#him and they have an actual conversation and he can see that hes actually the one treating serizawa like a child. and that hes like a shitt

[flowersforbucky]

i got it bad

logan howlett x reader (worst!logan x reader)

word count: 4.9k

summary/prompt: logan can't help that he has super hearing and overhears you - wade's seemingly sweet, shy neighbor - telling vanessa what you fantasize about doing to him. believing that you won't ever act on it, he takes matters into his own hands.

or - getting yourself off on logan's abs

warnings/tags: smut, 18+ only mdni, reader is afab, no use of y/n, logan's pov, porn with a little plot, male masturbation, teasing, nipple/breast play, some tit slaps, multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v, cream pie

Ever since Logan first met you, he hasn’t been able to get you out of his fucking head.

Which is really unfortunate for him, considering you seem indifferent to his existence.

Wade says that you're just an introvert, and that it takes you a while to get comfortable around new people, but after living across the hallway from you for the last few months, Logan is sure that you have no interest in him outside of simple, polite conversation whenever the two of you run into each other.

He first notices you from across the room when you enter Wade and Althea's apartment – his apartment now, too, he supposes. The small space is crowded, but you're impossible for him to overlook. He instantly recognizes you from the polaroid picture that Wade had showed him in the Void.

You’re greeted by Vanessa, who kisses you on the cheek and shoves a drink in your hand before dragging you over to where Logan is listening to Wade and Althea bicker about – what were they bickering about again? All he can focus on is the way your dress hugs your curves and the lipstick imprint that you’ve left on the champagne flute in your hand.

He needs to get out more. Go to a bar, get a job, maybe even try out one of those dating apps that Vanessa has suggested to him – something to get him out of this fucking apartment that he's stayed holed up in since arriving in this universe, because he should not be this flustered by a complete stranger.

“Earth to Peanut,” Wade snaps his fingers in front of Logan’s face. He barely processed anything Vanessa had said while she introduced you. Blah blah, neighbor, something something, lives down the hallway. “Jesus, did you get into the white powder under the floorboard? Your pupils are as big as saucers right now.”

“Oh, go easy on him, Wade,” Althea scolds. “It’s natural for pupils to dilate when looking at a pretty girl.”

The expression on your face matches how Logan feels – surprised, embarrassed, slightly mortified.

“You don't even know what she looks like. She could look like me for all you know,” Wade snorts.

“She brings me homemade cookies and she always smells good,” Al retorts. “I don't need to be able to see her to know that she's pretty.”

“Nice to meet you,” Logan finally speaks up with a forced smile. Leave it to his two roommates to make a simple introduction as awkward as possible. “And no, I am not high on cocaine,” he adds with a pointed glare at Wade.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Logan,” you return the sentiment with a chortle and shy smile. “And don’t worry, I never pay attention to anything Wade says.”

Yukio and her girlfriend with the long ass name that Logan has yet to memorize then walk up and gain your attention, leaving Logan wishing he could redo the entire interaction.

He spends the rest of the night hoping for an opportunity to talk to you again, and feeling disappointed when that doesn’t happen.

The next couple of months go similarly. He runs into you frequently – in the elevator, and the communal laundry room of the apartment complex, and when you’re both checking your mail at the same time.

You always greet him with a smile and ask the typical casual conversation questions – how he's liking his new job (he’s not, but he tells you it’s going fine), if Wade is staying out of trouble (no), and how Laura is doing (she’s doing great, actually), but it never progresses much past that.

As soon as the conversation starts to venture into more personal territory, you seem to shut down. You’ll make some excuse about having somewhere to be, wish him a good day, and then you’re gone.

He can’t help himself. He sees how carefree and talkative you can be with Vanessa and hell, even Wade – and he wants that. At least then he may feel a little less crazy for spending so much of his free time racking his brain for ways to get closer to you.

Maybe it’s because it has been so long since he’s had a crush on anyone, but sometimes he thinks he might be losing his mind with how often he thinks of you – your smile, your eyes, your scent, your voice, and the way that having a five minute conversation with you always leaves him feeling for the rest of the day.

That’s why when he’s walking to his apartment one evening, and hears his name come from inside your apartment, he stops dead in his fucking tracks.

God, he knows he shouldn’t listen. He knows he should keep walking, go into his apartment and close the door.

But it’s not like he has his ear pressed up against your door. It’s not his fault that he has super hearing and that the apartment building has paper thin walls.

His brain is yelling at his feet to move but they stay planted firm right where they are.

“He thinks you don’t like him, you know,” Vanessa says. Logan doesn’t need to be able to see to know that there’s a smirk on her face.

He’s tempted to cause some kind of commotion in the hallway and then dash into his apartment, just to stop Vanessa from saying whatever the hell she’s about to say.

“Logan?” You sound appalled. “Of course I like him.”

“I know that you like him,” Vanessa chuckles. “But I can see why he would think otherwise. You act like you can barely stand to be in the same room as the guy for five minutes.”

“That’s not true.” Your voice shoots up several octaves higher than normal.

Logan sends a silent prayer to whoever the fuck is listening that no one walks down this hallway in the next few minutes and sees him standing still as a statue next to your apartment door.

“It’s not that I simply can’t stand to be in the same room as him,” you continue, lowering your voice back down to its normal volume. “It’s that being in the same room as him makes me want to jump his adamantium bones.”

For a second, he really believes that his two hundred year old heart might stop beating.

“I’m fucking pathetic around him,” you huff. “Last week, I saw him pull his t-shirt off in the laundry room to put a clean one on, and ever since then I haven’t been able to stop thinking about grinding my pussy against his abs. Something is seriously wrong with me, Nes.”

But Logan doesn’t hear Vanessa’s response, because he speed walks away while she’s still cackling. By some miracle, Wade isn’t home, so Logan darts past Althea and locks himself in the bathroom.

What the fuck, Jesus Christ, and holy shit all play on a loop in his mind while he tries to ignore the bulge that has quickly formed in his jeans.

The last words he expected to hear anyone say today were jump his adamantium bones and grinding my pussy against his abs – but the fact that he heard those words come from your mouth in your sweet voice has his cock throbbing so hard that he can't think of anything other than you doing exactly what you’ve been fantasizing about.

Images of you straddling him with your bare, wet cunt rubbing against his happy trail, getting yourself off on his body as he plays with your pretty tits –

He let’s out an audible growl and rips the shower curtain open before turning on the water – straight to his normal hot temperature, too. He knows a cold shower isn't going to do him any good right now.

Standing beneath the hot stream, he thinks of what has transpired in the last five minutes and strokes himself in his hand until warm, white liquid follows the water down the drain.

When he finishes, he stills hears your voice in his mind and gets hard again within minutes.

••••••

Logan hasn’t seen you in three days. Three days might not seem like a long time to go without seeing your neighbor, but it feels like a long fucking time for him. In fact, it’s the longest he’s gone without casually running into you since he first met you months ago.

There’s a reason for this, though – he hasn’t checked his mail in days, hasn’t taken any of his laundry down to the basement in days, and has generally tried to avoid leaving his apartment as much as he can out of fear that he’ll see you. He even went as far as to pretend to be napping when you came by with some fresh baked brownies for Althea yesterday.

He wants to see you, of course. Goddamn, does he want to see you. But after overhearing your conversation with Vanessa earlier this week, he doesn’t know if he’s strong enough to look you in the eye and pretend like he hasn't been making himself cum to the thought of you on top of him every time he takes a shower.

But after three days, he finds himself missing you too much to keep up his attempt at distancing himself from you.

What if he’s being ridiculous, staying cooped in this apartment to avoid you? What if you’re just down the hallway, thinking about him at the same time he’s thinking of you?

He's tidying up the kitchen when he sees the pink Tupperware container that you’d brought the brownies in yesterday sitting in the sink. The brownies were long gone – they’d all been eaten by him, Wade and Al within the same hour that you brought them over.

Taking the Tupperware back to you would be the nice, neighborly thing to do, right?

With Al already retired to her bedroom for the evening, and Wade out with Vanessa, he takes it upon himself to wash and dry the container.

It’s a Friday night, so he knows there’s a chance that you’ve got plans and might not even be home, but he still takes a few minutes to fix his hair and swipe some deodorant on before walking down the hallway towards your apartment.

As he approaches your door, he realizes that you are home. There’s light spilling from the crack at the bottom of the doorframe and he can hear low music playing inside. A mix of anxiety and anticipation sets in, but he clears his throat and knocks on your door before he can chicken out.

He hears your footsteps approaching and attempts to wipe any sign of nervousness from his face – he’s just returning your Tupperware, for Christ's sake.

“Logan,” you breathe as you open the door. “I haven’t seen you in a few days,” you greet him. He can’t help but relax at the smile that grows on your face when you realize it’s him. “What are you up to this evening?”

You lean against your doorframe, and Logan has to force himself to maintain eye contact. You’re wearing a matching pajama set – a cute pair of velvet shorts and tank top that shows more of your skin than he’s ever seen before.

“I – uh,” he stammers, holding out the Tupperware container to you. “I just thought I’d bring this back to you. They were great, by the way.”

Your smile spreads to your eyes at his compliment.

“Oh, thanks,” you beam. “I’m glad you got to have one. Wade told me that you were asleep when I came by yesterday so I figured he’d have them eaten by the time you woke up.”

“I’m sure he would have, but Al made him save one for me,” he laughs.

He tries to focus on the conversation at hand, but the fact that you look fresh out of the shower definitely isn’t fucking helping. Bare faced with the scent of your body wash and lotion on your skin, his thoughts begin to stray into dangerous territory fast.

“I don’t wanna interrupt your night, though. I’ll let you get back to—”

“You’re not,” you say quickly as he begins to step backwards. “You're not interrupting. Are you doing anything tonight? I just ordered a pizza and there’s plenty. I was gonna watch a movie, if you want…” You trail off, glancing back and forth between him and your apartment behind you.

He can't help but notice that your voice sounds hopeful.

The invitation excites him more than he cares to admit. Sure, the two of you have hung out plenty of times, but it's always been in a group setting – at one of Wade’s get togethers or movie nights, surrounded by other friends.

But never just the two of you – definitely never in your apartment.

He could never think of saying no to you. Especially not when this is what he's been hoping for since he first me you.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'd really like that.”

You hold the door open for him, letting him enter your apartment. Right away, he notices how different it is from the one that he lives in. Then again, there’s three people cramped into Althea’s – you're the only person who lives here, so you're able to make it entirely your own.

It’s cute, and cozy, he thinks. From your furniture adorned with throw pillows and blankets, to all of your shelves stocked with books, knick-knacks and candles, to the various plants occupying space throughout the living room, it feels endearing and welcoming right away.

“So, where’s Wade at tonight?” you ask as he ventures into the living room. He notes a large cardboard box with an untouched pizza in it on your coffee table. His stomach growls at the sight, and it hits him that he actually is fucking starving.

“He’s out with Vanessa. Fourth time this week,” he answers, turning to find you retrieving two plates from a cabinet in your kitchen. You're angled away from him, and when you raise your arms to grab the plates, your tank top lifts enough to give him a clear view of your midriff. He quickly averts his gaze, pretending to find something on your bookshelf particularly interesting.

“I’m just really glad that they’ve worked through things and seem to be happy now,” you sigh. “He wasn’t in a good place after their breakup. Barely ever left his apartment for the longest time.”

“They’ve got something special, that’s for sure,” Logan agrees.

You hand him a plate, walking past him to your couch. You toss some of the decorative throw pillows to your recliner, making room for him on the sofa. You pat the empty space beside you, an invitation for him to make himself at home.

“Who knows, maybe they'll even get their own place soon and I won’t have to share the living room with him anymore,” he says as he sits down beside you.

It’s a pretty small couch – really more like a loveseat – so it’s a snug fit for the two of you. The skin of your exposed kneecap brushes against the fabric of his jeans as you lean forward to grab yourself a slice of pizza.

“Sounds like you just want Blind Al and Mary Puppins all to yourself,” you tease. You hand him a piece of pizza and close the box before propping your feet up on the table. You lean back, looking at him with a smirk and raised brows.

“If he moves, that dog is going with him and you know it. There’s no way he’d leave her behind,” he shakes his head.

“There’s no way Althea would let him take her. She's grown to be as attached to her as Wade is. I think even you like her more than you care to admit.”

“What can I say? She has a way of weaseling herself into your heart,” Logan sighs.

“Oh, it’s definitely the tongue,” you shrug through a bite of pizza.

Logan grimaces as a vivid image of Mary Puppins French kissing Wade awake flashes through his mind, but he can't help but laugh.

You turn on some action-comedy that Logan has never heard of, and the two of you eat and take turns making comments about whatever is happening on the screen for the first half of the movie.

He tries to stay focused on the film, he really does, but every now and then you readjust your position on the couch, causing him to catch a whiff of your perfume or your thigh will brush against his and he'll have to force his attention back to the characters on the screen.

No matter how distracting he may find your mere presence beside him, he's enjoying himself. This is by far the longest the two of you have hung out together, without the additions of his roommates and other friends. He dreads the moment that the movie ends and he’s obligated to tell you goodnight before reluctantly going back to his own apartment.

During the second act of the movie, he wonders what you’re thinking - if you could possibly be feeling the same way as him – when you randomly sit forward, grab the box of the leftover pizza off of the table in front of you, and stand to take it to your refrigerator.

It's then that he picks up on an odor – not the light floral aroma of your perfume but something new. A scent that answers the question of exactly what you had been thinking about. It’s musky and pheromonal, and even though it’s been a while since Logan has been intimate enough with a woman to smell the scent of her arousal, he recognizes it right away.

When you sit back down beside him, the sweet smell washes over him again and he bites the inside of his lip so hard that he tastes blood. The wound disappears as quickly as it’s formed, but the same can’t be said for the erection that begins to strain against the confines of his boxers.

He eyes the pile of small, decorative pillows that you had tossed to the side and wishes that he could grab one to place over his lap.

The words that you’d said to Vanessa a few days ago begin replaying in his mind for the thousandth time since he’d first heard you say them, reminding him this isn’t one-sided. He may be sitting here attempting to conceal a raging hard-on by shifting his position and subtly adjusting his pants, but Logan’s heightened sense of smell tells him that your underwear are probably starting to feel as uncomfortable as his do at the moment.

Without turning his head, he risks a glance at you. Your eyes are on the movie, and your face is neutral, but your posture gives you away. Your arms are crossed over your chest, the tips of your fingernails digging tiny crescent shaped indentations into the flesh of your upper arm. You have one of your thighs crossed over the other, locked together tightly but that doesn’t stop him from being able to smell how fucking wet you are.

“You know, if my sense of smell is as good as my sense of hearing, then I think I have a pretty good idea of what you’re thinking about right now,” Logan starts, his voice low and gruff. He watches from his peripheral vision as you freeze, your form going rigid.

“But I’d really like to hear you say it.”

You turn to him, your eyebrows quirked but your face otherwise impassive.

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about. What exactly is it that you’d like to hear me say?” you ask innocently. You give him doe eyes that make his cock finish filling with blood.

He huffs a laugh, picking up on the way that your heartrate accelerates when you look at him.

“I'd like to hear you say what you said to Vanessa a few days ago,” he hums. “I can’t remember exactly, but I think it had something to do with you rubbing your sweet little cunt on my abs. Does that sound familiar to you?”

“Hm,” you feign contemplation. “That doesn’t really sound like something I'd say.”

He knows you’re trying to play it cool, but there’s certain things that you just can’t hide from him – like the way your heart is beating a mile a minute and the way your nipples have pebbled beneath the thin material of your tank top.

“You’re right. It doesn't sound like something you’d say,” he snorts, and leans in so that your face is just a few inches from his. “So imagine my surprise when I walked by your apartment to hear you talking about jumping my adamantium bones.”

He doesn't miss the way your breath catches in your throat or how your eyes flicker to his lips.

“You gonna do it? Or you just gonna keep thinking about it while you're sitting beside me?”

For a second, you say nothing and Logan struggles to read your expression. Then, without taking your eyes off of him, you slowly stand in front of the couch. You reach for the hem of your tank top and pull it over your head, leaving you naked from the waist up.

Logan's mouth goes dry. Suddenly, he's all out of smart remarks.

You hook your thumbs into the waistband of your pajama shorts, pushing them down your thighs along with your panties, and let them both drop to your feet all while holding his gaze.

With you now stark naked before him, he leans forward, grasping you by the backs of your thighs and pulling you onto his lap. You straddle him, gently pushing him back against the sofa.

He tugs his own shirt over his head while you undo his belt buckle and pop open the top button of his jeans, your hands fumbling when he sheds his shirt.

Logan doesn’t typically think too much about his physical appearance. He knows he’s in good shape, and thinks he’s conventionally attractive enough. But he could see himself getting a bit of an ego, if he had someone looking at him the way you are right now on a regular basis.

You help him shimmy his jeans and boxers down far enough for his cock to spring free. You take him in your hand, using your thumb to smear the thick bead of pre-cum across the head.

“You should be careful listening to people’s conversations outside of their doors,” you hum as you pump him in one hand. You hunch over, lowering your mouth enough to spit down his shaft, lubricating the length. You smirk, glancing up at him from beneath your thick eyelashes. “Other people might not react as happily as me.”

Fuck, he knows it’s been a long time since he's even felt anyone’s hands on him, but he feels a little pathetic at the way his balls are already tightening and feeling so heavy just from the way you’re languidly stroking him.

And as much as he’d love for you to keep your hands on him, there’s time for him later. Right now, what he wants more than anything is the feeling of your pussy on him.

He pulls your hand off of him and then tugs you over his erection, trying his hardest to ignore the way the wetness between your legs glides against the tip of his cock, until you’re flat against the hard expanse of his lower stomach.

“This is what you wanted, yeah?” He grunts. You whimper in response, tightening your thighs around his sides and rocking back and forth with the smallest amount of friction. “Don’t be holding back, wanna feel you make a mess on me.”

His words seem to erase any remaining reservation that you may have had. You brace your hands on his chest and begin dragging your center across his lower stomach, your slick coating the thick trail of hair that goes from his belly button to his waistline. With every backstroke, the head of his cock juts against your ass.

You glide across him easily. Soft, wet, and warm, Logan thinks that if you feel this good on his fucking stomach then there’s no way he’ll be able to handle being inside you.

He leans his head forward, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth. You hold his head in your hands, tugging on his hair with your fingers as he teases your nipple with his tongue and teeth.

He pulls his mouth away from your breast with a wet pop. “You like this? Using me to get yourself off?”

“Mm-hmm,” you nod frantically, your answer coming out as a moan. He gives a quick, firm slap to your other breast. Judging by the sound it draws from you, you like it, so he does it again.

He'd pictured this exact scenario a shameful number of times in the last few days, but his thoughts hadn’t done you justice. Every little noise you make, every little whimper and moan as your clit brushes against the thick bulges of his muscles again and again, sounds sweeter than he could've dreamed.

He places his hands on the meat of your hips, guiding you forwards and backwards across his abdomen at a fast pace.

“Fuck,” you gasp, clenching your thighs around him as tight as you can. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum—”

“That’s right,” he coos. “Come on, cum on me.”

You dig your fingernails into his shoulders, drenching the hair on his stomach as you ride out your orgasm on him with a cry of his name.

You collapse against his chest, going still with your face in the crook of his neck as you steady your breathing.

“Look at me,” he whispers after a moment. It hits him that despite the fact that you just humped him until you came all over his abdomen, he somehow hasn’t even kissed you yet.

You pull away from his neck, looking down at him with a dazed expression. He brings your face to his mouth by the back of your neck. He wastes no more time, instantly slipping his tongue past your lips.

He holds you by the globes of your ass, which hovers just above his erection. You grind down, causing the tip of his cock to nudge against your entrance. He groans into your mouth, his cock past the point of feeling like it’s going to explode if he doesn’t fucking feel you.

“We can stop here,” he murmurs against your lips when he breaks the kiss, even though the thought kills him. He doesn’t want to stop kissing you, touching you, tasting you. It’s only been a few months, but it feels like he’s been waiting a lifetime for this and the last thing he wants is for it to come to an end. “Don’t have to go any further if you don’t—”

“No,” you exclaim with a breathy laugh. “No, I don’t want to stop. Do you want to stop?”

He grins up at you, taking his length in his hand and teasing it through your folds from below you. He coats the head in your juices before nudging it against your hole.

“Definitely don’t wanna stop, sweetheart.”

You sink down onto him at the same moment that he tilts his hips up enough to slip inside you, causing the entirety of his length to fill you at once.

You both go still, adjusting to the new sensation of each other. Your walls, velvet soft and so warm, constrict around him like a vice. He knows you’re likely tired from riding him through your first orgasm, so he begins thrusting his hips slowly, the tip of his cock nudging against your cervix.

“You’re big. So, so big,” you moan – something between a whine and a praise.

“I know, but you’re doing so good, honey,” he encourages as he eases himself in and out of you. “Don’t worry, I got you.”

You latch your lips to his again, and it’s hard for him to hold back. The feeling of your tight, perfect cunt around him and the taste of your tongue in his mouth is overwhelming. He wants to memorize every movement, every sound you make.

You snake your hand between your bodies, your fingertips finding your swollen clit and massaging languid circles. He feels you flutter around him as you start meeting his thrusts with movements of your own, and he knows you’re close.

“Not gonna last much longer, honey,” he grunts with a sharp thrust. “Feel too fucking good.”

“Cum with me,” you murmur against his mouth.

Your command causes something in him to snap. He releases a throaty growl, pistoning his hips upwards at a harsh pace as he fills you up from below. You constrict around him, crying his name into his ear as you ride out your climaxes together.

You collapse against his chest once more, his cock still nestled inside you. He loses track of how long the two of you stay like that, neither of you wanting to be the first to move.

“Remind me to eavesdrop on your conversations more often,” he huffs a laugh, still slightly out of breath.

You bring your lips to his, smiling as you give him a light kiss.

“I’ll know if you do. I have a doorbell camera. You didn’t notice that?”

thank you so much for reading <3 comments and reblogs are super appreciated. here are a few more of my favorite logan pieces that i've written ✨️

for always and ever is always for you - old man logan x healer reader

diet pepsi - old man logan x reader limousine sex

lavender and velvet - worst variant logan x neighbor reader

[clockwayswrites]

Distracting Birb! Part 28

*throws this and runs* Masterpost

“So what did you find out?” Tim asked as he spun around. He was at the computer, of course, and looked most of the way to villainy backlit by the large screens.

(Dick loved his little brother, but villainy really wouldn’t be the most surprising outcome for Tim.)

“What makes you think we found anything?” Jason answered, just to be impertinent.

Tim rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t have called us all down to the Cave if you didn’t have anything.”

Jason scoffed. “You underestimate how willing I am to waste your time.”

“Boys,” Cass said calmly, ending the growing argument with just that word.

“Duke still out on patrol?” Dick asked as a distraction.

Tim glanced over his shoulder and back at the screen. “On his way back. He’ll be here in fifteenish.”

Best not to wait in case Danny woke, Dick decided. They’d be sure to fill him in. “Okay. Well, Danny was not lying, he has a lot of plants.”

“Dick managed to turn on the watering system. We’re all very proud of him,” Jason said flatly.

The siblings all golf clapped, which Dick took a dramatic bow to. “Thank you, thank you. Otherwise a pretty normal apartment. Comfortable, a little nerdy, and not fussy.”

Jason nodded. “There’s a hero—not sure if someone real or fictional—that we saw a few times. Someone called Phantom.”

Obliging, Dick sent the photo of the mug from the bathroom up onto one of the screens. Tim spun back to the computer and started searching.

“There were also a lot of medication in his cabinet; vitamins and several prescriptions also. Some of them had weird labels.”

“Damn, Dick, you couldn’t have gotten a clearer photo?” Tim asked as he squinted at the new set of images.

“As much as I hate to defend Dick,” Jason said as he added photos of his own to the screen, ‘that is a clear photo. Danny was writing in the same language along with English in a bedside notebook of his.”

“Are you in need of glasses, Drake?” Damian asked as he looked from the photos to Tim with a judgmental brow raised.

Tim flicked him off, which Dick considered telling Tim off for (Damian had enough bad habits), but was actually curious about this. “No. The text looks glitched out.’

“No,” Damian said slowly and with a scowl, “it is clear. Odd, but clear.”

“Cass?” Dick asked.

