuna’s here, too. Wait. . . SUKUNA’S HERE, TOO!?”

[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 semester," 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 ˂ )⸝♡

tagged: @climbingmandevillas @byeoltual @junhuiste-ficrec

cue all the tags now...

[itneverendshere]

the way i can see rafe rolling his eyes when he hears you yell across a party for jj to knock it off in picking a fight, and laughs at jj when he listens to you, and is like an embarrassed little dog.

a perfect world where rafe realizes he and jj are the same person in different fonts <3 thank you for the request, i love jj in this lmao😭🩵

 you say you got it & you have to let me see - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

The annual boneyard party was in full swing, and like clockwork, someone was trying to start shit.

You stood close to Rafe, your hand loosely gripping a beer bottle as you watched the mess unfold in front of you. "JJ!" you called out, voice loud and clear across the sand. "Knock it off!"

Rafe felt the corner of his mouth twitch, suppressing a grin. It wasn't even surprising anymore.

JJ Maybank—still the same hot-headed teen who grew up a few doors down from you—was in some guy's face, already half a second away from getting clocked.

His first instinct was to roll his eyes. Every year. Every damn year, JJ managed to start up some bullshit. Rafe glanced down at you, saw how your brow furrowed in annoyance, and the urge to laugh took over instead.

It was kind of funny, watching JJ go from ready to swing to immediately backing off the second you opened your mouth.

JJ turned like a kid caught stealing cookies from the jar, hands half-raised in defense as he looked at you with wide eyes. “Chill! I wasn’t even—”

"Yeah, yeah," you cut him off, pointing your beer in his direction. "Save it. Just walk away, okay?"

And, of course, he did.

Like a scolded puppy, he muttered something under his breath before shoving his hands into his pockets and trudging off. Rafe snorted, shaking his head. "Little brother still listens to you, huh?"

You shot him a look, half-smiling. "Someone's gotta keep him in line."

"Yeah, well," Rafe glanced at JJ’s retreating figure, still chuckling under his breath, "It's funny watching him tuck his tail between his legs every time."

He wasn’t usually one for parties like this anymore—too many reminders of who he used to be—but being here with you made it easier. You grounded him. Three years of dating, living together, dealing with life’s shitstorms, and somehow you still managed to make everything feel lighter.

You narrowed your eyes, “Don’t think you’re so different from him Mr. No one talks down to my girlfriend.”

Rafe’s grin widened, and he took a long sip from his beer, savoring the burn of the carbonation on his throat. You had him there. Not that he was gonna admit it. “That was different,” he drawled, flashing you a smirk.

“Uh-huh,” you said, arching an eyebrow. “How, exactly?”

He scratched at his jaw, the familiar prickle of stubble reminding him he hadn’t shaved in a few days. “I mean, I didn’t throw a punch every time. Just made it clear no one’s gonna talk shit.”

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your lips twitched. “You’re lucky I love you, Cameron.”

Rafe’s heart did that stupid thing it always did when you said stuff like that, even after all these years. He could play it cool all he wanted, but you knew how to get to him. Always did.

“Yeah, I am,” he said, stepping a little closer, his body blocking the cool breeze coming off the ocean. He could smell the saltwater and smoke, but all he cared about was the warmth radiating from you. He took a swig of his beer, watching the flames from the bonfire dance against the night sky. “How many more times you think you’ll have to pull him out of a fight tonight?”

You tilted your head, thinking for a second before shrugging. “Depends on how much he’s had to drink.”

JJ was like a golden retriever sometimes—quick to rile up, but just as quick to bounce back. Rafe watched him for a second, the way he moved through the crowd, all ego and no direction. It reminded him of himself when he was younger. He chuckled, shaking his head.

“He’s gonna make it hard for me to take him seriously if you keep saving his ass.”

"Like you’ve ever taken him seriously," you shot back, giving him a playful shove.

True. Rafe couldn’t remember a single time in the last few years where JJ had been more than an annoyance. 

"God, it’s like he’s still twelve or something," you muttered, shaking your head. You took a step closer to him, your arm brushing his. The firelight flickered in your eyes, making you look impossibly warm.

The kind of warmth Rafe had gotten used to over the years. The kind he was lucky to have. He turned to face you, an easy smile forming on his lips. “Yeah, but at least it’s entertaining.”

You smirked. "For now. I give it an hour before he’s passed out in the sand."

He tilted his head, giving you a mock-serious look. “You wanna place a bet on that?”

You squinted at him like you were actually considering it. “What’s the wager?”

Rafe leaned in, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Winner gets to pick what we do tomorrow.”

You raised an eyebrow, your smirk deepening. “And what exactly do you have in mind?”

He shrugged, trying to play it cool but knowing exactly what he’d want if he won. He could feel the stupid velvet box burning in his pocket. He carried it everywhere, hoping he’d man up and do it already. He couldn’t do it now—not here, not like this, not with JJ stumbling around somewhere in the background and the sound of half-drunk partygoers laughing around you.

“I don’t know. Maybe spend the day out on the boat. Just the two of us.”

“Alright, deal,” you said, holding out your hand for him to shake, “Sounds nice.”

Nice wasn’t even close to what he had in mind.

He took your hand, but instead of shaking it, he pulled you in closer, wrapping an arm around your waist. You let out a small laugh, leaning into him. The beer bottle in your hand dangled lazily at your side. You leaned up, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Rafe let out a breathy chuckle, turning his head to capture your lips with his. The kiss was slow, lazy even, like there wasn’t a party around you. “Still think I’m cute, huh?” 

You gave him a look, lips curving into a shit-eating-grin. “When you’re not acting like JJ.”

He groaned, tipping his head back dramatically. “Don’t compare me to that fuckin' idiot.”

You just grinned, pulling away slightly, though your hand stayed on his chest. “Relax. You’re cuter, baby.”

“Damn right,” Rafe muttered, tugging you back to him. He liked having you close like this—reminded him that no matter how much shit had changed, some things stayed solid. You. Him. This.

He kissed the top of your head, breathing in the familiar scent of your hair, and let out a contented sigh. 

JJ had somehow found another beer, and as Rafe glanced his way, he saw Kie giving him a hard time, probably for almost getting into it earlier.

“You think they’ll ever figure it out?” you asked, following Rafe’s gaze.

“Who, JJ and Kie?” He shrugged, taking another sip of his beer. “Maybe. Probably not, though. They’re both too stubborn.”

You hummed in agreement, resting your head against his shoulder. “Sounds familiar.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, we turned out alright, didn’t we?”

You smiled up at him, the firelight dancing in your eyes. “Yeah, we did.”

Just as you and Rafe were starting to get lost in your own little world, a sudden shout cut through the noise of the party. Rafe glanced up and spotted JJ again, this time charging toward some guy who was standing way too close to Kie. 

Oh for fuck’s sake.

JJ's posture tense, fists clenched at his sides, and his voice already rising in that familiar way that screamed trouble. "Hey, man, back the fuck off!" He growled, pushing the guy away from Kie. The dude barely had time to react before JJ was already up in his face, looking like he was seconds away from throwing a punch.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Rafe muttered under his breath.

Without a second thought, he downed the last of his beer and started striding toward fight. You followed, a little concerned but mostly impressed by how quickly he handled it. He was always the one who kept things calm now—so different from his hot-headed younger days.

“Maybank!” Rafe’s voice boomed across the beach, and you could hear the change in tone.

He was done playing around.

JJ, too focused on trying to defend Kie’s honor, didn’t even hear him. Rafe didn’t hesitate. He grabbed him by the back of his shirt, pulling him away from the guy before anything could escalate further.

The younguer blonde whipped around, ready to argue, but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Rafe. “Dude, I—”

“Start walking,” He hauled him a few feet away, practically dragging him while the other guy quickly disappeared into the crowd.

You couldn’t help but watch the way Rafe took control of the situation, handling JJ like a dad trying to wrangle a rowdy teenager. You could see the way he deflated in response. He’d grown to respect Rafe too much to keep pushing.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Rafe said, his grip still tight on JJ’s shirt. “You’re gonna get yourself knocked out one of these days if you don’t stop acting like you need to throw hands over every little thing.” JJ scowled but didn’t say anything, and Rafe shook his head, letting him go. “Seriously, Kie can handle herself. And if she needs backup, that’s what we are for—not you getting your ass handed to you every time some guy breathes in her direction.”

JJ kicked at the sand, muttering something under his breath, but he knew better than to argue. Rafe’s voice softened a little, seeing JJ’s shoulders slump. “Look, I get it. But not like this. Not here.”

He nodded once, reluctantly, and Rafe gave him a rough pat on the shoulder before turning back to you. He caught your eye, and you felt the pride bloom in your chest. The way he handled himself, the way he diffused situations—it wasn’t just about being strong anymore, it was about knowing how to lead, how to take care of the people he loved. And, honestly? It was a turn-on.

You couldn’t help the way your eyes lingered on him as he came back over to you. He looked so composed, so solid, and that arm of his, the way he pulled JJ back without breaking a sweat—it had your mind going places. Rafe raised an eyebrow at you, a playful smirk on his lips.

“What?” he asked, already knowing you were checking him out.

You stepped closer, trailing your fingers up his arm, feeling the strength in the way his muscles flexed beneath your touch.

“Nothing,” you murmured, biting your lip as your eyes met his. “Just proud of you.”

Rafe chuckled, his hand slipping around your waist, pulling you against him. “Proud, huh?”

“Mhm,” you whispered, pressing yourself closer, feeling the warmth of his body. “It’s kinda hot.”

“That what does it for you now? Me playing babysitter?”

You laughed softly, your hand still resting on his arm, fingers trailing along his bicep. “Not just that. The way you handled it. You’re just—”

Rafe’s hand slid down your back. “Just what?” he asked, his breath hot against your neck.

You bit your lip, feeling your heart pick up speed. "Strong.” You smirked, letting your hand slide lower, down the curve of his chest. “Kinda makes me wanna—”

He cut you off with a kiss, his mouth moving against yours with a kind of slow intensity that had you melting into him. His hand gripped you tighter, pulling you even closer, because he could never have enough of you. 

