#I THINK THERE WAS A MISCOMMUNICATION | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

keferon · 1 month ago

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Part 2 of Jazz and Prowl in space!

Gonna start calling it Odds of Survival.

Prowl loves entrusting his life to reckless strangers.

———————————————————————

Prowl pulled the release to the airlock and the music was swallowed by the vacuum of space.

Bursting forward, Jazz launched outwards riding the pop of escaping air. The first quintesson had its eye socket repurposed as an ankle bracelet before the second measure even began.

Ah.

Prowl probably should have specified he wanted to try speeding past rather than confront their opponents directly.

Jazz's improvised footwear writhed sluggishly before the mech twisted his ped inside its brain case, finishing it off and turning to face the next nearest opponent.

Odds of survival 26%

The white and blue mech launched himself upwards as the nearest quintesson went for a dive bomb. It's teeth breaking on impact with the sky bridge. Jazz twisted in midair.

They fell in slow motion, back arching against a starlit backdrop. An upside down visor met blue optics. Jazz nodded his head to the side, flicking one horn up and one horn down.

Did he just wink? (#^%)

The falling mech unsheathed a blade from his wrist, driving it through the sputtering quintesson.

Oh Primus has he been flirting the entire time?

Jazz spun, slicing into the next quint to close the distance.

I can not. I can not assume that was intentional. It has to be a cultural miscommunication.

The last two quintessons pounced. Swinging hard, Jazz caught one's jaws with a forearm while he kicked the downed another in the side of the head. The third was attempting to bite into his back but the teeth couldn't get a full purchase on the rounded compact plating.

Odds of survival 22%.

Prowl snapped out of his social etiquette downward spiral. Sprinting from the safety of the airlock door, he knelt behind a large section of external piping, lining up his shots.

Tacnet spun to work.

It was designed to calculate hundreds of possible variations of large scale engagements, including the number of soldiers, type of weaponry available and could even determine the approximate number of ammunitions that would be left over, provided Prowl had enough data at his disposal.

Calculating the marksmanship needed to dispatch three hostiles at medium range while distracted by a highly competent ally?

Odds of Survival 32%

Laughable.

Three shots burst through the thin atmosphere.

Quintesson wreckers were built thick skulled and stubborn. Luckily they came with easily identifiable gaps in their organic construction.

The Quints fell from Jazz, each with a smoking hole where and eye used to be. Jazz looked at Prowl, then the smoking quintessons and back up to Prowl before doing finger guns again.

Speaking of thick skulled and stubborn.

Prowl put on his best Commanders Scowl and pointed in the direction they needed to be currently running in.

Doorwing sensors hiked as he picked up on movement from behind. The incoming hostiles was palpable even in the moons thin atmosphere. Quintessons rarely favored stealth.

Prowl began running.

Jazz kept pace, half turned around to keep track of the incoming troop. Prowl kept his optics locked forward, not remotely willing to risk tripping on the torn apart path.

Tacnet locked on to a large silvery pillow that'd been exposed to the atmosphere.

Expanding LLX Lithium battery. Explosion on contact 90%

Prowl shouted a warning but the air was too thin to carry beyond his own audials.

Jazz will step on the lithium battery in 1.5 clicks (88%) and will be critically injured in at least one leg (76%).

Prowl grabbed Jazz's servo and yanked.

Music erupted in the moment of connection.

Vibrations ran up his arm and across his frame. Inside his audials, Prowl could make out the song Jazz had begun in the airlock. Looking at his visor, mouth agape, only one thought could form in Prowls mind.

How fragging loud is he playing that music?!?

Jazz perked up, and pulled Prowl around in an arc. Multiple sharp impacts thudded into the ground behind him. Prowl turned and almost wished he hadn’t.

Three heavily armored Quintesson bombers equipped with bio-mechanical ballista.

The javelin like spikes were as long as Prowls arm and designed to pin targets in place while the slow moving blimp-like body of the bomber got into position to blow them all to the Pit.

Prowl tugged Jazz in the direction of their objective, refusing to let go in case he tried to launch himself at the bombers. Prowl wasn't sure how Jazz would manage to do so, but Prowl felt an overwhelming nagging sensation in his tanks that he'd fragging try.

Jazz was evidently fine with this arrangement.

As the music pulsed between their palms, Jazz leapt at a diagonal, pulling Prowl along for the ride. The low gravity was so damn floaty. It continually forced Prowl to readjust his footing so he wasn't frantically treading air every time his peds left the ground.

Jazz was evidently fine with that too.

Another round of ammunitions impacted where the two of them had been running.

Their egress began to take on a pattern Prowl was quick to pick up on. It took the bombers 8 clicks to reload, launching at the same time, half a click after musical flair in Jazz's song. At the moment of the flair, the mech would launch them in a nearly unpredictable pattern. After the first two times of nearly getting his arm dislocated, Prowl began catching onto these moments and moved his momentum in sync with Jazz.

They'd started dancing.

The Tactician had an iron fisted focus on matching Jazz’s frankly eradicate lead. The longer the duet continued, the more data he had to work with. Prowl steadily progressed from Reacting to Anticipating. Feeling a core deep satisfaction that came from sinking into mastering a new skill.

By the time they’d escaped the bombers range, they’d made it too the base of the first hurdle.

Their reprieve would only be brief. The bombers would catch up in approximately 50 clicks (88%), giving the mechs a small window of precious semi-safety in which they needed to scale the wall before them.

Prowl craned his helm back at the barrier.

He would not be able to scale it on his own in time (95%).

Could Jazz? (65%)

While carrying him? (19%)

Jazz rapidly tapped his side.

The alien was crouched low, impossible legs bent with potential energy. He tapped his own back, gesturing for Prowl to grab on already.

Prowl threw himself over the mechs broad back. His digits frantically searched for a hand hold, flinching away from nearly digging into fragile vents.

I can’t-

Jazz leapt.

“You’re really grab-able - Isn’t that kinda stupid?”

Stupid stupid stupid.

Prowl skated off of Jazz’s rounded compact plating, that he specifically SAID was supposed to make him hard to hold on to.