She moved a step closer to the television, head tilted. There was a long, quiet moment before she lifted her hand a gave a so-so motion.

Tim looked from her, to Damian, to the screens. “…Dick?”

“So that’s the thing, it looks wrong to me too. If I look at it too long it’s like it gives me a headache. Jason can read it though.”

Jason snorted. “That’s taking it a bit far. I feel like I should be able to read it. I can get a word here or there maybe.”

“Like it whispers,” Damian said, the quiet words oddly poetic for the youngest of them.

“…yeah, like it whispers,” Jason agreed, just as softly.

“Right, okay. Freaky language that only some of us can even see, much less read, and those who can have spent a lot of time in or around the league,” Tim said. “How concerned do we need to be able this? To we need to be concerned about this? I feel like we need to be concerned about this.”

None of them had an easy answer for Tim.

All of them were grateful for the roar of Duke’s bike interrupting the conversation as he pulled into the cave.

“What are you all looking some grim about?” Duke asked. He yanked his helmet off and took a deep breath, like he hadn’t been able to breath in hours.

It was a feeling they all got. Even a good patrol was draining and Duke had been actively on follow up over what had gone down today with the Mad Hatter. Dick tossed a towel Duke’s way and went to grab a drink for the other from the food safe fridge.

“Stuff from Danny’s place. Take a look at the screen,” Jason said.

“Danny? I thought that we liked the guy,” Duke said, accepting the drink with a grateful thank you. He drained half of it his the way to the screens. “Shit, that’s a lot of meds.”

“Take a closer look,” Jason said, though not unkindly.

Duke stepped closer to the screen.

And went alarmingly still.

Dick resisted the instinctual urge to reach out and grab him. “Duke?”

Duke gave an answering hum and turned his head, just slightly, towards Dick. His eyes never left the screen. Dick wasn’t sure if Duke had really heard him. It was Jason who ended up acting, ended up listening to that instinct. He stepped between Duke and the screen, blocking their newest brother’s view. Duke sucked in a sharp, startled breath.

“What?”

“Hey, come on, have a seat,” Jason said and guided Duke backwards into one of the chairs at the table.

Tim swiftly cleared the photos from the screen.

Duke shook his head. “Sorry, man, I don’t know what… that, huh. What did those look like to you all?”

“Magenta tinted pill bottles with different levels of medication in them,” Tim replied calmly. “Dick and I can’t read what’s printed on them. Damian, Jason, and maybe Cass can a little which means it might be League writing of some sort.”

Dick leaned against the table. “What did you see, Duke?”

“Magenta tinted pill bottles with something in them. Like whatever it was my powers were weird about it. I’d have to see them in person to know anything about why, I guess, but they were… I don’t know. But whatever that stuff was I don’t think it’s League because I don’t think it’s human. I don’t think it’s earthly.”

“Well, fuck,” Dick said with a sigh.

He wasn’t sure if that was better or worse.

[reignpage]

Frat Boy!Gojo

Madri Lager: drunk words

Contents: cursing, just a little conversation between them to set the mood and provide a backdrop for the next fic, not proofread

No fucking way. 

There’s just no fucking way. 

“Why the hell are you here?” You hiss. 

Gojo fucking Satoru strolled into your lecture hall, smug grin on his fuck ugly face, arms folded behind his head and swinging his legs like a maniac. From the doors at the front, he immediately spotted you all the way at the back, sat by your lonesome and you could see his shit-eating grin widen. The whites of his teeth blind you almost as much as his impossibly white hair.

Then, the freak had the audacity to climb the stairs, ignoring the whispering and the pointing, and sat next to you. Well, a seat down because you refused to move your bag, even fought with him a little when he tried to lift it. 

He shrugs, slinging an arm around the back of the chair between you, fingertips way too close to your shoulder, and black sunglasses hanging low on his nose bridge. “Was feeling bored so here I am.”

Counting to ten, you tried to put on a patient voice, like you’re berating a child, which you pretty much are, and you grit out, “Bored people take up hobbies. Bored people do things like puzzles and cooking and knitting. Bored people don’t crash lectures and bother other people.”

“I love when you lecture me on common knowledge, wifey. It really warms my heart.” To emphasise his stupid point, he presses a hand to his chest and fans his face with the other. “You’re just so smart.”

You slap his hand away when he tries to boop your nose. People are staring, turning their heads like owls as they strained to listen to your conversations. Some people are taking pictures, no doubt sending it to The Bulletin or whatever, because people have nothing better to do than gossip. You hate this attention; the pointing and whispering because of your appearance you’ve learnt to tolerate, but this? 

This is just irritating on a different level.

At least once a day, a cheerful stranger comes up to you and asks in bewilderment if you’re Gojo’s fiancee. In fact, they ask if you’re really, actually the future wife of Gojo Satoru like he’s some mythical being and you’re a frumpy little worm. Fuck them. And fuck him. 

“Go away, Gojo,” you roll your eyes, typing as much of the lecturer’s notes as you can, a little distracted by the peering eyes around you and the ones running over your clothes . 

He sighs and lifts the lace from your dress, rounding the neckline. You feel it tickle your neck, and you fight the urge to shudder. In disgust. With a forced melodramatic tone, he complains, “I’m bored. Entertain me.”

“Are you fucking twelve? Go watch a movie like a normal person.”

“Movies are boring,” he retorts as if it’s fact. 

You roll your eyes. “And what? I’m so much more interesting?” 

What a stupid question. You really shouldn’t have asked that because the serious expression on his face as he lifts one shoulder in a lazy shrug makes you blush. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. 

“Did you meet Suguru on the course or was he your piercer first?”

Still typing, you throw him a side glance, feeling suspicious of the sudden change in conversation. But it’s welcomed. “We met on the course. First year. We were in the same class. He’s a good guy.”

Gojo huffs as if he didn’t like your answer. 

The piercer’s actually a decent person; he was friendly, smart, and kind. He made long, boring classes feel shorter with his interesting insights and opinions, and he had such a great way of expressing them — he was the most eloquent male you’ve ever met. However, there was always something off about him, like an inner turmoil that neither you nor he could ever quite understand. 

It was when he absentmindedly said he was thinking of dropping out that you felt you knew him a little better. You both shared a long talk at the back of the Life Sciences building where your little stroll took you, him smoking and you listening to his mutterings. He spoke of this feeling of being out of place, which you understood better than anyone else, and how the traditional path didn’t suit him. He disappeared for a while, a couple months, and you thought your response might have spooked him. After all, no one ever really comes to you for advice. But when he reached out to offer you a free piercing as his first ever client at his newly opened studio, you realised maybe you are capable of dropping an odd pearl here and there. 

“Well, Suguru’s my bestie, so back off,” Gojo pouts.

From your peripheral, you see him eye the big lecture hall and you don’t really know what he’s thinking. It’s an odd realisation to think that Geto, the guy you’ve always kind of admired, is actually friends with this loser – the suggestion that there’s a redeeming quality to the frat guy is one that doesn’t suit you. 

Most times he’s easy to read; he wants fun and excitement and thrill. He does whatever’s convenient or interesting, a totally impulsive guy. But there are rare moments, emphasis on rare, where you think there might be something more going on in that huge head of his. Maybe there’s something deeper to him. A maturity and wisdom he’s yet to show. 

“Fuck, marry or kill,” he lifts three fingers, “Marx, Satre or Aristotle.”

Yeah, unlikely. 

“Gojo, seriously, go away,” you sigh, exasperated. Just five minutes with the guy and you’re already drained. And somehow, you’re expected to live a lifetime with the weirdo?

Satan strike you down. 

“Me personally, Satre’s cute but something about big, bushy beards really gets me going. So, it’ll have to be: kill Aristotle, no offence dude, fuck Satre, and marry Marx.”

Two girls in the row in front of you giggle. Your lips turn down in repulsion. 

“I’m not sure Marx would like either of us, Gojo,” you give him a pointed look. 

He laughs. It’s loud and sudden and he has to say sorry to the entire lecture when it echoes around the hall. Some people laugh at him, or with him, and the lecturer can only shake his head and carry on. This lecturer is strict and merciless when it comes to interruptions, but of course he doesn’t say a thing against the interloper. How could he when there’s a huge placard over the double doors of this building titled ‘From the Loving Hearts of The Gojo Charitable Foundation’?

A couple minutes pass in relative silence, just the tapping of fingers against keyboards and the droning of the professor filling the space, and you think maybe he’s fallen asleep or maybe he’s so bored that he’s actually thinking of leaving. 

Of course, neither of those things happen because the universe hates you. 

Gojo pokes your side with a pen. You writhe with a blush. 

“Oh, ticklish, are we? Very interesting.” He wiggles his brows like an idiot, and you fight the urge to land a punch there. “Our wedding night’s gonna be fun.”

“We’re not going to have one if you had it your way, remember?”

Leaning back in his seat, he taps the pen —where the hell did even get that? He wasn’t carrying a bag— against his chin, considering his words carefully. He shrugs again. “Well, seeing as everyone’s so set on it, I’ve decided to, you could say, open myself to the idea.”

You try to quell the spark of hope there, that maybe your family could be saved, that you’ll be saved. It’s not wise to let that spark fester into something more. 

Gojo’s impulsive. Fact. 

Gojo’s a thrill-seeker. Fact. 

Gojo is an unserious guy set in his bachelor ways. He cannot be relied upon. He cannot be trusted to keep his word.

All facts. 

It’s easy for him to be able to have the option to be ‘open’ to an idea, whereas it’s thrusted upon you without much say. He can wake up and make decisions solely based on his urges, but you have to be mindful of the family’s reputation, your father’s bad habits, your mother’s social conservative ways, and the fact that this is all your fault. 

“Gojo,” you turn, fixing him with a solemn expression, “don’t do that. Don’t lead me on. I may not want to marry you, but I do want to marry. I must. It’s important to me, so please don’t wave it around like it’s some pretty flag.”

There must be something in your eyes, a graveness or a sombre quality that makes his smile disappear. His brows furrow like he’s trying to understand, trying to piece things together but you’re turning away before he could see. 

Clearing his throat, he pokes you again. “Alright. How about this?”

You throw him a doubtful look, worried about what dumbassery is going to leave his mouth. 

“Go on a date with me.”

“No.”

“Hey! You said that way too quickly.”

Resuming your typing, you’re already trying to drown him out, focused on the history of pragmatic ethics instead of his humoured tone. He’s suggesting something ridiculous again. As if you’d go on a date with him. Him. The guy who’s been getting in the way, the one who’s been making your life difficult and family dinners awkward, and the one you certainly cannot trust to not set up some trap to humiliate you like in the movies. 

“I’m being serious. Let’s go on a date.” Seeing you open your mouth to argue back, he hurriedly adds, “This isn’t fair on me either, y’know? I’m supposed to marry a stranger, one who wears all black and looks like she’d haunt me — not a bad thing, I’m actually kinda into it, question mark? — but my point is, we don’t really know each other. So why don’t we go on a date? It’s a pretty brilliant idea, if I do say so myself.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you mull it over. Sure, it makes sense, it would be good to get to know the freak you’re marrying or supposed to marry. This is how it should have been in the first place. Plus, your mother would certainly approve; she’d think this is a golden opportunity to secure him, to make him fall for you or whatever Mrs. Bennet thing she’s thinking of. 

However, as good as that idea is, you can’t just eagerly agree; there’s no guarantee this isn’t a trap. 

“You’re thinking this is a trap, aren’t you?” Your eyes meet his. He’s grinning ear to ear like he’s proud he guessed correctly. “Why don’t you plan the date, then? Set the time and place, that way there’s no way I could have rigged the environment with explosives or something.”

“No pig blood?”

Gojo smiles even brighter, and you have to squint to prevent losing your vision permanently. 

“No pig blood.”

[hyuckworld]

FINALLY READING THIS!!!! heavy pining and make it fun ??? the comeback is so good 🤩

i love love loveeee this characterization of jake it’s so so cute seeing him pining so hard 🥹��"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.” like 💗💗💗 okay it's not funny anymore where do i find myself a lover boy like jake :((( or actually, where can i find jake

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.

this was a crazy good line 🤧 i just have to applaud you for that because that just made jake ten times more endearing in this AND THE FACT THAT THIS IS F2L!!! FELL TO MY KNEES 😞

also their little friend group dynamic is literally sooo entertaining 😩 i need a sequel with just their shenanigans omg i was giggling at their dynamics ++ esp heejay 🥰

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).

incredible. give me 14 down bad jakes right now 💳💥

the confession and kiss scene were so adorable 🥹 i cheered so hard when they got together and yay jake for graduating from roomba status!! not him sacrificing his bank account right after 😭 so glad he had those talks with grace and heeseung (where they sort of clocked him lol) but bless jake’s heart he really needed to hear that. but wow this was such a fun read!! i love that all the side characters were fleshed out with their own personalities and quirks :’) and reading their different interactions made them feel so much more real like i was literally watching their conversations play out before me. and the epilogue OMG they’re just down bad for each other hhh i love them your honor 🥹💖🫶

the matchmatic 3000 ─ s. jy

↳ 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 ── college!au, matchmaking!au, friendstolovers!au || fluff, crack, pining, pining & more pining heh

↳✎ᝰ. 19k [i swear this wasn't intentional...once again, i had too much fun]

↳ 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!

↳ addie's ✉ .ᐟ ── 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 ‘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 over 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 over being recruited to join your arch-nemesis—Roombas. Now here he was, ready to go to battle for your anti-automated-dust-sucker stance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yes. Everything will happen according to plan.

It has to.  

Nothing goes according to plan.  

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

Instead, it reads:  

Match: Park Sunghoon 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You've got to be kidding me."  

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

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

Match: Park Jongseong  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(About time.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jake blinks. 

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

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

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

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

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

SMACK! 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jay flashes a grin that screams mischief. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jay blinks at her in disbelief. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart skips. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Smack. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So you think it's cute, huh?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For you? Yeah. No problem.” 

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

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

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

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

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

"Definitely, I'll save you a seat?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Y/N. Hi." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Smooth, Jake. Real smooth. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✭・.・✫

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Plop! 

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

You blink. Jake blinks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You step inside, and your friends’ commentary barely registers. It’s all background noise compared to the whirlpool of emotions screaming inside you. You sit back down on the couch, and so does Jake, in his seat next to yours.  

And while the movie plays for the rest of the night, you can't seem to focus on anything but the memory of everything that's happened tonight. That and the feeling of Jake’s arm resting right up against yours.  

You’re doomed. 

Jake has never been more confused in his entire life, like, ever. The past few days for him have been more confusing than that one semester he took Postmodern Interpretations of the Emoji Language and actually had to write a ten-page paper on the laughing emoji (don't judge, he had to fulfill his last two elective credits somehow).  

Life has been an absolute whirlwind for Jake—mainly due to the fact that his emotions have been spinning out of control. And to top it off, today’s the long-awaited rematch day.  

Normally, Jake would be a complete wreck by now, bouncing his leg under the table or fidgeting with his phone, but today? Today, he's nervous in a completely different way. The kind of nerves you get when you already know what's about to happen… but after everything that’s gone down lately, he thinks there’s something more between the two of you. And it has nothing to do with Heeseung’s so-called love algorithm. 

At least, he hopes there’s something between you two. Unless—oh god—he’s been totally delusional this whole time, and you’ve just been nice, and Jake’s fully lost it. Perfect, that’s exactly what he needs right now, on top of everything else. But the scariest part? In just a few moments, when the app refreshes and pairs you two together, Jake's going to have to face whatever's been simmering between you both—whether he's ready for it or not.  

And as if Heeseung could read his trembling thoughts, he breaks the silence at the lunch table, "Are you guys ready?"  

Grace and Jay's heads are nodding so fast for Heeseung to just push the 'send' button already, Jake thinks they look like bobbleheads. But when he glances over at you, you don't seem nearly as eager. Which is...weird. Considering how only a couple days ago, you were fired up about the rematch. But now? You look almost...conflicted?  

Jake's eyes linger on you for a second longer, taking in the way you're biting your lip, clearly deep in your thoughts. He can't help but find the sight of you zoned out like that so ridiculously adorable.  

"Y/N?" He nudges you gently. "You good?"  

"Huh?" You blink, snapping out of your daydream. "Oh, yeah. Sorry, Just...thinking, I guess."  

"You'll be fine, Y/N!" Grace chimes in, ever the optimist. "I bet you're gonna love whoever your match is!"  

Well, gee, Jake really, really, hopes so. If not, the last few days will have been a very confusing rollercoaster of emotional whiplash. 

"Right," Jake agrees, trying to act normal, though his voice sounds a little too tight. "Everything's going to be fine." Please, please let everything be fine.  

Jake can tell you're hesitant about something—you open your mouth like you want to say something, but then just as quickly, you press your lips closed again. If Jake didn't think you were the most precious being in the world, you could say you look like a fish out of water right now.

"Hypothetically speaking," you slowly speak up, eyes flicking up to your friends. "What would you do if...let's say you started catching feelings for someone...but then the app might pair you with someone else?" You pause, swallowing hard. 

"Hypothetically…of course.”

Grace raises an eyebrow. Heeseung freezes mid-bite. And Jake? Well, let's just say his heart is already running a mile into the marathon. Hypothetical? Feelings? That has to be about him, right? What were the chances?  

Jay lets out a snort. "Lucky for you, in a hypothetical situation, you do absolutely nothing. Cause it's...you know, hypothetical."  

"Yeah, you're right. Forget I said anything." You wave your hand, brushing it off, but Jake notices a blush growing across your face. "Okay, Hee! Let's get this over with."  

Jake's mind is spinning. What could you have possibly meant by that? That had to be about him...right? Because that is all he's ever wanted, all he's been pining for. But at the same time...it's too good to be true, so Jake refuses to believe it. He can't get his hopes up—not yet.

"Okayyyy," Heeseung's still lifting an eyebrow at your odd behavior before he clears his throat, “everyone ready?”  

Jay and Grace drum the table in anticipation, and Jake? Jake's pretty sure he's going to throw up. 

Heeseung taps his screen, and the table collectively holds its breath. Then, all at once, everyone’s phones light up. 

Grace and Jay scramble to grab their phones first and Jake thinks he's actually developing an incurable case of heart failure.  

“WHAT?” Grace shrieks before she whips around to Jay with wide eyes. “I got you, AGAIN!”  

Jay, unbothered, raises his hands defensively, “What can I say? It’s science, Gracey-poo.”  

"Sure. Science," Grace rolls her eyes so hard it's a wonder they don't get stuck. "Like how you scientifically forgot how to text me back after last night's study sesh?"  

Before Grace can verbally throttle Jay, Jake's entire focus narrows in on you, and how your phone is still face down on the table. You haven't even touched it.

The suspense is killing him, especially knowing his name is going to be on your screen. And if it's not? Well, then the end. End of fanfic. Cue the end credits.  

You, on the other hand, are staring intently at the Grace v. Jay debacle, as if focusing hard enough on other people's life issues will prevent the existential crisis you're about to have. Honestly, your phone could've exploded into a million pieces next to you and you'd still be pretending to care more about anything else.  

Because honestly? You couldn't care less about whoever Heeseung's magical powers paired you with—you're more focused on whatever's been going on between you and Jake. Or at least, you hope, there’s something happening between you and Jake. Unless, oh god, he's just being nice, and you've fully lost it. Please, please don't tell me I've lost it.  

"Y/N! Jake! Who did you guys get?" Grace turns towards the two of you, breaking the both of you out of your respective spirals. 

"Right, yeah. Um—okay. Let's see,” you let out a shaky laugh as your hands fidget in your lap before they finally reach for your phone, as Jake does the same next to you.  

You take a breath, click on the daunting email notification on your screen, and finally look down.  

You blink down at your phone. You squeeze your eyes to make sure they’re not deceiving you.  

Match: Sim Jae-yun  

Your brain is absolutely jumbled beyond saving, you seem to have forgotten how to breathe, and your stomach feels like it was just turned inside out. You don’t know what’s happening, is this what dying feels like?

You blink once. Twice. And maybe a third time just to make extra, extra sure.  

Suddenly, the whole room seems to slow down, like you're watching a replay of your life recently at 0.5 speed. All the moments between you and Jake flash by: the vending machine run, the shared glances, the oddly adorable way he got flustered over you calling him 'Jakey.' But you don't have time to fully process everything because the fact is:  

You’ve just been matched with Jake. Jake.  

You finally look up, heart racing, and try to see if Jake's opened his notification yet, but his face is still too normal at whatever he's looking at on his phone. Or, more accurately, he's pretending to be normal, because the tips of his ears are a little too red for someone who's ‘chill’ (he's most definitely not chill, right now).  

"So, uh..." Jake's voice finally comes out quiet, his gaze slowly meeting yours, and it makes you feel like you two are the only ones at this table. Scratch that, in this world. "Did you open yours?"

"Yeah,” you nod, trying to act nonchalant, “I did.”

Jake lets out a soft chuckle, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

"Same here."

The way he says it—soft, like he’s addressing the shared secret between the two of you—makes the air feel warmer. Or maybe it’s just you overheating. Get it together, Y/N.

Grace, across the table, catches the tension happening in front of her, her eyes darting back and forth like she's watching a slow motion scene of a k-drama unfold in real time. Then—

“Oh my god,” she gasps loudly, before violently clapping a hand over her mouth. 

Her eyes fill with excitement and just as quickly, she jumps up, grabbing both Jay and Heeseung by the back of their shirts and yanking them to their feet. 

“We’re getting boba! Be right back!”  

Heeseung’s brows scrunch. “Wait, what? I don’t even wan—“  

“Too bad! We’re going.”  

And just like that, you’re left alone with Jake next to you—and his flaming red ears that could probably power a small country. 

“So…” Jake clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he finally turns to look at you.  

“So..,” you softly say, your fingers tapping nervously on the edge of the table, hoping he'll say something, anything. 

"So," Jake repeats for the third time, followed by an awkward chuckle. “Uh...what do we...do now?”  

You blink.

“Do now?”  

Jake’s eyes dart to yours, and for a second, you think he’s about to up and bolt from the table. 

“I mean, like, uh...we’re…well, I don’t know, is there something to do now..? Or not do? That’s okay too! I have no idea. I’m just—wow. Sorry.”  

You smile endearingly at him before breaking out into laughter as your heart does a little Olympics routine. How were you this oblivious before?  

“Jake,” you say between laughs, catching your breath as you instantly feel eased by him. "It's okay. I've been thinking...I—" 

You mentally high-five yourself and give yourself a pep talk for what you're about to say. Please, for the love of all things holy, don't let me be wrong about this.

"I can't stop thinking about you," you say, voice quiet, but steady. "It's like you've taken over my brain, Jake, and it's driving me crazy. And I don't know—I don't know if it's just me or if everything I've been sensing between us is real, but I think my brain might explode if I didn't tell you. Plus, I was terrified the Matchmatic would pair you with someone else and I had lost my chance."  

You finally feel like the weight of the world has been lifted off your shoulders, but when you look at Jake? He's gone. Eyes wide, looking like a malfunctioning robot. His mouth opens and closes, and you're 110% sure he's about to glitch out of existence right in front of you.  

"Wow."  

You blink. Wow? That's it? Is this a good wow or a wow-she's-crazy wow? Naturally, you think it’s the latter, so you mentally prepare yourself to fake your death and move to Norway.  

But before you're about to flee the scene and start your new life as a mountain goat herder, Jake's eyes lock on yours, filled with the softest, most fond expression you've ever seen.  

"Y/N, I like you. A lot. And I have for, like...forever, I think." His voice is quiet, but his shoulders are more relaxed the more he looks at you. "I didn't think you'd feel the same way. You know, because we're friends and all." 

Your smile grows impossibly wide as you nudge his shoulder playfully with yours. 

"Well, surprise surprise, you're wrong."  

Jake chuckles, now fully facing you, his face flushed from wearing his heart on his sleeve. But for you? He thinks he’s about to stand on this lunch table and scream his feelings into a megaphone. 

"So...maybe we could try out this 'more-than-friends' thing?" you suggest, finding it hard to form a coherent sentence without sounding like a fifth grader. But Jake? Jake thinks seeing you stumbling your words over talking to him, for once, is the cutest sight ever. "I mean, unless you don't want—"  

"Oh, I definitely want to!" Jake practically launches himself forward, his smile so big you wish you could keep a mental image of it forever.

You laugh, suddenly feeling lighter. "Okay, then. Let's do it."  