When he pulled back, his forehead pressed against yours, both of you a little breathless, he smirked down at you. “You keep talkin' like that, we might need to leave this party a little early.”

You grinned up at him, your arms wrapping around his neck. “Might not be the worst idea,” you teased, your voice low. “Think we’ve had enough excitement for one night.”

Rafe chuckled, his lips brushing against your forehead before he pulled away just enough to glance over his shoulder, making sure JJ wasn’t about to start up more trouble.

When he saw everything was calm, he turned back to you, “Let’s get outta here, baby.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

He pulled you in close as you reached the car, wrapping his arms around your waist and leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your lips, making your head spin all over again.

"You're somethin' else, you know that?" he whispered against your lips, his hands sliding up your back, fingers tracing patterns on your skin.

"Get in the car, Cameron.”

[xo100]

Baking cookies pt. 3- LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary: Lando and Y/N confess their feelings, agreeing to take things slow, while Nina continues to brighten their lives.

*:･ﾟ Word count: 1237

masterlist / community / request / previous ౨ৎ next

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The next morning felt different. Not in a drastic, world-shifting way, but in the small, quiet way things change when you finally admit how you feel about someone who’s been in your life for so long. The sun filtered through the curtains in Lando’s living room, casting soft shadows on the walls, and Y/N sat at the kitchen table, absentmindedly scrolling through her phone. She wasn’t thinking about the articles in front of her, though. Her mind was on Lando—and the kiss they shared the night before.

She could still feel the warmth of his lips, the gentle way his hand had cradled hers. The memory made her heart skip a beat, and she couldn’t help but smile.

“Morning, sleepyhead.”

Y/N’s head snapped up at the sound of Lando’s voice. He was standing in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame, his hair still messy from sleep. He looked comfortable in a worn T-shirt and sweats, a soft grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Morning,” she replied, her cheeks flushing slightly at the memory of last night.

Lando pushed himself off the doorframe and walked over to her, dropping into the chair across the table. He rested his elbows on the table, leaning forward with that same playful glint in his eyes that Y/N had seen countless times—but now, it felt different. There was something deeper behind it.

“How’d you sleep?” he asked, his voice soft.

“Good,” Y/N answered, smiling. “You?”

“Best I’ve slept in a while,” Lando replied, his gaze locked on hers.

For a moment, they just stared at each other, the weight of their newfound connection hanging in the air. It was comfortable, but there was a spark between them, something quietly electric that hadn’t been there before.

But before they could say anything more, the familiar sound of little feet running down the stairs interrupted them.

“Daddy! Auntie Y/N!” Nina’s voice called out as she bounced into the kitchen, her curly hair wild and her face full of excitement. “I’m hungry!”

Y/N and Lando exchanged a quick glance before they both burst into laughter. The moment was broken, but in the best way—Nina always had that effect.

“What’s on the menu today, munchkin?” Lando asked, ruffling Nina’s hair as she climbed onto Y/N’s lap.

“Pancakes!” Nina declared with a big grin.

Y/N smiled, hugging Nina tightly. “Pancakes, huh? I think we can make that happen.”

“Yay!” Nina clapped her hands excitedly, bouncing on Y/N’s lap.

Lando got up from his chair, heading toward the fridge. “Alright, team pancake, let’s get to work.”

As Lando started gathering ingredients, Y/N helped Nina down from her lap, and together, they got to work in the kitchen. It was something they had done countless times before, but this time felt different. Everything did.

The three of them moved around the kitchen with ease, like a well-practiced routine. Nina poured the flour, Y/N mixed the batter, and Lando flipped the pancakes, tossing in an extra bit of flair for Nina, who giggled with every flip.

At one point, Lando leaned over to Y/N, his voice low and teasing. “You know, I think you’re rubbing off on me.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, laughing softly. “Oh yeah? How so?”

“Well,” Lando said, holding up a pancake with a lopsided heart shape in the middle, “I’m starting to get pretty good at these.”

Y/N shook her head with a smile, nudging him playfully. “Sure you are.”

They shared another quiet moment of laughter, but this time, there was an undeniable tenderness in it. Lando’s hand brushed against Y/N’s as he passed her a plate, and she felt that same warmth flood her chest. The feeling that this was right, that they were right.

-

Once breakfast was done, the three of them sat at the table together, with Nina happily munching on her pancakes while talking animatedly about her day ahead. Lando and Y/N exchanged glances across the table, both of them silently reveling in the ease of this moment. It was just the three of them, but it felt like more.

After breakfast, Lando cleared the table while Y/N helped Nina get ready for the day. As they moved through their morning routine, the unspoken understanding between Lando and Y/N grew. They didn’t need to say anything just yet—there was comfort in the way they worked together, the natural way they fit into each other’s lives.

Once Nina was dressed and ready to play in the garden, Y/N found herself back in the living room, straightening up a few toys Nina had left scattered around. Lando appeared beside her, leaning against the couch as he watched her for a moment, his expression thoughtful.

“Y/N…” His voice was softer now, more serious.

She turned to face him, her heart beating a little faster. “Yeah?”

Lando stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently take hers. “I’ve been thinking about us. About what this means.”

Y/N squeezed his hand, her eyes searching his. “Me too.”

“I know we haven’t really talked about it yet, but I want to make sure we’re on the same page,” Lando said, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Because this? This feels like more than just a moment.”

Y/N nodded, her heart swelling at his words. “It is more. It’s everything.”

Lando’s smile was soft but filled with so much emotion that it made Y/N’s chest ache. “I don’t want to rush anything, but… I want this. I want us.”

Y/N took a step closer, her free hand reaching up to rest against his chest. “I want that too, Lando. I want us to figure this out together.”

His hand came up to cup her cheek, his eyes searching hers for any sign of doubt. But there wasn’t any. Y/N was sure of this, sure of them.

“You know, Nina adores you,” Lando said quietly, his voice filled with emotion. “She’s always asking when you’ll come over. And seeing the two of you together… It makes me realize how lucky I am.”

Y/N’s heart melted at his words. She had always loved Nina as if she were her own, and hearing Lando say those things only deepened her feelings for him. “I adore her too, Lando. And I… I adore you.”

His eyes softened, and before Y/N could say anything more, Lando leaned in and kissed her. It was soft and sweet, but this time there was more behind it. The promise of something new, something real.

When they finally pulled away, Y/N rested her forehead against his, their breaths mingling in the quiet space between them. “We’ll take it slow,” she whispered. “For Nina. For us.”

Lando nodded, his smile widening. “Yeah, slow sounds perfect.”

Just as they were about to kiss again, a loud crash echoed from the garden, followed by Nina’s triumphant shout. “I did it!”

Y/N and Lando both burst into laughter, stepping apart as they looked out the window to see Nina standing proudly next to a stack of garden toys she had knocked over.

“We’d better go check on our little troublemaker,” Lando said with a grin, taking Y/N’s hand as they headed outside together.

As they walked into the garden, hand in hand, Y/N couldn’t help but feel like this was the start of something beautiful. A new chapter for all three of them.

And it was exactly where she wanted to be.

౨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; thank you for reading, love’s! Hope you all enjoyed it! If there is something wrong or need to be edited, let me know! Also I’ve started a community feel free to join! Currently working on part 4! If you want to be tagged leave it in the comments!

Also currently heartbroken by Daniel leaving f1💔

*:･ﾟtags; @barcelonaloverf1life @fanficweasley @obxstiles @missnxthingg @trisharee @myescapefromthislife

[vangbelsing]

Just gonna throw out my thoughts on spoilers below the cut in reference to THAT Veilguard news today

I genuinely believe this is actually a good thing. Hot take, I know. But you know what? I don't think Bioware could ever satisfy the desires of every player. I would much rather have my headcanons for my Hero of Fereldan than to watch them appear in another game COMPLETELY different than how they were in DAO. And, I don't mean from how I headcanon them, I mean from the way they were literally portrayed in that game.

Take a look at Hawke. Not how I played them in DA2. Now look and the Inquisitor. Bioware is already forcing them to have a certain outlook that could be completely opposed to how they were played. Again, not how they were headcanoned, but literally portrayed in game. With the choices Bioware gave.

Do y'all genuinely think that "did you vow to save or stop Solas?" is gonna cover the NUMEROUS ways you could build a relationship with him in DAI? Those personal bits that you were given to rp and shape your character, those things that were literally IN THAT GAME, will be treated as if they didn't matter in order for the team to write your character how they think is most interesting. And it might just be me, but having your character the way you want them is one of the most important parts of these games, so watching them be taken and made to be something unrecognizable even from the choices you had them make in the game itself is... Unappealing to me.

Am I happy the reactivity from past games has been chopped down to three choices? No. Do I wish there was more? Yes. But if condensed reactivity to choices made in the other games means there can be more reactivity for the choices I make in this one? Fine. It is 100% a compromise, but it's a compromise I'm personally willing to make.

So yes, ultimately, I can work with this. Baldurs Gate 3 canonized a great deal from the first two games, and for the people that started with BG3, that means nothing. But for me? Someone who played the first two games that spent hours shaping the narrative of the game and building my character? Watching none of that matter as they parade around Abel fucking Adrian as the Bhaalspawn was the single most enraging thing I've experienced in a game. So Dragon Age not referencing stuff out of respect for my choices feels like a win, even if I wish there was more reactivity to old choices. I promise you all, this could be so, so much worse. I've literally seen it happen. Baldurs Gate was the original Dragon Age. I can tell you right now that if you were presented with the options of having Bioware not referencing your choices or a canon white male Cousland hero of Fereldan, you would take the former.

And this definitely is not intended to tell you you can't be upset about this or to act as a shield between you and a corporation. I'll take this because I genuinely do not trust Bioware to handle the Hero of Fereldan. But I got to have the alternative in bg3, and this may not be great, but oh my god it is so much better by comparison. After the way that game handled the Bhaalspawn, Jaheira, Viconia, and God forbid Sarevok... Yah. I'll take this any day. Seriously. Google any of those characters and look what Larian did to them in bg3. I will take this over that any day.