He landed hard on his aft, denta clanking together painfully.

47 clicks remaining.

Jazz hit the ground beside him before Prowl had fully gotten back up. Now facing him, Jazz grabbed Prowl by both wrists and pulled him chassis to chassis. Jazz positioned his arms to link Prowls servos behind his helm, then set his own servos tightly onto Prowls waist.

Jazz nodded once, like he was satisfied with what he’d just done.

Prowl made a facial expression that a psychiatrist would find concerning.

42 Clicks.

Jazz nodded again, like expected Prowl to respond in any coherent manner, and lifted.

Prowls legs swung forward on instinct. Following the motion, Jazz wrapped them around his waist. Through the screaming haze of his processor, Prowl had the presence of mind to lock his ankles together as he realized Jazz’s true intentions, and manually aborted the logic cascade that had nearly crashed over him.

Package secured, Jazz let go and started their ascension.

Legs bent at an impossible angle to slam multi segmented peds flat against the metal walls. Despite Prowl’s body blocking most of his view, the alien mech was unfettered by the lack of vision. Jazz hardly bothered with proper hand holds, instead opting for incredibly strong magnetic grip built into his servos.

The magnetic backwash splashed over Prowls doors wings, forcing him to temporarily offline them or risk crippling vertigo. The structure they were scaling shook violently like something large had just irrevocably broken.

This is fine this is fine this is fine this is fine.

At 35 click’s remaining, Prowl centered himself enough to search for their pursuers.

Damn it!

The bombers were a fraction faster than he initially calculated. Six clicks before we’re in range (87%). Luckily, Jazz was more than a fraction faster than initially calculated as well. At this rate, they’d reach the top simultaneously.

No reason not to be proactive.

Prowl found that if he tightly cupped one servo around the back of Jazz’s helm, he had just enough leverage to bring out a side arm. After all, the bombers were already in range of him.

Steadying his elbow over the other mechs shoulder, Prowl took aim.

Five clicks.

The bombers flew in V formation.

Four clicks.

Too heavily armored for a standard sidearm to pierce.

Three clicks.

The lead bomber opened up its front in preparation for combat.

Got you.

Prowl threaded the gap, his shot skirting over the ballista in favor of impacting the bombers prodigious cargo. He watched something spark inside a split second before it succumbed to total annihilation.

The shockwave felt like a single soft papft of a breeze in the starlit air.

Jazz hefted them over the top of the wall, not dropping Prowl in favor of sprinting with him at full speed across the top of the hurdle.

One of his arms curled around to support Prowls back, allowing the Praxian to release his death grip on their helm. Prowl leaned back into the hold, allowing Jazz freedom to see again.

Jazz turned his helm around 180 degrees-

Did not know he could do that did not know he could do that.

- to look at the fire works behind them.

Jazz whistled appreciatively at the sight. He turned back to Prowl, visor locked onto his face as they carried him across the roof.

Reverberating music, nearly crashing, numbed doorwings, and a deeply satisfying kill all followed by a display of casual body horror was making Prowl just a little bit delirious. As a result, Prowl wasn’t entirely sure what expression he was making, just that Jazz was inordinately fascinated with it.

Without looking away, Jazz leapt off the end of the roof.

Prowl watched as Jazz glanced over his shoulder and back to him.

Do a double take.

And then crush Prowl to his chassis.

Jazz’s visor was over bright, both horns snapped completely forward and from somewhere inside his chassis, Prowl could feel some internal component spinning into overdrive, sounding for all the world like teeny tiny screaming.

Why are we still falling.

Prowl turned as far as possible in Jazz’s iron grip.

The sky bridge was collapsing.

Odds of Survival 4%

———————————————————————

Jazz, everytime Prowl one-shots an enemy: I need to get his number.

If you’re curious, the song Jazz is playing can be whatever you like. Personally I kept switching between listening to “I Was Made For Lovin’ You” by Kiss and “I Feel Love” 12” version by Donna Summer while writing.

- SSTP

OH GOD AHAHJFKFK THIS IS SO FUCKING GREAT HELP

And the concept of music playing between them??? I'm s o l d. "I was made for lovin' you baby" is basically JP OST for me at this point ehehhmgmgm

Jazz: Hookay I need to transport the machinery from the point A to point B. Focus! Let's go!

Prowl: One of those tiktok videos where you can see some Reddit post and hear AI narrating it while Minecraft parkour is playing on the background. Except it's gay panic instead of reddit post and internal screaming instead of narration and even more gay panic instead of minecraft. ......and everything is overheating probably lmao

Also can you really call it a JP fic if their odds of survival never dropped lower than 10% according to Prowls brain? Ahahjgkgk all amazing JP fics have to do this. It's inevitable and I love it so much~~

#You made me think of like....#Jazz is impossible to grab unless he wants you to grab him #so whenever Prowl wants to hold/grab/stop him he can do that because Jazz lets him. Like he feels a hand touching his shoulder and stops #or smth #while Prowl is very grabbable and Jazz could just yank him by literally any part of his body lol #Cybertronians made of metal plates with pretty wide gaps between them #also often placed in layers #so Jazz could just stick his fingers literally anywhere and ta daaah~ perfect holder #....well if we don't count the fact that sticking your hands under someone's plates is extremely intimate gesture for those you're close wit #or doctors #where do I lead with this thought #idk. I just think it's funny. Cultural miscommunication do be extremely gay flavored in mecha universe what can I say #mecha writing #mecha jp writing #mecha pilot jazz au #jazz #prowl #jazzprowl

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superbat-lmao · 3 days ago

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A mage who doesn’t like child soldiers targets Batman in Gotham. They know that several vigilantes connected to him are children or were children when they started.

Their vendetta against him basically boils down to, “What the hell were you thinking?” and they cast a spell against him accordingly.

Every day, a new family member will be able to read Bruce’s mind for 24 hours. It’s entirely random and the definition of “family member” is incredibly loose, but everyone knows the Robins are his children because of how berserk he went when Robin II died.

On the one hand, it’s a horrific violation of everyone’s privacy.

