#also i just think it would be so funny to have him walk into the bar when karen and the boys are all there

[graves-yard]

Happy pride month to these two lmao

In order to keep my promise, I had written a little Drabble on my fankids, specifically about Bullet and Poly since that won the first poll. I also think it would be fun to draw a comic page of them too so I did that!!

Written context is belowwww

Maybe it was a little ironic the situation Bullet has found himself in, but it was his fault for trying to chase after a cliche. He wanted nothing more than to live up to his parents legacy and follow in their footsteps. He thought the best way to do that was to find a competitive rival of his own!

Poly, on paper, would have been a perfect fit for a rival. They were the strong and mysterious silent type to Bullet’s funny and cocky hero type. And with their own legacy of being the adopted child of his father’s robotic counterpart, that bred well for a good battle of witty comebacks and heated competition.

Except Poly wasn’t the type to do that at all. In fact—despite their perfect origins—they were the worst person to have a rivalry with.

Bullet was a bit of an overachiever. He had already daydreamed and planned for this frenemy type relationship with Poly before he had even met them. When he was young, he heard many hushed conversations from his parents and their friends about schemes that Eggman and Metal Sonic were planning, talks of a child his age being involved. He remembered eavesdropping on a conversation between his father and Amy about a kid she was taking care of. She had seemed a little concerned that the Robotnik influence could rub off on them.

Since then, Bullet had been a little obsessed with them. It embarrasses him to this day the amount of daydreams and badly made drawings of this mysterious half-hedgehog-half-robot super rival he had thought up as a kid. All his childish drawings of their explosive battles did not live up to the expectations.

Maybe he should’ve guessed where this was gonna go if he was acting like that back then.

When Bullet first officially met Poly, he quickly decided that he would need to be the Sonic in the relationship, opposed to his anti-hero other father. Poly doesn’t speak. Their speech is only that of a normal, non-Mobian hedgehog. A couple chirps and snorts came from them occasionally, but for the most part, they were very, very quiet. From what Bullet knew of Sonic’s many rivals, they would best fit in the category of their own father, Metal. Which was obvious, of course.

He did his best to enact a rivalry that very first day, taunting and teasing the hedgeborg in a way that imitated his father almost perfectly, if it weren’t for the poor self confidence ruining most of his attempts.

Poly had not acknowledged him even once. They were focused on dragging a stick through the beach they resided on, hovering just slightly above the ground so as not to get sand in their leg gears. With the bundle of fur and quills that covered their eyes, you couldn’t really tell if they had reacted at all to his attempt at riling them up.

Bullet had kept trying to goad them on. Poking, prodding, running circles around them—careful of their mechanical limbs and not trying to kick up dirt—but nothing. Not even a twitch of their ears.

Just as he started to give up and began walking away, there was a soft thunk to the back of his head. He turned back around towards the hedgeborg.

First, he noticed the stick—that was definitely thrown at him—on the ground right in front of his feet.

Then, he noticed Poly was actually facing him. Closed lipped smile on their face, arms crossed over their knees. Clearly amused.

And finally, he noticed right in between them, circled in many shoeprints caused by his own chaotic running about, were three words written in the sand.

“Go away plz :)”

The punctuation clearly being Poly’s little smile, which might as well be a shit-eating grin that meant to mock and belittle him.

Bullet huffed, crossing his arms in embarrassment and scowling. The image was a striking reminder of who his other father was.

“Whatever. Fine,” he stumbled through his words, muzzle flushed by their blunt first words to him. “I have other people I can hang out with anyway! I was just trying to be nice.”

Poly chuffed, clearly laughing at him. Bullet felt even more heated by that. He left them in the sand to go back to his parents, arms still angrily crossed and huffing when he met up with them.

That was their first meeting, and he hadn’t stopped bugging them since. Bullet had wanted an even opponent, one that he could verbally spar and battle with like their parents did before. A frenemy relationship that kept them both on their toes and solidified that he was the son of Sonic and Shadow.

He didn’t really think their relationship would be more of an “Sonic-Amy” type deal, with him unexpectedly being the one with the obsessive crush.

[itzpookiepooh]

Okay so I recently went to a concert and was sending my friends and gf the videos I took. Everyone told me my screaming ruined it and it sound like a majestically dying goat (gf's words). So naturally I'm like "hmm the lads boys would definitely have a heartache from my screams" so~

My request is MC sending the boys her concert videos and them thinking it'd be cute or whatever only to be meet the with the most diabolic screams known to man kind 😀

You’re funny I like you 🙂‍↕️

Banshee

Zayne smiles watching the video you sent in his office. You were so excited pointing to the artist showing him how close they were. He chuckles watching you get so happy until you scream. It was bloodcurdling and echoed off his office walls.

“OH MY GOD!!!! ZAAAAAYNEEEEE.” Zayne stared back at the phone with wide eyes. There was no way you were this loud.

Greyson knocks before entering with wide worried eyes. He could hear the scream while walking past the door. Zayne just stares at him as he pauses the video. His ears were surely ringing from your screams.

You texted him if he got it to which he said he did and so did Greyson. You were confused until Zayne explained how loud you were in the video. You were embarrassed but Zayne told you don’t be because you were excited and happy in that moment.

Rafayel was on his ladder when he got your text. You had been excited about this for months and would tell Rafayel about the band constantly. He was excited to see what all the hollering was about when he watched the video. You were front row waving your hands around.

The scream you let out scared Rafayel so bad he fell off his ladder and onto the floor. Luckily he landed on a pile of clutter that broke most of his fall. He shook his hair out of his face before staring at the phone again.

It not only took him off guard but the artist who passed you. Their eyes widen as they laugh at you. This was really the highlight of the video for you because you made them laugh.

“Have mercy.” Rafayel shakes his head and laughs. His cutie is as unpredictable as always.

Caleb couldn’t go with you this time which made him sad but you promised to send him videos. You were jumping with Simone in the pit while the music blasted. You got a little too excited as you screamed at the top of your lungs. It was charged up, loud, and ear piercing. Caleb covered his ear with his hand and clenches as the scream prolongs.

“Geez…” He rubs his ear looking back at the video of you dancing and your phone waving around. He chuckled nervously before sending you a text telling you that you sound like a screaming wanderer.

You replied with an ‘I do?????’ Before going back and watching it. You were deaf when it came to a good time.

Xavier was getting ready for bed when you sent him a video of you and your colleagues at the concert. He brushed his teeth as he watched you dance around, flipping your head from side to side. Your favorite song came on and you screamed so loud the sound on your phone went out. Xavier was shocked and froze his toothbrush hanging from his lips.

He didn’t have the heart to tell you that you broke the sound barrier. He sent you a sweet text and told you he was going to bed. He also told you to feel free to send more videos and he’ll watch them in the morning. The scream echoed in his mind making him crack a smile. At least you were having fun.

Sylus was in bed reading when you sent a video through. You were belting the lyrics with Tara. You guys were basically hollering in each other’s faces. Then the build up happened and when the beat dropped you both screamed. The frequency high for the dragon’s sensitive ears. Sylus flinches immediately covering his ears. He blinks rapidly before looking at the phone again.

You went back to singing making Sylus burst into a fit of laughter. The switch was so abrupt and he couldn’t contain his laughter. He sent a text telling you he got it and have fun. He leaned back with his eyes closed replaying the scream scene in his head causing him to laugh again almost doubling over thinking about it.

I had to add faces to give it more structure and I didn’t want this to be boring with the way I type 😭

[ikeu05]

𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 。 i love you because when i say i don't wanna talk you always call me

synopsis when yn starts dating her sweet, perfect boyfriend sunghoon, she doesn’t expect to fall for his annoyingly charming best friend, jay. between hallway run-ins, forbidden feelings, and a very confusing party confession, what started as bickering turns into everything they were both afraid to want. It’s messy, it’s complicated—but it might just be real.

pairing jay x fem!reader x sunghoon

genre love triangle (kinda), angst!!!, fluff here and there

word count 14.8k (who am i :3)

warnings implications of cheating (i am very against this, i do NOT induce cheating), small smut scene [unprotected sex (please don't do!!!!), piv], crying, reader is very confused about everything, happy ending <3

nessie note this was so random, sprung outta nowhere but it had been in the drafts for quite sometime now and i figure.... why not :p also i would like to apologise in advance about the smut scene. very evidently, i have no experience writing them so sorry if it's cringe or wtv.. hope y'all like the rest of it hehehe. also ness is her bff and flatmate in this just like how i am ur bff wink wink

sunghoon was yn’s complex neighbour—the kind you didn’t notice until you did, and then couldn’t stop noticing. he lived across the hall from her and ness, in an apartment shared with three other boys, jay, heeseung and jungwon. ness always had a way of describing people that stuck, and she labelled sunghoon as “a little airheaded, unconventionally smart, and just a hot loser.” and honestly, she wasn’t wrong. he was the type to walk into a room looking for his phone while it was already in his hand, but then turn around and say something so surprisingly profound that it made you do a double take. his mind worked in weird ways—ways that made no sense until they did.

yn never really thought much of him at first. he was just the boy who wore mismatched socks, left his laundry out for too long, and somehow managed to ace his physics exams despite never showing up to class. but something changed. maybe it was the way they started seeing each other more and more, casually at first—shared elevator rides, overlapping grocery runs, late-night knock-knock visits with leftover fries or missing chargers.

and then there were the hangouts.

every time the six of them—yn, ness, sunghoon, jay, heeseung and jungwon—ended up in the same room, she found herself gravitating toward him. somehow, by the end of the night, she and sunghoon would be in their own little bubble. laughing at a dumb meme only they found funny. debating whether cereal counted as soup. sharing glances across the table when someone said something ridiculous. it wasn’t intentional—it just kept happening.

sometimes he’d say things like, “i think time’s fake,” with a completely straight face, and then try to prove it with a whiteboard and a banana. sometimes he’d sit beside her, head leaning against the back of the couch, talking about parallel universes while trying not to fall asleep mid-sentence. and she’d just look at him, equal parts amused and curious, wondering how someone so ridiculous could be so weirdly endearing.

one evening, they were all piled into the guy’s living room for a movie night. jungwon had fallen asleep twenty minutes in, ness was loudly narrating her opinions from the kitchen, and jay kept skipping scenes he found boring. somewhere in the middle of all the chaos, sunghoon leaned over to whisper a dumb joke into yn’s ear. she laughed, trying to keep quiet, and he smiled like he’d been waiting for that reaction all day. she didn’t notice how close they were sitting until their shoulders brushed and he didn’t move away.