[inawickedlittletown]

Something Good - 8x01 coda

Read on Ao3

-

“It was a bee-nado,” Evan said. “You should have seen it.” 

“Here’s what I don’t get,” Tommy said, “I make a perfectly good reference to literally any movie and you have no idea what I’m talking about and yet you somehow know about shark-nado?” 

“Shark what?” Evan asked with a laugh. 

Tommy should have actually just known better. Of course Evan had no idea about Shark-nado. 

“The bees were literally in a funnel, weren’t they?” he asked as he pulled into his driveway. 

Evan nodded. “Yeah. Yeah. It was crazy.”

“And they’re still out there,” Tommy said. 

“Yeah,” Evan said. “And they’re angry. Kinda like Chris, I guess.” 

They had left Eddie’s house after Eddie insisted that he’d be alright on his own. That he didn’t need their help to take down the decorations or for the party to become some kind of pity party. Evan had tried to argue and yet in the end they had both realized that maybe Eddie did want to take a moment for himself. 

“He’s a teenager,” Tommy said. 

Evan nodded as they walked into Tommy’s house. “It’s just…it sucks.”

Tommy gave a nod. None of them had thought that Chris would still be in Texas after a whole three months had gone by, but he really was still mad. None of them could blame him for it either, though it probably didn’t help that his grandmother seemed to love having Chris with her. Was she even trying to encourage Chris to forgive his father? The whole thing was murky. 

“Like I told Eddie, he’s trying and when Chris comes around — and he will — he’ll know that the whole time Eddie was trying. That’s…it means something.” 

“Yeah,” Evan said. “It really does, doesn’t it?” 

They had talked about it a little. Evan at least did still have contact with his father even if it seemed to be minimal and mostly conducted over email. Still, Evan understood exactly what Tommy meant. Maybe not in the same way because their fathers were very different. It all came to how they could both agree how good of a father Eddie was in comparison. Not perfect, prone to mistakes, but still a good dad. Chris would come to that conclusion again one day. 

“I think I was hoping for something good to happen tonight,” Evan said as they headed towards the kitchen. 

“Hmm,” Tommy said, “that could still be arranged.” 

Evan laughed and let Tommy grab hold of his hips and pull him closer. He was never going to get enough of Evan. He leaned towards Evan and Evan met him in a kiss, their lips slanting together in what was becoming very familiar but not lacking in how amazing it was. Evan pressed himself even closer together and before Tommy knew it, his back was against a kitchen counter and Evan’s hands were under his shirt inching up slowly, torturously. 

It was a revelation, to know how eager Evan was, to know how much Tommy was wanted by him. He’d been more than a little cautious about how Evan would take to more than kissing, but any fears had been unwarranted. Evan threw himself right in with curiosity and enthusiasm that made up for the places where he lacked experience.

They made it, somehow, up the stairs and to Tommy’s room, clothes getting discarded as they went and then Evan crawled onto the bed, eyes blown wide and his lips parted enticingly as he looked at Tommy. 

“Want you,” Evan said. “Want to feel you.” 

And how could Tommy say no to that? 

[herald-divine-hell]

I do want to point out, I am still very excited for DA:TV, but I’m also heavily disappointed with the lack of actual customization for the world state. How exactly is the Inquisitor act when their personality can differ due to the more diplomatic, sarcastic, and aggressive options of DAI? We have waited ten years to hear back about the characters we love, and have two perfect individuals to give us information about them—Varric and Harding—and yet we are only getting three options? Seriously? Say what you will with the Keep, but I honestly thought it was pretty well crafted all things considered. Sure it might not have too much impact to DA:I’s story, but it still was a neat way to keep track of characters and things you done. Hell, the Keep updates your Inquisitor (I would know I have thousands of Alexandra’s and Amayian’s because of it) so why not just use that then? Idk. I just think what BioWare gave us is too limiting, especially with poltitical and religious impact the Inquisitor had on southern Thedas.

[azalawa-scroggs]

About Eddie Fender and why he was a dick to Miles

I first started this post in response to something, but it got so long I decided against inflicting it on OP. This is very long and very meandering and the form is kinda weird, as a warning. It's also kinda spoilery for Ace Attorney Investigations 2.

When we first start playing AAI2 and are introduced to "Ace Attorney Eddie Fender," it's true he doesn't come across as very likeable. The first thing he says to Miles is basically "Oh, look! Here comes Manfred von Karma," and the game happens three years after the truth about DL-6 came out. That's incredibly low, very petty, cruel even. He does start off as a dick to Miles, unfair on him until he gradually realises he isn't as bad as he thought, and as he starts warming up to Miles we start warming up to him.

But also... I kind of get it.

Like... Imagine you're 19 years old. Your boss just died in a sudden and shocking murder. You inherit the law firm even though you haven't even passed the bar yet. You're grieving as you keep working hard to become an attorney, now without the guidance you used to have. Maybe you even blame yourself a little - after all, you worked on that case too, you were likely there for the trial, you left both Edgeworths to take that elevator by themselves. Had things played out differently you would have been there, too.

Did you think of your boss's son, in the middle of this whirlwind? Probably a little, but you're a 19 year-old law student. You're nowhere near a suitable place in your life to even think about fostering a kid. Besides, Gregory Edgeworth was your boss. Someone you greatly admired and whose death you will never stop mourning, but still just your boss.

(It's unclear how well Eddie knew Miles. Enough for Miles to recognise him instantly, but certainly not as close as Miles and Phoenix were.)

You take it on yourself to continue the work he left behind, to help the clients Gregory can no longer help. For ten years you try your best to uphold the reputation and the values of his firm and name, and every day you witness a little more how corrupt the system really is.

Then, one day, you start hearing about this young new prosecuting upstart. Passed the bar at 20 and already has the legal world in his pocket. Rumours of forged evidence, backstreet deals, manipulated witnesses. Not only is that just like the whole lot of them, the tactics you became so familiar with over the years - no, it sounds painfully, specifically familiar to that one long, drawn-out case, the last one you worked with Gregory. It turns out the young prodigy is the student and protégé of Mr. Perfection himself, the man who never lost a case in thirty-five years, even though he should have lost against you ten years ago if the world was even a little fair. You would hate the boy for that alone, but on top of that he's also the son of the mentor you lost, the son of the man you both used to admire so very much.

And that hurts. That none of Gregory's legacy lived on in his son. That this sweet, kind boy, who Gregory always used to worry about not making any friends, became a parody of all they used to despise.

Perhaps you even get to see him. You catch a glance of him in the courthouse corridor as he passes you by without so much as a nod to acknowledge you, or you stumble upon a picture in the same paper that struck Phoenix Wright so deeply. You see that damn suit. That damn smirk. That damn waggly finger. His features may have something of Gregory but everything in him screams von Karma. He's spent a decade trying to shape himself into him, and it shows.

Prosecutors are a privileged bunch, and the Edgeworth kid grew up into a downright brat. Entitled. Rude. Arrogant. Obsessed with his fucking perfect record. You hear he goes around cutting the salaries of detectives that make a tenth of what he does and insulting the opposing counsel in court. He became the worst of them all, taught by the worst of them all, he is everything Gregory fought against and everything you hate

Why would you want to associate with that? Why would you ever think he is not perfectly fine where he is, with his cushy office and his cushy sports car and his doubtlessly cushy pay?

A couple years later you hear he's been arrested for murder. Maybe you follow the trial, maybe you only see the headlines after everything, after DL-6 is finally solved. Honestly, that's when you start having a reason to reach out. When, had you been less embittered and jaded by the thanklessness of your job, you might have wondered what it was like for him to grow up in the shadow of his father's murderer. You might have been stricken with compassion and horror at the thought of fifteen years spent in crushing guilt, believing he killed the father he used to love so much. You might have empathised, despite your contempt for von Karma, with how his ward might feel to be so cruelly betrayed, thrice over, by the man who raised him since he was nine, who taught him everything before throwing him away like a piece of used junk.

But you still think of how he was like a son to von Karma, of how he got to spend fifteen years in wealth, following a shiny, easy, corrupt new path while you grieved and desperately tried to keep the pieces of your shared dream together. You think of how uneasy Gregory seemed with the idea of von Karma as a teacher, you think of how eager Miles seemed to follow in his footsteps and how much Gregory would have hated it. You think of the many defendants this boy callously condemned with barely a thought, just like his mentor. Of how he may not have his father's blood on his hands, but with the way he acts you'd think he had his murderer's in his veins. And you really, really don't want to deal with any of that.

You think, somewhat unfairly, that maybe Miles ought to have seen it coming. It's not like it's much of a secret that Manfred von Karma is a piece of shit, and good riddance to him.

Three years later, you actually have to interact with him again. It's been 18 years since you last saw him in his father's shadow, looking at him like he hung the stars in the sky, back when everything was so simple for the three of you. It's been 3 years since the truth about his oh-so-esteemed mentor was uncovered. He still wears the cravat. His brow is still furrowed, his eyes are still piercing.

But slowly, begrudgingly, you talk to him. You start realising he actually has some honour to him. That he's not really the Demon Prosecutor the papers made him out to be, that maybe you misjudged him a little bit, in you grief-stricken, angry bitterness. That maybe he can be trusted, after all, with his father's legacy.

Why would you think he ever needed saving?

[suzukiblu]

"New WIP" Not-Wednesday: "Hurt/Comforting the Author's Own Damn Ass" Edition

So like . . . for reasons I'd prefer not to talk about just now, today is a just a very awful and sad day for me, so I'm gonna just . . . make this lil' post here, yeah. Just gonna do that! Meaning I have some niche little new fic concepts I wanna play with that are, like, INTENDED to end up as short little one-shots, and I am emotionally in a fucking PLACE right now, so fuck it, we ball and I am gonna INDULGE.

Rules: Send me an ask with the title of one of the story pitches listed below, and I will write you at least three sentences in said story. Multiple requests are fine, just please send them in separate asks; just easier for me to fill and better for flow of reading through the WIP tag later.

Robin gets nested: One of those delightfully tropey omegaverse fics wherein an emergency situation/rogue attack in Gotham results in a feraled-up Robin finding a pup on the streets and things progressing from there. Which Robin? What pup?? That is a mystery to be uncovered, friends!!!!