On the other, Bruce finally figures out what his kids think of him and don’t say. And his kids are finally able to realize that yes, he cares about them exactly as much as they want him to. He’s literally the absolute worst at showing it or communicating that, but he cares.

Dick gets confirmation that Bruce knows how good he is, how capable he is to lead a team. That Bruce doesn’t secretly think that when he screws up it’s because he isn’t cut out to be a vigilante. When he screws up, Bruce gets scared and lashes out in the only way an emotionally repressed father can, by making it worse. That Bruce doesn’t think Dick is incapable of looking after himself or making the right call. All of Bruce’s attempts to control Dick or his life were because he was scared. Because he wanted Dick to be better than him, and he is, just not in the ways Bruce was first able to see. Having more friends and being connected to people is infinitely more important than college, though it took time for Bruce to see that. Dick is Bruce’s first son and he couldn’t be more proud.

Jason realizes that Bruce loves him. That he tears himself apart over their relationship. That he feels there’s a clear line between Bruce’s opinion of Jason and of Jason’s actions. Because murder is wrong and Bruce’s philosophy is grounded in second chances. Because he just wants Jason to come home and his son’s actions scare him because he’s more isolated from backup than his brothers. Jason can literally feel how Bruce thinks, how he sees murder and how he thinks about himself. Bruce doesn’t think it’s a line he would be able to walk away from, and Jason feels more precarious seeing the world as his father thinks about it than in his own head. There is far less judgement in Bruce’s thoughts. Just pure concern. And self doubt over what to say. Bruce never sought to replace him, would have joined him, and has missed him. Those were always Jason’s major concerns.

Tim sees that Bruce views him as his son. That he wasn’t a substitute for Jason and he doesn’t secretly think Tim shouldn’t have been Robin. Bruce thinks that Tim reminds him a lot of himself and based on all the things people say about him, that makes Bruce nervous. Because he wants Tim to have fun and be a kid, not feel chained to work the way Bruce is. He knows they both have workaholic tendencies and wants better for Tim, wants him to have friends and a life outside of work. But Tim also knew Bruce at his lowest and so he will always feel guilty that it was Tim who pulled him out of his grief spiral, because Bruce wasn’t strong enough to do it himself.

Damian learns that Bruce was so excited for him to be born and devastated when he thought Talia had lost the pregnancy. That he was furious his son had been hidden from him. That he loves Damian and loved Talia and wasn’t sure how to separate out those feelings. That he would have wanted Damian no matter his level of training, if he gave up this lifestyle or anything. That there is nothing Damian, or any of his family could do to make Bruce stop loving them. Damian is wanted. He can also see that Bruce struggles with knowing how to handle him being a kid that acts like an adult. How he knows how capable Damian is, but that no children should go through that. Bruce didn’t have that sort of childhood. And while his own wasn’t exactly happy, he still got to be a kid. And innocence and youth aren’t things to be looked down on, just experienced. And Bruce doesn’t want Damian to not have those experiences, even if he doesn’t value them as others do. He learns that Bruce trusts him and that his father feels emotions acutely and strongly, such that he becomes reactive in a way that feels accusatory or disappointed but is just afraid.

They all realize that Bruce needs them and hates himself for needing them. That they are his children and he loves them and wants them safe. But that those feelings constantly war with how capable they are, how good his children are at what they do. How much they care about the helping and protecting others. That every time he says something they beat themselves up over, it’s because he’s scared they’ll get hurt or make a mistake that they can’t undo and will have to live with. He never wanted them to join him and it’s not because he thought they couldn’t do it, but precisely because he knows they can. And that sometimes, that isn’t enough. Even metas can get hurt and even Superman could die. By comparison his children are so vulnerable and there’s only so much he can do to keep them safe.

Does he verbalize this?

Bruce thinks so.

But all his kids hear is:

You were too reckless.

You disobeyed orders.

You’re off patrol.

And oddly? This solves like half of the current problems his kids have with him. Because they never really believed him before and always felt the conversations were one-sided.

It does create several new problems thought because Bruce just had like a significant invasion of privacy as the most paranoid person on the planet, so it takes a while for him to calm down and actually work things out with his kids in a way that lasts and isn’t just a bandaid over a bullet hole.

#batman #jason todd #bruce wayne #tim drake #dick grayson #redhood #damian wayne #nightwing #batfam #would i love to add steph cass duke and babs? yes absolutely but do i know enough about them to do them justice? not yet #i will probably do a pt2 for the extended bats but i had dental stuff today and wanted to post before i forgot #that being said #bruce does the whole brick wall routine a lot and is emotionally honest with his kids in moments of anger and fear #which does NOT lead to healthy relationships. so his kids think he doesn’t trust them or care about them to different extents #because his actions always support the idea that he doesn’t trust them even if on rare occasions he voices conflicting thoughts #the man will ask about a case before he asks about your personal life because he knows how to talk about exactly one of those things #which means he knows how to give a lecture but not convince his kids that he trusts them when his actions say he distrusts everyone #because he does distrust everyone. which his kids know. so like i really think we’re past talking and need straight brain to brain #your honor it’s worse than miscommunication i need the courts permission for a telepathic link. yes i have probable cause.

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gdinthehouseee · 17 days ago

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Neon Secrets - Part 2: KWON JI-YONG x READER

summary: after management scolding the two of you for sneaking out, you were both distancing yourselves from each other. so what happens when ji-yong finally lets his jealousy boil over after seeing another male idol get close with you?

word count: 6534

tags: angst to fluff; miscommunication, jealousy, alcohol consumption

ao3 link | part 1

Tension was thick in the stark white meeting room. You were sitting with your hands folded in your lap, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts you couldn’t quite process. Ji-yong sat beside you, his usual calm demeanor nowhere to be found, replaced by a deafening silence. Across from the both of you, a manager from YGE paced back and forth, his face a picture of frustration.

“Do you two have any idea how this looks?” The manager snapped, his voice tight with anger. “A viral video of you two sneaking out, running to a car like you're just out for a joyride? What on earth were you thinking?”