"Here's to doing it!" Jake echoes, his voice warm and soft as he moves closer to you, finding it hard to resist just simply being in your close presence. Then, his eyes widen and he clears his throat, "I mean, not like do it, do it—wait, but not saying that I wouldn't—oh god—"  

Your giggles are uncontrollable once again as you watch Jake's face turn into the deepest shade of red you've ever seen. Without even thinking, you reach for his hand, seeking stability, as if he's a magnet drawing you in and you can't resist the pull of his warmth.

You finally take a breath, calming yourself down as Jake's eyes flicker down to your intertwined fingers, and his smile softens into something that makes your heart so full.  

For a moment, neither of you say anything, just letting the weight of everything finally settle, your hand resting under his in between you two. Then, Jake's thumb brushes softly over your knuckles, and he looks up at you with that newfound confidence that somehow makes him even more irresistible.  

“So…now what?” Jake's corners of his mouth twitch into a smile as he subconsciously leans in closer than before, and this time, you know there's no way you're backing out. 

A playful smile tugs at your lips as your eyes flicker between his soft brown eyes and his mouth. 

“Well, I mean…you still owe me from the vending machine.”  

Jake freezes. He blinks in confusion, and you're pretty sure you can hear the whirrr of his brain rebooting right in front of you.  

“Oh, you mean for the snacks? How much do I owe you? I can Venmo you, or, uh, buy you more snacks?” he stammers, completely caught off guard by your random comment, especially when he thought this was the moment. But, you know...priorities, I guess?  

Now you freeze, blinking at him before you let out a giggle that surprises even you. Seriously? You reach out and gently cup his adorably confused face.  

"Jake, you lovable dork," you say, shaking your head, unable to stop the giggles bubbling up. "Not what I meant."  

Jake doesn't even get the chance to respond (and honestly, he doesn't know if he could even form words right now, not with you so close, holding his face so gently). Before either of you even know it, you lean up and close the gap, your lips softly pressing against his.  

Jake freezes for a heartbeat. Or maybe two. He's unsure if he's even still breathing (is oxygen even necessary at a time like this?). But then, instinctively, his hands find their way to your waist, and he's gently pulling you closer on the table bench, as if he's afraid to let you slip away. He's pretty sure the world hit pause, and all that existed was the softness of your touch, the sweet warmth of your lips, and the faint vanilla scent of your shampoo that's doing a great job at scrambling his brain right now.  

He tries to stay cool—he really does—but his lips curve into a smile against yours, and he can't help but think, well, this is it. This is peak life. I've peaked. This? This just knocked anything else right off the leaderboard of his best life moments. 

It’s short. It’s sweet. It’s everything you didn’t know you needed and everything Jake’s been dreaming about.

He's savoring every little moment, every little movement guided by you, feeling like he's on cloud infinity, before you pull away, a soft pink blush growing on your entire face.

You lean your head back slightly to look at him, the warmth of the moment still lingering between you. Jake’s eyes are wide, his cheeks flushed, but there’s a soft, almost dazed smile playing on his lips, like he’s still processing.

"W-wow," he stammers, his voice barely above a whisper as he's trying to process if he's actually alive or in a sugar-induced dream. 

"Yeah," you breathe out, smiling as you gently run your thumb across his cheek, enjoying the way his face heats up even more under your touch. 

"So...," you say playfully after a beat of silence, leaning in so close that you're sure you’d be kissing him all over again if it wasn’t for your self-control, "do I still get my snacks?"

Jake laughs, officially breaking the heavy tension. He drops his head on your shoulder, completely and utterly overwhelmed by the pure sensation of you, but in the best way possible.  

"You can have all the snacks you want," he mumbles into your shoulder, his voice muffled but filled with so much affection that you think you might actually burst with joy. "Take my whole bank account while you're at it. Take whatever you want."  

You can't help but laugh as you wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him even closer to you. 

"You're ridiculous, Sim Jae-yun." 

"I know," he admits, voice still muffled into your shoulder. "But I'm your ridiculous, algorithm-proven match, right?"  

Jake feels your laughter from under him. "Mmmhmm, Jakey. 100% mine. Algorithm or not."  

You feel his smile grow against your shoulder as your arms squeeze him tighter. The perfect moment settles and you think you could die happy right now. For the first time in days, everything feels right.

But then, Jake pulls back just slightly, still under your hold, his eyebrows furrowing like he's about to say something very important.  

"Wait—" he raises his eyebrows at you.

 "—does this mean you never saw me as a Roomba?"  

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

epilogue: 

“If your next words are that you’re Spider-Man,” you say, your head nestled in Jake’s lap as you absentmindedly watch the TV, “then congratulations, you’re officially the world’s coolest boyfriend ever.”

Jake lets out a soft laugh, his fingers gently playing with the ends of your hair. It’s movie night—a rare, private one this time, much to your friends' annoyance. No horror films tonight (thank god, because Jake still hasn’t fully recovered from the last one), but honestly, the movie has long been forgotten. The moment Jake blurted out that he had something ‘dire’ to tell you, all plotlines flew out the window. 

You told him, unless it's about a sudden worldwide ramen shortage or that he's secretly a bug-themed superhero, then it could definitely wait until after the movie. 

But Jake had shook his head, claiming no, it’s like…life-changing important. 

Which is why you’re here now, his lap a perfect pillow, waiting for him to speak. He looks down at you, and you finally catch the serious gleam in his eyes. Oh wait, he’s actually being serious. 

“No, unfortunately, I don’t have Spidey senses,” he laughs nervously, gently nudging you up until you’re sitting face to face on the couch. “I do think I’ve developed Y/N senses, though.” 

“Oh? What are your Y/N senses telling you now?” you raise an eyebrow, smirking. 

“Um… that you hopefully won’t be mad at me?” Jake’s voice wavers slightly, hands fiddling with yours, and your playful smile fades just a little, confusion and worry taking over your face. 

“Oh. Okay. What’s up?” You straighten up, fully turning toward him, sitting crisscrossed.

Jake hesitates, looking down at your intertwined fingers, and takes a deep breath.

“Well, remember the Matchmatic thingy from a few months ago?” 

“Mmhm,” you hum, studying his expression. 

“So… um…I may or may not have done something…to make sure you got matched with me,” Jake’s eyes immediately squeeze shut, bracing for impact, like he’s expecting an explosion, or worse, your wrath. 

There’s a beat of silence. And then— 

You burst into laughter. Full-on, head-thrown-back, shoulders-shaking laughter. You drop your head back into Jake’s lap, your cackles muffled by his hoodie, while Jake sits frozen, staring at you like you’ve grown two heads. 

“I—uh… I’m confused?” He stares down at you, unsure if you’re about to pull a full-on Joker moment. 

“Jakey,” you coo, your laughter softening into giggles as you sit back up and cradle his cheeks. “You are so adorable. You really thought I didn’t know?” 

Jake blinks. 

“Wait, what?” 

“I knew.” You grin, watching as his brain seems to stall for a second. 

“…You knew?” 

You nod, leaning back on your hands. 

“Yeah, I knew. I mean, I kind of just put two and two together after we started dating. And Hee? He's a genius, no way he messed up the first way around,” you roll your eyes playfully. 

“But the thing is, Jake… the algorithm didn’t make me like you. I already did.” You reach forward and tap his forehead lightly, preciously smiling at how utterly stunned he looks. 

“You—wait, what?” Jake’s mind is catching up at the speed of 3G internet. 

“Yeah,” you laugh again, softer this time.  

He’s still staring at you, wide-eyed, like you just casually told him you're moving to the moon tomorrow. Honestly, he looks like his entire world just got flipped upside down, but in the best way possible, of course.  

“So…you’re not mad?” 

"Nope."  

"And you still wanna be with me?"  

"Yup."  

"And you're not just saying that because I buy you all the snacks you want?"  

"Nope."  

"Oh thank god," Jake exhales dramatically, hand flying to his chest like he barely survived a life-threatening situation. He looks at you with the softest, dopiest smile that makes you feel like you're staring at a puppy in a rom-com. "Because you are, hands down, the most perfect person for me. Like, ever."  

"You are so cute, Jakey," you scrunch your nose at him before leaning up to plant a quick kiss on his blushing cheek, which only makes his ears turn an even deeper shade of red.  

But before you can pull away, he's already frowning playfully.  

"Wait, wait—one more question." 

"Mhm?" 

"Cute as in 'kiss' cute or 'puppy' cute?"

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

the end! i hope you guys liked it ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

m.list here!

tagged: @climbingmandevillas @byeoltual @junhuiste-ficrec

cue all the tags now...

[pha55ed]

I'll Be Home || F1/F2

type :: fluff

tw/cw :: none

contains :: carlos, charles, lando, oscar, ollie, paul, pepe

summary :: you introduce him to your family, he's terrified by he still pulls through

xmas celly here! || f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist

Carlos Sainz | 55

When you told Carlos to come to your family's party, he instantly accepted with glee. Except, right after he began to panic and process the preparation needed to go into this. It was sweet to see his smile drop so quickly, meaning he put his thinking mode on.

Despite Carlos being loved by so many, he's still so nervous. You both sit in the car for almost 5 minutes just chatting to help calm him down. He's fidgeting with his hands, pushing his hair back and forth to perfect it, and he's doing his best to remember the ice-breakers he learned online.

"I promise, they'll love you no matter what." You say, grabbing his hands to stop his constant fidgeting. "You're going to do great!"

You knew he was going to try and "but" you so you quickly jumped outside the car. Which made his jaw drop, since he swore to forever open every door for you, no matter what. Instantly, he runs outside of the car and before you can even step 2 feet away from the car, he gently pushes you back into the car and shut the door.

He's saying something outside of the door, definitely complaining about losing his streak. By the time he opens the door for you, gently reaching for your hand to bring you inside, you can see most of your family outside ready to greet you.

Carlos is embarrassed, terrified that he just seemed like a controlling monster. But you knew your family, and you knew they would have adored his commitment to treating you like a princess. And you were right, they greeted him with welcome arms and loved his gesture.

Charles Leclerc | 16

He was well prepared for this day. It was like he was training to be in the military. The day you invited him to your family dinner, he's been grinding day and night to create the most perfect answers and conversation starters. He had his outfit ready and steamed, shoes cleaned, and even did an intense night routine to prepare.

So when he comes to your family's house, he's well prepared. You can't help but try to hold your laugh back at how serious he's taking this all. All your effort to hold back the laugh instantly comes out the second Charles begin to speak to them, because his chill-rich-nonchalant act came apart so quickly.

Your family brings up anything and instantly Charles is unable to hold back a fun fact he knows. Even something as random as a bananas then turned into: "Did you know if you add them to smoothies, it actually ruins the vitamins of the other fruits? I also dressed up as one on stream haha! Look!"

He's also unable to hold the touch guy persona with the kids. They instantly melt him, making stupid jokes with them. He's severely behind on trends though... Mentioning whips and nae-naes, the troll face, and G-mod. But that's fine, it makes the kids giggle at his old knowledge.

He's even acting like a fool with the dog. Trying to get the dogs to sit, roll over, and failing miserably. It makes everyone laugh and chuckle at him. But it's not at his expense, but instead at the pure energy he has to become part of this family. Which makes him instantly accepted by everyone in your family, including the dogs.

Lando Norris | 04

Before his fuck-boy reputation, there was rookie-Lando. The sweet boy who didn't grow pubes yet,,, somehow... And although you met Lando in his new era, filled with confidence and sass, you saw the real him behind his persona.

His palms were sweating, his voice was slightly higher, and his smile was flashing every second out of nerves. Anyone could tell he was nervous, he looked like a high schooler about to give a presentation. You two sat in the car, about to leave but he gently asked you:

"Can we stay in here for a minute?" He asks, turning to you as he fixes his sweater.

You were confused slightly. It was normal when you asked to stay in the car for a minute to redo your lip combo, since he usually ate it off of you. But Lando doesn't have a lip combo, or any makeup at all.

"I'm just," He could tell you were puzzled, "Nervous.. I wanna just talk to you, get the nerves out."

You smile at his words, he looked so cute being so nervous to meet your family of weirdos. "Lando, you'll do great! I know for a fact that they're going to love-"

"No no. I don't need reassurance or anything, thank you though love." He cuts you off. "I just, jus' want to talk to you. You calm me down."

"Talk about what?" You ask.

"Anything." He shrugs. "You just, calm me down." He says, making you smile from his simple yet impactful words. "You're like a walking vape."

"Oh shut up!" You smack him playfully, "You ruined a good moment!" Chuckling at his comment. But your chuckle brought a smile to his face, but this time it was a genuine smile.

Not out of nervousness or fear, but a real smile. Your laugh was able to brighten him up within a split second. And that's all he needed. Because truthfully, he didn't care too much of what your family thought of him. Of course he wanted them to like him, but he's able to accept other's opinions. All he really cared for was that you loved him, and he knew you did.

Oscar Piastri | 81

"Should I wear my midnight blue tie or navy blue tie?" Oscar asks, holding both up for you to look at. He was sweating bullets at the idea of meeting your entire family for the first time. Even though you reassured him endlessly that your family would love him, he wasn't certain on it.

"Either works, love" You say, trying your best to multi-task answering his stupid questions while getting ready yourself. You knew he wasn't trying to be annoying. It was cute to you that he was so nervous, despite him being on the verge of a breakdown.

"Okay what about white or black socks?" You told him white. "What length though? Above or below the ankle???" You told him above. "Okay, but should I pick the ones with a logo or no logo-"

"Oscar." You said firmly. He gulped, he knew he should have picked the no logo socks, what a stupid question! But that wasn't what you were going to say. "I promise you'll be perfectly fine. They don't care what you wear, how you sound, or even what you like."

"I know, I know, but I don't want to disappoint them." He says before remembering, "Oh shit! We need to leave soon! I need to pick up the bouquets I ordered for your family on the way there-"

You couldn't help but laugh at him. Every question he asked was just further proof that would be perfectly fine meeting them all. You had no doubts that your family would adore him: which they did.

Oliver Bearman | 87

The second Ollie stepped foot into your family's party, he was bombarded with questions. Bringing a tall, handsome, and talented young man into your family automatically made him lovable. They almost forgot about the fact that the only reason he was there was because of you.

He can't escape the grandmas and aunties fawning over how cute he is and all the uncles can't stop bothering him with questions about cars. Even your little cousins love him, asking him annoying questions that he handled really well.

Before you know it, he's carrying your baby cousin in one arm, holding a paper plate filled to the brim with food, wearing your uncle's hat that he insisted suited Ollie more, and being forced to tell everyone his facebook so they can stalk him.

The night lasted hours, but thankfully all your family got drunk or sleepy. Meaning you two were able to escape from the party. The second you're in the car, he sighs. It confused you, was he tired? Relieved to leave? Sad???

"Do you think they liked me?" He asks you. Which you instantly want to slam his head into the window.

"Yes Ollie, they liked you." You say with a smile, giving him a kiss on his cheek. "They loved you."

Paul Aron | 17

You've met Paul's family many times due to them being extremely present in his life. His sister always makes sure to check on him, taking you out for little gossip coffee dates. His brother is constantly calling Paul, making sure to tease him endlessly. And his parents are always there to encourage you two and take you on their family vacations.

So now that it's Paul's turn to be part of your family, he feels so nervous. He's ruffling up his hair for the 100th time, mumbling the lines he practiced to say. It's just a small get together for the holiday season, but Paul insisted that he should still be dressed nicely.

Once you arrive, you're on time... By 10 minutes. Despite you insisting that no one ever comes early to a family party, he doesn't care. He'd much rather be early and help set up than be late and risk ruining his first impression. Besides, if there's less people, then he can make sure he talks to every single family member.

And his plan worked really well. He's helping set up the plates and utensils while chatting with your aunt about how he loves her decor. Making her feel appreciated, finally someone saw the effort she put into picking the perfect width of a fork handle!

He helps your uncle prepare the back yard by opening all the lounge chairs. Which lets him make small talk with him, where they both find out that they love Star Wars. Now your uncle loves him because he can finally talk to someone who's as passionate as him.

Paul keeps doing this with every family member that arrives, being able to talk to them each one on one in order to create a bond. Because in group settings, Paul tends to get a tad bit nervous. He doesn't know when to jump in or what to say instantly.

By doing this, you both return home with every single family member loving him. And each of them remembering him from the little facts he shared with them. He was so respectful, engaged, and sweet the entire day. You couldn't help but just want to shower him in kisses for putting in so much effort and energy into your family.

Pepe Marti | 21

"Tall and tan and young and lovely," are lyrics dedicated to a girl but they perfectly fit Pepe. Because he instantly charms the entire family with his sweet smile and handsome looks. You're worried that he might get stolen from you by the end of the night.

He's just a future uncle in training. Making all the aunts laugh with quick jokes and then heading outside to sip on a beer while helping light a fire. He's even forced to help clean the grill and get a new gas tank to light it up.

You feel so much more mature now, no longer feeling part of the cousin crew but instead a future auntie in the making. He makes you feel so domestic, so warm and nurtured that the only thing you want to do is share the love of being cared for.

And you can't help but just fall for him deeper. And the same goes for him.

Despite being assigned random tasks to complete, he always makes sure to check up on you. Giving you a quick peck on the cheek as he walks back and forth from the kitchen to the yard. Making sure to shut down any rude comments from your aunts by turning it into a joke. Squeezing your hand three times under the dinner table to remind you that he loves you.

He couldn't have been more perfect.

[wordsinhaled]

People call Charles Edwin’s guard dog and Edwin thinks it’s going to offend him, getting more up in arms about it than Charles ever does. But it doesn’t seem to bother Charles at all. And Edwin doesn’t understand, not at first, not until Charles tells him, “So what if they think I’ll bite if they lay a finger on you? Not exactly wrong, are they?”

Suddenly, it makes sense. Why Charles takes the comments in stride. Why he seems to take pride in the suggestion.

Charles feels like Edwin should have someone who is willing to do all that for him, go that far for him—and of course that someone’ll be Charles himself. Edwin reflects that he’d never had that sort of fervent devotion from anyone, certainly not when he was alive, and no one has come close since but Charles. He reflects on how good it feels to be fundamentally seen, valued in such a way.

Still, Edwin worries—does Charles know that Edwin is just as dedicated to keeping him safe, his heart and his spectral body and his soul? That Charles is the most precious gift Edwin never dreamt to be given, and—

Does Charles know that, every day? That he’s more than his teeth? That he’s more than everything Edwin could want? That he’s sweetness and light?

It’s Charles’ loving touch that Edwin yearns for and craves, when he’s laughing harder than he ever has, in the middle of the night when the rest of the world is asleep and it’s just him and Charles in the warmly-lit office, tipping against each other on the tiny sofa that never feels cramped when it’s keeping the two of them near. The actual joke goes forgotten in the self-replenishing haze of their giggles, their shoulders knocking together, Charles’ ankle hooked around Edwin’s.

Edwin’s hand lands on Charles’ jaw, barely-there fingertips turning Charles’ head, easy, so easy, to look at him. To catch Charles’ gaze, deep and shining and—they’re so close to each other, a bit heady with leftover mirth, and Edwin will never forget that it’s Charles who moves first to press his smiling lips to Edwin’s, simple as ever, like it’s the next line in their conversation.

It knocks the breath straight out of Edwin: the breath he hasn’t needed in three-odd decades. But it’s all right because Charles’ mouth is opening against his, so right and inviting, and Charles is gasping too like he’s in the same dizzy predicament, and Edwin never wants it to end.

“Charles,” he says, “Charles, my darling, are you…?”

Charles’ eyes are dark as ink when he pulls back, only far enough to nudge his nose against Edwin’s cheek.

“Yeah,” he says, smile flashing bright like a slice of the moon. He closes his eyes, a flutter of lashes Edwin can feel against his own cheekbone, followed by the soft drag of a kiss. Then another. “Should’ve seen it, really,” Charles goes on, in between still more kisses, words said into Edwin’s skin. “‘Cause you’re it for me, Edwin, aren’t you, love? I just didn’t see. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you when you first—”

“Never mind,” Edwin says, “tell me now,” and then they’re kissing once more. The testing scrape of Charles’ teeth over Edwin’s lower lip, the nibble on his upper, is tentative, too tentative, and Edwin ought to have known, he ought to have suspected… but still he doesn’t, doesn’t expect the keening, tremulous moan that tumbles out of him at the promise of it all.

Charles chuckles, the sound settling in Edwin’s belly, making a home in his chest. “You like that?” he asks. Awed. Still hesitant. The laughter from earlier still layered in Charles’ voice, along with a new sort of hoarseness, a new sort of rasp Edwin could listen to forever. “Don’t wanna put you off, do I, love…”

“I will hardly be put off, Charles. In fact, I—” Edwin swallows, convulsive and wanting, sees Charles’ focus drop to his throat, find the soft underside of his jaw as he tips his chin up. “I would not have you hold back with me. Set your hands where you wish. Your mouth—where you wish. Your…” It is his turn to close his eyes.

“My teeth,” Charles finishes for him softly. “Wherever I…?”

“Yes,” Edwin says. “Yes.”

[wandering-pirate]

Mouthwashing Characters Headcanons

The Crew's Love Language ft. You

Captain Curly

Words of Affirmation

The captain is well-known for having his vocabulary overflowing with encouraging and uplifting words, a stellar reputation for giving good pep talks

Deep inside, he always loved hearing words of praise from the people he cared about the most. He always valued the affirmations from them, a foolproof method to make him smile and feel loved

For him, words are like fire, and people can either use them to warm someone up or burn a whole damn city

He never raises his voice at you when it comes to negative emotions, never when he's angry, frustrated, or panicked

He, however, is so enthusiastic when congratulating you or when he's excited about the topic you're both talking about

Your heart (and belly) can't help but feel very warm with the way he uses his words with his deep tone. If a kid asked you how a space superhero would sound, you'd bring Curly forward

With his effort to stay optimistic, you always make sure to tell him an encouraging word or sweet strands of praise whenever you see him and after he does something

"Captain, remember to stay hydrated, you're doing great, sir."

"You always know how to put the crew at ease, Cap. Appreciate it"

"You're so reliable, gosh, thank you!"

Every praise and affirmation you throw his way makes him blush and stutter, a polar opposite to his status

You make it a duty to compliment him sincerely. The hunk of a man ends up having a red face every time he receives your sweet words to the point that the crew teases him for it

"Cap, what's red and stutters?"

"I swear, Jimm--"

"Oh, oh! I know!"

"Come on, Daisuke, not you to--"

"You, after talkin' to Y/N."

The captain, co-pilot, and intern stared at Swansea’s retreating back after he butted into a conversation that the mechanic would find ridiculous even being a part of

You also made sure to never—I MEAN NEVER—use words against him, especially with secrets or information that he exclusively told you about (probably the reason why you and Jimmy ended the Captain's birthday party with knives at each other's throats)

Mechanic Swansea

Acts of Service

The old man was raised in a household where serving your family is the ultimate display of love

His father scoffed after reaching the last part of young Swansea's greeting in the Christmas card he gave him:

"I love you? Boy, you can't even make a decent cut on that firewood from a while ago"

"I love you's" are just empty words for him. When you really want to reach into his head and hammer some sense of what you feel about him, you gotta show it

However, unlike his father, he doesn't need a grand display of actions to know and notice. He actually prefers the little things you do:

Remembering his coffee preference and making it every morning

Giving him a massage in the area his hands seem to knead frequently

Putting his socks on before work

Giving him a pedicure (after leveraging that he'd eat you in bed for the whole night)

He also holds himself up to the same standard, always doing chores around the house whenever you're busy:

No stocks of pads and tampons? He'll make sure he gets the right brand you always get

Your favorite furniture that you inherited needs varnishin'? He's on it.

Your daughter's birthday is coming up, but you're too ill to make the cake? He ain't a baker, but he'd be damned if he won't at least try

"Daddd, is this... is this meat... on my birthday cake?"

"S'called 'cake of love' for a reason, darlin'. You don't question its ingredients. It's made of love"

What makes your heart flutter is not having to tell him all the things that need to be done. He knows what's lacking and what you need

When there are times you have to vocalize your concerns, he'll simply nod, and after a moment, it's done

Co-pilot Jimmy

Physical Touch

*Sighs* Need I say more?