later that night, when she got back to her own apartment, she realized her cheeks still hurt from smiling too much. and that was when it hit her—maybe she’d started thinking about him a lot more than she thought.

maybe sunghoon wasn’t just the hot loser across the hall anymore.

maybe he was something else. something that made her heartbeat do stupid things.

it wasn’t long before they started dating. after knowing each other for about seven months—seven whole months of dumb jokes, inside memes, late-night texts, shared playlists, and those almost-but-not-quite lingering touches—something finally gave in. and of course, sunghoon had to ask her out in a way only he could. something ridiculous. something oddly sweet. something that left her speechless.

it all began at a party hosted by their college mutual friend jake—the hotshot. the party guy. the kind of boy who wore sunglasses indoors and had a playlist for every type of chaotic situation. it was a massive, noisy, glow-stick-ridden mess in the best way, and yn had agreed to go with the whole group. it sounded fun. a good distraction. she needed that.

because before the party, she’d admitted to ness—after one too many nights spent refreshing sunghoon’s chat—that she needed to get her mind off him. “he doesn’t see me like that,” she had mumbled into a throw pillow. “he’s probably just friendly with everyone. maybe i imagined the whole ‘thing’.”

ness, bless her soul, took it as a mission. “say less,” she’d grinned, dragging yn to her closet. “tonight, you’re getting over hot loser boy. we’re drinking. we’re flirting. we are not crying over weirdly poetic physics majors.”

and so, the night began—yn dressed a little braver than usual, eyes lined in confidence she didn’t feel yet, and a fake smile plastered on as she sipped on her first shot. ness kept her busy—introducing her to new people, pushing her into silly games, dragging her to dance floors. and it worked, for a while. she wasn’t looking at the door every few minutes. she wasn’t hoping he’d come talk to her. she wasn’t thinking about—

except she was. and he did come.

sunghoon showed up late, like always, with jungwon trailing behind and jay already a little drunk on arrival. and when his eyes found her in the crowd, they softened instantly. he smiled, like she was a favourite song he hadn’t heard in a while. but the moment he stepped forward, ness blocked his path with a look. a subtle shake of the head.

he got the hint. he kept his distance.

she hated it.

even through the chaos of the party, their eyes met sometimes. quiet moments in a loud room. he looked like he wanted to talk to her—desperately—but he didn’t. maybe he thought she didn’t want to. maybe he was trying to give her space. either way, she felt everything and nothing all at once.

later, during a game of spin the bottle, they sat in a circle, tipsy and flushed. the bottle spun, clinked against a few glasses, and landed on sunghoon… and some random girl. everyone whooped. the girl leaned forward with a smirk.

but sunghoon shook his head, laughing softly. “i’ll pass.”

“no way! c’mon!” someone whined.

he just shrugged, eyes flicking once—quickly—towards yn. “not really feeling it.”

she bit her lip, barely hiding her smile. her chest felt too tight, too light.

then it was her turn. she spun, not really thinking. it landed on jake.

“wooooo!” people shouted. “get it!”

jake raised an eyebrow, grinning. “hey, no pressure, but i am an excellent kisser.”

yn laughed, nerves buzzing through her. she always thought jake was attractive in a loud, attention-demanding kind of way—but he wasn’t really her type. still… maybe this would help. maybe kissing someone else would finally rip sunghoon from her thoughts.

she stood up, slowly moving toward jake.

and then—

“hey,” a voice said, soft, right beside her. “do you… really wanna kiss jake?”

sunghoon.

he stood between them, eyes gentle but serious, his voice low enough that only she could hear it.

she blinked at him, heart in her throat. the alcohol and the heat and the sheer stupidity of it all made her bolder than usual. “no,” she said, barely above a whisper. “i wanna kiss you.”

so she did.

right there, in front of everyone. she kissed him. his hands found her waist like they’d been waiting for this moment forever, and everything around them blurred. but the second it ended, panic bloomed.

“oh my god,” she gasped, eyes wide, suddenly all too aware. “i—” and then she bolted.

out of the party. down the street. all the way back to their apartment complex, barefoot heels in hand.

ness chased her down in a cab, shouting out the window, “you’re so fast for a drunk person, i swear to god!”

yn avoided him after that. for days.

she couldn’t handle the conversation. what if he regretted it? what if it was just a kiss to him? what if she ruined everything? every time she heard his voice across the hall, she ducked into her room. when the boys came over to borrow sugar or wifi or ask about missing laundry, she pretended to be asleep. it was childish. but she was terrified.

until one afternoon, she finally found the courage. she walked across the hall and knocked.

the door swung open.

sunghoon stood there, in nothing but an apron.

flour streaked his collarbones, smudged across his cheekbone and dusted in his hair. he looked startled for a second, then grinned sheepishly.

“hey,” he said. “i was just, um… baking.”

she stared. “are you… naked under that?”

“i mean… technically, yes. but it’s a long apron.”

“sunghoon—”

“i was making donuts,” he added quickly. “to ask you out properly. because you said you like donuts. and i wanted to make it… you know. cute.”

something in her chest finally eased. she let out a breathy laugh, stepping inside. “you don’t hate me?”

“what? no!” he blinked. “i thought you were avoiding me because you regretted it.”

she covered her face, groaning. “oh my god. we’re idiots.”

“well, yeah,” he said, stepping closer. “but you kissed me. and then you ran away. which was, like… very cinderella of you.”

“i panicked,” she mumbled. “i didn’t think you actually—”

he didn’t let her finish. he just pulled her in by the waist, arms wrapping around her, flour and all. “so,” he murmured, looking down at her. “wanna date a dumbass who bakes naked and wears a ‘fuck the cook’ apron?”

she laughed, cheeks burning. “i mean… if that dumbass is you…”

he kissed her.

flour smeared across her cheek, the smell of vanilla and sugar hanging between them, the forgotten donuts cooling on the kitchen counter. somewhere between the kiss and the laughter, his apron slipped slightly off his shoulder.

let’s just say… the donuts weren’t the only thing getting devoured that evening.

it had been three months since the kiss, the donut proposal, and the flour-dusted beginning of whatever she and sunghoon had become—and things were good. like, genuinely good. easy in the way you hope relationships will be when they start. sunghoon was still his chaotic, apron-wearing self, the kind of boyfriend who brought her weird snacks from the convenience store just because they “reminded him of her” (???), and who left her notes like “don’t forget to eat or i will cry and you’ll be responsible for emotional damage” stuck to her laptop.

they weren’t perfect—he forgot their coffee dates, she got impatient with his dreamy tangents—but they worked.

until jay happened.

jay was sunghoon’s annoying best friend. nothing more, nothing less. at least that’s how yn had always seen him—loud, cocky, with a grin that could either charm or irritate depending on the day. she had tolerated him purely because of sunghoon, her boyfriend of four months now. jay was always around—he lived across the hall with sunghoon, part of that never-ending trio of chaotic energy, plus jungwon.

she’d met jay the same day she met sunghoon, almost a year ago now. he had always been there, lurking in the background of her life like a sarcastic shadow. bickering with her from day one, making snarky remarks across the hall, stealing her charger when she wasn’t looking. it was like his full-time job was to get under her skin and she had never let him win. if he rolled his eyes at her, she rolled hers harder. if he made a joke, she made a better one. their entire relationship was based on mutual annoyance and a shared love for one-upping each other.

especially in stats class.

god, stats class.

they sat on opposite ends of the second row, both refusing to give up their assigned unofficial seats. every test, every assignment, every stupid little pop quiz was a personal challenge. “who got the highest this time?” was not a casual question—it was war.

“enjoy that 92 while it lasts,” she smirked one day, tossing her test on his desk.

jay raised an eyebrow. “enjoy being second place, yn. it suits you.”

“your ego doesn’t.”

“yeah, but my gpa does.”

she hated how smug he looked when he said that.

but she hated even more how cute he looked when he got flustered.

because jay—annoying, sharp-tongued, infuriating jay—had these moments. tiny, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moments where the sarcasm dropped. when he picked up her pen without a word. when he brought her coffee once before class because “you looked like death and i figured your boyfriend’s probably too busy thinking about time travel to remember caffeine.” when she accidentally let slip she was stressed about her internship interview and he—without looking at her—slid a printed prep sheet across the desk with a grumbled “don’t screw it up. you’re my only real competition.”

moments like that threw her off. always had. because he didn’t stay sweet. he’d say something nice and then immediately ruin it by saying something like “i miss when you were failing stats. you were quieter back then.”

and she’d pretend to hate him all over again.

but lately… lately it was like he was everywhere.

she saw him more than she used to. ran into him at the cafeteria when she was sure he had a different break slot. bumped into him at the library when she swore she was alone. he was behind her in lines, next to her in labs, texting her things like “your boyfriend microwaved a spoon again. come collect your man.”

and when they bickered now, it felt… different. quicker. sharper. almost funnier. like there was a rhythm to it, a beat she couldn’t stop syncing to.

“you’re really annoying today,” she told him one afternoon, pushing past him in the hallway.

“thanks,” he replied smoothly. “it’s a skill i’ve refined over years. just for you.”

she paused, staring at him. “do you practice these lines or do they just fall out of your mouth like stupidity?”

jay smirked. “you tell me, yn. you’re the one who keeps listening.”

and the worst part?

she was listening. she always did.

she was starting to see him more. not just as the annoying boy who lived with her boyfriend, but—unfortunately—as someone she noticed in ways she didn’t want to admit. someone whose presence filled more space than it should. someone who wasn’t sunghoon, but who still made her heart skip, even if it was only out of irritation. (or so she told herself.)

it was like the universe kept shoving him into her orbit, over and over again, like it was trying to tell her something. and maybe she was too afraid to admit what that something could be.

because everything was good with sunghoon. wasn’t it?

so then why the hell was jay everywhere all of a sudden?

and why did it feel like she was starting to like it?

it was well past midnight when yn finally gave in to the itch crawling under her skin. her room felt suffocating, her thoughts louder than her playlist, and even sunghoon’s goodnight text hadn’t calmed her nerves. the silence had become too much. she needed air, and not the kind that came from an open window.

“let’s go on a drive,” she mumbled, sitting up suddenly. ness, who was half-asleep on the floor next to her with her phone pressed to her cheek, blinked up in confusion.

“now?”