You felt the weight of his words hit you like a punch to the gut. You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. What could you say? What could you even explain? Neither of you had meant for it to go viral; all you wanted was to get away for a few minutes—nothing more, nothing less. But clearly, you had misjudged how public your little escape would be.

Ji-yong finally spoke, his voice quiet, almost measured. “We didn’t mean for this to happen. It was just... spontaneous. We didn’t think anyone would notice.”

Their manager shot him a sharp, incredulous look. “Spontaneous or not, this is an image nightmare. You two are supposed to be setting an example, not acting like rebellious teenagers!”

“We didn’t even see anyone. How could we have known?” Ji-yong continued.

“That’s even worse!” The manager blew up, throwing his arms up in anger. Naturally, it made you flinch and Ji-yong noticed from the corner of his eye.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, you could feel your stomach knotting the longer you sat in the hard, wooden chair. You had never been the type to make waves or step outside the rules. The reality of what you had done was sinking in. In the same way you could feel yourself sinking under the weight of the manager’s gaze, but it wasn’t the manager’s disappointment that stung the most. It was the quiet tension coming from Ji-yong. He hadn’t said much else since he’d sat down.

As the manager continued to scold the both of you, the words blurred together in the background. All you could focus on was Ji-yong, who had become uncharacteristically silent. His jaw was clenched, his eyes lowered to the table. You had always known him to be confident, even cocky at times, but now? Now he seemed like a stranger. He was angry, maybe even disappointed in you.

When the manager finally stopped pacing and shot you both one last glare, he spoke in a more controlled tone. “This better not happen again. Lay low. The last thing we need is more negative attention. We’re on a tight schedule now, so you two better stay out of trouble.”

Ji-yong nodded stiffly, but didn’t say a word. The manager gave one last disappointed look before walking out of the room, leaving the two of you in suffocating silence.

The door clicked shut, and you just couldn’t bear it anymore. You glanced over at Ji-yong, expecting him to say something, but he just sat there, his face unreadable. You tried to meet his eyes, but he was looking anywhere but at you. This can’t be good.

Your chest tightened. This wasn’t just about the video anymore. This was about the distance between the two of you that had grown in the past few days—the distance neither of you could quite explain. He had always been so easy to talk to, so carefree, but now... he was silent, distant, and it hurt more than you wanted to admit.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely a whisper. “I’m... I’m sorry, Ji. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I didn’t want to get us into trouble.”

He didn’t respond, and that silence was louder than anything. Your heart sank, and a heavy, sickly feeling settled in your stomach. It wasn’t the first time you’d gotten into trouble, but this felt different. This wasn’t right: it felt like something was broken.

Assuming he was mad at you, you pulled your hands back and looked away, feeling the need to distance yourself. You definitely didn’t want to make things worse, and if he was angry, it would be better to give him space.

Without saying another word, you stood up from your chair. “I think... I think I’ll go,” you mumbled, before turning and walking toward the door. You heard Ji-yong shift in his seat but didn’t wait to see if he was going to say anything.

You were already out the door before you had time to second-guess herself.

As the door clicked shut behind you, Ji-yong stayed rooted to his seat, his body frozen in place. The silence in the room was truly deafening now, the weight of the conversation pressing down on him. He had barely registered the manager’s words, too focused on the fact that you had distanced yourself from him—you had turned away without a second glance.

It was all his fault. He had wanted to say something, to speak up and tell the manager off for scolding you and making you flinch like that, but he couldn’t find the words. He was angry, yes, but not at you. It was never at you. He was angry at himself. Angry at the way he had let this situation spiral out of control, angry at how helpless he felt. He had been watching you from the corner of his eye, watching your shoulders tighten as the manager yelled at you, and it was eating him up inside.

The worst part was that he couldn’t even comfort you. He wanted to tell you how much he hated seeing you like this, how much it hurt him that you were apologizing for something that wasn’t even your fault. He wanted to reach out and say it didn’t matter what anyone else thought—he didn’t care about the viral video, the managers, or the consequences. All he cared about was you.

But he hadn’t said any of that. He hadn’t said a word. He had sat there in silence, fuming at the injustice of it all, and then watched you walk away.

Ji-yong ran a hand through his hair in frustration, his knuckles white from gripping the edge of the table. The anger he felt was like a knot in his chest, a mix of frustration at himself and something else—something deeper, something he hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge until now.

He was angry because he wanted nothing more than to tell you how he felt. How much he admired you, how much he cared for you, how he couldn’t stand seeing you hurt. But he just couldn’t bring himself to say it. Every time he tried to open his mouth, the words caught in his throat. It felt too risky, too vulnerable. What if he ruined everything between the two of you? What if telling you how he really felt only pushed you away even more?

He exhaled sharply, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on him. He had wanted to keep things light, to pretend that everything was easy and carefree. But now... now he couldn’t deny it. There was something real between you two, something that had been building long before that night you snuck out together. And it was becoming impossible to ignore.

But he had waited too long. He had waited until the damage was done, until the silence between you had grown so thick that he didn’t know how to break it. Now, he was alone with his regrets, and all he could do was watch as the distance continued to widen. He wanted to chase after you, to tell you everything he had been holding back, but he couldn’t. He had already messed this up.

And maybe it was already too late.

The silence in your own room was suffocating. Staring at your phone, you sat on your bed, but your mind was elsewhere—lost in a whirlwind of guilt and uncertainty. Ever since that night, you had avoided Ji-yong, unable to shake the feeling that you had messed everything up.

You hadn’t seen him at all since that meeting, and honestly, it felt like the universe was conspiring to keep you apart. He hadn’t sought you out. And you? You couldn’t bring yourself to face him. Every time you thought about talking to him, the overwhelming fear of rejection crept in. What if he was angry with you? What if he didn’t want to talk at all? What if he never wanted to see you again?

The thought made your stomach twist, and you felt the familiar pang of regret.

Your phone buzzed in your lap, but you didn’t move to check it. Then, there was a soft knock at the door before it slowly opened, and Taeyang’s head peeked inside. “Hey,” he said gently. “You’ve been in here for a while. Everything okay?”