Jimmy is the type who’s not comfortable with PDA, but he can't seem to keep his hands off of you when he feels threatened, (especially when Curly is having a casual conversation with you)

You can't blame the guy; he doesn't even understand how you fell for him somehow, but he's not complaining, and he most definitely will not let you go (possessive boi is a touchy boi)

His touches are not always sensual, and it actually surprises you how gentle he is when holding you

Whenever you're busy, he'd pass by to squeeze your waist or brush a touch on your lower back

When you're both around each other but are doing different tasks, he'd make sure to have a part of you touching him:

A hand on the thigh

A leg over your thighs

His head on your chest or shoulder or thighs (the boy's got magnets on your thighs, what can I say?)

And his personal favorite: having you sit between his legs with your back pressed against his chest.

One time, a frustrated Curly called you. It's been a week since Jimmy left for his job-training, and you weren't aware that someone was also getting through a torturous week like you and Jimmy

The captain was at the other end of his friend's damp mood

"I don't know what you do to him, Y/N. He's a completely different person when he's with you"

"Hmm, how bout massaging his hand, cap. It improves his mood, and it always works"

"..."

"Hello? Curly?"

"...Y/N, are you trying to get me killed? It works because you're the one doing it!"

Intern Daisuke

Quality Time and Giving Gifts

The boy loves spending time with you. He doesn't need to plan for what to do during those times you'd be together because he always finds ways to make you enjoy it so much that you have to keep a wristwatch to check how much time has passed

He's known to be a yapper but not the type of yapper that tires you

The man has a lot of questions for you to the point that you're concerned that he knows more information about yourself than you

Pointing out things he notices you do, like looking slightly at the right when you're lying or knowing how many moles are in your face and neck

It doesn't creep you out though, you picked up that he's very observant when he's interested and that flatters you that he take mental notes of these small things just by being around him

Whenever he knows that you won't be seeing him for a while, he makes sure that you know what he'll be doing and where he'll go

Basically the main reason when the crew - especially Swansea - would look for him, they'll go straight to you

"Hey kid, where's that boy again?"

"Toilet, Swansea. He said it's a raging diarr--"

"Yeah yeah, toilet's fine. geez."

Daisuke also buys you trinkets he finds that remind him of you—from crocheted baby mushrooms to obscure plastic eyeball keychains

"I understood the frog keychain last week, but... a turd plushie?"

"Cause I feel shitty when we're apart"

"Valid"

His gifts are very specific and you even cried one time in a store trying to outgift him, spoiler, you can't. He never makes you feel bad about it, he always claimed that he takes pride at being the Leslie Knope of the real world (iykyk)

Nurse Anya

Quality Time

She strongly believes that spending time with someone is the core of a relationship

She definitely isn’t the person to be clingy - nope, she's a queen with self-worth. If you don't want to spend time with her, don't expect her to chase you

The more you spend time with her, though, the more she opens up. For her, trust is something earned over time, and you made the effort to build that trust brick by brick

After falling for her harder, your trips to the medbay became more frequent with "accidental injuries"

"Hey, miss Anya."

"Hey y/n, kindly be careful. Don’t want you to have your 4th visit this week."

"Heh, what can I say? I hate breaking the streak. Gotta keep you on your toes."

"Y/N, it’s still Wednesday."

"Good time to give you your once-a-week training, right?"

Once she’s comfortable with you, her affection shows in the little things:

Putting your vitamins and supplements on accessible places because she knows you forget taking them

Giving you random psychology tests after finding our that you loved them

Or being comfortable enough to nap on your shoulders (you earned that trust on the hundred and tenth day)

You don't even have to talk while being together; as long as both of you are around each other, her shoulders relax, and her face is at peace

[wafflefries13]

Asking Out the Twisted Wonderland Cast (Multi TWST cast X Reader)

Summary: Sometimes, you can't just wait for good things to happen to you. Time to screw your courage to the sticking place and finally ask out that boy you like!

AN: I meant for these each to be like 200 word drabbles. Some of them kind of got away from me, lol.

Cross-posted on my AO3 TheGhostInTheKitchen

Warnings: Fluff, AFAB reader with she/her pronouns.

Part 2: First Dates

The sounds of the NRC cafeteria clattered around the group of first years. Utensils scraping on plates, sizzling from the open window to the kitchen, a hundred different conversations from all sides. Their small group sat clustered around their table, nestled close together to be heard over the general din. 

“I’m just saying,” Ace said, mouth half full. 

“You’re always ‘just saying’,” Deuce said. 

Ace shoved him. “I’m just saying, if you want to try out for the anchor position on the track team you have to actually ask for it. Get Coach Vargas and don’t stop bugging him until he sees what you can do! No one’s going to just wait for it to happen.” 

“And I’m saying it doesn't do any good to be a nuisance when I don’t even know if I’m good enough yet. I might as well wait till tryouts next semester.” 

“No, no, he’s right,” (Y/N) said, distantly. 

“Yeah!” Ace said. “Wait, right about what?” 

“You can’t just wait for stuff to happen to you. If you really want something you have to go and take it for yourself.” She stood abruptly, face determined. “I need to ask something.” 

Ace:

“Ace!” 

Ace jumped, brushing off crumbs from his jacket. “What? What did I do now?” 

“Do you want to go out with me?” 

Epel choked, Jack thumping him on the back. Deuce looked like she had just insulted his mother. Sebek rolled his eyes as he took another bite. Ortho gasped, leaning forward, eyes wide and excited. 

“I-What?” Ace stuttered, his face rapidly turning red. “Where the heck did that come from?” 

“You were just saying you shouldn’t wait for something you want. I like you, I have for a while now. So, do you want to go out?” 

Ace stuttered out a reply, slapping on his normal cocky smile but decidedly not meeting (Y/N)’s eyes. “I mean, yeah, of course you fell for me! It’s about time you said something. But, um, yeah, I’d like that. A lot.” 

“Well,” Deuce said, rolling his eyes. “It’s about time one of you said something.” 

“Hey!” Ace shouted. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

(Y/N) playfully shoved him. “Oh, please, don’t act like I haven’t noticed that you like me too. You’re not subtle about it.” 

“What made you think that?” 

“Ace, within the first week of me being here you asked to sleep in the same bed as me twice.” 

From another table, definitely not eavesdropping, Riddle fainted. 

Deuce:

“Deuce!” Deuce jumped at (Y/N) suddenly shouting his name. “I need your help with something. Can you come with me for a second?” 

“Oh, yeah, sure, of course.” Deuce ignored Ace’s pointed look. Deuce followed (Y/N) out of the cafeteria down the halls. “Where are we going?” 

(Y/N) suddenly turned around, Deuce almost colliding with her. Before he could apologize, she took his hands, looking up into his eyes as he felt blood rush to his cheeks. 

“I just wanted somewhere more private,” She said. “Deuce, I really like you. Will you go out with me?” 

“I-huh?! I mean, yeah, yes! I like you, too!” He rubbed the back of his head and looked away shyly. “Man, I wanted to ask you out first.” 

(Y/N) grinned. “Really? How were you going to do it?” 

“Well, my mom said that when my dad first asked her out he got her this big bouquet of flowers. But he ended up being allergic to them so he kept sneezing the whole time. She took him to the infirmary at their school and he had to write it down since his face was too swollen to talk.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t say no to flowers. Maybe we can skip the rest of that, though.” 

Deuce marched over to the cut out window of the hallway, opening out onto the quad. Reaching over, he plucked a fluffy pink peony from one of the bushes. He came back to (Y/N), suddenly very flustered, and held it out to her. 

“(Y/N),” He began. 

She clasped her hands together. “Yes?” 

“Would you do me the honor of - Ah!” Deuce yelped as a bee flew out of the peony blossom, shooting for Deuce’s face to sting him. 

Turns out, they did spend time in the infirmary. But, after (Y/N) kissed his cheek and gently held the flower, Deuce didn’t seem to mind too much. 

Trey: 

“Ow!” 

Trey paused outside the Heartslabyul kitchen as he heard the exclamation from inside. He was planning on testing out a new bread recipe his parents had sent him and wasn’t expecting anyone else to be using the kitchen that day. He peaked in, seeing (Y/N), Grim, Ace, and Deuce crowded around the island in the middle. (Y/N) was blowing on a burn on her hand, Grim rifling through the pantry for various sweets, and Ace and Deuce waving away smoke from a burnt pastry freshly pulled from the oven. 

“I told you!” (Y/N) said. “You can’t just raise the temperature for it to cook faster, it’ll just burn!” 

“Well, sorry for trying to make your confession go faster before you chicken out,” Ace said. 

“I’m not going to chicken out! Probably. Maybe. What if the pie burning is an omen?” 

“I wouldn’t read too deeply into it,” Trey said, entering the kitchen. The first years jumped, (Y/N)’s eyes going wide and she stared at the floor. 

“Well!” Deuce said, grabbing Ace and Grim and hurrying them out the door. “Omen or not, that’s our cue to leave. Good luck, (Y/N)!” 

Silence echoed around the two of them as the door of the kitchen thunked closed. (Y/N) fiddled with her fingers, still not looking up. Trey walked around the island, looking at the smoldering pie. There was a mostly neat lattice across the bubbling fruit, with extra crust cut into letters around the rim. 

“‘Trey,’” He read. “‘Will you-’”

“Ah! No, wait!” (Y/N) jumped forward, covering it with her hands. She jumped back as her palm accidentally hit the hot pie tin, giving her another burn. 

“Oh, wait, hang on.” Trey quickly went over to the sink, grabbing a clean towel and soaking it in cold water. He gently took her hand, pressing it to the burn. (Y/N) chewed her lip. “You know, I’d be happy to help if you want to try again. I’ve been wanting to try this new butter pie crust that’s good with custards and-”

“I really like you!” (Y/N) blurted out, face going as hot as the burn on her hand. “Would you want to go out with me? Please?” 

Trey tightened his grip on her hand, careful to avoid the injury. He smiled, laughing. “I was wondering if I should say it first. I guess you beat me to it. Yes, (Y/N), I’d love to go out with you.”  

Cater: 

Cater was relaxing in the Heartslabyul gardens, a can of red paint discarded beside him. He hummed something the pop music club had been working on as he scrolled through Magicam. He took a quick selfie, winking, tongue out with a peace sign, before refreshing his feed. 

He paused when he saw (Y/N) come across his dash. She was smiling brightly, one arm arched above her head and the other held down at an angle to create half a heart. The word ‘Will’ was written in bubbly cartoon letters in the middle. A few posts later, there was a second photo, an almost perfect mirror of the first to complete the heart. The word ‘You’ was written in the middle of this one. 

Cater almost felt like he was solving a puzzle as he searched the rest of his feed for more posts. Each had (Y/N) in a dramatic pose, adding another word to complete the sentence, ‘Go,’ ‘Out,’ ‘With’, ‘Me.’ When he realized it was a request to ask someone out, he couldn’t help but feel a little deflated. He shook his head. Of course (Y/N) would be crushing on someone. With all the adventures she had gone on during their time at NRC, it would make sense to develop strong feelings. He tried to quiet the voice in his head that hoped those strong feelings would go his way. Well, whatever, that just meant he had to keep a close eye on whoever had earned her affections, maybe give them a good threatening to treat her right while he was at it. 

Cater tapped on her name, taking him to her Magicam profile. It felt like just the other day when he was helping her set it up. He sighed at the happy memory. For a second, it occurred to him that the message (Y/N) had been spelling out in pictures didn’t end with a question mark. He thought it was weird. Was it a mistake? Then his eye caught on the latest picture, posted just a second before. 

It was a selfie of (Y/N) holding a large bouquet of yellow and orange flowers, marigolds, daisies, and buttercups. The majority of the frame was over her shoulder, showing Cater himself sitting against the hedges. His name was drawn in the same cartoon font with a question mark, surrounded by a heart.  

Cater snapped up, whirling around. He quickly whipped away the happy tears budding at the corner of his eyes as he saw (Y/N) waiting for him. The flowers were crushed between them as he scooped her up in a tight hug, both of them laughing. 

(They both carefully rearranged the flowers after to be presentable for the mandatory #TogetherForever couple photoshoot after.) 

Riddle: 

Riddle frowned at the commotion building from the Heartslabyul common room. He could make out the familiar rising sounds of Ace and Deuce’s voices. He began marching to the source of the racket, faltering a little when he heard (Y/N)’s voice joining in. Mentally scolding himself from eavesdropping  (it wasn’t eavesdropping, he was keeping tabs on his dorm mates, that’s it) he hovered near the cracked open door. 

“No, wait!” (Y/N) said. “We can’t use coral roses! I said pink!” 

Ace huffed. “What’s the difference?” 

(Y/N) tapped a small dark red book she was holding. “Coral roses symbolize desire, pink roses mean admiration and happiness. I’m not trying to scare him off before I can even ask him out!” 

Before he could even think about it, Riddle threw open the door, shouting, “Just what is going on here?” 

Everyone inside jumped. Riddle swept his eyes across the room, taking in the bundles and bundles of roses in multiple colors carefully poised on every surface. Ace and Deuce were meticulously balancing a bouquet in the chandelier, plucking out the offending coral colored roses. Cater was smirking in the corner, phone poised to capture everything. Trey chuckled behind his own large bouquet of yellow roses.. 

“Um,” She said, startled by his interruption. Taking a deep breath, she set the book down and picked up a bouquet of lavender roses, shoving them in Riddle’s direction. 

‘Lavender,’ He thought. ‘Love at first sight.’ 

“Riddle!” She said, probably a little too loudly. “I really like you! Would you go out with me?” 

The silence that followed was deafening. Cater tried to break the tension with a laugh. “Aww, (Y/N),” He said. “What happened to that whole speech you had?” 

“He surprised me!” She said. “Oh, wait, hang on, I still have it.” Without thinking, she shoved the bouquet in Riddle’s arms, searching her pockets to pull out a neatly folded piece of notebook paper. “Ahem. Riddle, I have struggled in vain and I can bear it no longer. These past few months have been a torment. I came to Heartslabuyl with the single objective to see you. I-” 

“Everyone out!” Riddle shouted. As the group scuttled to the door, he pointed at (Y/N). “Not you.” 

The door thudded behind them, Ace and Deuce giving a quick thumbs up and what was supposed to be a confident smile as they left. (Y/N) crinkled the paper in her hands. 

“It gets better,” She said meekly. “The speech. Although I guess in the movie it ends with a rejection too. I should have used the one from the end, or Shakespeare maybe. Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more - well, I guess you're not very temperate. Wait, let me try again.” 

“(Y/N),” He said. He held the lavender flowers tightly. “You know what this means?” 

“Oh, the flowers? Yeah, I, um, I’ve been studying.” She picked the book back up, shyly holding it up. Riddle could read the title now: The Queen of Hearts Guide to Courtship and Love. 

“You,” Riddle said, feeling his face heat up. He held up the flowers. “You mean it? Really?” 

(Y/N) took a step towards him, understanding softening the worry on her face. “Of course. I wanted to ask you out and I thought, well,” She waved at the multicolored roses, laughing. “Go big or go home, right?” 

“It certainly is a statement.” Riddle picked up a yellow rose with red tipping the petals and handed it to her. (Y/N) recognized the colors immediately as meaning ‘Falling in love.’ She gasped in happiness, jumping forward to wrap Riddle in a tight hug. 

Leona: 

“Ruggie!” Ruggie paused as he heard (Y/N) call his name. She jogged over to him where he held Leona’s typical boxed lunch order. “Hey, that’s for Leona, right? Do you mind if I bring it to him? There’s something important I have to talk to him about.” Ruggie considered it for a moment before shrugging and handing it over, but not before stealing a couple of chips to pop into his mouth as he strolled away. 

(Y/N) found Leona in his normal spot, a hidden alcove in the gardens in the biodome. He was laying on his back, arms crossed behind his head, and eyes closed as he dozed. He cracked his eye open as (Y/N) approached. 

“Hi,” She said, kneeling down beside him. 

“Hmm,” He replied. 

“I have something important to ask you.” 

“Are you going to try and make me get up?” “No.” 

“Alright, ask away.” 

“Will you go out with me?” 

Leona’s eyes snapped open. He pushed himself up on his elbows to stare at (Y/N), smiling sincerely at him, and maybe holding his lunch hostage until she got an answer. 

“I really like you,” She continued. “You’re brave and confident and know exactly who you are. Sure, you can be stubborn as hell, but you also really care about people close to you. Don’t make that face, you can’t fool me. You could have easily thrown me out when Grim and I needed someplace to stay when Azul took over Ramshackle, but you didn’t. You didn’t even kick us out when we were making so much noise and annoying you, you helped us break Azul’s contracts instead. You joined the Culinary Crucible because Epel did and you wanted to keep an eye on your team mate. Please, as if you ever need to learn how to cook, I know you can’t even use a microwave. And you pretend not to notice when Ruggie steals your credit card. And there was that time you followed all of us to Playful Land because you were worried we were going to get scammed. You didn’t have to do that, but you did. You’ve got a big heart of gold under that spiky exterior. And I really admire you for that. I… I really love you, Leona.” 

“Well,” Leona said, laying back down, tail flicking. “I suppose going on a date wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.” (Y/N) decided not to point out the content smile stretching across his face. She made a move to stand up, but Leona shot an arm out to hook around her waist, pulling her down next to him with an “Oof.” “Now don’t tell anyone else about all that,” Leona grumbled without any real heat. 

Ruggie: 

Ruggie was in Leona’s room, folding laundry while the house warden took a nap behind him. Ruggie stretched his arms above his head, sighing when there was a satisfying pop in his back. Suddenly, the door to the room slammed open. Ruggie yelped and Leona woke with an undignified snort. 

“Gah, what now?” Leona mumbled. 

“Ruggie!” (Y/N) said, standing in the doorway. She was panting as if she had just run across campus (she had). 

“Uh, what? Yeah? Whatever it was, I didn’t take it!” 

Unperturbed, (Y/N) marched over to him, taking both his hands in hers. “You did take something.” Ruggie frantically tried to remember if he had stolen anything from Ramshackle recently. He tried not to, knowing (Y/N) was pretty much as broke as he was. It didn’t seem fair. And maybe he liked her a little too much to swipe something. “You stole my heart!” (Y/N) continued dramatically. “Will you go out with me?” 

Behind them, Leona coughed to unconvincingly cover up a laugh. 

Ruggie’s ears flattened to his head in shock. He reached back and batted at his tail as if that would get it to stop wagging. “I - what? Are you sure? Me? What?” 

“Of course! You’re resourceful, you work hard, you’re clever, and you care a lot about your family back home. I really admire all that about you and more! Not to mention you’re super cute. So, will you go out with me?” 

“Oh, just say yes already, Ruggie,” Leona said, settling down to continue his nap. “At least then I won’t have to hear you being such a sap all the time.” 

Ruggie let out his signature laugh. He tightened his grip on (Y/N)’s hands. “Well, sure then, why not? As long as you’re paying, right?” 

Jack: 

Jack and Vil were out on their daily morning run. The sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon, casting the Night Raven College campus in a warm golden light. At their halfway point, they took a break, Vil stretching in his cooldown. 

“You sure you don’t want to keep going with me?” Jack asked. 

“No,” Vil said. “I’d rather stay slim than bulk up like you. I have my status to maintain. And besides, it looks like I would be interrupting something rather important.” He smiled knowingly and pointed with his chin a little ways down the sidewalk. 

Jack turned. He felt his tail start to wag on its own when he saw (Y/N) standing by one of the Great Seven statues, drawing circles in the ground with her foot. She looked up, breaking out in a warm smile when she saw him. Vil chuckled under his breath and waved as he headed back to Pomfiore. 

Jack clenched his jaw, willing his tail to stay still as he approached her. “Good morning. You’re not usually up this early, right? Is everything okay?” 

(Y/N) jutted her arms out completely straight, offering up the flowering Chin cactus in her hands. “Jack!” She said. “I really like you. I love how brave you are. I love how you’re dedicated to the people you care about. I love how you can be sweet and kind even when you try to act tough all the time. Would you go out with me?” 

“Yes!” Jack replied, almost before the words had even left (Y/N)’s mouth. He put his hands over hers, cradling the cactus. “I mean, yes, I would like to go out with you. Very much.” 

Azul: 

Azul jumped as (Y/N) slammed her hands on his desk in the VIP room of the Monstro Lounge. He quickly gathered his composer, pushing his glasses back up his nose. “Well, Prefect, to what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“I have a deal for you,” She said confidently. 

“Oh? I’d love to hear it.” 

Smiling, she whipped out a sheet of paper and slapped it on top of the other documents Azul had spread over his desk. On the top of the page in an elegant script were the words ‘Contract of First Date.’ Azul felt a lump form in his throat as his heart sped up. He quickly scanned over the rest of the ‘contract,’ outlining the proposed date. 

“Terms of the deal,” (Y/N) continued. “You, me, romantic night out. I know a guy in Craneport who said we could use one of their rowboats and I found this really cool pond with all these willow trees and fireflies. Plus I have this cute picnic basket all set up. Jamil has been teaching me how to cook, you know? Can’t say it’ll be as good as his, if we’re being honest about the terms of agreement. And the contract leaves an opening for future dates depending on the success of this one! Of course, success is not really a super definable term but you get what I mean. So, do we have a deal?” 

Azul covered his face with one hand, trying desperately to ignore how red his face must be at this point. He couldn’t seem to meet her enthusiastic and twinkling eyes. 

“I, uh,” (Y/N) continued, shyer this time as Azul scanned over the contract. “I really like you, Azul. A lot. So, will you go out with me?” 

He looked back down at the contract where her name was written in elegant script at the bottom with space for his next to it. He cleared his throat, bringing back his practiced (definitely not shady) businessman smile. With a sweep of his pen, he said, “It’s a deal.” 

Jade: 

(Y/N) marched across the cafeteria, determination in her eyes. She stopped in front of a table with Jade, Floyd, and Azul. “Hi!” She said, maybe a little too loudly with nerves. Jade and Azul looked up from their conversation, Floyd pausing his efforts in making a castle out of mashed potatoes. “Jade, I really like you. Do you want to go out with me?” 

“Oh?” Jade said, a brief moment of genuine surprise crossing his face before he schooled his features back into pleasant neutrality. “Well, what a pleasant surprise.” 

Floyd snorted and elbowed his brother. “Shrimpy’s got a crush,” He said in a sing-song voice. 

“I must admit,” Jade said, pouting with one hand on his cheek. “I always did imagine a more theatrical confession. Nonetheless, I happily acc-” 

“I can do that!” (Y/N) interrupted. Holding on to Floyd’s shoulder for balance, she climbed on top of the table. She clapped her hands loudly, shouting, “Attention! Attention, please, everyone! I have an announcement!” She cleared her throat as the room fell silent. “I would like to declare my unequivocal, utter devotion and love for Jade Leech.” She heard a choking sound below her but continued on. “I am hopelessly in love, helplessly enraptured, and absolutely head over heels. And it is my deepest hope that he could return my affections. Thank you.” With that, she hopped down, beaming. There was a smattering of applause and laughter from around the room. Epel whooped from back at the first year table. 

Jade’s hands covered his blushing face, fierce sharp eyes peeking out between his fingers. His mouth was split in a wide smile, sharp teeth glinting in a mixture of bashfulness, excitement, and desire. 

“Congratulations, (Y/N),” Azul said. “I can barely remember that last time Jade was actually flustered.” 

“Aww, look at him, he’s speechless!” Floyd teased. 

(Y/N) winced. “Sorry, was that too far?” 

Jade shot out with lightning speed, crushing her in his tight eel grip. “I should let you know,” He whispered to her. “I expect this level of dedication for the entirety of our relationship.” 

Floyd: 

Floyd darted through the stacks of the library. He could have sworn he saw Goldfish in here earlier, and he was in the mood to mess with the easily angered boy. And, while he didn’t find Riddle, he did pause as he saw (Y/N) between the books. He paused, pushing a few books aside to rest his chin on the shelf, an easy smile crossing his face as he spied on her. 

She was hunched over one of the study tables, a large book propped up and open in front of her. She was diligently working on something in her hands, tongue poking out between her lips (lips that Floyd found himself thinking about more often than he would admit), looking back up at the book in front of her every so often. 

Dropping down low, Floyd carefully made his way behind her, silent on his feet. Rising up to his full height behind her, unsuspecting, he jolted forward, wrapping her in a backward hug and pulling her back so the chair careened back on two legs. 

“Shrimpy!” He said, taking delight in her startled squeal. “Whatcha doin’?” 