“yes. like, now now. i need to get out of here. i’m going crazy.”

ness yawned and stretched, already reaching for her hoodie. “fine. but you’re buying me fries or i’m turning this car around.”

the hallway outside their flat was dim, the yellow ceiling light flickering like something out of a horror movie. yn tiptoed ahead, hoodie pulled over her head, keys in hand. just as they rounded the corner to the main door, yn halted in her tracks so suddenly that ness almost bumped into her.

“shit. jay.”

“what?” ness whispered back, blinking.

yn pushed her forward without a word, ducking behind the half-open door of the utility room next to the stairs. ness was too confused to protest, stumbling out into full view like a deer caught in headlights.

and there he was—jay. dressed in grey sweatpants and a navy oversized t-shirt, hair still damp like he’d just taken a shower, casually walking down the hallway with a garbage bag in one hand. he paused when he saw her.

“where you headed?” he asked, voice low but curious, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

ness smiled awkwardly, trying to keep things casual. “just… stepping out. needed a change of air.”

jay raised an eyebrow. “at 12:30 a.m.?”

“i like the stars,” she shrugged, internally praying he wouldn’t look too closely. “they hit better at night.”

he glanced past her, his eyes narrowing slightly like something didn’t sit right. “you alone?”

“yeah. solo vibes,” she nodded quickly.

and then—of course—yn’s phone rang. for exactly one millisecond. the notification barely echoed before she silenced it, but it was too late.

jay’s head tilted slowly. that ringtone. he knew it. he’d changed it himself once when she left her phone unattended at a group movie night last semester—“spaghetti western gun draw”—as a joke. she never changed it back.

“solo vibes, huh?” he asked again, but now he was smirking. “tell her next time to at least mute her phone before hiding.”

ness let out a sigh of defeat, facepalming. “god, you’re so annoying.”

he stepped past her slightly, not peeking around the corner but clearly amused. “how’d her stats paper go, by the way?” he asked casually. “tell her i said good job. that presentation she did last week was lowkey impressive.”

ness narrowed her eyes. “why do you even know that?”

jay shrugged. “i pay attention sometimes.”

“go throw your trash and mind your business.”

jay gave a little mock salute, backing away with a grin. “night, ness. night, yn.” he didn’t even need to look. he just knew.

once he was out of earshot, yn stepped out, groaning as she smacked her forehead lightly. “he knew.”

ness gave her a deadpan look. “yeah, no shit. this is why i said let me drive alone and you can meet me downstairs.”

“but you’re a horrible liar.”

“and you’re a horrible hider.”

they walked toward the elevator, yn pulling her hood tighter. her heart was still racing—not because of the close call, but because of the way jay had said good job. because he noticed. and remembered. and for some reason, that meant too much.

the city was quieter than usual. the streets stretched out in long, empty lines, dotted with the occasional blinking yellow signal and the hum of streetlamps. the air smelled like wet concrete and jasmine from someone’s nearby garden. yn drove with one hand on the wheel, the other fiddling with the car’s stereo until it landed on a mellow playlist—soft indie, just loud enough to fill the silence.

ness had her feet up on the dashboard, sipping from the iced coffee they picked up from the all-night drive-thru. they’d barely been on the road ten minutes when she finally said it.

“i’m just gonna say it.”

yn glanced sideways. “say what?”

“i think jay likes you.”

the words hit like a stone skipping across a calm lake, each ripple sharper than the last.

she scoffed, too fast. “what? no. no, he doesn’t.”

ness didn’t even blink. “he so does.”

“don’t be ridiculous.”

“you’re telling me it was a coincidence that he recognized your ringtone in a millisecond, complimented your stats presentation unprompted, and looked directly at the wall you were hiding behind?”

yn exhaled through her nose, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “he’s just being… jay.”

“exactly,” ness said smugly. “jay, who makes fun of everyone else equally, but never forgets your coffee order. jay, who teases you, but never crosses a line. jay, who somehow remembers your exam schedule but doesn’t know what day it is half the time.”

yn stayed silent, her eyes fixed on the road.

ness leaned closer, watching her carefully now. “you haven’t denied it convincingly even once, by the way.”

“i have.”

“nope. you’re all blushy and twitchy. you’re practically glowing like a ‘crush detected’ siren.”

“i don’t like him.”

“right.”

“i don’t,” she repeated, but her voice cracked halfway, which only made ness laugh.

and in that moment—between the streetlights flashing across her face and the quiet hum of the song playing—ness saw it. the way yn’s expression faltered. how her mouth opened slightly, like she was about to say something and then thought better of it. the way her eyes clouded, like she was trying too hard to convince herself.

“oh my god,” ness whispered. “you like him too.”

yn didn’t answer. she just bit the inside of her cheek and kept driving.

ness leaned back in her seat, letting out a dramatic sigh. “this is insane. you’re dating sunghoon.”

“i know,” yn said quietly, her fingers tightening again on the steering wheel. “i know.”

and the car went quiet again, only the music filling the air between them—soft, aching, and way too honest.

they ended up at a tucked-away little café on the far side of town, one of those late-night gems with fairy lights draped across the windows and mismatched furniture that somehow made everything feel more intimate. the barista barely batted an eye at the two girls walking in at nearly 2 a.m.—this place seemed to cater specifically to the restless and heart-heavy.

they sat near the window, nursing hot mochas and splitting a flaky almond croissant and a warm cinnamon roll between them. the silence was heavier now, not uncomfortable, but loaded. ness was staring at her, chewing slowly.

“what,” yn said, not looking up from her pastry.

“just thinking.”

“stop thinking.”

“i can’t.”

yn gave her a look, but ness just pushed her plate away and leaned on her elbows.

“okay, i’m doing this. pros and cons.”

“no.”

“too bad. we’re doing it.” she held up a finger. “pro—jay makes you smile when you don’t even want to.”

“can we not—”

“con—you’re dating sunghoon. obviously. big, fat con.”

yn groaned, resting her forehead on the table.

“pro,” ness continued, “jay actually listens to you. remembers things. supports your tiny wins like they’re world records. he’s annoying, but he’s there. he’s present.”

yn sat back up slowly, face drawn.

“con,” ness said, quieter now, “sunghoon’s your boyfriend. he treats you well. he’s sweet. stable. you’d hurt him.”

yn didn’t say anything.

“pro,” ness added, “jay… i don’t know, he challenges you. he keeps you on your toes. you light up when you talk back to him. like you enjoy the chaos.”

“that’s not a pro,” yn muttered, staring into her cup. “that’s a problem.”

ness chuckled, but it faded quickly when she saw the look on her friend’s face—eyebrows drawn, lips pressed tight, fingers tapping nervously against the ceramic cup.

“yn.”

“i don’t want this,” yn whispered, almost more to herself than ness. “i don’t want to feel anything. i want to be happy with sunghoon. i am happy. i think.”

ness didn’t press, just nodded slowly.

“but when jay looks at me…” yn’s voice broke a little. “it feels like my chest is going to split open.”

the café was quiet except for the soft jazz playing through the overhead speakers and the occasional clink of dishes being washed behind the counter. outside, the street was still and empty, the world asleep while yn’s own thoughts screamed too loud to ignore.

ness reached over, her hand covering hers gently. “you don’t have to figure it all out tonight. but you do need to stop lying to yourself.”

yn nodded, swallowing hard, unsure whether the ache in her throat was from guilt, confusion, or something far more dangerous—hope.

somewhere between the fourth existential thought and the last sip of her mocha, yn sat back in her chair and declared, “i need to get drunk.”

ness blinked. “here? now?”

“right now,” she nodded, deadly serious. “i’m done thinking. no more boys, no more feelings, no more jay, no more ‘who-do-i-even-like’—i just want to not feel anything for a few hours.”

and that’s how they ended up at the shady little 7/11 a block down, giggling through the fluorescent aisles, grabbing way more bottles of soju than necessary—green bottles clinking in a tote bag, some spicy chips thrown in for chaos. by 2:45 am, they were sitting at a quiet crossroad at the edge of town, where traffic lights blinked uselessly over an empty street and the wind carried the faint sound of a dog barking in the distance. they sat on the curb like a pair of drunk philosophers, legs sprawled out, faces flushed from laughter and alcohol.

“this is freedom,” yn mumbled, holding a half-empty bottle above her head. “this is girlhood.”

ness laughed so hard she almost dropped her own bottle. “girlhood is being heartbroken over a boy you don’t even want to like.”

“girlhood is betrayal in a crop top.”

“girlhood is lying to your sweet, perfect boyfriend while lowkey obsessing over his best friend!”

they burst into cackles, so loud it echoed down the street. yn wiped tears from her eyes, lying back on the warm asphalt, staring at the starless night.

meanwhile, back in their apartment complex, jay was pacing around his room, thumb hovering over his phone. he had texted ness over an hour ago:

jay: u guys back?

no reply. nothing since they left. which was weird, because ness never ignored him. but he reasoned she’d probably just fallen asleep. maybe yn was venting and they were up late talking. or maybe she was crying, he suddenly thought, anxiety tugging at the edge of his chest.

he shook it off. it wasn’t his place. sunghoon was probably with her—wait, no. sunghoon had gone to bed early, he remembered. so… where the hell were they?

jay sat back on his bed, brows furrowed, phone still glowing in his hand.

across town, yn was balancing her bottle on her chest, staring at the red blinking streetlight.

“do you think the light’s judging us?” she asked seriously.

ness nodded. “definitely. red for stop being dumb bitches.”

“too late.”

they clinked bottles weakly in agreement, two tiny specks of chaos in the middle of a sleeping city, unaware of the ripple their absence was already starting to cause.

the sky was bleeding into soft shades of blue and lavender, the night slowly surrendering to dawn. the crossroad was still quiet, the only sound now the distant chirping of birds waking up and the occasional hum of a delivery bike speeding through empty lanes.

ness was curled up beside a lamppost, hoodie pulled over her head, a half-finished chip packet cradled to her chest like a comfort blanket. yn sat cross-legged on the curb, eyes burning from lack of sleep, head spinning not just from the alcohol but from the weight of the morning hitting her too fast.

“we can’t drive back,” she said blankly, her voice hoarse.

“nope,” ness croaked. “we’ll die. we’ll literally die.”

they both sat in silence, dazed and miserable.

“options?” ness asked after a beat.

yn pulled out her phone. “sunghoon?” she mumbled, but even saying his name made her wince. “i can’t. he thinks i’m at home. in bed. safe.”

“heeseung?”