You didn’t have the words to respond right away. Your chest felt like it might close in on itself, and the thought of speaking to anyone about what was going on inside you felt too vulnerable for your liking.

“I’m fine,” you said finally. Despite the way your voice was shaking, as if you weren’t just trying to convince him.

Taeyang stepped inside and closed the door behind him, a slight frown on his face as he sat down next to you. He placed a hand on your shoulder as a casual, reassuring gesture. “You sure? You’re not really acting like yourself lately, and it’s hard to ignore. You’ve been avoiding everyone, especially Ji-yong.”

You bit her lip, looking away from him as your mind raced. The thought of Ji-yong made your heart ache, but there was something about it all that felt too complicated to resolve.

“I don’t think he wants to talk to me,” you admitted quietly. “I’ve messed everything up, Taeyang. Everyone here knows we both got in trouble with management, and I’m sure he’s upset with me for making him part of this mess.”

He sighed, a touch of frustration creeping into his tone. “You’re wrong, you know that? Ji-yong’s not angry at you. He’s just… he’s been trying to figure out how to deal with all this, just like you have.”

Unconvinced, you shook your head. “But he’s been avoiding me. I’m sure he regrets everything that happened. And now it’s like… everything is different. He probably doesn’t even like me anymore.”

There was a pause before Taeyang spoke again, softer this time. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself. You don’t know that for sure. If you keep avoiding him, it’ll only make things worse. You have to talk to him, and you have to stop assuming everything’s falling apart before you even try.”

Just as you were about to respond, the door opened again, and a manager stepped inside, clipboard and various papers in hand.

“Ah, good, you’re in here,” she began. “I’ve got some news for you. You and the girls are scheduled for a variety show tomorrow. You’ll need to be ready for the filming in the morning. I’ll send someone to get you for makeup and wardrobe early, so don’t be late.”

The manager didn’t wait for a response, nodding at Taeyang before leaving the room.

The door clicked shut, and for a long moment, you sat in silence.

“Good to know you’re not blacklisted from the media, I guess.” He joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Tomorrow,” you murmured to yourself, still processing what the manager had said. Your thoughts were swirling, but ideas started to piece together in your mind like clockwork.

You looked at Taeyang, seeming more uplifted now. “Okay, I think I know what I’m going to do.”

Taeyang raised an eyebrow, clearly curious. “What’s that?”

“I’ll talk to Ji-yong after the variety show,” you said, your voice more confident than it had been in days. “I won’t run away from it anymore. But… I’ll do it after we’ve gotten through the show. Once everything settles down, I’ll find him, and we’ll talk. I won’t leave it hanging any longer.”

He gave you a small, approving smile. “I think that’s a good plan. Just don’t wait too long, okay? And don’t let fear keep you from talking to him. It’ll only make things harder if you keep avoiding it.”

“I won’t,” you promised, feeling a weight lift off your chest. “Thank you, Taeyang. I needed to hear that.”

He patted your shoulder again, standing up to leave. “I’m glad I could help. Remember, we’re all rooting for you. And, hey. Things are gonna go better than you might think.” He gave you a friendly wink and dipped out of the room. Was there something else he hadn’t shared with you on purpose?

As the door clicked shut behind him, you sat for a moment, your heart still racing. Tomorrow, everything will change. You would face Ji-yong, have that conversation, and—hopefully—clear the air. It wasn’t going to be easy, but it was the first step.

And for the first time in days, you felt like you finally had control over something.

The next morning, you stood in front of your mirror, applying light makeup in a daze. Naturally, your mind kept drifting back to the night the video had gone viral—the way it spread like wildfire across social media, the comments, the hashtags, the endless reposts. Everywhere you looked, there it was: a short clip of you and Ji-yong running to the car, pure happiness in your eyes, the excitement of your shared secret clear on your faces. To the world, it was just an innocent moment of two idols sneaking out for a bit of fun. But to you, it was the beginning of something much deeper.

You had been trying to avoid looking at the video, but no matter where you turned, there it was—fan edits popping up on your feed, reposted by fans who were obsessed with the idea of you and Ji-yong together. The captions ranged from lighthearted teasing to fans sharing their hope for you to “find happiness with him,” all with colorful hearts and bright emojis filling the comments.

But it was hard to ignore how everything felt so different now. The more you scrolled through those edits, the more the weight of it all sank in. You could feel the eyes of the world on you. In every edit, Ji-yong looked so carefree, so happy—something you hadn’t seen in days. Meanwhile, you felt the typical tightness in your chest, the shame that you’d somehow ruined whatever was between the two of you. Every comment that supported this ship felt like a reminder of the mess you had made.

As the final edit appeared—a slowed-down clip of the moment with soft background music—you quickly closed your phone, fingers trembling. There was no denying it anymore. This was bigger than just you and Ji-yong. The world had their eyes on both of you now, and the weight of it was suffocating.

When the manager from last night reappeared in your room to collect you, the other members of your group behind her, you got up with a newfound determination and followed them down to the car, desperately trying to ignore the way the boys watched you leave.

You had thrown yourself into your work all day today, your heart racing as the clock ticked down the time until you were ready to finally talk to Ji-yong again. With full transparency and honesty. What’s the worst that could happen?

You had barely thought about the hot, new male idol that was sitting a little too close to you during the shoot.

Later that night, the room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the TV screen the only source of light. Seunghyun, Daesung, and Taeyang were scattered across the couch and chairs, lazily flipping through channels as they waited for the variety show to start.

Ji-yong sat stiffly on the couch, his arms crossed as he stared at the television screen. When today’s episode had begun playing, Seunghyun, Taeyang, and Daesung were watching with amused expressions, while Ji-yong barely paid attention to anything but you.

There you were, sitting among your group members, your smile as bright as ever—but he could see it. The difference. The way it didn’t quite reach your eyes. The way you laughed at the host’s jokes but it seemed just a little too rehearsed.

“She looks so good,” Daesung commented casually, but his eyes flicked toward Ji-yong with curiosity. “Don’t you think?”