Bart breaks a timeline: Specifically, Bart breaks THAD'S timeline and ends up with sort-of-custody of a very small and very weird vengeance-clone who operates at a completely different speed from him, and now he has to explain that to people. Including, uh. Thad.

Jon gets cloned and is not okay about it: What it says on the tin. Jon gets cloned and said clone comes out about as "finished" as Kon did. Specifically, about the age Jon SHOULD be in comparison to everyone else right now. Everyone is totally, totally normal about this. Fully, totally, ENTIRELY normal.

be the person your dog thinks you are: Match gets forcibly adopted, much to his own disgust. By Krypto the Superdog.

two-thirds more: Just . . . this tweet, but with de-aging and very, very small superheroes. That's it, that's the pitch.

[toh-aus-coven]

Philip's Story is an Adoption Story... Here's Why That Matters

A few disclaimers before we dive in...

Binary thinking is discouraged here; adoption and its themes are complicated and nuanced. Multiple truths can exist.

This is one perspective and this analysis comes from being in community with adopted/orphan people, research, and misc experience

"Adoption adjacent" includes adoptees/orphans/foster kids (these three groups often overlap in various ways that will be elaborated on)

Please engage with this post in good faith. I know non-adoptees can experience things listed in this post however, there is a different context that underlies the experience of those adopted/adjacent. And of course, I'm not trying to make generalizations either... It's just that the narrative is more complicated than a lot of people want to admit.

Sound good? Let's proceed. THIS POST IS GOING TO BE A BIT LONG!

At the core of Belos/Philip's story is an 'adoption' story. And it's all because of this particular line:

I know what you're thinking "But isn't being an orphan different from being adopted?" Yes, and within the media in particular, adoptee and orphan stories overlap heavily-- in fact, it's almost a circle (although due to his background and his time-period, he'd probably be taken in by someone given the boys' age of their arrival). It’s about the experience of parental separation which is what connects adoptee and adjacent people. So while Philip is not adopted, he is adoptee adjacent and that still matters. Concerning media and the way adopted/orphaned characters are portrayed, it's often presented in a very binary manner. Most people's knowledge of the subject comes from other people's perception of it rather than adopted/orphaned people themselves. And to a degree that makes sense... These stories are often ABOUT [adoptees/adjacent people ] without INCLUDING them. Adoption themes are incredibly pervasive throughout literature, TV/movies, video games, and other media. It's not inherently wrong to have an adoption-related storyline, plot, or character but most people don't do it in a way that is humanizing and avoids common pitfalls within the storytelling.

There's a quick impulse to call Philip 'evil' and 'irredeemable' without actually understanding his character... and when you view him through an 'adoptee-centered' lens his behavior makes a lot of sense. The fact the show treats this specific fact about the character as a plot device rather than something that could be explored is a tiny bit insulting. They only mention it in the exposition which kind of implies that this detail is meant to explain Philip's deep attachment to his brother. Which yes, it does and TOH leaves us hanging -- or actually they just tell us that this man is evil and call it a day.

Which leads me into one of the biggest pitfalls that the show uses for Philip-- he's framed as just evil. The trope of good/bad adoptee/adjacent character is a pretty common see -- even within the same piece of media. If we're going to use TOH we can look at King's character -- King, a young main protagonist who is the last living son of a god. King is young, cute, 'exceptional', has special abilities, etc (there are issues with King's portrayal as well but this post isn't about him). This is an issue because adoptees/adjacent people are more than a reductive good/bad label. Same with concepts such as 'gratitude' -- being grateful or not grateful when the real answer can be a lot more complex than that. It's a binary question that can be a complicated answer. We're the picture-perfect heroes or the irredeemable villains-- nothing in-between.

Taking this into consideration, when we look at Philip you start to see someone who's not 'evil'; you begin to see a man who is coping with separation trauma and abandonment issues. This is unfortunate to hear but research tells us that adoptees are 4x more at risk to 'self-exit', 2x at risk to have substance abuse issues, and generally more likely to be diagnosed with mental health disorders (obviously every individual is different but when talking about adoption many people tend to ignore these types of statistics in favor of more 'positive' ones). 'Negative' aspects that many adoptees/adjacent people experience or try to talk about are often dismissed or worse, they are gaslighted. When you look at Philip and his characterization you see these behaviors in a different light such as:

His attachment/abandonment issues (Caleb, this one doesn't need any elaboration; EDIT- gonna elaborate anyways lol). To be honest Philip shows a lot of symptoms of Borderline Personality Disorder. The hallmark of the disorder is a fear of abandonment — and BPD often stems from childhood trauma. Interestingly enough it’s not uncommon for adoptees (in particular women; there is a misogynistic component to this but i digress) to get a BPD diagnosis. And given that the show portrays Philip in a very stigmatizing way… you can see why this isn’t great…

Difficulty regulating his emotions ('the curse' seems to come out when he's emotionally escalated)

'Substance' use (the palismen; he seems physically reliant on them and they don't benefit him in any way besides sustaining his life. also, he looks like he's huffing something when he consumes one Side note: Some people think that Philip deserved to 'be cursed' (which is a side effect[?] of the consumption) since he “cursed himself”... super not great for adoptees/adjacent people we’re already a misunderstood group of people and it's not uncommon to get insulted or blamed when trying to have a nuanced discussion or share experiences.

His sense of self seems unstable... Most of his identity hinges on his brother, not himself (ex. being a witch hunter, the use of the gravesfield coat of arms for the emperor's sigil, the coat he wears, his name-- Philip Wittebane, etc)

There's a bunch of emotional stuff I would have to guess would be true but they'd more fall under theory or headcanon

It's not that he is 'evil' he is in pain and he is blamed for that. Obviously, he doesn't make productive choices and he does bear responsibility for the harm he caused and he is a creation of his environment. He had to hate to survive. This is where 'this and' can come into play... For many adoptees, we have feelings of not belonging -- even more so for transracial adoptees (those adopted/fostered into homes of a different race than their own). Many transracial adoptees are raised in environments that are racially / ethnically homogeneous (from their own race) so it can be harder to 'fit in' and it can also cause someone to have a complex relationship with their racial/ethnic background when one is essentially assimilated into a community that they stick out of.

In mainstream society being adopted or 'orphans' is deemed to be a shameful thing... for instance, being adopted is often treated like a joke in comedy shows... and there's a problem to highlight here: because adoptee/adjacent are often seen as source material for STORIES we often view their experiences through the lens of A STORY rather than someone's lived experience. It is easier to view a particular thing as a story for entertainment when for someone else it is reality. While Philip is a fictional character many aspects of his behavior are very real and deserve understanding and empathy from real adoptees/adjacent people. We deserve to be more than stories with black-and-white roles and deserve to be seen in color. As full complex people.

Here are some resources if you're interested in learning more about adoptee-centered adoption perspectives:

https://adoptionmosaic.com/resources

https://sidebysideproject.com/11-short-films

http://adopteereading.com/overview/

https://harlows-monkey.com/

https://adopteeconsciousness.com/

this tedtalk is good too: https://youtu.be/jL4lnvQ1wVU?si=HpYASjvvOXnY2faX

Edit: https://youtu.be/Rz3ME8K_zW4?si=CpEQarRbe8VAUqAR (this documentary just came out and you may hear a certain basilisk/gem featured!)

[ssspideysense]

summary: peter knows a thing or two about yearning.

pairing: tasm!peter parker x f!reader

tags: coworkers, pining, alcohol, i’ve had this in my drafts forever

wc: 2.7k

He listened to the jingle of your keys clutched in your unsteady hand. A graceless windchime, a temporary distraction from the heat of your skin through your clothes on his palm. And maybe even worse– from the smell of your perfume, sweet and fresh, mixed dangerously with the alcohol on your breath.

You were drunk. Past buzzed, past tipsy, you’d downed probably two or three too many drinks from the open bar at the company party, but that’s okay. You deserved to have fun.

Peter had his eye on you all night anyways, turned just the right angle in every conversation he half-assed his way through to keep you in his peripheral vision.

Normally Peter didn’t attend work events like this one. He was busy enough, tired enough to generally not care about his day job’s extracurriculars, but this evening was different— mostly because he overheard you chattering to a coworker about it last Tuesday.

You hemmed and hawed about whether you’d be attending or not: your first Bugle event, someone’s retirement party, some higher up whom you’d never met. “But there’s always free booze and fancy finger food,” your coworker had promised, which made you pause and hum to yourself.

“Eh… I might go. We’ll see.”

And despite himself, he hoped you would. It’d be the perfect loophole to this dilemma he’d put himself in a handful of months ago when you first started at the Bugle, when he first met you.

So, he went. And, thank the stars, so did you.

He didn’t know where you lived before that night, but he found it a little funny, standing in the hallway while you finally pushed your front door open. He’d swung over your building often during his nights out in his suit, and now, you were clumsily pulling him into the cool air of your dark, quiet living room. Peter tried not to trip over his own feet (or yours, for that matter), and reminded himself that you were the intoxicated one, and he needed to get it together, for both of your sakes.

He couldn’t help the grin on his face. “Careful,” his hand caught your arm in the darkness, steadying you. “I think your new limit of vodka cranberries has dropped to… hm, three? I think that’s pretty reasonable.”

You gave him a little scoff, attempting to peel off your shoes while hanging onto the wall. “Shut up— it’s just dark,” you replied. And it was, but you knew that wasn’t the only reason, nor was the alcohol in your system.

It wasn’t hard to notice Peter’s eyes on you earlier in the evening. Plenty of your coworkers had shown up to the rented venue, but the place wasn’t packed. You spotted Peter leaning by a pillar, chatting with someone that worked on a different floor than the both of you. There was a moment of eye-contact, a soft smile from you, then him, but then your attention was drawn away by your friend at your side.

As far as you knew, Peter Parker was a bit elusive around the office and often made himself scarce, but the few times you’d been caught in the elevator together or had to collaborate on some project or another were always pleasant. He was polite, with a nice smile and warm brown eyes.