“God, Floyd,” (Y/N) said, putting a hand to her chest to calm her raging heart. Her eyes suddenly went wide and she lunged forward to cover what she was working on with her arms. “Ah! Don’t look, don’t look! It’s not done!” 

Floyd grinned again. “Aww, it’s not nice to keep secrets.” His hands shot out, pulling out the thing she was hiding. (Y/N) covered her face as Floyd inspected the object. It was a thick piece of twine, various polished shells, sea glass, and dried shiny scales strung throughout. Although it wasn’t exactly neat, the way it caught the sunlight cast tiny rainbows and simmers around the library. Floyd peered at the open book. It was a cultural history of merpeople in the Coral Sea. The opened chapter described mer courting rituals and marriage traditions. Floyd started cackling as (Y/N) buried her face further in her hands.  

“How old is this thing?” Floyd asked, poking at the book. “I don’t even think my grandparents made courting charms.” 

“Shut up,” (Y/N) mumbled. “I was trying to… Forget it.” 

Floyd slipped the haphazard necklace over his neck, prying her hands away to hold them tightly in his. “I accept!” He said brightly. “This was for me, right? It better be, Shrimpy.” 

She smiled and flicked his forehead. “Possibly against my better judgment, I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else, Floyd.” 

Kalim: 

Kalim knew he should probably be studying, but every time he opened a text book or looked at the notes Jamil had oh-so-carefully marked and tabbed for him, he felt his eyes start to droop and mind get fuzzy. A good after lunch walk was just what he needed, and he definitely wasn’t just saying that to put off work. 

He stopped when he realized he had wandered outside Ramshackle dorm. Was that on purpose? Did he subconsciously come here, with the hope he might see (Y/N)? Kalim walked up to the front door, knocking before opening the door and calling inside. 

“Hello! It’s Kalim! Can I come in?” 

There was a squawk of surprise from the front sitting room. (Y/N) poked her head around the corner, flustered. 

“Hi. Sure, come on in. Uh, sorry, I’m kind of in the middle of something.” 

“Can I help?” Kalim asked, walking over to her. Peering into the sitting room, Kalim’s face lit up. Every available surface, and a few unavailable surfaces, were covered in colored and patterned paper. There were stacks and crowds of tiny paper birds littered between everything. 

“I don’t know if it counts if more people make them.” 

Kalim sat on one of the plush chairs, picking up a flowery piece of paper. “If what will count?” 

“It’s an old superstition from my world. If you can fold 1000 paper cranes, your wish will come true. Or something like that.” 

“Ooh, origami! I’ve made decorations using that before! I’m not super good at it, but I’ll help if you want.” 

(Y/N) smiled and sat next to him and Kalim felt his heart flip. “Yeah, I’d like the company.” 

They lost track of time folding cranes, the sun beginning to set high above the dilapidated house. They talked the whole time, jumping from topic to topic, joke to joke, without any real sense of flow. It was warm, there in the small room, not only due to the crackling fireplace. 

“So,” Kalim asked eventually. “What wish were you wanting to make? If this dosen’t work out, I can help you with it!” 

(Y/N) suddenly went bashful, turning away to pay extra attention to the folds of her bird. “I…” She muttered. She took a deep breath, turning to fully face Kalim. “I was going to ask you out. You have all these elaborate decorations and parties all the time. I was going to string all of these together and hang them in your room then ask you out. But, now that you’re here… Kalim, would you go out with me?” 

Kalim dropped the paper crane, flinging himself across the couch to wrap her in a tight hug. “Yes! Yes, yes yes! Oh, I would love to! Huh, I guess that means I need to cancel that order of doves now. That’s how I was going to ask you out next week. Hey, we both thought of birds! That must mean we definitely belong together, right?” 

Jamil: 

“Be right back,” (Y/N) said, standing from the first year cafeteria table. She walked across the cafeteria until she stopped in front of Kalim and Jamil. 

Jamil was shoving a napkin at Kalim. “Careful, you’re going to get sauce all over your shirt.” 

“It’s fine, I’ll be careful! And besides, it’s a pretty color, right? Oh, hey, (Y/N)!” 

“Hi,” She said, looking solely at Jamil. “Jamil, I really like you. Would you want to go out with me?” 

Kalim gasped, hands to his cheeks as he looked excitedly from Jamil to (Y/N). Jamil sucked in a sharp breath, clenching his hands. “I…” He started. “I’m sorry, (Y/N). I can’t.” 

“Oh.” Jamil looked down, but not before he caught the hurt confusion on (Y/N) face. “That’s okay. Thanks for hearing me out. Bye, guys.” She walked back to her table. 

Jamil only looked up again when Kalim slapped his arm. “Jamil! That was your chance!” 

Jamil scowled. “There is no chance. I said no, she accepted it. Drop it.” 

“But you told me you liked her!” 

“I said no such thing.” 

Kalim waved his hand dismissively. “I read between the lines.” 

“There were no lines!” 

“Jamil.” He looked up at Kalim. It wasn’t often the other boy used such a serious voice, or had such a set expression on his face. “You can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep yourself from being happy because you feel like you don’t deserve it.” 

Jamil flinched back, standing suddenly. A million retorts zipped through this mind at once, all of them falling flat and dying on his tongue. Before he could say something he would regret, heart thundering in his ears, he fled the cafeteria, ignoring the stabbing looks from the first year table as (Y/N)’s friends gave her sympathetic pats on the back. 

Jamil couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned in his bed, listening to the soft, even breathing of his roommate. Huffing in annoyance, he threw off the covers and left his room. He thought he would just take a walk, just get some fresh air. Without paying attention, Jamil’s feet took him out of Scarabia, across campus, and, before he knew it, in front of Ramshackle dorm. His fist hovered in front of the door, internally debating whether or not he should knock. He startled when he heard talking behind him, spotting (Y/N) and Malleus making their way up the pathway. 

(Y/N) stopped when she saw him. “Oh. Hi, Jamil.” 

“Hi,” Jamil said, limply lifting a hand in greeting. 

Malleus looked down at Jamil, glaring. “Viper.” It sounded more like an insult than his name. 

“Did you need something?” (Y/N) asked. “It’s kind of late. Is everything okay?” 

“I-” Jamil started. “I need to talk to you.” 

Malleus stepped in front of (Y/N), but stopped when (Y/N) put a hand on his arm. They had a quick and quiet conversation, Malleus nodded and walked away. (Y/N) came up to the front door, opening it for him. 

“I’ll make some tea,” She said as they stepped into the entryway. 

“Wait-” Jamil said, catching her hand. Everything tumbled out of him all at once. “I wanted to go out with you. I like you, so much so that it scares me sometimes. That’s why I said no earlier. I just think - I thought you would - should - do better than me, after everything that’s happened. But I -” He paused, only realizing now how out of breath he was. (Y/N) looked up at him and he felt breathless all over again. “I want to do better. I want to be better, for you if not for anything else. I know I probably don’t deserve it but, (Y/N), will you go out with me?” 

(Y/N) laughed, wiping away tears at the corners of her eyes with the heel of her hand. “Yes, I’d like that a lot.” 

Vil: 

Something was wrong, Vil could feel it. After all the chaos of his time at Night Raven College, he had almost developed a sixth sense for this type of thing. 

Vil narrowed his eyes, sweeping them over the Pomfiore sitting room. A group of students were sitting around one of the tables, studying. A few others were in front of the fireplace. A couple others were performing some viral dance for a Magicam reel. Nothing seemed amiss here. 

Vil walked down the hall of the dorm, heels clicking against the marble floor. With a missed step, Vil realized he hadn’t seen Epel or Rook in quite some time. That was… concerning. He quickened his walk. 

Vil almost gave himself whiplash as he passed by the ballroom. The door was cracked open ever so slightly so he could peer through. He felt slightly ridiculous, eavesdropping as if he wasn’t the caretaker for the dorm and all those in it. But his thoughts faltered as he observed the scene inside. He found Epel and Rook, as well as several other Pomfiore students, constructing elaborate sets out of painted cardboard and repurposed decorations from the dorm. Was that…? Something about this all seemed eerily familiar. 

“Wait, wait! You’re early!” (Y/N) said. She appeared in front of him, waving her hands to try and block his view. She grabbed his hand, tugging him out of the room. “Don’t look!” She pushed him back into the hall, disappearing back into the ballroom. A second later, she emerged with a chair, setting it down and waving to it. “Just another few minutes.” The door clicked closed behind her before Vil could say anything. He thought about barging in, demanding an explanation. But his curiosity got the better of him. And besides, he always loved to see what (Y/N) got up to. Huffing in amusement, he sat down, crossing his legs at the ankles. 

A while later, Epel, Rook, and the other students fled the ballroom, giving Vil knowing looks as they passed. With skepticism, Vil stood up and made his way inside. Standing in the doorway, he was suddenly hit with a wave of nostalgia. Taking a better look, he recognized the replica set. It was from one of his first ever movies, a children’s adventure called The Heist of the Everlasting Rose. This particular scene was set in a museum where the Everlasting Rose was kept. It had been a supporting role, where, ironically, he had played a child actor in part of a crew to steal the titular Rose to pay for the main character’s sister’s surgery, or some other such justifiable nonsense like that. It was his first big screen production, although it was a relatively low-budget and minor movie. He remembered after the film had come out he and his father would pour over reviews praising his performance. At that moment, he felt like he was on top of the world. 

Vil was brought out of his reminiscing by (Y/N)’s voice. “Hello, sir!” She said. She had put on a tour guide’s jacket, once again modeled after the one in the film. “Welcome to the museum! We have our prized exhibit right this way.” Vil smirked, humoring her, if nothing else than to see where this was all going. Linking their arms, (Y/N) brought him through the makeshift museum. “Legend has it that this rose was given by a cursed prince to his beloved, who saved him from the brink of death with its magical powers. Since then, it has been a symbol of pure and everlasting love.” She carefully lifted the cloche from the silk flower, tiny fairy lights arranged around the base. She held it out to him, one hand dramatically pressed to her chest. “And now, I’d like to give it to you, Vil, to profess my everlasting love. Would you go out with me?” 

Vil couldn’t help it, it was all too much. The extravagant set, (Y/N) memorizing specific passages from such an old and now obscure film, the entire production. He burst out laughing, pressing the back of his hand against his mouth, eyes closed. “Well,” He said, catching his breath. “After such a wonderful effort, how could I possibly say no? Yes, my dearest (Y/N), I would love nothing more than to be with you.” 

Rook: 

“(Y/N), you’re gonna shoot your eye out.” 

“No, it’ll be fine. You have to take risks for the sake of love.” 

“Oh, Seven, we don’t need two of you.” 

Rook’s ears picked up, hearing Epel and (Y/N) talking in the back gardens of the Pomefiore dorm. Smiling, he crept around to (definitely not) spy on them. (Y/N) was struggling with a large bow, an arrow flopping around as she tried to aim it. Pomfiore had a small target practice area set up in the back of the dorm. (Y/N) was trying, emphasis on trying, to shoot arrows at one of the red and white round targets. After her latest arrow struck the ground in front of the target, Epel sighed and walked to the target, collecting other fallen arrows. He stabbed them into the target in the shape of a heart, a letter with Rook’s name pinned to the bullseye. 

“Don’t say I never did anything for you,” Epel said. 

“Oh? And what favor are you performing, Monsieur Pommette?” Both of them jumped, Rook smiling wider at the surprised squeak (Y/N) made. 

“You’re on your own, (Y/N)!” Epel said before rushing off. 

(Y/N) huffed. “Traitor,” She said under her breath. She turned to Rook. “Hi.” 

“Bonjour, Trickster.” 

“You’re, uh, early. I thought you were going to be at your club for a while longer.” 

Rook waved a hand. “There was an unexpected explosion and we had to evacuate. But I am much more interested in what you’re up to here.” 

“Ah, well…” She trailed off, limply pointing to the letter stabbed in the target. She covered her face with her hands, heat rushing to her cheeks as Rook elegantly plucked the letter up and began reading. 

(Y/N) could basically see the hearts forming in his eyes as he finished reading her confession. He dramatically clutched the love letter to his chest, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. “Oh, mon amour le plus cher! Comme c’est merveilleux de lire vos sentiments les plus caret! Je n’ai jamais vu quelque chose d’aussi beau!” 

“So,” (Y/N) asked nervously. “Is that a yes?” 

“Oui, oui! One thousand times oui!” He cheered as he gathered her in a swinging hug. 

Epel: 

Epel found the first note the day after (Y/N)’s announcement in the cafeteria. Whatever she had wanted to do was apparently pretty important, as she had grabbed Grim and they left immediately. Epel hadn’t seen her the rest of the day, but he would recognize that handwriting on the paper wrapped around his dorm room handle anywhere. 

He looked around to make sure no one was watching before unfolding the paper and reading. ‘Epel, I have something important I need to ask, but before that I have a simple task. Take this first note of the set and go to the place we first met. Love, (Y/N).’ Epel tried not to think too much about that ‘Love’ part. Where did he and (Y/N) first meet? At this point it almost felt like they had known eachother forever. 

Would that be, maybe, the well in the quad? Epel remembered meeting her, Ace, Deuce, and Grim there when he was rehearsing singing, using the well’s acoustics. But, no, they had seen each other somewhere else first. Epel blushed in embarrassment at the memory. He had been crying, frustrated to hell and back with Vil’s lectures right after coming back from winter break. He’d run into them at the Great Seven statues. 

Epel went to the statues, deciding if he didn’t find anything there he would try the well. But, lo and behold, another note was waiting at the base of the Fairest Queen’s statue. He read, ‘Epel, Congrats on finding your second clue! By now you have an idea of what to do. For the next place I want you to go, think of the place we lived side by side before the show. Love, (Y/N).’ 

That one was easy, Ramshackle dorm. As Epel sprinted across campus, both notes held tightly in his fist, he reminisced about spending his days training for the VDC in Ramshackle. Most of the time there seemed like torture, running endless dancing drills, feeling constricted by Vil’s lessons whose purpose he still didn’t fully understand at the time, worrying about the whole dorm falling down around his ears at any moment. But there were plenty of good moments too. (Y/N) making them - Vil approved - breakfast in the morning, her encouragement at each of their rehearsals, how she would slip them treats when Vil and Rook’s backs were turned to help boost their mood. 

Sure enough, Epel found his next note on the Ramshackle front gate. There was another rhyme instructing him to go to another location, also connected to his and (Y/N)’s relationship and past. That lead to another and to another and another, each unlocking a precious memory between the two. Eventually, he unfolded the final note, the sun just starting to set, casting NRC in beautiful golden light. ‘Epel, I hope by now you get to see exactly how much you mean to me. We’ve been through a lot and I’ve enjoyed every and I’ve enjoyed every second, and… Okay, I can’t come up with any more rhymes. Just turn around!’ 

Lowering the paper, Epel turned, opening his arms just in time to catch (Y/N) in a big hug. They spun around each other for a second with the momentum, finally coming to a stop and looking to each other's eyes. 

“Hi,” (Y/N) said. “Did you like my scavenger hunt?” 

“You’re bad at rhyming,” Epel said with a crooked smile. 

She wacked his shoulder. “Hey, I meant what I wrote, though. I really like you, Epel. Would you go out with me?” 

Epel squeaked her tight. “Only if you promise not to write any more poetry.” 

Idia: 

Idia was holding out in his room, huddled under a blanket, his phone clutched tight in his hand. He was watching a live stream from his favorite idol group, Premo. He smiled as the group answered fan questions, talked about their upcoming tour, and demonstrated how to perform some of their most famous dance moves. 

The viewer chat scrolled across the side of the screen. Donations and chat reactions popped up in various animations across the screen. Idia hit the donate button, sending a flurry of roses blooming along the edges of the screen. He smiled as the idols thanked Gloomurai for his support. 

One of the idols leaned over, checking the chat feed. She gasped, flapping a hand at the others and enthusiastically pointing at what she was reading. They all started smiling and giggling, whispering to each other. Idia shuffled closer, as if that would let him read whatever message they had gotten. 

“Hey, everyone!” One of them said. “We’ve got a super special shout-out! This is from (Username) to… Gloomurai!” 

Idia’s heart raced as he sat up in bed, blanket draped over him. (Username), (Username)... Wait, he recognized that. That was your username! He had helped you set up your account to the MMO he played a while ago. He remembered helping you through the intro stages, stumbling over the tutorials. He had laughed at your frustrated frown as you died on the same boss for the third time. 

“Aww,” The second idol said. “This is sweet. It says, ‘Gloomurai, I thought about telling you this in person, but I wasn’t sure when that would actually be. And sometimes big feelings require big gestures. I like you, I really, really like you. I think I have for a long time. I love your smile, I love your hair, I love your brain, I love that you’re such an amazing big brother. Will you go out with me?’ Well, Gloomurai? Tell us your answer! We’re waiting on pins and needles here!” 

“Oh, wait,” The third idol said. “There’s more. It says, ‘PS, check your door.’” 

Idia yelped as he shot up, the blanket falling to a heap on the floor. Heart thundering in his chest and head starting to go fuzzy. He almost felt like he was in a daze as he walked with trepidation to his door. Slowly opening it, Idia saw a basket placed just in front. It was filled with his favorite snacks, small acrylic standees of characters from his favorite games and anime, and studded with bluebells, irises, and blue asters. A large paper heart was pinned to the front with her and his initials drawn in the middle. Hair flaring pink, he quickly brought the basket back into his room before any of his dorm mates would notice. 

He heard commotion from his phone, Premo and the chat all eagerly awaiting his response. He sent in another donation with a simple, “Yes.” The idols cheered and squealed. 

He swiped out of the livestream, opening his messaging app. (Y/N)’s name popped up with a new message, a cheering emoticon with three blue hearts. 

He subconsciously covered his face as he smiled wide, typing back, “You’re so cringe. Can’t wait for the date.” 

Silver: 

(Y/N) sprinted across campus, heading whipping around to try and catch a familiar shimmer of silver white hair. She skidded to a stop when she saw a black Diasamonia coat draped over a low tree branch, a pair of shined boots sticking out behind the trunk. 

(Y/N) rounded the old oak tree. “Silv-! Oh, sorry.” 

Silver was reclining against the tree, hands folded across his stomach, chest rising and falling with deep even breaths, eyes closed and lips slightly parted as he slept. A few songbirds and a pair of squirrels congregated around him, looking up with big eyes at the newcomer. 

(Y/N) shifted her weight from foot to foot before screwing up her courage and sitting down next to Silver. She shuffled down so she laid next to him, still leaving enough room to not cause too much of a scandal if anyone walked by. She settled down, closing her eyes and relaxing, taking in the sounds of the woodland animals around them, the talking of other students in the distance, the wind whispering through the trees. 

A short while later, she heard stirring next to her. (Y/N) blinked awake quickly, propping herself up and leaning back on her hands as Silver woke up beside her. 

“Hi,” She said. “Would  you want to go out with me?” 

Silver blinked the sleep out of his eyes, looking up at her. “I must still be dreaming,” He muttered. “If I am, then…” He reached forward, cupping the back of her head and pulling her down. She gasped as their lips brushed. Silver’s eyes suddenly shot open and he jerked back from her as if burned. “I- uh-” He studded, pale skin turning a ruby red. 

(Y/N) giggled at his embarrassment. “Well, I guess that’s a yes, right?” 

Sebek: 

“Be right back!” (Y/N) said as she suddenly stood from the first year cafeteria table. Before anyone had a chance to say anything, she was off like a shot. 

“Any idea what that was about?” Epel asked. The others shrugged. 

Grim reached over to snag half (Y/N)’s sandwich from her discarded tray. “Probably going to go ask out that boy she keeps talking about,” He said nonchalantly, mouth full. 

Sebek choked, standing fast and slamming his hands on the table so all their plates and cutlery clattered. “What!” 

“Chill, man,” Ace said, waving him down as people across the cafeteria turned to stare. Ace smirked. “Unless you’re particularly invested in (Y/N)’s love life?” 

Sebek blushed and slammed back into his seat. He picked his knife and fork back up and started sawing at his Salisbury steak. “No,” He snapped. “(Y/N) can do whatever she wants. What do I care?” 

“Sure,” Epel said. 

(Y/N) reappeared in the cafeteria a short while later, Malleus in tow. She was talking with him, gesturing with her hands. Malleus had a wide, amused smile, nodding along. 

Sebek stood again, at attention for his prince. “Good afternoon, Lord Malleus!” He said. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your presence?” He scowled at the other first years rolling their eyes at his formality. 

“Hello, Sebek. I’ve come to give my blessing.” 

“Blessing?” 

“Sebek!” (Y/N) said brightly. She took both his hands in hers as he sputtered and blushed. “I really like you. Would you go out with me?” 

For once, Sebek was speechless, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. (Y/N) squeezed his hands tighter as Malleus chuckled next to them. “Well, Sebek? It’s not polite to keep a lady waiting.” 

Life seized back into the knight. He tightened his grasp on (Y/N), pulling her closer. “Yes! Absolutely! I mean, ahem, I accept your offer of courting, since you went so far to get my lord’s blessing, after all.” 

Lilia: 

Lilia wouldn’t call what he was doing skulking, exactly. More like surprise chaperoning, keeping an eye on the youngsters of Night Raven College like a good upperclassman should. And, if he just so happened to pop out and scare the living daylights out of whatever unfortunate student happened to be nearby, well, more fun for him. 

So it wasn’t especially surprising when he heard Silver and (Y/N) talking to each other in the courtyard. As a sly smile stretched across his face, he floated to a hiding place in the shadows of the flying buttresses, resting on his stomach to kick his feet, chin resting in his hands, as he observed the two. 

“You want my permission?” Silver asked, an amused smile on his face. 

“Of course!” (Y/N) replied. “I wouldn’t want to make it weird by dating him while we’re all still students together.” 

Lilia faltered. That was the problem with spying, sometimes you heard things you didn’t want to. So the Prefect was romantically interested in someone, eh? And if they were asking Silver for permission, it must be someone close to him. Sebek, maybe? Or, oh dear, Malleus? Lilia knew for a fact that both of the boys thought of (Y/N) as a close and dear friend and nothing more. His heart panged in sympathy at the idea of rejection. And, if he was being honest with himself, it panged with something else as well. 

“You don’t think he’s a little old for you?” Silver asked teasingly. 

“Maybe I like a silver fox,” (Y/N) teased right back. 

Silver laughed. “I don’t think I ever want to hear my father described as a silver fox ever again.” 

Lilia lost his concentration, falling with a yelp against one of the chandeliers hanging in the hallway. 

“Lilia?” (Y/N) asked with a gasp. 

Lilia smiled, trying to regain poise as he floated down to them. “Looks like I’m not as slick as I used to be. Now, what were you two discussing just now?” 

(Y/N) look startled. Silver gave her shoulder a reassuring pat and left with a wave. Just the two of them now, (Y/N) took a deep breath, building up her courage. 

“Lilia!” She said, probably a little too loudly with nerves. “I really like you! Would you go out with me?” 

Lilia chuckled, leaning close to enjoy the shy and flustered look on her face. “Well, if you have my son’s blessing, how am I to refuse? Besides, I think I rather like being called a, what was it you said? A silver fox?” 

Malleus: 

Malleus looked up from his book, looking around his room for the source of the noise that disturbed his studying. There, another sharp ‘ping’ from across the room. He looked to the window, noticing a small pebble hitting the glass. He walked over and opened the window, dodging just in time to miss another pebble. 

“Oops! Sorry, Horton!” He looked down, a smile automatically crossing his face at (Y/N)’s voice. But his expression quickly changed to puzzlement as he looked down at her. (Y/N) was standing in the courtyard of the Diasomonia dorm, inside a giant heart made of dozens of tiny tea candles. 

In a swirl of green light, Malleus appeared next to her on the ground floor. She jumped a little bit at his sudden appearance, but quickly recovered herself and beamed up at him. He felt his heart flip in that pleasant way it always did when he was near her. 

“What’s all this?” 

She cleared her throat dramatically, dropping to one knee. “Dearest Horton, you have bewitched me body and soul. I would like to officially court you. Would you do me the absolute pleasure of accompanying me on a date this weekend?” 

Malleus blinked down at her for a moment, basking in the admiration and adoration filling her eyes. He laughed, reaching down to take her hand and pull her to standing. “My, how formal,” He said. 