“do you want to die slower?”

ness snorted. “jungwon would bring us home but would also give us a thirty-slide presentation on our stupidity.”

yn groaned.

they stared at each other. both came to the same conclusion. “jay.”

ness sighed. “we’re horrible people.”

“yup.”

ness dialed slowly, clearing her throat as it rang. the line picked up after the third ring.

“where are you?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

“jogging. near new flyover. why?” jay’s voice was low, but alert.

“cool. cool cool. so… um. can you jog a little bit further? like, to the big crossroad near that one old bakery place? it’s urgent.”

jay paused. “ness, what the hell? are you okay?”

“yeah—well. no. but not, like, hospital-level bad. just… come. please.”

“is yn with you?”

she hesitated for a beat. “yeah.”

there was a beat of silence.

“i’m coming.”

✭

fifteen minutes later, jay came jogging up the slope, his black tank top clinging to his torso, chest rising and falling as sweat glistened over his skin in the gold of sunrise. his hair was slightly tousled, and his brow furrowed in confusion as he spotted them slumped together on the sidewalk like abandoned chaos goblins.

the moment yn saw him, she physically gulped. god. his shoulders looked criminally illegal in the morning light. she shook her head sharply, almost scolding herself. you have a boyfriend. a sweet, gentle boyfriend who buys you muffins.

jay stopped a few feet away, his hands resting on his hips as he looked at her first, worry etched all over his face.

“what the hell happened?”

yn opened her mouth, but her brain had apparently clocked out for the day. ness came to the rescue.

“we got drunk.”

jay blinked. “at 3 a.m.?”

“yeah.”

“here?”

“yeah.”

he looked at them both again—chapped lips, sleepy eyes, and leftover soju bottles tucked shamefully behind them—and sighed deeply.

“jesus christ.”

“no judgment,” ness warned, holding up a finger.

jay ran a hand through his hair, looking at yn again. “are you okay?” he asked, voice softer this time.

yn blinked up at him, heart thudding a little too loudly. “yeah. just… don’t ask anything right now.”

he nodded slowly. “okay.”

and without another word, he turned, ness leading them toward car parked two blocks away. yn stood up, still dizzy, her shoulder brushing his for half a second—and that single moment lit a fuse somewhere deep inside her chest.

she had never been more aware of her guilt. or rather, more terrified of what that awareness meant.

✭

the silence in the car was heavy, almost sacred, save for the low hum of the engine and the occasional crackle of gravel under jay’s tires as he drove. yn had curled up in the passenger seat, arms wrapped around her legs, forehead resting against the window. her breath fogged up the glass in small bursts, and her fingers twitched now and then like she was still trying to hold onto something—maybe dignity, maybe clarity.

ness had barely buckled her seatbelt before passing out in the back, the exhaustion finally winning over adrenaline and alcohol. jay didn’t say anything at first, his grip on the steering wheel tight, eyes flicking between the road and the reflection of yn’s profile in the side mirror. she was quiet. still.

he hated that he cared this much.

he opened his mouth to say something—anything. a joke to ease the tension. a question he wasn’t supposed to ask. but then—

her phone buzzed.

the ringtone sliced through the quiet like a blade.

jay glanced at her instinctively.

she checked the caller id.

“sunghoon,” she muttered under her breath, more to herself than anyone. she hesitated for half a second, then hit accept and brought it to her ear.

“hello?” she said, voice soft.

jay’s hands clenched unconsciously on the wheel.

sunghoon’s voice filtered in through the speaker, muffled but warm and sleepy and honest in a way that only someone in love could sound. “hi baby,” he mumbled, still half-asleep. “i just woke up and wanted to hear your voice.”

yn closed her eyes, the words hitting like a punch to her chest.

jay’s heart sank instantly. everything he was going to say, everything he wanted to ask, evaporated. the reminder was brutal. real. she had someone. someone who called her “baby” without hesitation. someone she answered for. someone who woke up and thought of her first thing in the morning.

yn forced herself to smile, voice cracking slightly as she responded, “hey… morning.”

“i had a weird dream about you,” sunghoon laughed softly. “where are you? did you sleep okay?”

she flinched but didn’t let it show. “yeah, just… went for an early drive with ness. couldn’t sleep.”

jay stared straight ahead, jaw tense, blinking hard against the rush of feelings he didn’t have the right to feel.

sunghoon continued rambling through the speaker, soft laughter and gentle affection spilling into the quiet car like it belonged there—and maybe it did. just not in the way jay wished it didn’t.

“i miss you,” sunghoon said, so sincere it hurt. “you’ll be back soon, right?”

yn’s throat was dry. “yeah,” she whispered, her eyes flicking toward jay just once.

he didn’t look at her. he didn’t have to.

she knew he’d heard every word.

and just like that, the atmosphere shifted.

he turned up the ac slightly, more for something to do than any real reason. yn hung up a minute later, tucking her phone away like it had burned her fingers. no one said anything for the rest of the ride. but everything had already been said.

silently.

painfully.

loud and clear.

✭

the morning sun had fully risen by the time they pulled into the apartment complex parking. the streets had come back to life—delivery vans rushing past, birds louder now, the sky a pale orange hue with streaks of pink dying out. but the three of them walked up the stairs like they were in a parallel world, still stuck in the silence of that drive.

ness rubbed her temples and reached into her pocket for the keys, grumbling something incoherent as she fumbled with the lock. yn stood beside her, arms crossed, eyes still puffy and jaw clenched tight. jay lingered behind them, just far enough to be out of their immediate space but close enough that his presence still pressed on her skin.

she hadn’t dared look at him since they parked.

the hallway was too quiet.

and then—

a click. a creak. the door across theirs opened.

“yn?” came a groggy voice—sunghoon.

she froze.

jay looked up at the sound too, gaze sharp despite the tired droop in his eyes.

sunghoon stepped out in his oversized hoodie and basketball shorts, hair messy, eyes still adjusting to the morning light. but the second he saw her—his expression shifted entirely.

“hey,” he beamed, stepping forward like it was the most natural thing in the world. his hand reached out, curling gently around her wrist, tugging her closer. “i missed you,” he said, voice still heavy from sleep.

before she could react—before her brain could catch up—he leaned in and kissed her softly.

jay stopped breathing. he didn’t make a sound. didn’t shift. didn’t blink. he just stood there. 

watching.

just for a second. and that second burned. then he turned. without a word, without so much as a glance, he walked past them, heading into the boys’ apartment and shutting the door behind him with a quiet click.

yn didn’t even respond to the kiss properly. her lips barely moved. she was too aware—of jay’s silence, of the guilt spreading in her chest like spilled ink, of the way her skin still remembered the car ride home and how suffocating it had felt.

sunghoon leaned back, smiling sleepily at her. “didn’t think i’d get to see you this early. what were you guys doing anyway?”

yn blinked. “just… late night drive. couldn’t sleep.”

he hummed, clearly buying it. “i’m gonna go make coffee. come over if you want.”

and then he yawned, brushed a knuckle against her cheek sweetly and walked back into his flat.

yn stood there, frozen. ness finally got the door open, swinging it wide. 

“come on,” she said softly, not asking anything.

but yn didn’t move. her eyes flicked to the door jay had disappeared behind, a dull ache blooming in her chest.

she knew. from now on, things were going to feel different. and it would be her fault.

things were only slightly different at first—just enough to notice if you were paying attention. and yn was always paying attention now.

the banter with jay didn’t stop. it still existed in the same petty, teasing rhythm it always had. she’d roll her eyes at him in the hallway. he’d scoff at her taste in instant noodles. they still fought over the last slice of pizza in group hangouts, still tossed playful insults across the room like they were built to clash.

but something had shifted in the space between those moments.

jay wasn’t lingering as much anymore. his jokes came a beat slower. the heat behind his teasing had dulled—not gone, just guarded. he didn’t sit beside her at movie nights anymore. he didn’t glance at her when someone said her name. he barely looked her in the eyes unless he had to. and when he did, it was like a flicker. here, then gone. just enough to make her heart drop.

meanwhile, sunghoon was falling harder. you could see it. the way he looked at her like she was made of something fragile and precious. how he’d kiss the top of her head when she wasn’t paying attention, hold her hand tighter when they crossed the street. he wrote little notes and hid them in her notebooks, remembered how she liked her coffee, told her she was beautiful every chance he got.

and it made her sick with guilt.

because she liked it. she loved being loved like that. she liked sunghoon—really liked him. he was good. he was warm. he’d never hurt her.

so why, why did her eyes follow jay in a crowded room?

why did her chest tighten when he laughed with someone else?

why did her mind constantly circle back to that moment—her knees curled on the passenger seat, his voice tight with something unspoken, the sound of sunghoon’s “hi baby” echoing like a slap in the face?

yn found herself spiraling in quiet moments. brushing her teeth. waiting for the microwave. lying awake at 2 a.m. with her phone on her chest and the ceiling fan spinning lazily overhead.

how do you bring something like this up?

“hey, so, i’m maybe catching feelings for your best friend slash flatmate slash local chaos demon and i feel like the worst person alive. do you still love me now?”

what would sunghoon say?

what would jay say?

what if she was wrong? what if this was just a passing thing? a stupid, fleeting attraction she’d regret throwing everything away for?

but what if it wasn’t?

what if it was already too late?

she couldn’t tell sunghoon.

she couldn’t.

so she smiled through it. kissed him back. texted jay about dumb things, like leftover fries and lost hoodies, hoping he’d reply the way he used to. but it all felt like watching a slow fade. jay had pulled back. not completely, but enough to feel the distance. like he knew. like he was protecting himself before it all blew up.

and the worst part? she couldn’t even blame him.