… and really, really nice hands, you realized once you flipped the hallway light on. His fingers were long and slender and your eyes followed the prominent veins raised up under his skin.

He was just about to pull away when your hold slipped on the wall, jostling you forward a bit. “Woah— alright, maybe two vodka cranberries,” he chuckled, and it did more to you than you’d ever admit while sober.

“Stop making fun of me,” you lamented, laughing despite yourself, “you’re supposed to be helping me.”

“I am helping you.”

“Does your help always come with sassy commentary?”

Peter made a sound halfway between surprise and amusement. “Sassy? I prefer witty, or maybe charming.”

You plopped yourself down on the bench in the entryway. A groan slipped out from your lips and you threw your head back, managing to not knock your head despite the dramatics. “I’d prefer if you got these damn shoes off of me before I lose it.”

He shook his head, but he was already kneeling down to the hardwood. The itty bitty buckled strap around your ankle gave him a hard time for a second, and a little huff of humor puffed out from his chest, “did you need me to make your bed, too? Check under your mattress for a pea?” Peter mused. With one shoe now slipped off, you lifted your other foot up. Automatically, his head lifted a bit, his gaze traveled up your shin, over the long stretch of smooth skin, all the way to the hem of your dress shifted above your knee.

Shit.

“I think I can tuck myself in,” you rolled your eyes, “unless you’re feeling extra generous.”

There was a clock ticking somewhere in your apartment— it was what Peter chose to focus his reeling brain on after he quickly looked away and back to the task at hand. He cleared his throat lightly and worked on freeing your other foot. You more than likely weren’t really aware of what you were saying, or how hard it made his heart thump in his chest. It was fine. He’d get your shoes off and bid you goodnight and leave.

A soft sigh from you broke the thick blanket of quiet once the other shoe was off. Your feet hurt and you swore to yourself you wouldn’t wear them again for a while… even if they were cute. Reaching, your hand smoothed down your calf to your ankle, to the irritation mark from a couple hours of wear. You sucked a little hiss in through your teeth.

“You okay?” Peter’s voice was soft, softer than before, when he was teasing you.

“Yeah— I hate those things, they’re so uncomfortable. I wish they didn’t look so good.”

He found himself agreeing begrudgingly in his head.

You always looked good at the office. A pretty blouse usually tucked into some slacks, your hair effortlessly laid, your smile bright. Beautiful.

But sometimes you’d wear one of those skirts that made your legs look a mile long. You always looked good. At your desk, in the elevator, in the break room, at some old man’s retirement party, and now, sitting in your entryway, gazing down at him with a hazy sort of warmth in your expression.

His eyes settled on your fingers, the way they nursed over the little pinch point left by the tiny silver buckle. Peter gently held your ankle in his hand and a soft, feather light touch smoothed across your skin— you were so soft, like silk, he realized, with his gaze locked onto where his fingertips grazed.

Beautiful.

At some point earlier in the night, your friend skittered off in the pursuit of avoiding some guy from IT that she’d had a messy sort of fling with— you’d already heard all the drama, and didn’t blame her for leaving early, though you couldn’t resist ribbing her a bit before she left. “Maybe this is why we don’t sleep with our coworkers?” You mused, watching her down the last of her drink and stand up.

She shot you a glare with a toss of her hair over her shoulder. “Slut shaming now?”

“No, never,” you replied honestly, but still grinned at her. “Just curious about your selection. There’s not exactly a limited market of available, less complicated men to sleep with, y’know.”

Purse strap hooked over her shoulder, she let out a breath, a familiar and somewhat devious smile growing on her lips. “Oh, come on, like you’ve never thought about it before. Makes it more interesting, more exciting,” she said, and nudged your shoulder, “don’t knock it ‘til you try it.” And with that, she scampered off, leaving you with your drink and your thoughts.

Peter had noticed when your friend left— mostly because of the distinct lack of your laughter now from across the room. The shift was intriguing, to say the least. Not ten minutes prior were you giggling up a storm and bantering and sharing little stories, but when he looked over at you again, you were quiet, idly sipping from your glass while scrolling through your phone. Peter couldn’t help but chuckle a little, hiding it under a strategic nose scratch. The conversation he was barely a part of continued around him without missing a beat.

He didn’t come to stare at you from a distance all night, but he couldn’t exactly see himself actually approaching you with anything interesting enough to say. Every scenario that passed through his head while he watched your lips nurse the black plastic straw felt so cheesy, so cringe-worthy.

Hey, I noticed you when I walked in, not because I specifically looked for you, or anything. Now that you’re sitting here alone, I’m sure you appreciate some guy coming up and trying to talk to you out of nowhere. I’m Peter, by the way, because I honestly don’t expect you to remember my name, even though you’ve worked a few desks away from mine for three months now. And, yes, I’ve been keeping track.

Yeah, right. He had an hour so far to think of some sort of game plan, but he couldn’t bring himself to focus. It was probably a lost cause anyways. You were way out of his league.

He was just about to shift back to the group of men he stood with, but then, you looked up. Right to him, like you knew he was already there, already looking at you.

And you smiled again, a radiant sort of smile that twisted his insides.

“I’m gonna grab a refill,” he muttered out loud, as if anyone around him would notice if he slipped away, before his legs started working on their own.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of him now, knelt down before you, his calloused hands ghosting almost reverently on your leg. Your sweet, polite, somewhat aloof coworker Peter Parker, making goosebumps raise so easily with just a few simple touches. The swirl of tingly heat that tickled your insides almost sent a shiver down your spine.

Slowly, you pulled your own hand back to rest on your knee, and Peter’s fingers traced up to the sore spot you were just worrying over.

It was suddenly so quiet— you figured he could hear your heartbeat, after accepting the fact that he probably heard the way your breath caught in your throat, too.

Peter gently pressed his thumb into the little indented line that encircled you from the ankle strap. He lightly began to knead around the area, massaging, all in the faith of aiding blood flow, of course. Just because he was helpful, of course. He swallowed quietly.

“Does, ah… how’s that?” Peter asked, his voice low, and you sucked in a breath through your nose when he looked up at you. “Feel… better, at all?”

He had those big brown eyes and those stupid long eyelashes that some guys were needlessly blessed with. Casually, helplessly good looking.

Your legs shifted just slightly as you held his gaze, thighs pressed together. “Mhm,” you breathed out, “yeah, that feels nice.” There was probably more to be said, but you couldn’t bring yourself to find the words with a brain like mush and your tongue so suddenly heavy in your mouth.

It was his turn to suck in a breath. “Yeah?”

Warmth radiated from your face. Booze, hormones, whatever— your pulse was giddy, an ache quickly creeping up between your thighs. His voice was so soft, just a little rasp to it. Slowly, you nodded, your tongue darting out to wet your lips.

Alcohol rarely had any sort of desired effect on Peter, and that night was no different, but he ordered another anyway, because he couldn’t just turn around and high-tail it out of there now. Not when he watched you watch him walk over and lean his forearms onto the bartop so casually, as if he knew what he was doing.

Your gaze flickered over him without trying much to hide it— he looked good, though he usually did day to day in the office, too. But tonight his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his hair was a little bit messy and you caught the subtle shift of his eyes over to you once he was given his drink.

“Fancy seeing you here,” you mused without thinking, the little plastic straw sitting between your lips.

Peter turned to you as if he hadn’t been acutely aware of your presence the entire night. “Likewise,” a light grin grew on his face, “are you having fun yet?”

The way your eyes settled on him, hedged by such long, curled lashes— something kicked around in his chest. “Are you kidding? I entered the raffle and everything. Here’s hoping I go home with that bluetooth toaster,” you hummed.

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “What, so you can preheat from your garage?”

“A win’s a win, isn’t it, Parker?”

Despite your friendly demeanor, a sense of slight surprise washed over him when you said his name. Surprise and, embarrassingly enough, a sense of warmth. “Yeah, s’pose so. Can’t say I wouldn’t be at least a little jealous,” he sipped his drink just to busy his awkward mouth.

Your amusement sparkled in your eyes. “Yeah? Jealous of me and my thousand dollar toaster?” The giggle that slipped from your lips was enough to make his heart thump against his ribcage. Hearing it up close was infinitely better than picking it out from a crowd. “Maybe I’ll let you borrow it some time,” you said.

“How humble and gracious of you,” his smile crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“I’m nothing if not humble and gracious.”

You kept your eyes on him as you sipped from your straw, and he couldn’t look away if he tried. “I dunno, I think there’s at least a few more words to describe you. Like, ah… funny, charismatic,” Peter paused, watching you swallow, “and, um, pretty— ah, beautiful. Just to… just to name a few.”

He looked down to where his fingers gently rubbed slow little circles into your skin, just above your ankle. There wasn’t enough air in your entryway anymore. Not in a claustrophobic sort of way— more like he was suddenly aware of how close you were, how heavy your gaze was on him from your perch on the bench, how hot his breath fanned over your bare skin.

It’d be so easy. So, so easy to just… lean down, press his lips to your shin, pepper a trail up to your knee, gently ease your legs apart… he could smell you, in the moment, not just in his imagination. The light musk of arousal mixed so dangerously with your sweet aroma.

Fuck. He shouldn’t be doing this.

Up, up, his hand smoothed up the back of your calf just slightly, before he gave a gentle squeeze and pulled his hands away. “Right,” Peter stood and straightened, clearing his throat again. He had to avoid eye contact. He wasn’t sure he could handle whatever expression you were giving him at the moment. “You’re home safe, heels are off… it’s getting pretty late, so… you should probably head to bed and prepare for the worst hangover ever tomorrow,” he said, trying to keep his voice light, punctuated with an airy chuckle.

Your eyes followed him as he stood. One hand shoved into his pocket, the other ran through his messy hair. A twinge of something like disappointment clenched at your stomach. “Right,” you mirrored him, both of your bare feet on the ground now.

And you both just looked at each other like that for what felt like forever. You, gazing up at him, and Peter, with his head tilted down at you.

There was so much he wanted to say, but none of it would leave his throat, so he settled for a smile and a little nod. “Yeah… um, goodnight. I’ll… see you at work, yeah?”