Ji-yong didn’t respond. He just tightened his jaw, gripping his own arm to keep himself still as the scene changed—only for his stomach to drop when the male idol group appeared on screen, taking their seats beside you.

He sat on the edge of the couch, his posture rigid, his fingers tapping lightly on the armrest. His gaze was fixed on the screen, but there was no mistaking the way his jaw clenched whenever the camera cut to the reader on the show. The others noticed immediately, exchanging glances.

“Hey, Ji,” Seunghyun said, leaning back, trying to get his attention. “You okay?”

Ji-yong didn’t respond again. His eyes were still on the screen, but his lips pressed together in a thin line and barely blinking.

The camera zoomed in on you, showing a clip of you laughing with one of the male idols from the opposite group. The guy was leaning in a little too close, making you laugh with something he said.

Daesung noticed Ji-yong’s stiff posture, his eyes narrowing at the screen. He nudged Taeyang with his elbow. “Uh-oh. Someone’s jealous.”

Taeyang grinned but said nothing, watching as Ji-yong’s expression darkened.

Seunghyun raised an eyebrow. “You know, he hasn’t said a word since the show started. Something’s up.”

“I’m fine,” Ji-yong muttered, his gaze never leaving the screen.

“Uh-huh.” Seunghyun didn’t believe him for a second. “Are you sure about that?”

He opted to remain silent, even though his leg began bouncing with his anxiety truly kicking in, his knuckles white from how tightly he was gripping the armrest.

On-screen, the man put his arm around your shoulder, and you smiled up at him in a way that made Ji-yong’s chest tighten.

Taeyang leaned forward, raising his voice a little. “You’re really gonna sit here and act like you don’t care?”

Ji-yong’s gaze flicked to him briefly before going back to the screen. “I don’t,” he said flatly. “It’s just a variety show.”

“You’ve been pretty quiet, man. What’s going on?” Seunghyun leaned forward.

Daesung chuckled softly. “Yeah, Ji, you’re looking like you might implode.”

Ji-yong clenched his fists, his teeth grinding as the male idol leaned even closer to the reader, his fingers brushing against her arm.

“I’m not jealous,” he muttered, though he couldn’t even convince himself of that.

Taeyang took a moment to observe his friend before glancing at the others. “You know, you could use a break. You’ve been watching this show and stewing in your thoughts all night.”

Ji-yong shot him a confused look. “What are you talking about?”

Taeyang stood up, stretching his arms out. “Like Daesung just said, you’ve got that ‘about to blow up’ look, man. How about we head out for a bit? Get some air, clear your head?”

“I like that idea. You’re clearly not gonna calm down until you get this off your mind.” Seunghyun agreed.

Taeyang nodded, his expression turning more serious before he kept talking. “And once you’re not so wound up, we can help you sort things out, Ji. We’ll be here to back you up.”

He hesitated for a moment, eyes flicking back to the TV, where you were now smiling at the man, your hand resting on his arm. Ji-yong felt sick to his stomach.

“I don’t know…” he trailed off, but the way his friends were watching him, the concern in their eyes, made him finally sigh. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Seunghyun, Daesung, and Taeyang exchanged proud looks.

“Great,” Taeyang said, clapping his hands together. “Get your coat, Ji. Let’s get you out of this funk.”

Ji-yong stood, brushing off his jacket. As they left the room, his stomach churned again. But maybe, just maybe, getting out of his head for a bit was what he needed to figure out how to handle what was building up inside him. Finally, figure out how to break the silence between the two of you.

“We’ll help you with this situation when you’re ready, man. But you need to clear your mind first.” Seunghyun told him softly, he hated seeing his best friend so worked up over something that could have been easily fixed if it weren’t for his anxiety and the miscommunication that happened between the two of you. Ji-yong didn’t respond, but he appreciated it more than he let on.

Turns out, the club had been exactly what Ji-yong needed—at least, for a little while.

With the bass thrumming through his chest and a drink in his hand, he felt lighter than he had in days. The guys had been right—being out, laughing, and letting loose was enough to clear his mind, even if just temporarily. He wasn’t thinking about the variety show, the viral video, or the way you had been avoiding him. For the first time in what felt like forever, he was just Ji-yong, out with his best friends, not weighed down by the mess in his head.

He laughed as Daesung dramatically butchered the lyrics to the song playing, and he clinked glasses with Seunghyun, who smirked over the rim of his drink. Even Taeyang, who had been keeping a careful eye on him all night, finally seemed satisfied that Ji-yong wasn’t sulking anymore. For a moment, everything felt fine.

And then, it didn’t.

The second he turned toward the entrance, his heart jumped.

You.

You had just walked in, looking effortlessly stunning, your eyes quickly scanning over the crowd as you and your group made your way inside. Ji-yong felt the familiar warmth spread through his chest, a natural reaction he could never seem to control when it came to you. But just as quickly as it came, that warmth turned cold.

Right beside you, close enough that your arms nearly brushed, was him.

Ji-yong’s grip on his drink tightened as he watched the same male idol from the variety show lean in, saying something in your ear. You laughed—really laughed—like he had just told the funniest joke in the world.

His night had just gone from the best he’d had in a while to completely ruined. Ji-yong’s stomach twisted. Up close, it was so much worse.

He could see everything now—the way the man leaned in just enough that your shoulders touched, the way he spoke to you with an easy confidence. But what made his heart sink the most was you. You weren’t brushing the guy off. You weren’t shifting away or rolling your eyes like you sometimes did when she was uninterested. You were smiling, laughing like you were actually enjoying his company. And for the first time, Ji-yong felt something ugly crawl up his spine. Was this what you wanted? Was this why you had been avoiding him? While he had been sitting around, overthinking, missing you, regretting every moment of silence between them, had you already moved on? His fingers curled into fists at his sides, an unfamiliar bitterness rising in his throat. He wanted to look away, wanted to pretend it didn’t matter, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t stop staring at you, couldn’t stop wishing that, just once, you would look up—look at him—and give him a sign that he hadn’t already lost you.