✭

the next few months passed in a blur, and jay was almost like a shadow in the corners of yn’s life—present but distant, like a dream she wasn’t sure she’d actually had. and she thought… she thought maybe this was for the best.

with jay pulling away, the noise in her head finally started to quiet down. no more glances she couldn’t explain. no more guilt bubbling in her stomach every time their eyes met. he wasn’t around enough for that anymore. the group hangouts still happened, sure, but jay kept his distance. he laughed with others, spoke when spoken to, rarely directed anything her way beyond a “move, dumbass” if she was standing in front of the fridge.

so yn leaned in. fully. completely.

sunghoon made it easy. god, he made everything so easy.

he adored her. it was obvious. in the way he lit up when she walked into the room, in the ridiculous memes he sent at 3 a.m., in how he always waited for her after class just to walk her home even if it was out of his way.

he was so stupidly in love with her, and he didn’t even try to hide it.

and for once, she let herself feel it.

she laughed more. started falling into their routines—his forehead kisses, their matching phone charms, the inside jokes about their neighbors and their shared hatred for black licorice. he made her feel safe. chosen. like she was something he’d always been looking for.

and she… she loved that. she loved being loved like that.

one night, while lying on his chest as he absentmindedly played with her hair, she caught herself staring at his face and thinking, this is what it’s supposed to feel like. this is what people meant when they said they were happy.

he kissed her forehead and whispered, “you’re my favourite person, you know that?” she smiled, pressing her cheek against his heart. “yeah,” she whispered back. “you’re mine too.” and she meant it. she did.

for the first time in months, her chest didn’t feel heavy with guilt. the name “jay” barely flickered in her head. barely. maybe this was how it was supposed to end—the jay thing. quietly. without drama. just… drifted away like smoke from a candle that was never meant to stay lit.

yn breathed easier. she was happy. or at least, she told herself that often enough that she believed it.

it was such a stupid party.

some random get-together at heeseung’s friend’s place—half the people were strangers, half were familiar faces that somehow became mutuals over months of late-night games, shared rides, and hangouts that blurred the lines of strangers.

yn hadn’t planned on drinking, really. she was just going to show face, hang around for a bit, and leave before the usual chaos started. but then someone pulled out soju. and someone else suggested never have i ever. and now she was drunk.

not blackout drunk, but definitely leaning against ness’ shoulder, eyes glazed, cheeks flushed, and heart a little too loud in her ears. the circle of people around her laughed, groaned, and teased each other as the game continued, each question getting riskier and more chaotic with every round.

“never have i ever… kissed someone i shouldn’t have.”

a mix of groans and oohs echoed around the circle. yn didn’t move at first. but her eyes—her eyes were fixed across the circle. on him.

jay. god, jay.

he was sitting in his usual slouched way, his long legs stretched out, arms crossed as he leaned back, a lazy smirk on his face like he wasn’t even fully paying attention.

but he knew. he had to know. because her eyes hadn’t left him all night.

she told herself it was fine. sunghoon wasn’t there—he’d bailed at the last minute, said he had some work to catch up on, and promised he’d make it up to her later. and the truth was… she hadn’t minded. not even a little. not like she used to.

they were past their honeymoon phase now. it was obvious. things felt… muted. he still called her baby, still held her hand, still kissed her with that slow softness that made her chest ache—but they barely saw each other anymore, despite living literally across the hall. the calls had shortened. the texts had thinned. sometimes it felt like she was holding up a version of their relationship that only she still cared to make look picture-perfect.

and yet, what unsettled her more than all of that… was the fact that she didn’t miss it the way she was supposed to.

because jay was here. and she’d spent the whole night looking at him.

watching how his mouth twitched every time someone said something stupid. watching how his hair fell slightly over his eyes. watching how he laughed with the people beside him but never once looked her way.

not once.

she lifted her shot glass slowly to her lips and drank. one more round. one more silent confession. ness’s head turned slightly to look at her, clocking the way she was staring, but didn’t say anything. it hit her then, like a blunt force to the chest.

she liked him.

not in that passing way she used to tell herself it was. not in the “he’s just hot and annoying and i hate him” way she used to cover it up with. no. she liked jay.

she liked him like you like the person who sees through every mask you wear. like you like the person you can’t ignore even when they ignore you. like she loved him, maybe.

sunghoon, sweet as he was, felt like a dream she had once. a phase. something soft and kind that came at the right time but didn’t feel like forever.

jay? jay was the real thing.

and for the first time in a long time, she didn’t fight it. she just stared at him, dazed and drunk and devastatingly sure.

✭

ness had been leaning a little too close to heeseung on the balcony, her arms resting on the railing, head tilted as she listened to him ramble about some stupid gym story that somehow involved a pigeon, a protein shake, and a broken locker key.

she rolled her eyes at him, biting back a smile—and that’s when the balcony door burst open.

yn stumbled in with all the grace of a giggly drunk person who thought they were being subtle. her eyes were wide, her smile even wider, and her steps surprisingly steady as she tiptoed—dramatically—into the balcony like she was on a mission.

then, in the world’s worst attempt at a whisper, she leaned toward ness and slurred out:

“i like jay.”

it wasn’t even a full whisper. it was more like a scream that wore a fake mustache and tried to pass off as discreet.

ness’s mouth dropped open.

not in surprise—she’d known, she’d suspected this for months—but the fact that yn had chosen this moment, this volume, this balcony to finally scream it into existence?

heeseung blinked. “WHAT.”

ness immediately smacked his arm and shut the balcony door with the urgency of a spy defusing a bomb. “shut up!” she hissed, locking it behind them and drawing the curtain like a makeshift soundproof barrier.

yn, meanwhile, flopped into one of the balcony chairs like she’d just finished confessing a murder. “god, that felt so good,” she exhaled, throwing her head back. “it’s been living in my lungs, dude. like—like—how do people keep feelings like that inside?! i feel lighter.”

ness stared at her, still blinking. “yn. you have a boyfriend.”

“i know!” yn whined, dramatically flopping her arms. “and he’s sweet and perfect and he’s sunghoon, i know. but like. i like jay. not like ‘haha he’s cute’ like—i like him like i want to kiss him. and not feel guilty about it.”

heeseung, leaning against the wall now with the smuggest grin, pointed between them. “okay but like. she’s not wrong. you and sunghoon haven’t even hung out properly in weeks.”

“you’re not helping,” ness hissed at him, then turned back to yn, grabbing her shoulders. “you’re drunk. and you’re spiraling. you’re not thinking clearly.”

“i am, actually,” yn replied with terrifying clarity, eyes wide. “i’ve never been clearer. jay is the real thing. like—like when i looked at him during the game tonight, i felt like throwing my drink in my face just to snap out of it.”

heeseung snorted. “romantic.”

ness glared at him again. “shut up, heeseung.”

yn pulled her legs up into the chair, hugging her knees like a teenage girl in love for the first time. “i don’t think it was ever just banter. like all those months we used to fight? what if it was just us flirting in denial?”

“oh my god,” ness groaned, rubbing her temples. “you sound like a budget therapist.”

heeseung, ever the chaos enabler, crossed his arms. “okay but she might be right. the dude stopped hanging out with everyone at once, he barely even talks to her now. he’s protecting himself.”

ness turned to him with wide eyes. “how do you know that?”

heeseung shrugged. “because if i was falling for someone i wasn’t supposed to fall for, i’d do the same thing.” 

and for a second, the balcony fell quiet. the muffled sounds of the party inside filtered through the glass door, but none of them moved.

ness looked at yn, who looked like she was floating—giddy, scared, but sure. too sure. “yn,” she said quietly, “you can’t just blow your relationship up because you caught feelings drunk at a party.”

“i’m not,” she said. “i already caught feelings. i’m just… finally admitting it.”

another silence.

heeseung just raised a hand. “if this ends in flames, i’d like to be excluded from all blame. but if it works out—i told you so.”

ness sighed, looking at yn. “you need to figure this out when you’re sober. and alone.”

yn smiled to herself, not answering, just staring out into the dark sky beyond the railing, a million thoughts racing through her head.

but one thing stood still in her heart. she liked jay. and now it was out. their mission that night had been clear—keep yn away from jay. at all costs.

ness had made it very clear before they even left their apartment. she’d even held yn’s face in her hands dramatically and said, “you are not allowed within a five-foot radius of that man. you hear me? no lingering glances, no innocent conversations, no ‘oops i tripped into your lap’ energy. we are going. we are vibing. we are not confessing.”

but fast forward two hours later, and things were… precarious.

yn, comfortably drunk and emotionally unstable, had just made her big balcony confession. she’d announced her feelings like it was a televised broadcast, her words laced with passion, delusion, and four too many shots of soju.

and now that they were back inside, ness was on high alert. the second she noticed yn’s gaze shift across the room—to him—ness smacked her shoulder lightly. 

“no.”

yn blinked at her, eyes dazed. “i didn’t even say anything.”

“you thought it. i saw it in your eyes.”

“i just looked!”

“exactly.”

heeseung was already snickering behind them, cradling his drink. “you’re like a mom scolding her kid for looking at candy.”

ness turned to him and deadpanned, “i am. she’s drunk, and jay is the biggest metaphorical bag of sour patch kids alive.”

yn pouted. “you guys are so dramatic.”

ness raised an eyebrow. “are we? you literally whispered—screamed—on the balcony that you want to kiss him. and then proceeded to talk about his ‘emotionally tortured eyes’ for five straight minutes.”

“that was poetry,” heeseung chimed in, taking another sip. “kinda beautiful, honestly.”

ness flicked him on the forehead. “you’re not helping.”

then she flicked yn too.

“ow! what was that for?!”

“that was for even thinking about walking over there.” ness crossed her arms. “yn, you’re drunk. you cannot trust drunk you to make good choices. and if you tell him now—here, like this—you’re going to wake up tomorrow with a hangover and a crisis.”

yn looked mildly offended. “i’m very wise when i’m drunk.”

“you also thought it was a good idea to pretend to be a tree when jungwon’s ex walked in earlier,” ness deadpanned.

“…he didn’t see me, did he?”

ness just gave her a look.

yn groaned, sliding down into the couch, her head falling back as her eyes landed on jay again—just a glimpse, across the crowd. he was laughing at something someone said, head thrown back, unaware of the war going on a few feet away.

heeseung caught her line of sight and promptly held up a pillow. “visual block. you’re in a jay-free zone now.”

ness clapped. “see? that’s the energy. that’s the plan.”

“but i like him,” yn whined, muffled under the pillow.

“i know,” ness said gently, crouching beside her. “and when you’re sober, and not halfway into a bottle of bad party soju, we’ll talk about it. and maybe then, you’ll decide if you still want to tell him.”

“but what if it’s too late then?”

ness sighed. “if it’s real, yn… it won’t be.”

and with that, operation keep yn from jay continued—full force, emotionally driven, and slightly chaotic. because as much as they all joked, none of them wanted to see her heart broken.

but then it happened faster than ness could stop. one second yn was grabbing a drink, giggling at something heeseung said—her body safely wedged between the two of them like she was in a human barricade. and then—like a ghost—he was just there.

jay.

a shadow slipping into the corner of her vision. she just turned and their eyes met.

her heart dropped, stomach clenching in a way that had nothing to do with the lukewarm vodka-orange mix she’d just sipped. because she had spent all night imagining this moment—fantasising how it would feel if he finally looked at her again like he used to. and now, here it was. real. unavoidable. and she was dazed out of her mind.