God. Way to go. Completely fumbled everything.

But, after a beat or two of quiet, you smiled back. Soft, warm. Your eyes flitted over his face, the stubble along his jaw and the little secret worry line between his brows.

“Yeah.” Your heart pattered in your chest. “Goodnight, Peter.”

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Hiii! Do you think Harry stopped growing at 17? If he was as tall as James in DH I would imagine he was taller than his father. I have three brothers and my family is full of male cousins and they all had growth spurts after 17. I could see him growing another couple of inches after the war. His mind and body is finally at peace after 16 years. I always hc him to be 6’0-6’2 at the age of 21.

As far as Harry being scrawny… aren’t most teenage boys? My brothers were into sports and didn’t get into the gym until they were done with high school. With the profession he’s in I would assume fitness would be a requirement for the role. Yeah, you have a wand but what if it breaks or you lose it? He has a huge target on his back having defeated the darkest wizard of all time, and I can’t imagine him not learning how to physically defend himself and his loved ones. I don’t see him a huge buff gym junky, but I do see him as someone who has a lean athletic figure and someone who concentrates more on leg day than arm day. I think going to the gym would be an escape for him and help him decompress. I know the hp world prefer a shorter skinny hero (probably because of Daniel Radcliffe) who looks like an underdog, however every underdog grows up and barely anyone has the same physique as their teenage self.

Honestly, all this differs a lot with genetics. Harry's growth spurts in the books reminds me of my younger brother. Like, my brother was like 5'2 at 15, then, in like, one month near his 16th birthday, he grew to 5'10 and when he was around 19 he grew again by two inches. So, Harry could definitely still grow taller, but we don't really have a way to know.

Like, men can still grow in height until their late 20s, and it's possible James didn't even finish his growth since he died at 21, so he might've grown even taller if he survived to 25. Like, that's possible. I just don't really have evidence for or against besides saying, yes, it's possible, but I wouldn't call it likely since it's highly individual and based on genes. Like, I know guys who stopped growing at 16 and have been stuck at the same height since then. I also know guys who are 25 and still grow taller. It's the magic of genetics.

Muscle mass, physique, and the ability to gain weight are also heavily dependent on genetics and age. Men in their teens and early 20s usually have a much higher metabolic rate, which keeps them lean regardless of how much they eat (again, genetics play a big role here and this isn't true for everyone). Physical activity like Quidditch, would make the already fast metabolism faster. This naturally fast metabolism, combined with certain genetic makeup, can leave you looking lean regardless of how much you go to the gym as well. Some men need to reach their mid-20s before they can actually start gaining the weight necessary to appear buff.

I think Harry would look less lean as he got older. Like, I can hardly imagine a Harry in his mid to late 30s being as lean as 16-year-old Harry. I think his physique will change as he grows, as happens to most people. But I agree with you I don't see him as a super buff gym dude at any point in his life. He's always on the leaner side in my head, but this is all in headcanon territory since it isn't covered by the books.

I would like to add that all the super short and scrawny descriptions of Harry come from the first 4 books when these descriptions are correct. In book 6 Harry is thin, but no one describes him as a scrawny boy with knobbly knees past book 4. Not even he himself. So I definitely see Harry of the final 3 books as more lean than scrawny.

And yeah, you're right about Radcliffe messing up everyone's mental image of Harry, both in looks and personality. It's one of the things that bother me most about the movies. And, everyone can headcanon whatever they want, but I personally don't like short Harry (when he's older, when he's 14, make him short). It's not his canon character and when writers write him short, it's sometimes accompanied by him being written as too passive and meek for my liking because Harry James Potter is not passive or meek. (Radcliffe Harry in the movies is much more passive, hence the skewed mental image I mentioned, but I digress).

Besides, while malnourishment and food intake could affect one's growth, people tend to overlook the 6 years of Hogwarts and Molly's food which would be a huge boost during his puberty years in which he's having most of his growth. Additionally, some people's food intake matters less to their physical development than others — again, I can't stress enough how specific genetic makeup is super important in all this discussion.

TL;DR

Harry might grow taller to be 6' or 6'2. We don't have any evidence for or against really, so it's up to your preference on what you want to headcanon. But it's definitely super possible. If Lily was taller than the average it would even be likley (but I couldn't find any notes on Lily's or Petunia's height). In the books, he is very lean, and it's a combination of a lot of different factors working together: his lifestyle, genetic makeup, and yes, being a teenage boy with the fast metabolism that comes with it. As Harry grows up, he'd probably want to stay fit, but to what degree is also in personal headcanon territory (I personally don't like him becoming an Auror, but that's my preferred headcanon. I still see him staying pretty fit out of paranoia, sort of. I mean, he spent all his teenage years with a Damocles sword over his head. He literally died. I think he's allowed to be a little hypervigilant after that. I mean, he already is, but you get the point).

[bballlvr8]

COVENTRY — UConn women’s basketball star Azzi Fudd knew there would be challenges when she suffered a season-ending ACL tear just two games into her junior year, but she wasn’t prepared for the snowy sidewalks in Storrs.

Recovering from surgery at her family home in Arlington, Virginia, wasn’t easy, but it was straightforward. Her parents brought her meals down to her bedroom. She could hobble up the short flight of stairs to spend time with her younger brothers. When she returned to Connecticut, Fudd was confronted by the reality that even walking to and from her car would be hugely difficult.

“Trust me, I had my moments. … When I went back to campus, I only had one in-person class but I still had class, and it was snowing,” Fudd said with a chuckle. “Even just from outside to the gym is still a 20-foot path with snow, and at that point I was kind of walking, but it was very awkward. It was just a bunch of little things that I didn’t think would be an issue.”

Fudd tore her right ACL and medial meniscus during a practice on Nov. 14, 2023, days before the Huskies played their third game of the season at home against Maryland. She underwent season-ending surgery in early December. The former No. 1 overall prospect in the class of 2021 has played just 40 games over three years at UConn.

Fudd’s days of struggling down the sidewalk felt far away though as she demonstrated a shooting drill she runs as part of her daily workouts for a group of enraptured attendees during her youth basketball camp at Coventry High School on Sept. 21. The release NBA superstar Stephen Curry once compared to Klay Thompson’s looks as smooth and automatic as ever as she moves from spot to spot, first in the midrange, then around the 3-point arc. She makes every single one — her mom, Katie, who helps run the camp, quips after a ball circles the rim before falling that it counts as a miss.

Fudd is quick to clarify though: She still can’t play. The redshirt junior still needs to clear a final set of tests with her doctors before she can participate in contact or game-speed activities at practice. Fudd knows she should appreciate how far she’s come, but the star guard feels herself itching to be back in the actual game, that last layer of limitation almost taunting her

“I feel like this has tested my patience in a different way,” Fudd said. “I feel really good and I feel like I could be, not playing 100%, but I could be doing more. But I’m taking my time and making sure that I’m perfecting the stuff that I am doing in the phase that I’m in before I progress to the next step, which I know it’s good for me. It’s very frustrating at times, but … it’s just reminding myself that I’ve been through this and I know it’s going to pay off.”

Fudd grappled with injuries throughout her previous two seasons at UConn — she missed 11 games with a nagging foot issue her freshman year, and 22 with an unrelated knee injury as a sophomore — but the pop in her knee last November was sickeningly familiar. Fudd knew exactly what an ACL tear felt like, because she had already experienced the injury. She tore the ACL and MCL, also in her right knee, during a USA Basketball U18 3×3 tournament in 2019 and missed her entire junior season of high school.

At 15 years old, Fudd remembers completely falling apart after doctors confirmed the severity of her injury. But when it happened again five years later, Fudd’s mind went straight to beginning recovery. She knew the pain she was about to experience, but she also knew what to expect from the lengthy rehab process. She came back from it once, and that gave her certainty that she could do it again.

“My first one I remember my car ride from my MRI, and I was just crying and crying the whole time. It was so bad,” Fudd said. “This one, I heard and it processed, and I was like, ‘Damn, okay. What’s next?’

“It’s been so completely different having been through it and knowing what to expect. Knowing how hard it is, but also knowing that I can handle it and I’m gonna overcome it has also been helpful.”

Though there were also two tears involved in Fudd’s last major knee injury, the meniscus tear slowed the healing process more dramatically than the MCL did back in 2019. Then she could throw herself into rehab almost immediately, but she spent weeks after surgery in Arlington unable to put any weight on the leg. Fudd said her saving grace during the early days of recovery was her family, so much so that it made her transition back to UConn for the spring semester more jarring than she expected.

“I was home for like a month, and first of all, I hadn’t been home for that long since probably COVID,” Fudd said with a laugh. “But they were everything I needed. My brothers, my parents, even my grandma who could barely keep herself together, they were all helping me with everything I needed … Going back to school was really rough for me. I didn’t realize how much my family was doing for me, and just the ease of going to see my PT guy and home and then coming home to get in my bed.”

But Fudd quickly found a new form of comfort in a band of teammates who were also grappling with the heartbreak of season-ending injuries and the grueling work of rehab. The team was fully healthy on the day Fudd tore her ACL except for redshirt freshman Jana El Alfy, who ruptured her Achilles at the FIBA U19 World Cup over the summer. By the time Fudd returned to campus in January, there were three more players sidelined for the year: Caroline Ducharme with head and neck spasms, Ayanna Patterson after patellar tendonitis surgery and Aubrey Griffin with her own ACL tear.

“I had an entire squad of injured people with me on the bench, which obviously is not what you want, but it was nice to know I wasn’t alone,” Fudd said. “I couldn’t imagine being the only injured person. Like we had our crippled powwow before games where we were just like man, we’re not playing. It could be the Final Four or some random Big East game, and we’re not out there. Just being able to feel that and be vulnerable with other people experiencing that goes a long way.”

thanks anon 💞

[stevie-petey]

first of all: the new chapter was AMAZING as always!! i know you are probably so so so busy with move in and classes starting and writing come home already, but i had a blurb idea (and it will obviously ALWAYS be dustin and steve interaction) of steve hanging out with dustin alone sometime soon after you get together, and them talking about it for the first time? it doesn't have to be any particular way i'm just SO curious what dustin's reaction was beyond the knee-jerk "ew you kissed my sister but also thank god because it took you long enough you moron"

stebe n dust <333

enjoy !