Taeyang must have noticed the shift because he sighed beside him. “Ji—”

“I’m fine,” Ji-yong muttered, downing the rest of his drink. But even he didn’t believe that. For the first time since you had started avoiding each other, he wasn’t wondering whether you were upset over him. Now, he was wondering if maybe you weren’t upset at all. And he hated how much that possibility made his chest ache.

“You’ve been staring at her for the past ten minutes,” Seunghyun said, swirling the alcohol in his glass. “Not very subtle, Ji.”

Daesung let out a low whistle. “Look at that. She’s laughing. At his joke.” He nudged Taeyang with his elbow, giving each other knowing, wary looks before looking back at Ji-yong. “That’s gotta sting.”

Ji-yong tore his gaze away long enough to shoot him a glare. “Shut up.”

He exhaled sharply, downed another drink, and set his glass down with a clink. “You know what?” He pushed himself up from the booth. “I’m done with this.”

Taeyang raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what exactly are you planning to do?”

Ji-yong ignored him, already striding towards you.

The moment he approached, the male idol’s gaze lifted, eyes widening in recognition. “Oh, wow—you’re G-Dragon.” Ji-yong barely had time to speak before the guy extended a hand, grinning. “I’m a huge fan. Your music’s been a big inspiration to me.”

You tensed beside him, clearly picking up on Ji-yong’s mood shift. Your breath caught in your throat. It wasn’t just the fact that he was here—it was the way he looked. His usual sharp confidence was there, but beneath it, something was off. His dark eyes locked onto yours, unwavering and intense, but there was a slight unsteadiness in his steps, the telltale looseness in his posture that only came when he’d had too much to drink. Had he been drinking because of you? You hadn’t spoken to him in days, especially convincing yourself he was mad at you, that you had ruined things between the two of you. But now, standing under the flashing lights, you could feel the weight of his gaze like a burning imprint on your skin. He barely spared a glance at the idol beside her, his focus entirely on you, and for a second, the rest of the club faded into background noise. Your heart pounded against your ribs. Why was he looking at you like that? And why did it feel like, even in a crowded room, he was the only one who could make you feel like this?

After zoning out for a second, you noticed Ji-yong took the handshake, but his grip was too firm, his expression unreadable. “That’s nice,” he said coolly. His gaze flicked to you, then back to the guy. “But I think you’re getting a little too comfortable with what’s mine.”

The male idol blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“What?” You couldn’t help but blurt it out.

But before you could say anything else, Ji-yong moved without thinking, casually draping an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in just enough to make his point clear.

The male idol awkwardly glanced between you. “Uh—I’ll catch you later,” he mumbled before making a quick exit.

Ji-yong smirked, watching him leave. Good.

But when he turned back to you, your expression was far from pleased. You stepped out of his grasp. “What the hell was that?”

Ji-yong shrugged. “Just making sure he knows his place.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. “His place? You don’t get to do that, Ji-yong. You don’t get to act like—” You cut yourself off, shaking your head. “Forget it.”

“No, go on,” he said, tilting his head. “Act like what?”

Like you care. Like you still want me.

You huffed, clearly not willing to have this conversation here. Instead, you grabbed his wrist and yanked him toward the exit.

Seunghyun, Daesung, and Taeyang had been watching the whole thing unfold from their booth, amusement clear on their faces.

“Well,” Taeyang said, raising his drink. “This just got interesting.”

“Should we follow?” Daesung asked.

Seunghyun smirked. “Oh, absolutely.”

By the time you reached outside, the cool night air did little to calm the heat between Ji-yong and you. The moment you were alone, you turned to face him, arms crossed, frustration clear in your expression.

“You’re unbelievable,” you said. “You have no right to get jealous over who I talk to.”

He scoffed. “Jealous? You think I’m jealous of him?”

“Weren’t you?” You challenged. “Because that’s sure what it looked like.”

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?”

Ji-yong stepped closer, his voice lower this time. “That I don’t like seeing you with him. That I hate the way he looks at you, the way you smile at him—like he actually has a chance.”

You froze. The words hung in the air between them, too heavy to ignore.

But he wasn’t done.

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair as his frustration spilled over. “Do you have any idea what it’s been like? Watching you act like I don’t exist, like what we had—what we have—doesn’t mean anything?” His voice wavered slightly, and for a second, he looked almost exhausted, like holding everything in had been weighing him down for too long. “I tried to stay away, I really did. I told myself that if you needed space, I’d give it to you. But then I see you with him, and it’s like—” He cut himself off, his jaw tightening. “It’s like I was stupid for ever thinking I could just let you go.”

Your heart pounded, but you forced yourself to take a step back. “Ji-yong, you’re drunk,” you said, shaking your head. “You don’t mean any of this.”

His expression hardened instantly. “Don’t do that,” he said, voice firm. “Don’t act like this is just the alcohol talking.”

You hesitated, forcing yourself to really look at him. He was tipsy, sure—you could tell from the way his movements were a little too loose, the way his emotions weren’t as carefully controlled as usual. But his eyes—his eyes were clear. Sharp with frustration, dark with something deeper. The weight of his words settled over you, pressing against the walls you’d tried so hard to keep up.

He meant it. Every single word. And that terrified you.

So why could you practically hear your heartbeat? Your heart fluttered at the possibility of finally getting him back. The truth was, there had never been anyone else. Not even for a second. No matter how much you tried to convince yourself that keeping your distance from Ji-yong was the right thing to do, no matter how much you told yourself he was probably mad at you, that you had ruined things, it had never changed one simple fact—you were in love with him. You had been for longer than you were willing to admit, and nothing—not time, not silence, not even the presence of someone else—had ever come close to changing that. The male idol had been nothing more than a distraction, a way to pretend, just for a moment, that you weren’t still aching for Ji-yong. But standing here now, with him looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered, you knew there was no more running from it. There had never been another option. It had always been him.

Ji-yong could feel eyes on them. He glanced to the side and spotted the rest of the members from your respective groups watching from just outside the club entrance. Fantastic.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Fuck it.”

Then, before you could react, he closed the distance between you.

An excited gasp echoed from the group behind them, followed by Daesung muttering, “Oh my god.”