“can we talk?” he asked gently, his voice low, barely heard over the music.

ness, from across the room, instantly spotted it—danger—and started moving toward them, but it was already too late. yn’s feet were already following him, her body betraying her like muscle memory. and heeseung? he was just watching with interest, like he’d tuned in to the first episode of a drama he knew was going to ruin him.

they stepped out into the quieter hallway, the distant bass muffled behind them. and suddenly it was just the two of them, the warm low light washing over jay’s face, his expression unreadable but… soft.

too soft.

he smelled like bergamot and something darker—like rain-soaked cologne and he looked at her like she was the only real thing in the room.

yn’s knees ached.

he rubbed the back of his neck, stepping slightly closer. “i know i’ve been distant,” he started. “and i’m sorry. i should’ve just told you earlier.”

she blinked, heart thudding. “told me what?”

“that i liked you,” he said.

the words landed like a gut-punch. even if she knew—deep in her bones, in the glances, in the way he avoided her like she was a lit match—hearing it like this?

her knees nearly gave out.

“i didn’t know how to act around you anymore,” he continued, eyes flicking to hers, pleading almost. “because you’re with him. and i didn’t want to fuck it up. i didn’t want to be that guy. but i couldn’t keep pretending either.”

she tried to focus. tried. but her thoughts were swirling, her breath catching, and she could see ness and heeseung behind him through the open door—ness wide-eyed, gesturing wildly like no. do not kiss. no touching. stay in your lane. heeseung trying to wildly gesture her to just run away.

yn swallowed hard, forcing herself to speak. “jay, i… i can’t.”

he nodded, slowly, painfully. “i know.”

“but i think about kissing you,” she whispered, “’til i can’t breathe.”

his eyes closed for a second, his jaw tightening with restraint. “i do too,” he admitted, stepping closer anyway, his voice hoarse. “so fucking badly.”

it completely contradicted everything he’d just apologised for, but neither of them cared.

not when her lips were trembling, not when he was standing this close, not when the entire night had been building up to this moment like the slowest, softest car crash.

but she didn’t move. and neither did he. not because they didn’t want to. but because if they did, they’d never come back from it.

so they just stood there—wanting. breaking.

and behind them, ness finally dragged heeseung away, whispering, “if they kiss, we kill them both.”

heeseung nodded, “fair.”

yn turned to walk away first, her heart pounding, lungs burning, mind completely wrecked.

jay watched her leave like he’d just let the love of his life walk away from him.

because he did. and neither of them knew what to do next.

things between her and sunghoon didn’t get better.

not really.

they were still together—technically. he still sent her good morning texts, still gave her a kiss on the cheek when they met, still held her hand when they walked. but it wasn’t the same. not in the way it used to be. it was almost like… going through the motions. the tenderness had faded. the small, secret smiles. the unspoken inside jokes. the silly arguments about whose turn it was to pick dinner. now, it was just silence. or surface-level comfort. a familiarity that felt more like habit than love.

and somehow, that wasn’t even the worst of her worries.

because now that jay had said it—really said it—everything had changed.

it was like the second he admitted it out loud, something inside him unlocked. he started showing it, like he wasn’t afraid anymore. like confessing gave him permission to feel out loud. and he did—god, he did.

he looked at her like she belonged to him, even though she didn’t. not yet. he smiled at her like she was the best part of his day. he said things that made her laugh so hard her stomach hurt, and he’d grin like it was his favourite sound. he didn’t say “baby” out loud, but it was in the way he called her name. soft. familiar. loaded.

he didn’t kiss her. but he looked at her like he wanted to. every time he said goodnight—whether in person, over text, or just from the hallway across the apartment—his eyes said all the things he wasn’t allowed to do. not yet.

and she let him. she let him look. let him smile. let him toe that line—just like she did.

even though sunghoon was right there. sitting next to her on the couch. staring at his phone. not saying a word.

they were at the guy’s place again, everyone just lazing around after dinner. a random movie played in the background. jungwon was asleep on the floor, ness was fighting with heeseung over popcorn, and jay was leaning against the kitchen counter, eyes flicking to her in between sips of his drink.

sunghoon was right beside her. close enough that their knees brushed. but he hadn’t looked at her once in the last half hour. hadn’t tried to hold her hand. hadn’t leaned over to whisper something dumb in her ear like he used to.

and she… she hadn’t said anything either.

because the air had shifted. they could both feel it. something unspoken had settled between them, heavy and fragile. he still cared—she knew he did. but it started to feel more friendly. like they were slowly morphing into something platonic, even if neither of them had the guts to say it.

and jay hated it.

she could see it in the way his jaw clenched whenever sunghoon passed her a drink. in the way his eyes followed them when they got up together. in the way his entire posture changed when sunghoon touched her, even if briefly. he hated it—not because he was jealous, but because he wished, so badly, that it was him.

that he was the one allowed to kiss her goodnight. that he was the one who got to sit next to her and play with her fingers while she talked. that he was the one who got to mean it when he looked at her like that.

but he wasn’t. not yet.

and yn didn’t know how much longer she could pretend she didn’t want him to be.

✭

it was late.

one of those unusually cold nights, even for the season, where the silence outside the apartment windows felt heavier than usual. yn had left after sunghoon laughed heartedly in conversation with heeseung, sitting beside her but somehow not really with her. she claimed needing some air and she really did. she was heading back after the short walk, hoodie pulled up, hands tucked deep in her pockets. when she reached her building, the hallway light flickered once before steadying, and just as she turned the corner—

jay.

he was leaning against the wall outside his apartment, phone in hand, like he’d been waiting for something. or someone. the second he saw her, his posture straightened, lips parting like he hadn’t expected her but had hoped she’d show.

they stood there for a second. just looked at each other. and then he spoke. quietly.

“you okay?”

she gave a soft nod. “just needed some air.”

jay stepped forward, a little closer than he should’ve. his eyes searched her face like he was trying to read something between her lashes. “you’ve been quiet lately.”

“so have you.”

“yeah,” he said, voice barely audible now. “that night… at the party. i didn’t mean to mess things up.”

“you didn’t.”

“i did.” he paused. “you just won’t say it.”

she didn’t respond.

the hallway buzzed gently with the hum of the fluorescent bulb above them. everything else—thoughts, emotions, the painful pounding in her chest—was way too loud.

jay stepped even closer. close enough that she had to tilt her chin up to meet his eyes. close enough that she could smell the faint trace of his cologne again. the one she was starting to associate with late nights and near-disasters.

“i can’t keep acting like i don’t feel this way,” he murmured. “every time i see you with him… i wanna lose it.”

“jay—”

“i know, i know. you’re with him. i’m not trying to mess with that. but i’m tired of pretending like i don’t want you.”

her breath hitched. he was so close now. their fingers almost brushed when her hand dropped from her pocket. his eyes flickered from her mouth back up to her eyes. slowly. carefully.

“i’m not gonna kiss you,” he whispered, like he was reminding himself more than her. “not unless you want me to.”

her heart was racing so fast she swore it echoed.

“i can’t,” she breathed. “you know i can’t.”

jay nodded, but didn’t move away. “but do you want to?”

silence. she hated that she didn’t have an answer. or maybe she did. maybe her silence was the answer.

his jaw tensed, eyes dropping for just a second before he stepped back, finally giving her the space she didn’t ask for but desperately needed.

“goodnight, yn,” he said, voice barely holding together.

she whispered it back.

he disappeared into his apartment without another word, the door clicking softly behind him.

and she stood there for a full minute, head pressed against the cool wall, hating how much she wished he hadn’t walked away.

it came out of nowhere.

a message from jay. just a casual notification on a regular tuesday night, lighting up her phone screen like it was any other day.

jay: hey. just wanted to say i’ve been good lately. hope you are too. i think i’m finally over it.

yn stared at it.

read it once. then again. and again. every word sinking heavier into her stomach, like wet sand pulling her under. her thumb hovered over the screen, unsure of what to type—if she should type anything. what did he mean by “it”? she knew exactly what he meant. and she hated how badly she didn’t want it to be true.

it wasn’t like she had expected him to wait. or chase her. or hang on forever. she never asked for that. but somehow, him saying it—putting it out there so cleanly, so calmly—hurt more than she expected. a lot more.

especially because he knew she wasn’t over it.

a minute later, another ping.

jay: met someone actually. nothing serious but it’s been good. healthy. idk. feels nice to like someone who’s not… yk.

you.

the word wasn’t written, but she read it anyway. her mouth felt dry. her heartbeat roared in her ears. it wasn’t jealousy, not exactly. it was more like mourning something that was never hers to begin with.

she typed, erased. typed again.

yn: that’s good. i’m glad. you deserve that.

three dots. he was typing. 

then they disappeared.

then came back again.

jay: yeah. guess we both needed to move on huh?

did they?

because she hadn’t. not really. she was still stuck in place, heart split between what should be and what felt right. she still replayed that night in the hallway over and over again. still thought about how soft his voice had been. how warm his eyes were when he said he wanted her.

and now he was telling her he didn’t anymore.

except… except a few days later, she saw him in the lobby, laughing at something heeseung said. and when his eyes met hers across the glass doors, they didn’t look like the eyes of someone who was over it.

they looked like the eyes of someone pretending to be. and yn wasn’t sure what broke her more—that he was pretending… or that she was pretending too.

it was quiet.

the kind of quiet that didn’t feel comforting or peaceful—just… inevitable. like a slow tide pulling away from the shore, leaving nothing but wet sand and echoes behind. yn sat on the edge of the playground bench near their building, arms folded tightly over her chest. the air was warm, but her palms were cold.

she heard sunghoon’s footsteps before she saw him. they were familiar, light but a little fast, like he didn’t want to be late. he hadn’t changed much—still in that hoodie he always wore on slow weekends, hair still tousled like he hadn’t bothered to fix it before coming down.

but there was something different in his eyes when he saw her. a kind of understanding already sitting there. like he knew. he gave her a soft smile as he sat beside her.

“hey,” he said.

“hey.”

a pause. the longest one. the kind where you hear everything else—the rustle of leaves, the distant traffic, the laughter of someone’s kid echoing faintly from the other end of the street.

“it’s been a while,” he said.

she nodded. “yeah. didn’t realise how long it’s been since we actually… talked.”

sunghoon looked down, his fingers running along the seam of his jeans. “i guess we both got busy.”