She smiled, shrugging. “I wanted it to be memorable. Couldn’t manage the fireworks, though. Sorry.” 

“I can rectify that.” With an elegant sweep of his hand, sparks erupted from Malleus’s fingertips, shooting into the dark sky around the dorm to explode in fantastic colors. Students from in the dorm leaned out windows to admire the impromptu show. 

Malleus drew (Y/N) closer to him, admiring the multicolor flashes playing across her face. “I would adore being anywhere with you.”

[avelera]

(Arcane Meta) Anomaly Future Jayce Might Have Surrendered to Viktor

It's really fun to speculate on what might have gone differently in the Anomaly Future vs. the Canon Events of the final battle between Jayce and Viktor, such that Wizard Viktor needed to give Jayce some warning when he got sent back to prevent those events.

Obviously, Anomaly Universe Jayce, or AU!Jayce as we'll call him for shorthand, failed. But when did he fail is a really intriguing question!

And I saw a really intriguing theory on Twitter that the flash of memory Jayce has where he thinks back to just before he shot Viktor and instead of Viktor being afraid of him, he's smiling, wasn't because Jayce was sentimentally imagining a Viktor who was happy to see him, but it might have actually been a received vision from AU Jayce about the moment he lost, and it was the moment he came to the commune and Viktor smiled at him (that goddamn simp).

The thing is, I think we can tell from Jayce's resolve and the fact he's fighting so hard with himself through Act 2 and 3 whenever Viktor is around, that it would be really, really easy for him to give in to Viktor. If anything, Jayce would be 1,000x happier if he could just give in and be with his partner for the last 3 months before the damn world ends, that Jayce is a much happier Jayce, but he can't, not just because the world ends, but because it will leave Viktor in a fate worse than death as the only thing alive in a dead world.

But this also implies that in most other universes, Jayce willingly gave in so what does that look like?

Well, I think it looks a bit like this:

Notice that the circular "swirl" around AU!Jayce is behind him, as if the point of entry is in front of him.

Also notice we don't have the top of his head anymore, so we don't know what the marks on his forehead looked like.

Canon!Jayce's forehead marks are from the top of his head, facing down, because Viktor ambushes him from behind to put his hand there.

In theory though, AU!Jayce could have them facing up just like Viktor's other followers, because he accepted those marks while face-to-face and then, the force of his conversion creates that the swirl behind him, the branches of corruption sprouting from his back look as if something is blasting him from the front, pushing the effects backwards.

Which means, that AU!Jayce didn't flee from Viktor and then pause to pick up his hammer as Canon!Jayce did.

AU!Jayce is kneeling in front of Viktor, in what could be an act of surrender, or even an act of worship genuflecting to Viktor as a superior, or as they fulfill the final stage of their shared plan, only for it to tragically end in AU!Jayce's utter destruction as an individual and essentially his death.

Anyway, I've been very intrigued by that swirl pattern around AU!Jayce and this is my speculation about what it is, besides fucking cool looking and a gorgeous artistic flare. Lemme know what you think!

[mywhisperingwords]

never will be | fred g. weasley

summary: if one more person called fred your boyfriend, you were going to hex them—and then probably yourself for wishing it were true word count: 5.8k masterlist

“Seriously, though,” Angelina said, leaning against the Gryffindor common room sofa with a sly grin, “when are you two finally going to admit it?”

“Admit what?” Fred asked, looking up from the deck of Exploding Snap cards he was shuffling.

“That you’re dating,” George chimed in from across the room, tossing a chocolate frog wrapper into the fire.

You rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt. “For the hundredth time, we’re not dating.”

“Not yet, at least,” Angelina muttered, smirking at you.

Fred laughed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “Don’t listen to them. They’re just bored and trying to start drama.”

George snorted. “Says the bloke who can’t go two hours without dragging her off to help with one of his pranks.”

“That’s because she’s got steady hands,” Fred argued, flashing you a grin that made your stomach flip. “Best partner-in-crime I could ask for.”

“Mm-hmm,” George said, exchanging a knowing look with Angelina.

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks but forced a casual laugh. “Exactly. Partners-in-crime. Nothing more.”

Fred’s grin widened, oblivious to the way your voice faltered on the last words.

Later that evening, as you sat in your usual spot in the common room, Fred plopped down beside you, his long legs stretching out in front of him.

George and Angelina had finally left you alone, their laughter about your so-called “relationship” fading into the background.

Fred tossed a bright green bean into the air, catching it in his mouth. “Honestly, they’re relentless. Next thing you know, they’ll be planning our wedding.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Oh, definitely. George would insist on fireworks during the vows.”

“And Angelina would probably hex the cake to explode in my face,” Fred added, grinning.

“Not that you wouldn’t deserve it,” you teased, nudging him with your shoulder.

Fred gasped dramatically. “Me? Deserve it? Please, I’d be the perfect groom. You, on the other hand…”

You raised an eyebrow. “What about me?”

Fred smirked, leaning back in his chair. “You’d probably spend the entire ceremony arguing with me about the flowers or the seating arrangements.”

“Only because you’d insist on something ridiculous, like having a Quidditch match instead of a reception,” you shot back, laughing.

“See? Proves my point,” Fred said, throwing another bean into his mouth.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the grin tugging at your lips. The conversation was silly, but it sent a pang through your chest all the same. For a moment, you wondered—what if it weren’t so ridiculous? What if you weren’t just friends?

“Guess it’s a good thing we’d never actually be a couple,” you said lightly, testing the waters.

Fred snorted, not catching the slight hesitation in your voice. “You’ve got that right. Can you imagine? We’d probably kill each other within a week.”

Your smile faltered for a split second, but you quickly recovered, laughing along with him. “True. It would be a disaster.”

“An entertaining one, though,” Fred added, grinning at you.

You laughed again, but the ache in your chest lingered as his words played over in your mind. A disaster.

Fred, oblivious, tossed the box of beans onto the table and stretched his arms over his head. “Anyway, who needs all that relationship nonsense? We’re better off just being us.”

“Right,” you said softly, your smile not quite reaching your eyes. “Just us.”

But as you watched Fred lean back, his expression carefree and content, you made a silent decision.

It was time to stop hoping for something that would never happen. It was time to move on.

A couple days later, Fred dropped into the seat next to you in the common room, his typical big grin directed at you. “Fancy sneaking out to the kitchens? I was thinking a snack, but maybe we could even go for a full-course meal if the house-elves are feeling generous.”

You didn’t look up from your book, keeping your voice steady. “Can’t. I’ve got plans tonight.”

Fred tilted his head, frowning. “Plans? With who?”

“Just plans,” you said vaguely, flipping a page.

Fred narrowed his eyes, studying you for a moment, but you didn’t elaborate. Eventually, he shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Your loss. More food for me.”

You hummed noncommittally, keeping your gaze fixed on the words in front of you.

Later that evening, Fred was sprawled on the sofa near the fire, George and Lee arguing over a card game beside him. Angelina sauntered in, her hair tied back in a loose ponytail.

“Oi, Ang,” Fred called, waving her over. “What’s she up to tonight?”

Angelina raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

“You know who. She said she had plans.”

Angelina hesitated for half a second before smirking. “She’s got a date.”

Fred blinked, the words not registering immediately. “A date?”

“Yeah,” Angelina said, sitting on the arm of the sofa. “With that bloke from Ravenclaw—what’s his name? Aaron? Aiden?”

“Andrew,” George supplied helpfully, grinning.

“Right. Andrew,” Angelina said, crossing her arms. “Apparently, he’s been asking her out for ages, and she finally said yes.”

Fred frowned, a strange tightness forming in his chest. “Huh.”

George glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “Something wrong, Fred?”

“No,” Fred said quickly, shaking his head. “Why would there be?”

George exchanged a look with Lee, who raised an amused eyebrow. But neither of them said anything, much to Fred’s relief.

Meanwhile you were trying your best to focus on Andrew as he told you about his latest Quidditch practice. He was charming, handsome, and undeniably kind. Exactly the type of person you should be going out with.

But as much as you tried to stay engaged, your mind kept wandering. His laugh wasn’t quite as infectious. His jokes weren’t quite as sharp. And when he leaned in slightly to brush his hand against yours, your chest didn’t flutter the way you wanted it to.

You forced a smile, reminding yourself why you were here. Andrew had always been good to you, and after Fred’s clear rejection, it was time to stop holding onto something that wasn’t going to happen.

“Are you alright?” Andrew asked, his voice soft as he studied your face.

“Yes,” you said quickly, sitting up straighter. “Sorry, just a bit distracted. It’s been a long week.”

Andrew smiled, his eyes warm. “I get it. I’m glad you said yes, though. I’ve been wanting to do this for a while.”

You felt a pang of guilt but managed another smile. “Me too.”

It wasn’t entirely a lie. Andrew deserved a chance, and you were determined to give it to him.

Still, as the evening wore on, you couldn’t help but wonder what Fred was doing. And no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the thought that you wished he were sitting across from you instead.

You had done your best to steer clear of Fred over the past few days. You weren’t sure why, if someone dared to ask. Maybe you wanted to avoid telling him about your date or maybe talking to Fred would force you to acknowledge that moving on was harder than you thought.

It wasn’t easy, avoiding Fred, considering he had a knack for showing up everywhere you didn’t want him to be.

And, naturally, today was no exception.

“Oi!” Fred’s voice rang out from behind you as you made your way down the hallway after class. “Wait up!”

You considered pretending not to hear him, but the sound of his footsteps catching up told you there was no escaping this time.

“Hey,” he said, falling into step beside you. His usual grin was in place, though there was a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “Haven’t seen much of you lately. Been avoiding me or something?”

You gave a half-hearted laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous. Just… busy.”

Fred raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Busy with what? Or should I say who?”

Your stomach twisted at the question, but you forced yourself to keep your expression neutral. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Angelina mentioned you went on a date,” Fred said, his tone light and teasing, though his eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite place. “Figured you’d be too busy swooning over this Andrew bloke to hang out with your real friends.”

You rolled your eyes, gripping the strap of your bag a little tighter. “It was just a date, Fred. No swooning involved.”

Fred tilted his head, studying you. “Come on. Spill. What’s he like? Is he as funny as me? Doubt it.”

You hesitated, your heart hammering as you searched his face for any hint of jealousy, any sign that this conversation bothered him. But Fred’s grin was firmly in place, his tone casual and carefree.

“He’s nice,” you said finally, keeping your voice even. “Really nice.”

Fred’s smile faltered for the briefest of moments before returning. “Nice, huh? That’s a glowing review.”

You shrugged, refusing to meet his eyes. “What else do you want me to say?”

“I dunno,” Fred said, scratching the back of his neck. “Maybe that he’s secretly boring or has terrible taste in music. Something I can mock him for.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you, but it quickly faded as the tension in your chest tightened.

Fred shoved his hands into his pockets, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “Well, if he’s so bloody great, maybe we should invite him to hang out with us sometime.”

Your head snapped toward him, your eyes narrowing. “Are you serious?”

Fred shrugged, his grin turning lopsided. “Why not? He could use a proper Weasley test. See if he can keep up.”

You shook your head, muttering under your breath. “You’re impossible.”

Fred watched you closely, his grin slipping just enough to reveal the confusion beneath it. He didn’t know why the thought of you with Andrew left a sour taste in his mouth, but he was determined to ignore it.

Maybe it was just because he didn’t know the guy. Or because he didn’t want to lose his favorite partner-in-crime to some bloke from Ravenclaw. That had to be it.

Definitely not because he cared more than he should.

&

The common room buzzed with its usual post-dinner chaos. Fred was in his element, loudly challenging George to an Exploding Snap rematch after a questionable loss earlier, when you walked in with Andrew.

Fred’s laughter faltered for half a second, but he quickly covered it up with a grin. “Well, well, look who decided to join us. Ravenclaw royalty.”

“Hi, Fred,” you said, your voice neutral but carrying an edge of warning.

Andrew smiled politely, clearly unfazed. “Hey. I thought I’d take you up on your offer to hang out.”

“Brave of you,” Fred quipped, gesturing to the chaos around him. “We’re not exactly Ravenclaw standards of refined.”

Andrew chuckled. “I can handle it.”

George appeared beside Fred, grinning broadly. “Andrew, right? You’re the Quidditch guy. Chaser, yeah?”

“That’s me,” Andrew said, looking pleasantly surprised.

“Always nice to have another flyer in the group,” George said, clapping him on the back. “Ignore Fred if he gets too annoying.”

“Oi!” Fred protested, but George was already leading Andrew to the sofa, chatting about brooms and game strategies.

You sighed, crossing your arms. “Play nice,” you muttered as you passed Fred, taking a seat near Angelina and Lee.

Fred watched as Andrew settled into the group, answering questions and laughing at everyone’s jokes with ease. His jaw tightened when Angelina leaned over to whisper, “He’s charming, isn’t he?”

“Sure,” Fred said, his voice flat.

An hour later, everyone seemed to be getting along swimmingly—except Fred.

He wasn’t outright rude to Andrew, but his usual teasing had a sharper edge tonight. Every time Andrew spoke, Fred had a quick quip or an exaggerated eye roll.

When Andrew mentioned his house winning the latest match, Fred chimed in with, “Ravenclaw’s strategy, isn’t it? Win the game, lose the fun.”

George elbowed Fred, but Andrew only laughed. “We take Quidditch seriously. Some of us, at least.”

Fred grinned tightly. “Right. Because fun has no place in sports.”

“Okay,” you interjected, cutting through the growing tension. “Who wants snacks? I’ll get some from the kitchens.”

“I’ll help,” Andrew offered, standing up.

You hesitated, glancing briefly at Fred before nodding. “Sure. Let’s go.”

After you and Andrew left the common room, Fred slumped back into his chair, muttering something under his breath.

“What’s your problem?” George asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Problem? I don’t have a problem,” Fred said quickly.

“Sure you don’t,” Angelina said, smirking as she leaned against the armrest. “You’re only acting like a jealous git.”

Fred scoffed. “Jealous? Please. I just think he’s boring.”

George chuckled. “Yeah, he’s awful. Friendly, charming, loves Quidditch—how dare he?”

Fred scowled but didn’t reply, his gaze fixed on the door you’d just walked through.

When you and Andrew returned, the evening had mostly calmed down. Fred kept to himself, though his eyes followed you whenever you weren’t looking.

As the group began to disband for the night, Andrew turned to you, his smile warm and easy. “I had a great time the other night. Do you think you’d want to do it again? Soon?”

Fred’s head snapped up at Andrew’s words, but he quickly looked away, pretending to fidget with his deck of cards.

You hesitated, your gaze flickering to Fred for just a moment. His usual grin was gone, replaced by a furrowed brow and averted eyes. Ignoring him and the little voice in the back of your mind, you turned back to Andrew.

“Sure,” you said with a smile. “I’d like that.”

Andrew’s grin widened. “Great. I’ll find you tomorrow to figure out the details.”

You nodded, and as Andrew left, you glanced back at Fred one last time. He was shuffling his cards with unnecessary force, avoiding your gaze entirely. Weird.

Over the next couple of weeks, your relationship with Andrew began to take shape. Slowly but surely, he worked his way into your life.

He wasn’t overly pushy or demanding, which you appreciated, and he had a way of making you laugh—though not quite as effortlessly as Fred could.

Still, it felt nice to have someone show genuine interest in you, even if the spark you were hoping for wasn’t quite there yet.

Of course, Andrew didn’t just win you over—he charmed everyone.

“Well, he’s bloody polite,” George said one evening after Andrew left the common room. “And he brought snacks. Can’t argue with that.”

Angelina nodded in agreement. “He’s sweet. You picked a good one.”

“Of course she did,” Fred muttered, slumping lower in his chair.

Lee gave Fred a side-eye. “You alright, mate? You’ve been acting off lately.”

“I’m fine,” Fred said quickly, grabbing a deck of cards and shuffling them with unnecessary vigor. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Lee raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further.

The thing was, Fred wasn’t fine.

He didn’t know what it was about Andrew that rubbed him the wrong way. Maybe it was how the bloke always seemed to be around now, sitting beside you in the common room or leaning in too close when you laughed at one of his jokes.

Fred told himself it was just the newness of it all. You’d always been his person—his partner-in-crime, his go-to for pranks, his late-night snack accomplice. And now Andrew was stealing you away.

It was irritating.

But Fred wasn’t jealous. Definitely not.

One afternoon, the group decided to head down to the lake to take advantage of the rare sunny weather.

Andrew and George carried the food, Angelina and Lee brought the blankets, and you walked ahead with Fred, your pace slowing as you chatted.

“So,” Fred said casually, kicking a stone along the path, “how’s Prince Charming?”

You gave him a look. “He has a name, you know.”

“Right. Andy.”

“Andrew,” you corrected, rolling your eyes.

“Same thing,” Fred said with a shrug.

You sighed. “He’s fine. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Fred said, though his tone was anything but casual. “Just wondering how long he plans to stick around.”

“Why? You planning to scare him off?” you asked, your voice teasing but laced with curiosity.

Fred grinned, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Before you could respond, Andrew called your name from behind, jogging to catch up with you.

Fred fell silent, his jaw tightening as Andrew slipped into step beside you, his hand brushing yours as he walked.

By the time you reached the lake, Fred was thoroughly annoyed.

As everyone settled on the blankets, Andrew took the spot beside you, leaning close to whisper something that made you laugh. Fred sat across from you, stabbing at his sandwich with unnecessary force.

“You alright there, Fred?” Angelina asked, nudging him with her foot.

“Fine,” Fred said tightly, taking an aggressive bite.

George smirked. “You know, for someone who doesn’t care, you’re awfully bothered.”

Fred glared at his twin but said nothing.

As the sun began to set, Andrew offered to walk you back to the castle, and you accepted with a smile. Fred watched the two of you leave, his chest tightening as your laughter faded into the distance.

“Mate,” George said, clapping Fred on the shoulder. “You’ve got it bad.”

Fred scowled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t,” George said with a knowing grin.

If there was one thing Fred Weasley prided himself on, it was his ability to remain unshakable. Cool under pressure. Steady in the face of chaos.

Except, apparently, when Andrew was around.

“I’m just saying,” Fred declared loudly, leaning back in his chair with the kind of dramatic flair that immediately drew everyone’s attention, “no one is that nice. It’s suspicious.”

“Suspicious?” Angelina repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Absolutely,” Fred said, gesturing wildly as if this were common knowledge. “No one can laugh at every single joke. Even George’s bad ones.”

“Oi!” George protested, though he was grinning. “My jokes are masterpieces.”

Andrew, seated comfortably next to you, chuckled. “I don’t know, George. That one about the Blast-Ended Skrewts last week was a bit of a stretch.”

Fred’s eyes narrowed. “See? Right there. He’s even polite when he’s being critical. Who does that?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you. “Fred, are you really mad because Andrew is nice?”

“I’m not mad!” Fred insisted, though his tone suggested otherwise. “I’m just… observant. He’s too nice. It’s unnatural.”

“Fred,” Lee said, struggling to keep a straight face, “I think you might be allergic to decent human behavior.”

The group erupted in laughter, and for a moment, even you couldn’t hide your amusement. But Fred wasn’t done yet.

“Mark my words,” Fred continued, pointing dramatically at Andrew, “this whole ‘charming and perfect’ act is going to crack one day. And when it does—”

Andrew held up his hands, laughing lightly. “Alright, you’ve got me. I’ll admit it: I burned toast once. Twice, actually. Sometimes I even leave the cap off the toothpaste.”

“Oh, the horror,” Lee said, clutching his chest mockingly. “Fred, are you sure we’re safe in his presence?”

Fred scowled, muttering something under his breath.

You shot him a look, your patience wearing thin. “Fred, if you’re so bothered by something, maybe you should do something about it.”

Fred blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in your tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You shrugged, standing to grab a glass of water. “Exactly what it sounds like.”

Fred watched you leave the room, the weight of your words settling uncomfortably in his chest.

“What’s her problem?” he muttered, glancing at the others.

Angelina snorted. “You’re joking, right?”

Fred frowned. “What?”

George exchanged a look with Lee, barely containing his laughter. “Oh, nothing,” George said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m sure it has nothing to do with you acting like a jealous prat every time Andrew breathes in her direction.”

“I’m not jealous!” Fred shot back, his voice a little too loud.

“Sure you’re not,” Lee said, patting him on the shoulder.

Angelina leaned forward, her smirk practically glowing. “Fred, has it ever occurred to you that you’re not mad at Andrew? You’re mad because he’s with her, and you’re not.”

Fred opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. He shut it again, glaring at the lot of them as they burst into laughter.

“Honestly,” George said, shaking his head. “I’ve seen Blast-Ended Skrewts with more self-awareness.”

Fred groaned, burying his face in his hands. “You’re all useless,” he muttered.

“Hey, we’re just here to point out the obvious,” Lee said with a grin. “The rest is up to you, lover boy.”

&

The Three Broomsticks was warm and bustling with chatter, the kind of lively atmosphere that could distract anyone from their troubles.

Fred leaned back in his chair, nursing a mug of butterbeer, and let the noise wash over him.

It had been weeks since he’d felt this at ease. For once, he wasn’t thinking about Andrew or the way he seemed to occupy every spare moment of your time.

Because, for the first time in a long while, it was just the group—George, Lee, Angelina, you, and him—laughing, joking, and bickering like always. And with you sitting across from him, grinning over the rim of your butterbeer as you teased George about his latest failed prank, Fred felt… content.

Comfortable. Like everything was back to normal.

But then the door to the pub opened, letting in a gust of cold air and a familiar figure.

Fred’s stomach twisted the moment he saw Andrew.

“Hey, everyone,” Andrew said, his smile easy and confident as he approached the table.

Fred tried to focus on his drink, on George cracking a joke, on literally anything else—but then Andrew leaned down, his hand brushing your shoulder, and kissed you.

It wasn’t long, just a brief, casual kiss on the lips, but it might as well have been a Bludger to Fred’s chest.

The laughter at the table carried on, the others welcoming Andrew like they always did, but Fred barely heard a word. His mind was spinning, his heart racing, and for the first time, he couldn’t keep up the denial.

It wasn’t just irritation. It wasn’t just protectiveness.

It was jealousy.

Pure, undeniable jealousy.

And it wasn’t just because Andrew had you—it was because Fred wanted you.

The realization hit him like a brick wall. Every time you laughed at Andrew’s jokes, every time you brushed his hand with yours, every time you smiled at him with that soft, affectionate look in your eyes—it burned.

Because Fred wanted to be the one making you laugh, holding your hand, earning your smiles.

But it wasn’t him. And now, sitting here, watching Andrew slide into the seat beside you, his arm draped casually over the back of your chair, Fred finally understood why it hurt so much.

&

Fred paced the length of the Gryffindor common room like a man possessed, his hands raking through his hair as George, Angelina, and Lee lounged on the sofa, watching with varying degrees of amusement.

“She kissed him,” Fred muttered for the fiftieth time, his voice tinged with both disbelief and frustration.

“Yes, Fred,” Angelina said patiently, not bothering to hide her smirk. “We were all there. You don’t need to recap.”

“But—” Fred turned on his heel, his expression wild. “How did I not see it before? How did none of you tell me?”

George snorted. “Mate, we’ve been dropping hints for years. You’re just thick.”

“Excuse me?” Fred stopped pacing long enough to glare at his twin.

Lee chimed in, grinning. “He’s right, you know. It’s been painfully obvious to everyone but you. Honestly, we were starting to think you’d never figure it out.”

Fred groaned, collapsing into a chair and burying his face in his hands. “What am I supposed to do now? She’s happy with Andrew. I can’t just…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“You could do nothing,” Angelina suggested, crossing her arms. “Let her be happy. Maybe keep your mouth shut for once in your life.”

Fred glared at her. “Thanks for the support, Ang. Really helpful.”

“I’m just saying,” Angelina continued, shrugging. “If you care about her, maybe you don’t ruin things for her. It’s not about you, Fred.”

George tilted his head. “Or—and hear me out—you could tell her how you feel and let her decide.”

Lee grinned. “Or—and this is my favorite option—you stage an elaborate prank to scare off Andrew, then swoop in as the knight in shining armor.”

Fred groaned again, throwing his head back against the chair. “You’re all useless.”

“Hey, I’m giving you options,” Lee said defensively.

“Yeah,” George added. “And Angelina’s just saying what she’d do if she were you. Personally, I think you should grow a pair and tell her the truth.”