“you sure youre okay with driving dustin to mikes?”

steve rolls his eyes fondly at you. “yes, angel. its not even a ten minute drive. i can handle the kid.”

“i know. its just,” you bite your lip, unsure of how to voice what youre thinking. your brows scrunch together and steve thinks youre painfully adorable when youre overthinking. “its too hot for him to bike there, but you and i just started dating and dustin is… well. hes dustin.”

“you worried he’ll lecture me or something?”

“more like ask really invasive questions.”

steve laughs and kisses your hand, body leaning over the counter at your work. hes spent the entire days at bookstrordinary just to talk to you since scoops burned down. when he isnt job searching with robin, hes here with you.

“have some faith in me, y/n. im a big boy, i can take care of myself.”

you blink at him. “you cried yesterday when a lizard ran across your leg.”

“okay, thats entirely different. that thing looked at me with its beady little eyes and dared me to fight him.” steve shudders. “that thing was sentient.”

“youre really not making me feel any better about this, honey.” you groan, already dreading whatever your brother will say to him. youre sure dustin will somehow give the most bizarre, overly obnoxious yet endearing lecture known to man.

steve rolls his eyes again and grabs his keys, reluctantly pulling away from you. “i bet the kid forgot we’re even together now. relax, i’ll be back in no time.”

you call one last good luck to him before hes hone, leaving you alone in the store as the late july heat simmers the air.

at first everything is great. dustin is waiting for steve in the driveway and hops inside the car without any complaints. he turns the radio one and even smiles at steve.

but then, as dustin always does, he opens his mouth.

“i better not catch you sucking face with my sister.”

“dustin!” steve blanches, utterly mortified by what the boy has said. he almost veers off the road with how violently he cringes.

“im just saying! you two are weirdly touchy, and now that youre together, which by the way took you way too long to even do,” dustin looks pointedly at steve, who sighs. “i dont want you getting any gross ideas.”

the older teen rubs his face tiredly. he lasted three minutes. three blissful, quiet minutes. “good to know youre happy for us, then.”

dustin thinks for a moment. “well, i guess y/n could do worse. better than jonathan, at least.”

“thanks, dustin.” steve deflates, not at all believing the kid.

dustin recognizes the apprehension and he uncomfortably shifts in his head. he doesnt necessarily want to be all touchy-feely with the guy, but he also recognizes how much you love him. how good you and steve are together.

coughing, dustin looks out the window. he knows this is what youd want. “im happy she found you, steve.”

by now the wheelers driveway can be seen, but because steve is so startled by what dustin has confessed, he almost misses the turn.

clearing his own throat awkwardly, steve parks the car and looks at dustin. “you, uh. really mean that?”

“please dont make this any more unbearable.” the kid quips, leaning as far away from him as possible.

“right,” steve clears his throat again and unlocks the passenger door. he tugs at his seatbelt, needing something to do with his hands. “off you go, then.”

dustin quickly unbuckles his seatbelt and nearly falls out of the car in his hurry to leave. hes standing and about to walk away before he stops, turning around. leaving over the window, dustin lowers his voice. “hey, one last thing.”

steves voice catches in his throat, scared of where this is going. “yeah?”

ducking his head down, too shy to meet the other boys gaze, dustin finally says, “dont hurt y/n, alright? she-she really loves you. i know you love her, too. but shes… shes the best person in the world and im trusting you to be kind to her.”

“i…” steve stares at dustin, surprised by the sincerity in his voice and yet incredibly touched that hes being so vulnerable with him. to have your brother trust steve enough to be with you, to trust he wont hurt someone as selfless and soft as you, it means more to steve than dustin will ever know.

after years of being cruel to his classmates and growing up believing he wasnt worthy of anything gentle, steve cant believe hes being entrusted with you in his life.

it doesnt feel real, sometimes. being able to love you.

“i promise i’ll be kind to y/n,” steve says softly, meeting dustins eyes. its weird, being so delicate with the kid, but hes shared a lot with him, so its only fair steve does the same. “its because of her that im kind.”

“me, too.” dustin whispers. his eyes gleam, his mischievous smile is back. “guess we learned from the best, huh?”

steve laughs. “yeah, i guess we did.”

[daenerysaizie]

𐔌 . ⋮ REALM’S DELIGHT .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

MK1 x Targaryen!Reader

Note:

Game of Thrones concept included in MK 1. Even though, Game of Thrones is kanonically a show in the MK world (shown in the DLC), in this fanfic it’s not lol. Also, I will be changing plots and details for the both. Will get confusing as I’m not an experienced writer and yes :3 OH! You’re also basically Daenarys, sharing the look of classic Valyrian (only hair and eye color) and characteristics. If you don’t know anything about Game of Thrones, don’t worry I will explain it in the fic? But do realize it’s heavily rewritten so it’s not the same as the kanon one. Heavily inspired by “Kombat Hearts” by @ilykirara and “New Era” by @atlasofthestaars . I love this two fics so so much<3 female reader? But read however you like.

Chapter 1 — The beginning

All that was left of the mighty House Targaryen, was you.

You never fully knew about your family's history or the weight your name carried. Yet, you knew very few things. First, you have brothers, though their fate and whereabouts in this vast world are unknown to you. Second, your appearance sets you apart from others - unmistakably Valyrian with striking violet eyes and silver hair. These distinctive features easily made you other worldly, compelling you to dye your hair black and explain away your captivating eye color as a genetic defect. Third, you have one recurring dream. It depicts the demise of your family(your father to be exact), even though you weren't there in person to witness it. Fourth, it is nearly impossible for you to return home. Westeros (your birth continent) and Essos are hidden and barricaded from the rest of the world by some kind of magic. Above all, you are strictly forbidden from uttering your family name: Targaryen.

It was early in the morning, 5 AM to be exact, as you sat on your bed staring at the golden crown in your hands. It was the last thing you had that represented your family's existence and was evidence of your royal heritage. The crown had a large sigil of a three-headed dragon at its center, while seven smaller gems of different colors decorated the rest. You had the same dream again. At this point, you could recall every detail.

"BURN THEM ALL! BURN THEM ALL!" A hoarse, old voice boomed through the room. An old man with a long white beard and crazed eyes yelled, ordering his pyromancers (who used some kind of chemicals to start major fires) while he sat on the Iron Throne, a seat made from thousands of swords. The pyromancers hesitated. It was your father who sat on the throne, though you don't remember him being this crazed and paranoid. He continued to yell until one of his guards, a golden-haired man, drew his sword, stabbed him in the back, and slit his throat. The golden-haired guard watched your crazed father bleed to death as he sat on his throne, yet your father still whispered the same thing as he bled on the floor: "Burn them all."

You ponder if the dream was a real event or not. After all, you were never there to witness this event, and you were extremely young when you fled from home. Plus, the crown you had in your hands did not match your father's crown, the one he was wearing in the dream. What if it was a cruel joke your mind played?

"No use thinking about it," you whisper to yourself as you put away the crown into your nightstand's drawer. With one swift move, you get up to get ready for the day. After all, you had so much to do. You start your morning routine and change from your nightgown into more proper clothes for the day.

You lived with Madam Bo. She had taken you under her care since you were 10 years old. She taught you everything you needed to know, from tough love to combat. You remember the moment she brought you to Fengjian as clear as day. The night was as silent as death when she brought you to this quaint village. Her horse's gallops echoed through the stillness, bringing little bit of life to the sleeping village. She had you firmly seated in front of her on her horse, your hair skillfully concealed beneath her deep purple scarf. Madam Bo took great care to inform you of the local norms and the dos and the don’ts. She explained that your unique features, which were considered royal in Westeros and the Essos, would seem different and will be only met with curiosity.

Later on, you would come to realize that Westeros and Essos were left behind when it came to technological and societal advancement. While the rest of the world was progressing into an advanced society, Westeros and Essos remained firmly stuck in the 'Medieval era.' However, these two continents still held onto their magical traditions, something that the modern society had long since abandoned.

Through Madam Bo, you were able to meet Kung Lao and Raiden. "Thick-skulled boys," she would call them. Growing up, the three of you sparred, trained, and played together. Being homeschooled, Raiden and Kung Lao were diligent in ensuring that you didn't miss out on any fun experiences. After grueling training sessions, the males took turns to take you out for treats. In return, you helped them with various tasks around the farm. This included harvesting the freshly grown vegetables, a labor of gratitude from you. They were also vigilant in ensuring that no boys with ‘ill intentions’ ever bothered you with courting or whatever. Whenever you insisted you could handle yourself, they would respond with a confident "I know," followed by a statement that they knew even better because they were males. In retort, you would often ask, "In that case, should I be cautious of you two as well?" to which they would simply shut down.

Originally, you stayed with the Lin Kuei when you fled from home. The Lin Kuei's former Grandmaster knew your father personally. How? You didn't know. All you knew was that the Grandmaster was kind enough to lend a hand to your father and save his only daughter. "Do you know why you are here, little dragon?" He bent down to your 5-year-old toddler body. You gripped the golden crown to your chest. You had promised your second older brother, Aemond, to keep the crown safe until you returned home. "Home is dangerous." you replied as you looked at the Grandmaster. He had the face of a strict man, but deep in his eyes, you could see honor and kindness burn. He hummed as he nodded, "You will be safe here." he told you as he put his hand on your head. And you were, for 5 years.

Obviously, being in the clan, you were destined to meet the three sons he had. You became close to the youngest one, Tomas. He bore almost the same burdens as you and understood your pains and discomfort. Eventually, you got close to Kuai Liang too. He took care of you and guarded you away from the clan's considerably cruel side. However, as for Bi-Han, you never got the chance to get close. He was heir to his clan, making him busier than his brothers. To your memory, he was cold and strict, stricter than his father. The only vivid memory you have of him is him asking you how your hair and eye color were so... different. You could not give him an answer that satisfied his curiosity.