“no,” she said, and her voice was steady now. “we just… stopped trying.”

he turned to look at her, face unreadable but not cold. just tired. “is this the part where you tell me you want to break up?”

her heart stung, but she nodded anyway. “yeah.”

there was no outburst. no angry words or tears. just silence again. and then he leaned back, exhaled a laugh that didn’t reach his eyes.

“i kinda saw it coming.”

yn bit the inside of her cheek. “i liked you. i really did. and you were good to me. but this… whatever we had—it feels like it was something short. sweet, but short. a fling that just… slowed down.”

he looked up at the sky, nodded once. “we were fun.”

“we were,” she said softly. “and maybe we still can be. just not like this.”

“i never wanted to hold you back,” he said.

“you didn’t.”

he paused, then asked—very gently—“is it jay?”

she hesitated. not because she wanted to lie. but because her heart clenched the moment his name left sunghoon’s mouth. so she said, quietly:

“it’s not because of him. but… i won’t pretend he didn’t make me realise some things.”

sunghoon nodded again, slower this time. “he always looked at you like he knew something the rest of us didn’t.”

yn swallowed the lump in her throat. “i never wanted to hurt you.”

“i know.” he offered her a small, tired smile. “and i think i’ll still be around. just… as a friend.”

“i’d like that.”

they sat there for a while longer. two people who had once held hands and hearts, now just holding onto the soft understanding that sometimes, love didn’t last. and sometimes… that was okay.

✭

she cried herself to sleep that night.

not because of sunghoon. she felt guilty admitting it, even to herself, but her tears had little to do with him. that conversation had been quiet, mutual, almost too calm. there were no raised voices, no dramatic walkaways, no last-minute “don’t go”—just a soft, shared acceptance that whatever they had was over.

it wasn’t grief for that relationship that kept her chest heavy under the covers. it was something else entirely.

jay.

the thought of him with someone else—smiling at someone else the way he used to smile at her, even if only in passing—burned. the idea of him genuinely moving on, meaning the words he texted and not just pretending for her sake, was what made her turn over in bed and bury her face into her pillow.

she hadn’t broken up with sunghoon for jay. she didn’t do it to choose someone else. but maybe, deep down, she had still hoped. hoped that when she finally set herself free, jay would be right there. waiting. like he always had been. like he used to be.

but now…

now, he was texting her like a friend. smiling in passing. not seeking her out like before. now, he might be liking someone else.

and the worst part?

she had no right to be upset about it. that’s what broke her.

she curled up tighter, fists gripping the corner of her blanket, chest aching with words she never got to say. i didn’t choose you because i wasn’t ready. but i wanted to. i wanted you.

tears soaked into her pillow as the night dragged on. and she thought to herself, god, i just hope he hasn’t stopped wanting me too.

mia was nice. that was the best jay could come up with. she was nice.

she had pretty hair, smelled like soft florals, wore tiny gold hoops that glinted every time she tucked her hair behind her ear. she laughed at his jokes—even the dumb ones—and knew how to keep a conversation going.

but the entire time, jay sat there politely nodding, smiling in all the right places, all while subconsciously chasing shadows. he shouldn’t have done that. he wasn’t that guy. then again, he really wasn’t some guy to be on a casual blind date jungwon wore him to attend. but here he was. laughing half heartedly at something she said, asking her random questions to continue on without awkwardness.

but every time mia said something, he caught himself thinking how yn would’ve said it differently. her sarcasm sharper. her eyes more expressive. when mia said she hated mint chocolate, he nearly laughed because yn would’ve agreed—loudly, dramatically, maybe even started a fake fight over it.

and when mia reached over to take a fry off his plate without asking, he stilled. yn used to do that too. only, when she did it, he never minded.

he was fucked. so hopelessly, pathetically fucked.

still, he wasn’t going to be a dick about it. he walked her to her stop, said he had fun, even smiled when she touched his arm and said she’d like to do this again sometime. he didn’t say no. he just said, “yeah, maybe.”

then walked the rest of the way home alone, hands in his jacket, the streets dark and cold.

when he stepped into the apartment, it was quiet, save for the faint glow of the tv. sunghoon was on the couch, legs stretched out, scrolling through something on his phone. he looked up once when jay kicked off his shoes.

“how was the date?” he asked, eyes returning to the screen.

jay shrugged. “fine.”

another beat. “she seemed cool,” sunghoon added casually.

“yeah. she was.” jay didn’t elaborate. he walked over and sat next to him, their shoulders nearly brushing.

the silence stretched, awkward but familiar. jay picked at a loose thread on the hem of his sleeve.

and then—quietly, without looking away from his phone—sunghoon said, “me and yn broke up. last night.”

jay’s fingers froze. his breath caught. just for a second.

but his voice came out even, too even. “what happened?”

sunghoon let out a soft laugh. not bitter. not amused either. just… tired. “nothing dramatic. we just stopped feeling like… us. guess we were holding onto something we already outgrew.”

jay looked over at him, trying to read between the lines. sunghoon didn’t look sad. didn’t look angry. if anything, he looked relieved. but also… resigned.

jay didn’t say anything for a while. he just nodded. “i’m sorry.”

and sunghoon—knowing exactly what jay meant and not what he said—nodded back.

he wasn’t stupid. he had seen the way jay looked at her, long before jay even realised he was doing it. he had seen the shift in yn too. he wasn’t angry. just… weirdly at peace with it.

he kept his gaze on the tv. “you know, you really suck at hiding shit.”

jay finally smiled. just a little. “yeah… i know.”

they sat there for a while, two boys in the quiet, both loving the same girl at different times. and in some tangled, painful, unspoken way—both letting her go.

they hadn’t spoken in over a week.

not a word, not a glance. no messages. no stolen eye contact in the hallway. just this unspoken understanding that maybe space was safer—until space began to feel suffocating.

so when yn and jay both stepped out of their stats class, test papers in hand, and nearly collided in the doorway, it was as if the universe had finally lost patience with their bullshit.

“oh,” she blinked, taking half a step back.

he stopped too, awkwardly shifting his paper to his other hand. “hey.”

there was a beat of silence before she held up her paper and grinned. “A minus.”

jay let out a low whistle, then held up his own with a smirk. “A plus.”

she rolled her eyes dramatically, laughing under her breath. “show off.”

and just like that, like the simplest of interactions, his heart did that annoying thing—it thudded. hard. like it still hadn’t learned to stop reacting to her smile.

they fell into step together, the sunlight catching in her hair as they walked down the stone path leading to the bus stop. the early afternoon buzzed around them, people passing by, bikes whirring, conversations floating in the air—but jay only heard the quiet between their footsteps.

she broke it first. “so… your date?”

jay chuckled, shoving one hand in his pocket. “it was okay.”

she raised an eyebrow. “just okay?”

“yeah,” he shrugged. “how’d you even know about it?”

she shot him a knowing look. “mia’s been parading you around class like you’re already hers. i’m surprised she didn’t bring you a lunchbox this week.”

jay snorted, running a hand through his hair. “that explains the stares.”

a small silence passed again. not uncomfortable, but dense. like there were words crawling at the back of both their throats.

and then jay said it. softly. “i heard about you and sunghoon.”

she nodded, eyes fixed on the sidewalk. “yeah. last week.”

jay glanced at her, trying to read the corners of her expression.

“it was just a short one, i guess,” she added after a moment, her voice light, but not detached.

he nodded with her, slow, lips twitching like he was holding something back. and then—before he could stop himself—he asked it.

“was it… because of me?”

yn’s steps faltered just slightly. she didn’t look at him right away, just stared ahead, blinking. then she turned her face to him, her expression unreadable at first—somewhere between amusement and vulnerability. 

a pause stretched, and then she smiled. not wide. not coy. just soft. like she was tired of pretending she didn’t have an answer. “maybe not just because of you,” she said quietly. “but… you didn’t exactly help.”

jay’s heart did that thing again.

he swallowed, gaze flicking to her lips and back up. “i’m sorry.”

she tilted her head. “for what?”

“for liking you,” he said, honest, raw. “even when i wasn’t supposed to.”

yn’s lips curved. and for a second, jay didn’t know if she was about to smile wider or walk away. but she just kept walking beside him, slower now. “you really suck at dates, by the way,” she muttered, nudging his arm.

and he laughed—really laughed—because somehow, even after everything, she was still his favorite person to be next to.

things settled into an odd kind of normal.

the same relentless bickering returned—sarcastic jabs and exaggerated eye rolls, arguments about literally everything under the sun: who was smarter, who looked better in their uniforms, whose stats paper was graded unfairly. but now there was a lightness to it. a flicker in their eyes, the way one smirked a little too long, the way the other blushed a little too fast.

they’d done this before, but it was different now. because now they knew.

jay knew exactly how she smiled when she was trying not to say something reckless. yn knew exactly how jay’s voice dropped when he was holding back too much.

they’d both been to the edge, toes curling at the boundary of something they shouldn’t cross, and now that they’d danced around it long enough, even sunghoon—of all people—was rooting for them.

he’d taken to calling their bickering flirting, usually with a mouthful of cereal and a raised brow. “just date already,” he’d said one evening, scrolling through his phone on the couch. “you’re killing the vibe with all that tension.”

they both had immediately denied it—at the same time—louder than necessary. sunghoon had just smirked. “whatever you say. just don’t drag me into your wedding speeches.”

and despite the quiet permission hanging in the air, they didn’t do anything. not right away. because bro code. and ex-girlfriend code. and the absolute mess that came with being so close yet still somehow in limbo.

but then came jake’s party. again.

a big one this time, packed and loud. the music pulsed through the walls like a heartbeat, and everything smelled like spiked soda and cheap perfume. yn had promised herself she’d take it easy. and then jay handed her a drink, his smirk making her forget every ounce of self-restraint.

she didn’t remember when they stopped drinking responsibly. somewhere between their third shared shot and her dramatic rant about the girl in the pink boots, jay was laughing beside her, tossing in jokes and reactions, his head thrown back, completely captivated by her storytelling.

they were inseparable that night.

he followed her around like he always did, teasing her every step, offering her his jacket when she stepped out for air and pulling her back into the party when her buzz began to fade. their shoulders touched constantly. her fingers curled around his wrist once when she almost tripped, and he didn’t let go for far too long.

and somehow, at some point, they ended up alone.

the hallway was dim, bathed in the leftover amber glow from the party lights. it was far enough from the crowd that everything else sounded like a muffled echo. they stood there, breathless from laughing, drinks still in hand but forgotten.

jay looked at her then, really looked. her lipstick was smudged from the cup, her eyes bright and unfocused. she leaned against the wall, head tilted, watching him the same way he was watching her.

there was silence. charged. heavy.

he stepped closer.