Fred shot him a look. “It’s not that simple.”

“It never is,” Angelina said, her tone softer now. “But you’ve got to figure it out, Fred. Otherwise, you’re just going to keep driving yourself—and the rest of us—mad.”

The sound of the portrait hole opening drew their attention, and there you were, stepping inside with your bag slung over one shoulder and a slight frown on your face.

Fred’s heart skipped a beat, and he immediately sat up straighter, trying to look normal—which, of course, only made him look even more suspicious.

“Everything okay?” you asked, glancing between the group and Fred’s suspiciously guilty expression.

“Fine!” Fred said quickly, his voice a little too loud.

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t push, instead walking over to your usual spot by the fire. You dropped your bag on the floor and pulled out a stack of parchment, rifling through it with a small, frustrated sigh.

Fred couldn’t take his eyes off you. It wasn’t anything special—just you being you—but the way your hair caught the firelight, the tiny furrow in your brow as you concentrated, the way you bit your lip when something didn’t go right…

In that moment, Fred knew.

Knew that no one else would ever make him feel the way you did. Knew that no one else would ever measure up to you. Knew that he couldn’t keep this to himself anymore.

Now he just had to figure out how to tell you.

“Merlin, he’s gone,” George muttered, nudging Angelina. “Look at him.”

Fred ignored them, his mind racing as he tried to think of something—anything—to say. But for once in his life, words failed him.

Fred had never been one to overthink things. Usually, he went with his gut, said whatever was on his mind, and dealt with the consequences later. But when it came to you, every plan he came up with seemed doomed from the start.

The first time he tried, it was on the way to Charms. He’d spotted you walking ahead, your bag slung over one shoulder and your hair bouncing as you moved. His heart did that stupid thing where it sped up, and before he could stop himself, he called your name.

“Hey,” you said, slowing to let him catch up.

“Hey,” he replied, suddenly feeling like his tongue had turned to lead.

You smiled at him, that warm, easy smile that made his chest ache. “What’s up?”

Fred opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, Andrew appeared from the other direction.

“There you are,” Andrew said, grinning as he slipped an arm around your waist.

Fred’s jaw clenched, but he forced a smile. “Right. See you in class,” he mumbled, walking off before either of you could reply.

The second attempt came during a group study session in the library.

Fred had been unusually quiet, his eyes darting to you every few seconds. You were sitting across from him, absently twirling your quill as you read over your notes.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, leaning forward.

You looked up, tilting your head. “Yeah?”

“I—”

“Shh!” Madam Pince hissed from across the room, glaring at Fred like he’d just set one of her precious books on fire.

Fred sighed, leaning back in his chair as George smirked beside him. “Smooth,” George muttered under his breath.

The third time wasn’t even his fault.

He’d waited until you were alone in the common room, curled up in your usual chair by the fire. It was late, and most of the others had gone to bed, leaving the room quiet and cozy.

Fred took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair as he approached. “Hey, can we talk?”

You looked up at him, your expression soft but curious. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”

Fred hesitated, the words hanging on the tip of his tongue. This was it. He just had to say it.

But before he could, Lee burst into the room, laughing loudly about something George had apparently done. The noise startled both of you, and whatever fragile moment had been building between you vanished in an instant.

Fred sighed, watching as you smiled politely at Lee’s antics before heading upstairs to your dorm.

Meanwhile, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

Andrew was as kind and attentive as ever, but your heart wasn’t fully in it. You caught yourself zoning out during conversations, your mind drifting to memories of late-night laughs and pranks with Fred.

Andrew noticed.

“You’ve been a bit distant lately,” he said one evening as you sat together by the lake. His tone was calm but serious, his eyes searching yours.

“I’m sorry,” you said quickly, though you weren’t sure what you were apologizing for.

Andrew smiled faintly, shaking his head. “We should talk. Really talk.”

You nodded, your stomach twisting with unease and the underlying feeling of already knowing what was about to come.

&

The rain fell steadily, soaking through your cloak and chilling you to the bone, but you didn’t care. After your conversation with Andrew, you’d needed space to think, to feel, to breathe.

That was why you stayed in the same spot he left you in, even when it began to pour.

But tonight, the storm wasn’t just inside.

The sound of footsteps on the dock pulled you from your thoughts, and you turned to see Fred, his red hair plastered to his forehead and water dripping from his clothes.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice carrying over the rain.

Fred shoved his hands into his pockets, looking equal parts frustrated and relieved. “I could ask you the same thing.”

You shrugged, turning your gaze back to the water. “Needed to think.”

Fred hesitated, then stepped closer, the wood creaking under his weight. “And you couldn’t think inside? Where it’s dry?”

You huffed a laugh, though there wasn’t much humor in it. “Guess not.”

An awkward silence stretched between you as the rain continued to fall. Fred shifted on his feet, clearly trying to work up the courage to say something.

He hadn’t planned this, hadn’t thought through what he wanted to say.

“You’re really something, you know that?” he blurted finally, the words spilling out before he could stop them. “You’re out here in the rain, and I’m the idiot who followed you, and… Merlin, I don’t even know where to start.”

You raised an eyebrow, your expression guarded. “Then don’t.”

Fred shook his head. “No, I have to. Because—because you drive me mad. You’re all I can think about, and it’s infuriating because I don’t even know when it started, but it’s just… there. All the time.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the raw honesty in his voice.

“You know, Andrew is… perfect, really. Kind, understanding. Says all the right things. And he’s right. He’s everything I should want.”

Fred’s jaw tightened, but he kept his voice steady. “If he’s so perfect, then why are you out here? With me?”

The words hit like a punch to the gut, and you blinked, suddenly unable to meet his gaze.

“Why, if Andrew’s so perfect, are you standing out here in the rain with me instead of him?” Fred pressed, his voice soft but insistent.

Your chest ached, and before you could stop yourself, the truth spilled out. “Because he’s not you, Fred! He never was.”

Fred stared at you, his breath hitching as your words sank in.

You laughed bitterly, swiping at your wet face. “Andrew is kind and caring and everything I should want. But it doesn’t matter, because he’s not you. And that’s why we ended things. He knows he’s not the one I want to be with.”

Fred didn’t move for a moment, as though your words had stunned him. His wide eyes searched yours, raindrops slipping down his face, mingling with the uncertainty you saw flicker there.

But then, something shifted. Determination sparked in his gaze, and in one swift motion, he stepped forward, closing the distance between you. His hands, rough yet gentle, cupped your face, his thumbs brushing against your rain-damp cheeks.

The kiss came like a thunderclap—fierce, overwhelming, impossible to ignore. His lips claimed yours with a desperation that stole the breath from your lungs, as though this was the only way he could make you understand everything he couldn’t say.

The rain blurred everything around you—the trees, the lake, the world itself—but Fred’s warmth anchored you. His hands trembled slightly against your skin, betraying the vulnerability beneath his boldness.

A soft gasp escaped you as your fingers curled into the fabric of his soaked shirt, pulling him closer instinctively. The rain had drenched you both, but Fred’s heat seeped through the layers, making you feel like nothing else mattered.

His lips moved against yours, earnest and unrelenting, as though he feared you might slip away if he didn’t hold on tightly enough. And yet, there was no demand in his kiss, only a raw, aching need that left you dizzy.

When you finally broke apart, gasping for air, Fred rested his forehead against yours, his breath ragged. His hands stayed on your face, as if letting go would break the fragile moment between you.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice hoarse but firm, his thumb brushing away the rain—or was it a tear?—from your cheek. “Forgive me?”

The rain continued to fall, cold and relentless, but it didn’t matter. Fred’s eyes searched yours, unguarded and full of something that made your chest ache.

“Always,” you whispered, your voice trembling but resolute.

Fred’s lips curved into the faintest smile before he kissed you again, softer this time but no less consuming.

From a distance, George and Lee watched from the cover of a nearby tree, Angelina holding an umbrella over them with a triumphant smirk.

“Told you,” George said smugly.

“Yeah, yeah,” Lee muttered, crossing his arms, but not before handing George the bag. “I still say it’s weird to bet on your brother’s love life.”

“Not when it’s this predictable,” Angelina chimed in, snatching a Galleon from the bag. “You’re welcome, by the way. I made this happen.”

“You did nothing,” George said, rolling his eyes. “They’re just idiots. Idiots in love.”

[secriden]

This line. God, this line! It has been eating me up inside for 2 days now, because let's not forget, this line isn't about love, it's about trust. And that has implications that make me want to scream.

It's a direct reference to this moment earlier in the episode:

At the start of this discussion, Style and Fadel still have a kind of playful air about their conversation:

Style: Oh? Not even me? Fadel: You're at 80% at best. I feel like you're hiding something from me in the 20%.

In this exchange, though, there's a sense that Fadel is issuing a challenge, like there's something specific which Style can do to gain Fadel's full trust. And while Style knows there are things he cannot (yet) reveal to Fadel, I think a part of him is determined to be as honest as he can be, which is why he issues a challenge of his own by asking for more specificity:

Style: What do I have to do to gain your complete trust?

Part of this question is a simultaneously inquisitive and deflective - What (and why) do you think I'm hiding (something) from you? - but there's also a moment after Style finishes speaking where he stills and goes quiet that feels... genuine, weighty. Or, as @airenyah has pointed out in her meta on Style in episode 4, the "grounded[ness]" in Style's demeanour is a signal that Style means what he's saying in the moment. Maybe about his own desire to be worthy of Fadel's trust, maybe about how he genuinely does want this relationship to be real in whatever way that matters to Fadel.

I think Fadel sensed that too, because the moment looses all the lightheartedness it had before. Fadel pauses, and then gets a look on his face that just... breaks my heart. There's a sombreness there, like he knows he's going to have to say something that makes him sad. Fadel looks away, and then down, before he seems to steel himself and says:

Fadel: It'll never happen. No matter how much you love someone, I just don't believe that you can completely lay yourself bare in front of them.

Fadel says this like it's fact. Like what he's expressing is something foundational and true and irrefutable. It's not even about his doubt in Style's honesty, because this statement has no qualifiers or conditions put on it to connect it to Style. Rather this is what Fadel fundamentally believes about relationships and trust: he finds the very concept of being fully known and still accepted an impossibility.

Sure, maybe this is because of the falling out (or betrayal or disappearance) associated with the former lover; but I also think it might be because Fadel is acutely aware not only that he's hiding a rather big and dark secret (not to mince words, but: actual literal premeditated murder), but also about what it implies about Fadel. Because being able to kill another human, coldly and clinically and without remorse, takes a certain type of person. Because, yes, Fadel has lived through an absolutely harrowing and traumatising event (his parents' murder), but it's also undeniable that it changed him. Because there's something about Fadel that twisted dark and which he never quite got back. There's an anger, a hurt that colours every moment of his life; that enables him to look a man in the eyes, smile politely, and pull a trigger.

And at this point in their relationship, Fadel's understanding of Style is that he's... well, kind of innocent. Especially in comparison to Fadel and Bison, and even Kant.

Style, who easily reveals facts about his life which Fadel already knows (winning a car tuning competition), making Fadel doubt his own instincts about Style hiding secrets. Style, who also reveals the things Fadel doesn't know, like the tender and secret pain of a mother lost to cancer (which, now that I think about it, Fadel may also know) and his worries about a father who "lost his bearings for a bit" (which he probably doesn't). Style, who tries to comfort Fadel in his own loss by offering a safe space and a sympathetic ear.

Style, who doesn't just see Fadel for his tragedy, but is asking to be given the chance to accept all of Fadel as a person. Style, who not only wants but has the capacity, to be the only person Fadel needs to rely on. Style who, despite the sea of differences between them, understands Fadel on a level that is so very foundational.

I'm going to slightly segue and mention something that may not resonate with everyone, but really hit me in the gut this episode: because I lost my father when I was 16 after he battled cancer for 2 painful years. And this revelation about Style has totally shifted and coloured everything Style has done in a new light for me. Because not only does this totally explain Style's sometimes almost stubbornly childish demeanour (it's common in adults who've had to 'grow up' too early), but also why Style shows seemingly random flashes of insight and maturity when they are most crucial. Notably, Style has this almost instinctive sense of when he needs to back off a sore point with Fadel that I couldn't quite put my finger on until this episode.

I've seen a few jokes about Style's awkward subject change, but I've actually got a friend who I hold very dear to my heart who was one of the only people to give me a sense of normalcy and comfort when my dad was on his last few days and then at his funeral. And part of that was the instinctive way she would know when I needed to just. Not be a grieving daughter for a few minutes. To get a small respite from the overwhelming hopelessness and sense of impending loss. To get a moment to breathe and gather my strength, because knowing I was never going to see my dad again, or hear his voice, or hold his hand was tearing me apart back then. Sometimes she'd talk to me about college drama, sometimes she'd introduce a new kpop video to me, sometimes she'd just ask me what I wanted to eat and take me to go have a meal with her. And sometimes there really just isn't anything else to say other than "I'm sorry." Nothing you say - nothing you can say - is going to ever, ever make this grief go away, and in most cases, it was better when people (especially those who couldn't really understand) didn't try.

And I think if you look at Fadel very closely, there's a moment of genuine surprise (Fadel wasn't expecting the subject change at all) and then... something that looks like fondness mixed with exhausted relief. Because I don't think Fadel was ready to talk about his parents yet. This was honesty he wasn't ready to give Style, mostly prompted because Style himself had willingly been so vulnerable that a part of Fadel wanted to reciprocate. But further down that path lies not only his darkest memories, but also the connection to the part of his life he is not willing to share with Style yet. So this subject change is a relief, it's a blessing, but it's also Style knowing when he shouldn't push any further with Fadel's fragile heart.

Which brings me back to how well the episode's theme of trust (both deserved and undeserved) was woven in this episode. This is true on multiple levels and characters but I'm not even going to attempt to touch Kant in this post because... Lord, that is beyond me at the moment. Someone else needs to do that, pretty please, so I can reblog it and scream.

It starts, somewhat unexpectedly, with Fadel asking for entrance into the intimate spaces of Style's life.

So, this episode was not about Fadel's fear of his own feelings, desires, or even affection for Style - that appears to be fully addressed in episode 4. I think that's why we see Fadel be so physically affectionate and indulgent of Style in this episode. He's come to terms with his lust for Style's body (hence his comfort in initiating sex), he's accepted Style as his boyfriend and so can enjoy Style's playful teasing (still reluctantly, but Fadel is still an introvert even if he's mostly enjoying Style's rambunctious nature), and give into Style's (and Bison's and Kant's) cajoling with relatively little fuss.

He's even comfortable toying with the edges of revealing his darker and more sinister side by reminding Style implicitly about how violent Fadel has the potential to be. Recall that Fadel knows Style knows some of his capacity for violence; he just doesn't know how very thoroughly Style is aware of the full scale of this truth. It does help that Style evidences no actual fear and, in fact, looks positively euphoric. Like, buddy, pal, dearest one... please control yourself.

And yet something very, very telling is the way the show makes it a point to depict Fadel very deliberately getting drunk during the double date. Even before the date has started, Fadel looks to be about half a beer in and we see him constantly drinking, drinking, drinking during the whole date. From the conversation about trust he has with Style while Kant and Bison are being off key and adorable about it, to after Kant leaves and Bison gets worried. And we've seen Fadel cope with emotional and mental distress with alcohol before, so we know that Fadel is internally fighting some kind of very intense battle even as he is also very clearly enjoying moments with Style on this date (most notably when they're dancing by the bowling lanes and when Style asks him to go home with him).

So here's my take: rather than being about love, this is about Fadel fighting to hold onto his own philosophy on relationships and trust. Because as much as I do believe Fadel believes he's telling the truth when he tells Style that 100% trust is "impossible", I think it's clear that's not what he wants.

What he wants is to finish this last job so that the only thing he can't be honest about with Style will finally stop being a factor in his life. What he wants is to fully and completely reciprocate the openness Style seems to be giving Fadel. What he wants is to switch off his brain and let his heart lead for once, to stop fighting a battle he has no desire to win anymore, only he can't. Trust (not love) is Fadel's final frontier, and one which he can't quite give up in spite of himself.

Which is why I think Fadel intentionally gets himself drunk here. Because he wants to let his guard down around Style. He wants to open himself fully, he wants to "lay himself bare" for Style, he wants Style to know the full truth and accept him anyway - and he gets so close, but can't quite get there - because he doesn't know that Style already has.

When Style says this, Fadel thinks it's empty words, not knowing that Style has long passed the bar Fadel thinks is insurmountable. And just like Style was able to offer safety and reassurance to the vulnerability Fadel was showing in episode 4, Style instinctively gets to the core of Fadel's darkest fears again:

Style: One day, I'll be your 100%.

This isn't (just) a promise that Style will wear Fadel's stubbornness down, or that Style will be worthy of Fadel's 100% (which, already, has me in tears, ngl). Beyond that, this is Style promising Fadel isn't ruined for this; that it isn't too late, that whatever hurts and wounds Fadel has can be made whole again. That the kind of honest and all-encompassing and unconditional trust which Fadel says is impossible can, in fact, be his. That Fadel still has the capacity to trust and be trusted the way he so desperately, painfully longs for.

I know a lot of people have said Style in this episode is writing cheques he has no ability to honour, but I think it's more layered than that. Because in a very significant and profound way, Style is wholly deserving of Fadel's trust. Because in all the ways that Fadel has ever known he should want, Style actually IS worthy of his trust. Style knows the truth Fadel is hiding, knows what this man is capable of, knows the danger of being in his arms, knows the likely nonexistent future Fadel has to offer him -- and wants him anyway. Style is a man who would stare into Fadel’s darkness and reach out first. Strip away the complication of Kant being blackmailed and dragging Style into his mission, and Style is literally perfect for Fadel. He is exactly what Fadel wants (and possibly has wanted for a very long time). He is, in fact, exactly what Fadel needs to ever experience anything beyond the shadow of a life he's had so far.

But oh, the cruel narrative means that Style is also, simultaneously, painfully undeserving of Fadel's trust; and this is something Style is very much aware of. I think that's why he's trying so very hard to be worthy in all the other ways he can be. Style's awareness of what Fadel is hiding enables Style to (counterintuitively) be completely honest about his feelings for and about Fadel even as he cannot reveal his motivations. So he gives Fadel as much honesty as he can: offers the vulnerability of his own pain and hurts; the comfort of his true understanding and acceptance.

And just as Fadel's vulnerability in the abandoned factory was met with Style choosing a form of physical connection that prioritised Fadel's pleasure (it's made very clear that Style is jerking Fadel off and that all his focus in that moment was on Fadel, not his own pleasure), so too is this moment met with Style very intentionally choosing to worship Fadel's body with all the tenderness and genuine emotional weight that Style wanted Fadel to have in their first time in the storeroom.

Because, crucially, this was Style giving Fadel the chance to lay himself at least physically bare. This is the closest either of them can get to full honesty with the secrets they both are keeping. It's why Style tries so very hard to show the care and adoration and genuine feelings he has for Fadel. Why he makes sure that the vulnerability of Fadel getting himself as drunk and as relaxed and as trusting as Fadel can allow himself to be is tied only to gentleness and tenderness and pleasure.

Because Style actually knows that Fadel can't (and shouldn't) trust him in the way Fadel truly wishes to.

And as much as I believe that Style genuinely means this from the bottom of his heart, the horrifying full truth is that it is Style that has the metaphorical knife hovering over Fadel's chest. He is the one with the capacity to actually give Fadel a new scar that would truly matter. He is, in fact, the only one Fadel wants to fully trust -- and this, along with Style's compromised heart, makes it so that the circumstances will doom them both.

[bappablipblip]

[Spoilers for the Warframe Whispers in the Walls and 1999 Quests]

The way that Albrecht responds to the Indifference in this scene is so pivotal in my opinion. It opens up a lot of conversation about Albrecht Entrati and his motives.

He immediately recognizes the feel of the hand on his shoilder without even looking. He knows that the Indifference took on the form of his lover. The way the hand creeps up and caresses shoulder may not have matched exactly, but he knows what Loid feels like.

His face even screams that he knows who it is. But he knows it isn’t real. Loid isn’t ACTUALLY with him, which is the whole point.

Albrecht went to incredible lengths to keep the Indifference away from Loid but I interpret this part of the quest as him accepting the fact that he’s not going to see his beloved for a long time, yet still indulging in the fact that he can see him again.

But it also implies that Albrecht now knows that the Indifference is aware of Loid and has been watching him for some time (which may have driven Albrecht to have a bigger sense of urgency when the Drifter refused to kill “Rusalka”). It understand that there is a bond, but it can’t replicate it in a way that matters.

The Indifference shifts between the scientist and his assistant, mocking their dynamic as a way to torture Albrecht. It implies that Albrecht is abusive and toxic towards Loid, with the former referring to the latter as his “faithful man-cat”. In this warped view of their relationship, Albrecht does whatever he pleased to Loid and feels like he can treat and do whatever he wants to his lover, even going as far as to putting his hands on him. And Loid is seen as a forever obedient and unrequited servant, devoted and damsel-like.

As seen in the Whispers in the Walls quest, this isn’t at all how the characters genuinely behave towards one another. Loid is PISSED at Albrecht for leaving him, not desperate to get him back. He scorns their relationship, although he slowly starts to heal, but overall wants nothing to do with him. And Albrecht is gentle with him in the moments before he departs to 1999.

This is what makes Albrecht realize what the Indifference’s weakness is, it cannot fathom love.

All it knows is fear and negative emotions. Up until now, it has never replicated anything good or tasteful. It can’t understand what love is worth and what it can make people do for one another.

Albrecht literally goes back in time to protect Loid and to some (more assumed) extent, his daughter and in-laws, out of love. Even if Loid could not see the adoration Albrecht held for him (which is totally valid, its literally entrati.), the Indifference tries to use him as a method of torture against the Doctor. It’s also what makes Albrecht realize what he needs the Drifter to do. He tells the Drifter to develop relationships with every Hex member so that they trust them enough to let the player help themselves.

If Albrecht was loveless and did not have people in his life that he cared about, he probably would not have worked so hard to fight the Indifference. Sure, he’s pretty egotistical and a narcissist with a slight god complex, but he did not need to do everything he’s done to fight the Murmur. He’s too smart, he would know when it is hopeless. But he still fights, for love.

Also, if Albrecht wasn’t Albrecht and the Indifference could copy Loid’s mannerisms to a tee, then the doctor would have definitely felt more despair and struggle during his torture session.

That’s just my rant. I realized not many ppl have talked about this yet.

Ha! That's it, isn't it? The poison to your plan. And what is that? Love.