As you got older, you had to leave. According to the Grandmaster, the clan was not made for you; you were meant to live a life that was peaceful, not a life to become a skilled warrior. Thus, Madam Bo took you to the village where she resided. You would keep contact in with the Lin Kuei brothers through letters. Though, the last letter you got from was a year ago now.

—

The day went by rather quickly. From getting fresh vegetables and produce early in the morning to serving customers until closing time, the day went smoothly. Almost too smoothly. You sigh and hum as you watch your two friends put away food like vacuums, with Kung Lao doing most of the work as usual. It was amusing - how did his stomach not burst? It was superhuman, you swore. Soon, you saw Madam Bo approach the two with a massive bill in her hand. Poor Raiden and his wallet.

Despite closing hours arriving, a few drunken uncles from the village stayed behind. One made a mess on the bottom floor, which you had to clean up. You mopped the floor as the drunken man apologized. "Ahhhh, I'm sorry! Here, here, have this," he slurred his words as he handed you an unopened bottle of beer. You shook your head and refused his token of apology. You chuckled inwardly as you washed away the mess from the floor.

Suddenly, Madam Bo came down to the bottom floor and crashed into the table, breaking it. She was unconscious. "Madam Bo?!" you exclaimed in horror. The drunken uncles behind you seemed to sober up and stare. You looked up to see the culprit with wide eyes.

The man with very familiar hair jumped down to the floor, landing next to Madam Bo's unconscious body. He wore mask that covered his face. Your chest tightened as fear clouded your mind for her. You tried running towards her as the previously drunken guy, now sober from the shock, grabbed your wrist. "Are you crazy!? He's going to kill you!" he whispered as he tugged you, preparing to run. "Go" you whispered back to him. The once-drunken guy thought for a moment and let your wrist go when he saw your determined face. He dashed out of the place with a few other people. You still gripped the mop in your hand as the man approached you. He had grey hair that reminded you of Tomas from your childhood. Was it truly him? You hadn't seen the man for years!

"Surrender to the Lin Kuei! Or end up like her," he replied as he prepared his karambit, aiming it at you. It is him! Is this what the Lin Kuei does now? you thought anxiously. "I thought the Lin Kuei protected people from harm. I never thought you would stoop this low," you spoke calmly, with a hidden wobble in your voice. How could your childhood friend do this?

Kung Lao and Raiden shout your name from the floor above after taking out the other members of the clan. They try to go down to help you, but Bi-Han and Kuai Liang stop them in their tracks. "You interfere with Lin Kuei business. Leave, or face our wrath!" Bi-Han warns as he dramatically stands on the rooftop. Kuai Liang approaches the two with his weapon from behind, swinging it in the air. "Abandon Madam Bo and her? Not happening," Kung Lao replies. After his reply, Bi-Han launches himself at Raiden while Kuai Liang grabs Kung Lao, pulling him towards himself as he yells ferociously, "Get over here!"

Tomas slowly approaches you with his karambit, closing the distance between you two, as if he were a hunter and you were his prey. You contemplate your actions as you grip the mop tighter until your knuckles turn white. When the gap closes, he swings his karambit at you. You dodge his attack and use the tip of the mop to strike his stomach multiple times before hitting him hard on the head with the mop's end. He falls down. "No, it can't be that easy," you think to yourself as you look at his ‘unconscious’ body. Emotions surge through you the more you look at him, unsure how to feel, but you take the result for granted, leaving the mop near his head and running towards Madam Bo.

The noises around you seem to blur as you barely breathe. You gently turn her body to see her, and your hands shakily brush her face to sweep away the strands of her hair. "Madam Bo?" you whisper with great worry and fear. Soon enough, Kung Lao and Raiden come running down to you. They ask about your condition first before turning to Madam Bo. "Oh no. Is she—" Kung Lao is cut off when Madam Bo suddenly opens her eyes and looks at you three. "Dead? Not yet." You three can hear the playfulness in her voice as she stands up. You and Raiden are quick to help her, but she brushes away your hands as she swiftly lights up her cigarette. "Madam Bo, how are you—" Kung Lao gets interrupted again. Raiden points at the stairs, "Guys!"

"So, Madam Bo, are they ready?" A man comes down as he takes his hood off, revealing his glowing eyes and chiseled face that bears a small, proud smile. You notice it's the same man who caught your attention earlier today. Madam Bo was fondly standing at his table as she served him tea. You anxiously fidget with the ring on your middle finger. Raiden notices your fidgeting and gently takes your hand, holding it firmly with care.

Madam Bo stands in front as if to present you three. "These two are a bit thick in the head, perhaps... But they are ready," she says, referring to Raiden and Kung Lao. "However, I did not think my child would be included in the exam," she chuckles as she glances at you.

"His eyes are glowing," Raiden blurts out to Kung Lao, who is on his right side with you on his left, still holding your hand.

"I am Lord Liu Kang, God of Fire and Protector of Earthrealm," the man with glowing eyes introduces himself as he connects his hands together and folds his arms. In response, you gently let go of Raiden's hand to bow to the god. "God? Earthrealm?" Kung Lao asks with curiosity as Raiden observes the god, silently mourning the loss of contact with your hand.

"Madam Bo has been preparing you for this moment since you were boys. Today you have proven worthy of joining my champions," he explains further.

"This fight was a test?" Raiden asks. The god smiles and nods, "Of your ability and character, yes. Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, Tomas," he calls out to the Lin Kuei members. Bi-Han and Kuai Liang come down the stairs while Tomas, who was already on the same floor, stands up and positions himself behind the god.

"So these three aren't thugs?" Kung Lao asks suspiciously, eyeing them. You can only send an apologetic look to Tomas, who returns it with soft eyes.

"The Lin Kuei is a centuries-old clan dedicated to Earthrealm's defense," the god explains.

"You keep saying Earthrealm. Don't you mean Earth?" Raiden asks, confused. Madam Bo chuckles as you smile. You already possessed a little information of this topic. "You boys have so much to learn," she says.

"Earth is only part of Earthrealm. Earthrealm itself is one of many realms. Together they comprise the whole of the universe," the god explains, gesturing with his hands. "The realms can be fierce, bitter rivals. That's why we need champions to defend ours," Madam Bo adds. "The time draws near for the grand martial arts tournament between Earthrealm and the realm of Outworld. Held once each century, it allows each realm to demonstrate its strength. While our realms are at peace, there are Outworlders who would prefer us to be at war. Our victory in the tournament will... temper their zeal," the god concludes.

Madam Bo turns to the boys and partially to you, "I've taught you everything I can. You must finish your training with Lord Liu Kang," she informs them.

"More training? These three couldn't defeat us," Kung Lao asks skeptically. At his remark, Bi-Han scoffs audibly, which makes Madam Bo chuckle along with him.

"They were pulling their punches," she explains. You nod at her words as you remember the Lin Kuei being so formidable and strong. "Had we not held back, you would not have survived," Bi-Han says proudly and threateningly, stepping forward slightly. Lord Liu Kang blocks his way and interrupts him. "Come. The monks at the Wu Shi Academy await to continue your tutelage." The god offers the choice, which Kung Lao accepts without hesitation.

"And you, Raiden?" the god asks. Raiden hesitates, "Leave Fengjian? I'm needed here," he replies. Madam Bo steps in, "Earthrealm needs you, Raiden. You'll best serve the village by being one of its champions," she assures him. After considering for a moment, Raiden agrees to the god's offer with a simple "I understand."

"How about you? You have proven yourself to be worthy as well," the god turns to you as he utters your name. You, who had been silent the whole time, gape at his question. You point towards yourself, "Me?" you ask, to confirm. Madam Bo chuckles. "Come on! You heard the god. The three of us could train together like we always did!" Kung Lao says as he steps forward towards you as Raiden nods in agreement. You were unsure. "But I do not fight well and I cannot leave Madam Bo." you answer bluntly. At your words, Madam Bo chuckles as she pushes you towards the god by your waist. "Forgive me, Lord Liu Kang. As you can see, she is timid, obedient, and so humble. But she has the spirit of the dragon." she says. The god and everyone else only looks at you and awaits your answer. You sigh and nod, which earns a proud smile from Madam Bo.

"Excellent. I will join you soon. First, there are other champions I must gather," the god says.

—

Lord Liu Kang departed the tea house to gather his other champions with Kung Lao and Raiden shortly after him, to prepare for the Wu Shi academy.

The Lin Kuei stayed behind to clean up the aftermath of their physical test, during which you exchanged subtle glances with them. It had been over a decade since you last saw them, and they had transformed from boys into men, now towering above you easily. Their faces had become more defined and chiseled, contrasting the young boys you remembered.

“You dyed your hair.” Tomas remarks as he approaches you. You were setting the chairs upside down on the table to sweep any debris or broken objects. “Ah, I had to” you return his greeting with a warm smile and stand up straight. A moment of silence hangs between you, filled with the unspoken words and nostalgia.

“You and your brothers haven’t written for a year now. Why?” You ask with curiosity. As you ask about the lack of communication from the brothers, Tomas chuckles softly and explains, “Many more new initiates. How about you? You haven’t written to us as well,” He then turns it back on you, wondering why you haven't written either. You answer in a soft voice, your smile revealing a hint of melancholy. "Life hasn't changed much for me," you reply. "I didn't want to bother you or your brother."

Tomas can only hum in response and before you could speak. “We will leave” Bi-Han commands, followed by Kuai Liang, as he walks up to you and Tomas. You immediately bow to them in greeting, and Bi-Han responds with a nod. Kuai Liang, on the other hand, returns your greeting with a slight bow.

"It was lovely seeing you three again," you say, your smile lighting up the conversation. "I hope we'll meet more in the future." There was happiness in your voice as you express this sentiment, despite the awkwardness, it was still refreshing to be in their presence. Kuai Liang responds with a simple, but sincere "I agree." Bi-Han quickly guides his brothers and the members of the clan out of the tea house, after finish repairing.

As the repair work on the tea house concludes, you realize that the only task left is the chore of cleaning. With a sigh, you mentally prepare yourself for the tedious process of scrubbing and tidying up, accepting the fact that it's part of your responsibilities. Madam Bo helped you, as always.