Ji-yong didn’t care.

The moment your lips met, the rest of the world faded—the club music, the street noise, everything. It was just you. The way you tensed for half a second, like you couldn’t believe this was really happening, before you gave in, melting into him like you had been waiting for this all along. The way your breath hitched against his lips, your fingers instinctively gripping his jacket as if you were afraid he might slip away.

His hands were steady, one cupping your jaw, his thumb brushing against your cheek as if memorizing the shape of you, the other settling at your waist, pulling you closer. His lips were warm, urgent but unhurried, like he wanted to take his time, like he had been starving for this but was determined to savor every second. He tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss, and the heat that shot through you made your knees weaken. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a confession, a plea, an apology, a promise all at once. And as your heart pounded against your ribs, matching the wild rhythm of his, you knew—there was no going back now.

When he finally pulled away, he searched your eyes, waiting for a reaction. You just stood there, lips parted, heartbeat hammering in your chest. Their groups stood frozen in shock, waiting for what would happen next.

Ji-yong swallowed hard. “Say something.”

Would you push him away? Would you yell at him? Would you—

Hands still gripping his jacket, you pulled him back in.

The kiss lingers, but only for a moment longer than either of you intended. It feels like time slows down—neither of you rushing to pull away, as if savoring the shift in everything. Ji-yong's hand still rests at your waist, his thumb gently brushing against your skin. His other hand, however, seems unsure of where to go, hovering for a second before gently cupping your cheek.

You both pull away just slightly, your faces still close, and Ji-yong’s breath comes a little heavier than before. His eyes flicker to your lips, like he’s thinking about kissing you again, but he hesitates.

"Well," he says with a playful grin, "that was definitely not in the plan."

You can’t help but laugh, a little breathless, still trying to process everything. "Yeah, you don’t exactly follow instructions, do you?" You tease, giving him a playful shove on the chest.

He chuckles, taking a step back, but his eyes never leave yours. “Hey, it wasn’t just my fault. You were kissing me back, too,” he says, raising an eyebrow in mock offense. “I think we’re both in this mess together now.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “You really know how to make everything sound like it’s my fault, don’t you?”

He raises his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m just stating the facts here. You're the one who keeps pulling me in. What am I supposed to do, huh?”

“You could’ve, I don’t know, not kissed me like that,” you say with a smirk and your arms crossed, playing along.

“What can I say? I’m a man of action.”

“Clearly.”

“But seriously though…” he began, taking on a more serious tone again. “I don’t think either of us can pretend like we don’t have something going on between us. Something real.”

"I thought you were mad at me," you admit quietly, still unsure of how to process everything that's happened. “You’ve barely said anything to me since... well, since everything with management.”

His expression softens. He steps closer, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders. “I was never mad. I was just... confused. And scared. I didn't know how to deal with what I was feeling. And I didn't want to mess things up.”

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a playful side-eye. "And kissing me like that just helps the confusion, huh?"

Ji-yong smirks, but it’s playful, the tension between you both easing. “Hey, if I had known that’s how you’d react, I would’ve done it sooner.” He winks at you, his voice teasing again.

You laugh, finally feeling like things are normal again. The weight of this situation feels a little lighter now, the tension slipping away with every teasing word. “You’re such a troublemaker,” you say, shaking your head but still smiling.

“Guilty as charged,” he replies with a wink. Back to his usual confidence, it seems. “But I think you like it.”

You certainly can’t argue with that.

“So, uh… what now?” You chuckled a little nervously, unable to ignore the way your heart was still pounding.

His smile widens, but this time, there’s no teasing in it. Just sincerity. He takes a step forward, his presence commanding as he gently brushes a stray lock of hair from your face. “Now… we figure this out, together,” he says softly, voice low. “No more running away.”

“Promise?” You held out your pinky, giving him a shy smile.

“You’re adorable.” He laughed, before hooking his own pinky around yours. “Promise.”

The two of you share another kiss, a quicker and lighter one this time, as if to solidify the promise. Your friends standing a little way from you almost forgot about until Taeyang piped up.

“Finally!”

The others, who had been watching quietly, burst into laughter. Seung-hyun shakes his head. “Took you long enough. I was wondering if you two were ever going to stop pretending.”

“Right?” Daesung added, grinning ear to ear. “You’ve been dancing around each other for months, and all it took was a pinky promise?”

The two of you decide to join your group, hand in hand, and Ji-yong rolls his eyes but his smile betrays him. “You’re all just jealous.”

“Jealous?” Seung-hyun scoffs. “Nah, we’re just happy you two finally figured it out. Took you both long enough to stop being idiots.”

“Could’ve done this a lot sooner,” Taeyang teases, crossing his arms with a smirk. “We’d have saved you both a lot of trouble.”

You roll your eyes but can't suppress your smile. Ji-yong, now fully leaning into the teasing, shoots back, “Yeah, well, now that it’s done, are you guys finally done with your comments?”

“Of course not,” Daesung chimes in, laughing. “You two just gave us the best material for at least a week of teasing!”

One of the girls from your group chuckles and shakes her head. “I swear, the way you two acted around each other was like watching a soap opera. But I knew it was only a matter of time before it happened.”

Another girl smirks and adds, “We should’ve known. You two have been glaring at each other like you're ready to pounce for ages.”

You blush, feeling your face heat up. “We weren’t glaring…”

“You were,” the first girl teases with a playful grin. “And it was adorable.”

“Could’ve saved us the suspense if you’d just kissed sooner,” the third girl laughs, nudging you gently. “We’ve been waiting for that moment.”

Ji-yong laughs, a bit sheepish but still confident. “Guess I’ll just have to get used to it, huh?”

“I think we all will,” you respond, laughing as you nudge him back.

The guys continue to joke, but it’s clear that despite the teasing, the air around you both feels lighter. For the first time, you're not just surrounded by the laughter of your friends; you're wrapped up in a sense of belonging, of something real—and you're excited to see where it goes.

taglist: @thanosscrossmain @maskedcrawford @mirahyun @riddlerloveb0t

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