[tkomptgoedluv]

watermelon.

icantbelieveiletyougetaway pt.3

pt1. here | pt.2 here | pt.3

joost klein x f! reader

tags: f! reader, non-famous! reader, reader still really needs to see a therapist, established friendship, angst angst and even more angst, did i mention angst?, tooth-rotting fluff, so fluffy it’s honestly a little cringe <3, all characters are dutch and speak in dutch but dialogue is written in english for obvious reasons.

word count: 3,494.

warnings: very brief + vague reference to SA, rpf.

notes: hello!! welcome to pt.3 <3 this is probably the part that i’m most proud of, probably because it weirdly hurt the most to write. a couple fun facts about this part: reader’s coat is heavily based on one i have in real life and absolutely adore. also, i genuinely couldn’t bring myself to touch this wip for two whole days because my personal life started to match up with this storyline and i did not like it! became a little too self-indulgent. anyways — enjoy!! lemme know what you think.

love you all lots 💋

── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ──

in a lot of ways, the whole situation was more or less your own idea of hell — ironic, considering it all started with literally the worst night of your life.

not once did you ever think that you’d be here, that this was how things were gonna go. the fun part? you don’t even know how you got here in the first place. for someone so in the middle of it all, you know surprisingly little about what actually happened, or what you must’ve done wrong.

all that you know is that it’s different now. joost is different now.

you still text everyday, a few phone calls here and there, and you’ll see him in person a few times a month or more, but you can still feel it. the subtle lack of emotion in his messages, the only-ever increasing wait times in between responses, the missing details in his stories that you’d still end up hearing from your friends. something, at some point, shifted and joost just didn’t seem to be your joost anymore.

at first, you tried to think nothing of it. you weren’t exactly a stranger to anxiety; it’s always been just a little too easy for you to get lost inside your own head. this also wasn’t the first time that you had fallen down this rabbit hole, suddenly convinced that someone you love doesn’t even like you because they said something in a slightly different tone once.

but then those weird few days where things didn’t feel quite right turned into weeks, and it just didn’t feel like nothing anymore.

you thought it could’ve been the videos because, as predicted, entire montages of the fight found their way onto each and every little corner of the internet. joost could be seen clear as day swinging for him, landing punch after punch until one of his friends would eventually step in. though somehow, the backlash against joost never came. for every clip there was a ‘story-time’ to go right along with it, and every single one explained how joost was just defending ‘this girl that had been attacked by that guy.’

so instead you exhausted yourself asking if everything was alright, just in case there was something else going on that he also hadn’t told you. but there was only so many times that you could ask the same question over and over again, only to get the same answer back.

joost was fine; great even.

so it had to be you. nothing was wrong, nothing bad had happened, it was simply just you that had repelled him all of a sudden. and that was all you could think about whilst you sat in a room surrounded by your closest friends — joost included.

it was someone’s birthday, a friend of a friend who’s name was still unknown to you and yet somehow you still ended up with an invite. aspon was on your left, deep in a conversation with stuntje about some new anime you’d never heard of, and alanis was on your right, asking to see pictures of daan’s latest art piece.

you, of course, were there in between them all, just staring into space. all of the ice in your drink had melted as it sat forgotten about in your hands, and you were fairly confident that you had memorised each and every scratch in the wooden flooring. you were yet to find a better place to look other than the floor, because of course it was joost that had to be sat opposite you.

he had pulled the short straw really, because by the time he came back in from his cigarette outside, the only seat left was one of those awful, plastic fold-up chairs. like the others he too was wrapped up in a conversation of his own, only his included a girl that you’d never seen before, and he was making her laugh a lot.

you didn’t have a single right to absolutely despise what it was that you were seeing, but still your skin felt hot and itchy, and tears burned behind your eyes. despite arriving together in your group and being seated a measly three feet away from each other, joost was yet to even glance in your direction, let alone talk to you. the blatant avoidance was unbearable; the new ‘you’ that he was talking to was even worse.

but with the anger came the shame, because really, you had no excuse to be feeling like this. two strangers with mutual friends, talking with one another at a house party of all places, wasn’t exactly incriminating. they also weren’t touching or even flirting for that matter — from what you could hear, their conversation seemed limited to small anecdotes about the people in common they both knew.

you weren’t being fair, you weren’t being reasonable; there was no excuse for the tightness in your chest.

without a word, you got up and made a dash for the balcony; desperate for a cigarette. so desperate in fact, that you didn’t stop to grab your jacket despite the rain bashing against the windows. you just needed the fresh air, needed space away from whatever the fuck was going on in there.

the small roof that the balcony upstairs provided did little to shield you from the rain. your hair quickly fell damp around the sides of your face as the wind brought goosebumps to your arms. you really should’ve stopped to grab your coat, you were soaking now.

but the pure, unbridled relief that you felt when you breathed in the smoke of your cig made it all worth it, though. it was something else to focus on, something to help soothe all of your aches and pains. best of all, it gave you a reason to be by yourself for a while — a moment alone to think, to breathe, a chance to get a fucking grip.

you took another drag of your cigarette.

“think you forgot this, schatje.”

over the sound of the heavy-falling rain and the music from inside, you hadn’t heard the balcony door slide open and shut again.

from the corner of your eye you saw joost standing there, clad in a black gilet and the same adidas track-jacket that you had bought for him two birthdays ago. your coat was in his outstretched hands; a big, red furry thing that almost swallowed you whole every time you put it on.

“yeah…thanks.”

you wanted to cry.

the silence that followed was heavy and awkward; neither of you could even look at each other as you took your jacket from him and slipped it on. whilst you focused on looking outwards towards the skyline, blinking away any tears that threatened to spill, joost busied himself with lighting up a cigarette of his own. it felt like you were standing next to a stranger, and not someone who quite literally knew every single little thing about you.

someone who always picked up the phone when you called; someone whose bed you’ve woken up naked in just a few too many times to count.

“you, uh, you doing okay?”

you almost choked on your cigarette.

he’d barely even glanced your way all night, too distracted by other female attention to really care that you were there at all, and now he wanted to know how you were doing? oh he had to be joking.

you stubbed out your cig underneath your shoe and went to storm back inside, shoving past him with your shoulder as you did so. you had almost made it too, before he caught you by the arm and gently pulled you back. it really pissed you off how hurt he looked, like this wasn’t all his fault in the first place.

“hey, can we not just talk for a minute? i wanna know what’s been up with you recently. we don’t really talk anymore.”

as hard as you could you pushed him off of you, and then you pushed him once more for good measure. you couldn’t bite it back anymore, couldn’t keep it all from spilling out when your blood was already boiling. if you were to regret it in the morning, you would just blame it on the few drinks you’ve already had.

“and why the fuck do you think that is, joost? tell me.”

a small part of you that you really couldn’t quite understand, genuinely hoped that he would push you back. that he’d get all up in your face, yelling at the top of his lungs, just as angry with you as you were with him. you wanted him to shout, to scream at you about how wrong you were; you wanted to feel crazy for even thinking that something could ever go wrong between the two of you.

you didn’t want him to just…stand there with his tail tucked between his legs, looking like he had already given up on you a long time ago. you found yourself shoving him again, only hard enough to knock him back a step or two this time.

“tell me!”

now more than ever you wished that you could stay angry, that you knew how to hold onto the outrage instead of always just breaking down into pieces. it made you feel so small the way that your voice was cracking; your shouts quickly shrinking into cries. you felt like a child again, begging to understand why everyone always left in the end.

“i just needed to work some stuff out, okay? none of this was meant to happen. i never wanted to make you cry.”

you pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes, the state of your mascara becoming an afterthought, before raking your fingers through your hair. thin strands stuck to the corners of your face and the back of your neck.

“please, tell me what i can do to make it better.”

joost was panicking now, looking a lot like an old dog that somehow knew it was about to be left behind at the shelter. you could see it in the way his hands were shaking and how he couldn’t quite seem to stand still, shifting from one leg to another.

“you can tell me what happened; what changed or what i did wrong. i don’t care.”

from the look on his face, you never would have guessed that all you’d asked him for was the truth; ‘panicked’ was no longer the right word.

“i can’t. i promise, i’ll tell you later but i can’t tell you here. not like this.”

you laughed — you couldn’t help it. three months ago, when you asked him why he was so insistent on doing anything and everything for you, he gave you the exact same line. either he forgot that he’s already used it once before, or he thought you were stupid enough to fall for it all over again; either way, you knew now that ‘later’ was never coming.

before you really knew what you were doing, you were back inside and weaving your way through the small huddles of your friends. a few stared as you began to tread water through the house, a long line of watery footprints following behind you on your way out. you muttered a quiet ‘i’ll see you guys later’ to whoever was listening and in one smooth motion, grabbed your bag from one of the tables and disappeared through the front door, slamming it behind you.

no one tried to stop you. probably for good reason, too, because you could feel the makeup running down your face.

the only good thing to come from looking so sad and drenched from the rain was that nobody on the street stopped to bother you either. not many people were out in this weather anyway, so at most you felt their eyes on you as they passed, a look of pity on their faces. pity for a girl all dressed up for a nice night out, just to be walking home early in tears.

you didn’t want their pity, you just wanted to go home. you wanted your bed and your pyjamas. you wanted a nice warm shower and to try and forget that today ever fucking happened.

you didn’t want joost to be chasing after you.

you didn’t want to hear your name being yelled from down the street by the one person you didn’t want to see right now.

“cmon you always do this! stop running away from everything.”

that was the thing to get you; the one thing that made you stop and turn on the spot.

“oh i’m the one running away? you’re the one that left!”

you met him halfway with steam coming out of your ears, your hands trembling and nose all scrunched up. you were fuming and it seemed as though he was now, too.

“i never went anywhere! you’re making it sound like i disappeared off the face of the earth or something.”

“well that’s what it felt like! what about that don’t you understand?”

you were each taking turns yelling now, oblivious to how loud you were actually being. people were sticking their heads out of their living room windows, morbidly curious about the scene that was unfolding right outside their homes. those that walked by did double-takes and even contemplated getting their phones out to record.

“but i’m here now! and i was ‘here’ back there and you just ran away like you always do!”

“did you really expect me to just stand there and listen to you lie again? all this ‘oh i’ll tell you later’ crap, it’s just bullshit. ever since that night you’ve been different and if what that guy did to me changed how you see me then maybe you’re right, maybe we should stop being whatever the fuck we are.”

joost physically recoiled at your words, his entire demeanour changing to one of hurt.

“what are you..? schatje no, no, it’s nothing like that. fuck, please tell me you don’t really think that.”

how could you not? it was the only thing left for you to think. it wasn’t like you wanted to come to that conclusion or that it was the first one you jumped to, but joost never gave you any other choice. as much as it hurt, it was better than simply not knowing.

something died in him when you nodded — you saw it in his eyes. tears of his own spilled down his cheeks as he rubbed his hands up and down his face, wiping his nose with the inside of his elbow.

“i…i would never; that guy…that wasn’t your fault.”

“then tell me the truth, joost.”

all that adrenaline, all that energy from before was long gone. you weren’t two people arguing in the rain, full of love and anger like something straight out of a romcom anymore. you were just two people standing out in the cold, soaked to the bone, just trying to hold on for a little while longer.

you were still waiting for joost to say something, trying to prepare yourself for the worst. if he was to say that same shit again, that he couldn’t tell you now but would later on, that would be it for you. you’d walk away and not turn back again, not for anything; just like that it would be game over.

but joost wasn’t saying anything, and you couldn’t decide if that was any better or not. he was silent as he took a couple steps towards you, the palms of his hands suddenly cupping either side of your jaw. the pads of his thumbs wiped away all the tears and rain from your eyes and tucked the odd strands of hair behind your ears. not once did he glance away from your gaze, not once did he say something.

it was driving you crazy.

“joost?” you were pleading with him now, desperate for him to say something — do something. the way he was looking at you, it was like you were the only thing he could see. “say something.”

“i love you.”

you blinked, and all of sudden you weren’t quite sure what to do with your hands anymore. it wasn’t the first time joost had said that to you because he says it to everyone, every single one of his friends. but he had never said it to you like that before, with a look in his eyes so heavy you feared that they might fall right out of his head.

“what?” your voice cracked as you spoke. “i don’t understand…what?”

“i love you. that’s what changed.”

a headache was coming, you could feel it. right behind your eyes, you felt a twinge, and then a subtle thumping that made your eyebrows twitch. you just couldn’t wrap your head around it, and the more you tried to make sense of it the more your head hurt.

“i swear to god if this is a fucking joke, if you’re just making this up -”

he shut you up with a kiss.

it wasn’t exactly for the first time or even close to being so, but it felt as though it could’ve been; all soft, gentle, careful. the hands that held either side of your face did so as though you could’ve cracked and shattered at any second. he moved slowly, almost hesitantly, until he felt you turn into mush beneath him. only then did he pull away, a ghost of a smile lingering on his lips.

but you couldn’t let him have it though, could you? couldn’t just let him have the upper hand, just like that. you had to chase it, had to pull him down to your height by the collar of his jacket until your lips could meet his. by the time you were finished, both shaking and breathless, there were faint smudges of red all across his mouth.

“that was so hot; do it again.”

you laughed at his words for not the first time tonight, but now it was only out of pure joy instead of anything else. you laughed because of how out of it joost looked now, his eyes glossed over and lips parted ever so slightly as he panted. you laughed because of how much you did want to do it again and how you felt giddy knowing that joost wanted you to do it again too.

so you did. only this time joost was ready and pounced on you hard enough to knock you back a couple of steps, almost making you slip on the wet pavement. his fingers lost themselves in your hair, gently tugging at the roots as yours gripped onto the nylon of his jacket for dear life, too afraid to let go and risk letting him slip away.

you would have stayed like that with him all night if it wasn’t for the wolf whistle you heard from one of the windows above, followed by the rumble of thunder. the rain was starting to fall harder now, the storm only growing and you didn’t like knowing that people were watching you now.

“we shouldn’t be doing this here — people are looking.”

with his forehead resting against yours, joost simply groaned as he struggled to catch his breath. his hands still cradled the back of your head and his eyes were still squeezed shut.

“don’t care. need you.”

he may as well have been one of the puddles at your feet, the way he couldn’t even form proper sentences anymore. the things you were doing to him right now were criminal, almost cruel, and you were loving every minute of it. proud of it, actually. you might have been mush in his hands, but he was like putty in yours.

“well…maybe you should take me home then, yeah? then you can need me as much as you like.”

joost groaned again, muttering something about how you were ‘going to be the death of him’, and leaned back in. from your nose to your cheeks, to your chin, every inch was peppered with very sweet, very wet kisses.

“have i told you much i love you yet?”

he had, at least a handful of times by now, but not nearly enough as you would’ve liked. so you shrugged, a shit-eating grin plastered across your face as you did so, and stepped back, lacing your fingers with his.

“it’s okay, you can tell me one more time.”

apparently that was way too far for you to go, because after one singular step you were tugged back again and kissed as though joost’s very life depended on it. ironic, considering you were certain that you were both about to be struck by lightning at any moment.

“i love you.”

you figured if that were to happen by some chance, it’d be worth it if it meant staying here with him for just a little while longer.

“i love you too.”

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Could we get a 2003 Raph x reader where reader is super sweet and easygoing, like to total opposite of Raph…and the others are so confused/shocked?

Opposites Attracts (Fluff)

2003!Raphael x reader

A/N: Yes you can. It’s a little on the shorter side, but I hope you’ll still enjoy it❤️

Warning: None❤️

When you and Raph first made your relationship public, the others were - at a lack of better words - shocked. The two of you could not be more different, with absolute opposite reactions to the world around you. So when you and Raph one day came down to the lair, hand in hand, on your way to tell Splinter that the two of you had in fact been together for a couple of months, you could see how the world that the turtles knew, changed in front of their eyes.

Raph had a tendency to get annoyed rather quickly, finding it much easier to lash out at others, instead of having to face his strong emotions head on. He could get rather negative, focusing his attention on smaller things that annoyed him, letting them blow up with ease as he complained about them. It could be anything from the weather to Leo’s leadership, and he could go on for hours, tiring out anybody that was there to listen. How and why you would want to be with someone so different from you, left many confused.

It has been mentioned quite a few times at this point, but you were the exact opposite of Raph. You were like day and night, with Raph being night and you most definitely being the day. You were like a walking ray of sunlight, brightening up the whole world around you. You were probably the most easy going person the turtles and their friends had ever met, even giving Mikey a run for his money. While Raph would get furious, and lash out at the world around him whenever he got annoyed or mad, you rarely got mad. Sound you ever get close to anger, you were amazingly good at verbalising your feelings, starting a calm conversation. You rarely complained, and lived with an understanding that the world wasn’t perfect, and that we can’t always get everything exactly the way we want it. Yet you always lend an ear to anyone that needed to get something off their heart, especially Raph. April and Donnie speculated that that was how you and Raph’s relationship first came about. Leo and Splinter believed it was nature balancing itself, while Mikey and Casey believed that either you or Raph had been charmed by something.

But no matter how shocking you and Raph’s relationship might have been for the others, there was no doubt that it was actually a well functioning relationship at that. You were a calming factor in Raph’s life, providing with a space and a kind of understanding he had been looking for all his life. After Leo and Raph had had a particularly intense verbal altercation, Raph did something he had never done before. Normally he would yell, call Leo names, and maybe even try to land a punch at him or a wall. But instead Raph just left for his, clearly still fuming as he mumbled all sorts of things to himself. When Leo then passed Raph’s room 30 minutes later to apologize and talk about what had happened, Leo found Raph laying in his hammock, the phone to where his ear would have been, talking calmly to you, telling you what had happened. Leo was even surprised to hear Raph admit that he might have overreacted. Hearing that, realizing that you might be what Raph needed the most at that moment, Leo left, letting you and Raph have you conversation in private peace.

Later that day you arrived in the lair, before spending the night with Raph. You didn’t do much other than talk. Talk about Raph’s feelings regarding what had happened between him and Leo that day. It was something you had been practicing with Raph for some time now. Putting words on his feelings or helping him do so, while learning to take certain things less seriously and letting what isn’t helping him emotionally.

The next morning, many were surprised when Raph pulled Leo to the side, in order to give him an apology, along with an explanation. There was no doubt anymore - you and Raph may be very different, but you were good for each other - especially you for Raph. Who knew, maybe Raph helped bring out parts of you that you had buried deep within you. Only time would tell, and many were excited to see where this would lead you and Raph.

[demon-country]

I agree wholeheartedly with the vast majority of all of this, but I do have two small points of contention. 

1) I do think Stolas could have learned about the gravity of his classism if Blitz (or someone else he knew, like Millie or Moxxie) had sat him down and explained it calmly to him. He wants to learn, he's willing to learn, and he's been trying to learn, he just doesn't know how or where to even start looking for answers. He wasn't in a good state of mind to listen to it the three times it was brought up - first while being tortured by Striker, then while being yelled at by Blitz after getting triggered twice in quick succession, and then by Blitz again the very next morning when Stolas was still feeling raw and didn't want to talk yet in the first place. But you can tell from All 2 U that he understands that Blitz wouldn't keep bringing it up for no reason and there's something Stolas has been missing that genuinely hurt Blitz.

If, at that point, he had someone willing to actually teach him, I really do think he'd be receptive to it. Sure, he wouldn't be able to empathize with it, having never experienced it himself, but as long as someone is willing to truly put in the work of learning then they can be taught to understand the different facets of systemic oppression and unlearn their own biases and behaviors that contribute to it. Of course, you're right that that wouldn't be nearly as entertaining, and in any case Stolas did need to get out from the Goetia's clutches because they definitely make him worse on pretty much every level.

2) I'm really unsure where you got the idea that Stolas somehow doesn't know Moxxie and Millie, but there's only a 50% chance that Stolas was even taking about the rescue (or at least, was primarily talking about the rescue) anyway. It's equally as likely that he was instead referring to the aftermath. He said "you couldn't be bothered to come help me", not "you couldn't be bothered to come save me", and that's much broader. After all, Stolas did need help in the form of support after being tortured, and extended an invitation for Blitz to come see him during his extended hospital stay. Which was ignored without any contact at all afterward. Like, we know why Blitz didn't come (shame, guilt, then-unresolved trauma related to Fizz supposedly refusing to see him, etc), but since Stolas has no idea about any of that his feelings of abandonment are clear even at the end of Western Energy and they would've only grown the longer that Blitz ghosted him.

And even if he was talking about the rescue, I really don't think Stolas is ungrateful that Moxxie and Millie came to save him and stopped him from being mutilated just because they're not Blitz??? There was no reason for Stolas to bring them up in the garden. If he was just upset with Blitz about Blitz not coming to his rescue, then of course he's only going to address what he feels Blitz didn't do. He can be extremely thankful for what M&M did for him while still being upset with Blitz, they're not mutually exclusive by any means. Plus, he heard Moxxie on the phone, and there's really nothing that says Blitz was the one to send them when they just as easily could have them sent themselves.

In either case, Stolas was upset at a lot of different things - both old and new - by that point in the conversation, and lots of people say things they don't necessarily believe or phrase their words in a way that doesn't convey their full depth of feelings when they're upset. Like we can agree that what Blitz yelled at Stolas in The Full Moon was him lashing out with something he probably knows isn't entirely true but is still very hurt by anyway, right? It's the exact same thing Stolas did with that line. It was him lashing out, because he was upset and Blitz wouldn't stop pushing, and to Stolas' very recently traumatized mind what Blitz yelled at him the night before sounded too close what Striker had said so all his feelings surrounding his kidnapping were close to the surface.

Does Stolas deserve to lose everything?

The answer is a simple: No! Of course not!

What happened to Stolas in Mastermind was horrible, he essentially lost everything he ever knew in a very cruel and unusual way, and the real kicker is the fact that the punishment is rather light in comparison to the punishment Blitz would have gotten if he hadn't stepped in.

But why did it happen? Simple.

It happened for the sake of Stolas' future character development.

It didn't happen to "punish" Stolas when the man really only has the best of intentions.

Surprise! Surprise!

I want to highlight this specific statement Apology Tour's description states: Stolas still not being quite self aware enough at times.

Stolas genuinely does not know what is wrong between them, he genuinely can not understand the issues

If there is one thing Stolas has always wanted to know, it's the why...

Why is Blitz so guarded with me? Why does Blitz accuse me of looking down on him? Why does Blitz always mention my Princely status when talking about our relationship?

And here's the thing, even if Blitz were to sit Stolas down calmly and explain the why, Stolas will never get it. He will never understand it.

Stolas will never understand the struggles Blitz went through and still goes through just by living as an imp.

Blitz is an asshole, but you can't say he isn't determined.

When Blitz wants something so fucking bad, he'll get it, it doesn't matter who he needs to steal from, who he needs to fuck, who he needs to kill, lie, and cheat with... He's going to get it.

Blitz wants to be his own boss, he doesn't want to be like any other imp who works for someone else, so he'll do whatever it takes to make that dream a reality.

And the thing is Stolas wants to do better and understand Blitz's point of view... he states it time and time again.

Unless it's me And no matter what in this world I could give It's not enough To get through the walls you've conjured up to live

But maybe it's all on me For missin' every sign and every glance And every turn

Maybe there's somethin' here for us to glean For you to teach, and me to try to learn

~~~

The sad part is that Stolas is just going to have to learn it the hard way because where's the fun in just giving Stolas a book to read...

[radioactiverats]

Thoughts: Nsf/w Ratchet 🌶️ 18+

Ratchet, being a medic, knows the ins and outs of every life form he studies. With humans in the base, he has taken it upon himself to study the human body (his grumbling doesn't fool you, you know he cares).

That being said, as part of his study, he is... adequately acquainted with the erogenous zones of the human form.

There has been something going on between you two for a while. An unspoken understanding, a closeness between the two of you that is different from your relationships to the others. What if? Your anatomy was surprisingly compatible. Ratchet chastises himself for letting his mind wander, and files the information away.

A few rocky misunderstandings and a heartfelt conversation later, you are... together. It's not as earth-shattering as you might think. You fit together like puzzle pieces, anyway - a sense of comfort settles between you both, a cornerstone in your relationship.

Ratchet's not exactly young, and you are mature enough to savour the entire aspect of taking it slow.

Shared kisses, to pressing yourselves together in berth - his warm chassis, hard, angular planes against your soft body as he cradles you to him and kisses you like you're the only thing that matters.

Touching - "I know what I'm doing, you know," Ratchet grumbles, even though you know it's just for show. "You have a perfectly capable medic here." And if that doesn't send a delicious shiver down your spine. He has indeed done his research. The first time he slides a finger into you - even mass displaced, one finger has you arching your back and gasping for breath - "Where is... should be around here... aha," Ratchet mutters, optics fixated on your expression - and you hear the sound of steam venting from his intake as he feels you clench around him, a moan tearing unbidden from your throat.

You agreed to work your way up together - to actual interfacing. With Ratchet's talented servos already having you trembling and on the edge, you deliriously wonder what it would feel like to take his spike.

Ratchet slowly glides his fingers in and out of you - hungrily taking in every gasp, every moan, every time your eyes flutter closed and your back arches in pleasure - chasing more of him, wanting more of him inside you.

"Humans... also have a node," he mutters to himself, and you nearly wail as he finds your sweet spot - Ratchet himself groans when he feels you tighten impossibly around his fingers. Primus, what would you feel like around his spike?

"That's it, sweetspark," he encourages, voice low. "Show me what you look like when you feel good."

He's a billion year old medic - he's seen it all. The idea that you can let go, without fear of embarrassment - when he murmurs to you that you're the most beautiful creature he's ever seen - you finally allow yourself to crash over the edge, face screwed up in pleasure, - and you manage to catch sight of Ratchet fixated intensely on your face, ex-venting heavily, realizing that your pleasure is precisely what he wants to see.

He works you through your release - motions gentling as you whine with overstimulation - yet, somehow, he knows you're not at your limit yet - his fingers continue their gentle ministrations until you're riding the wave again, gentler this time, moaning against his chassis as another release overtakes you.

You want to reciprocate, of course. You may not have the same resources to study cybertronian anatomy, but you hope Ratchet will allow you some hands-on lessons.