“so,” he said, voice soft, barely above a whisper. “we gonna keep pretending this doesn’t feel different now?”

yn blinked, eyes trailing from his lips to his collarbone and back up again. her heart thudded somewhere in her throat.

“i was gonna ask you the same thing,” she murmured, tilting her head just slightly.

his hand brushed against her hip, light and slow, testing the air between them.

“fuck it,” she whispered, barely audible.

and just like that his lips were on hers. it felt like the earth was caving in, the room was spinning—probably cause it was to them—like this was it. because it was

 jay was finally kissing her like she had been pleading for months. his lips were desperate but gentle and moved so preciously like he wanted to imprint the feeling of her lips forever.

he pulled away first but only to trail down to her neck, every single peck on her skin feeling electric. his hand, which had been flat on her hip, was now crunching at her dress, nails slightly digging into her skin making her hiss.

yn could barely keep her eyes open, not when his warm tongue was licking over her collarbone. a moan slid out, strangled but low and audible to him, heat immediately rushing down his body at the sound. 

“jay,” she called out breathless. he hummed into her neck, pulling away to look into her eyes, the gaze making her physically weak in the knees.

“i want you.” she said, like she meant it. and she fucking did. 

that was all it took for him to get moving. he took her by the hand to the nearest room—which seemed to be jake’s bathroom—locking the door and just looking at her. 

she was a little messy than when they originally entered the party, her hair undone, her dress crooked but still doing her justice. her eyes were trained to him, watching his next step.

he slowly walked closer, as if asking for permission for the millionth time and when her lips met his, he sounded out his everything into a guttural moan.

his jacket was on the floor in record time. the sleeve of her dress slipped off her shoulder as he took full advantage of the access he had been given. her hands tugged his hair as she felt his lips softly kiss down to her collarbone and over the lacy bra she had picked, hoping she would end up in this position.

his hands, that once gripped her waist, now found her thighs. she gasped at the feelings, heart thumping excitedly. he chuckled at the sound of her heart rate increasing against his mouth.

“are you excited, baby?” he asked softly, finally happy to be able to use that nickname for her. 

she whimpered in response, letting out a noise that suspiciously sounded like ‘please’.

he toyed more, wanting her to say it. beg him for it. “what was that, love?”.

she tried to stand her ground, to be—or at least pretend to be—confident. “you know what i want” she said, voice surprisingly stable despite the alcohol she had consumed.

his fingers that once played with the plush skin of her thighs, moved towards her core, that had somewhat dampened with all his teasing.

“fuck yn. how are you already so wet, my love? i haven’t even done anything.” he didn’t mean for it to come out in a groan, wanting to prolong teasing her but quite frankly, none of them could really wait anymore.

in the next second, his pant was by his ankles and she was propped up against the bathroom sink. her eyes trained down his leaking dick, which he held in his palm. his eyes were only on her. “are you sure about this yn? we can always do it some other time–”

“you talk WAY too much just fuck me jay.” that did it for him, lining up with her core. her nails dug into his shoulders as she gasped softly at the feeling of his tip against her folds. she could only chanted a mantra of ‘fuck fuck fuck’ as he slowly entered her. he was suspiciously quiet but his jaw slacked open at the feeling of her around him.

“holy shit you’re so tight” he mumbled, body jerking forward as she clenched around him. 

he only moved his hips when she gave him the go, hands holding her waist as he slowly moved in and out of her. a symphony of moans slipped out her mouth, his heart fluttering at the sound.

“you feel so good i’m..” she moaned out, head tilting back at the feeling. he leaned in, teeth grazing the neck of her skin, sending more heat to her stomach.

the sound of her voice only fueled him more, his pace increasing until they were both panting. he climaxed first, head against her shoulder. then he helped her through hers, drawing small circles on her bud.

“that was.. Insane” she huffed through. he nodded, kissing her sweaty forehead.

“it was good but i’m only now realising, our first time was in jake’s bathroom..” he said slowly.

yn’s eyes widened at the discovery, shaking her head in disgust as she dressed up quickly, mumbling “we better leave before we get AIDS or something”. jay just laughed.

✭

the bathroom door clicked shut behind them, soft and quiet, but their nerves buzzed like they had just fired a cannon in the middle of the party.

they walked side by side—casually, coolly, trying very hard to pretend they hadn’t just hooked up in the bathroom like reckless teenagers. they approached the group slowly: ness, heeseung, jungwon and a few others lounging on the couch, mid-conversation.

but the second the group saw them together, walking in sync and looking far too smug for two people who claimed they "weren’t a thing," everything stopped.

ness’ eyes narrowed.

heeseung tilted his head.

jungwon straight-up pointed. “you. two.”

yn’s eyes widened in mock innocence. jay rubbed the back of his neck, trying to play it cool.

“what?” yn asked, blinking.

“no way,” ness said, jaw dropped. “don’t even try to deny it—your hair is different, jay’s shirt is wrinkled, and you’ve been gone for exactly twenty-three minutes.”

heeseung gasped dramatically, grabbing a pillow and clutching it to his chest like he was in a soap opera. “y’all really did it in the bathroom?!”

jay opened his mouth to deny it, as did yn, both ready with some pre-decided excuse—but before they could even begin, the entire group cheered. loud, chaotic clapping, whooping, heeseung nearly falling off the couch.

“no shame!” ness shouted. “i knew it was gonna happen, but not like this.”

“you two are disgusting,” heeseung added, though he was grinning ear to ear.

jay and yn looked at each other, stunned for a second—then just gave in and laughed, cheeks flushed but not entirely from embarrassment.

she shook her head. “i hate you all.”

“you love us,” ness beamed, reaching out to pull her into the couch with them. jay followed after, dropping onto the floor beside her, his knee brushing against hers.

he looked up at her, eyes shining with mischief. “so… we’re really not denying it?”

yn leaned back, smirking. “they made it impossible.”

he grinned. “good.” because maybe it wasn’t supposed to be a secret anymore.

it was a lazy sunday afternoon.

the type where the sun slanted perfectly through the kitchen window and the city buzzed quietly in the background. the apartment was a mess — leftover containers from last night’s takeout on the coffee table, a blanket half on the couch, and jay’s hoodie thrown across one of the dining chairs. a spotify playlist hummed low in the background, something soft and indie and painfully romantic, not that either of them would admit to putting it on.

yn stood in front of the open fridge, hair tied in the world’s most unstable bun, a sour look on her face. “did you seriously eat all the mango yogurt?”

jay, sprawled across the floor with his back propped up by the couch. “it was expiring soon.”

“you ate four cups, jay.”

“i was being responsible.”

“you’re an idiot.”

he smiled, slow and wide, like he loved being called that by her. “and yet you’re dating me.”

she groaned dramatically, slamming the fridge shut. “god, what a mistake.”

he laughed, actually laughed, before sitting up and patting the spot beside him. “come here, mistake-maker. you can yell at me up close.”

yn rolled her eyes, but she crossed the room anyway, dropping down beside him and stealing the throw pillow from behind his back just to spite him. 

jay turned to her, watching her face like he still couldn’t believe he got to look at her this close. “you love me,” he said smugly, like he was stating a universal truth.

she snorted. “sure.”

“no, say it,” he leaned in closer, lips brushing the side of her cheek. “say you love me.”

“i like you.”

“love.”

“tolerate.”

he kissed her then — just because he could. because it had taken them a whole mess of jealousy, broken friendships, midnight drives, stupid parties, and one too many bad decisions to get here. and because even through all of it, all the bickering and banter, the push and pull, she was his.

when they broke apart, yn was smiling — soft, teasing.

“i love you,” she whispered.

jay grinned like it physically pained him not to kiss her again. “told you so.”

she shoved him lightly. “ugh, i change my mind.”

but she didn’t. she never could.

and even as they argued over what to order for lunch five minutes later (because of course they did), even as she threatened to smother him with a pillow if he didn’t stop playing with the light switch like a five-year-old, it was obvious to everyone — to ness, to heeseung, to the group chat that never slept — that this was it for them.

a love built on chaos, stubbornness, endless teasing, and the kind of loyalty that stuck around — even when it was hard.

even when it was them.

© ikeu05, 2025

[the-balloon-shed]

imma be honest I want to make a fic of this one day but for right now you just get me running wild with this headcanon

you know how there's those videos of surgeons being "inspirational" to their interns and then saying the meanest shit in the world? yeah, I think that's Iceman as an instructor at TOPGUN. 

Just the dry, rough sense of humor? The perfectly attenuated phrase in order to knock the arrogance out of some of these scrappy pilots? That's Iceman. The evidence is there in TG86! it's ICE who is saying the most bratty shit to Maverick. His criticisms are almost always valid or born of a real curiosity that's worth looking into, which I think is key, but he expresses it in the rudest and most inciting way possible. 

"Who was covering Cougar while you were showboating --"; (in response to Slider's calling Goose and Mav "famous") "I think you mean notorious"; "I don't like you 'cause you're dangerous" -- I mean Ice is right but he's also a bitch. (we don't have time to unpack ALL of what went into Ice goading Maverick seconds after meeting him with "need help figuring it out? who's the best pilot?" like my god man). 

So, some contenders for some of the commentary Ice might have for his students -- 

"Keep flying like that, I'm going to assume you're getting kickbacks from the military hospital." 

"I can only hope one day you fly for the enemy." 

"I was thrilled to hear the Navy's policy initiative for accommodating more disabilities went into action this year, however, I do think they should reconsider sending me blind pilots." 

"Are you on your wingman's life insurance or something?" 

"What did I say about making the same mistake twice?" "At least tell you I've learned something?" "No. What I said is don't." 

"Resist the urge to help me."

"I'm not looking for the best you can do. I'm looking for the best, period. So if you can't do any better, I suggest trying to emulate somebody else who can." 

"Well, you're no Artful Dodger, but artless dodging kept you alive well enough this time, I suppose." (I think it would be funny if he incidentally gave this poor pilot the callsign Dodger because of this, or A.D. for Artless Dodger)

"Did the Academy change its curriculum? Emphasize the element of surprise?" "Um... why do you ask, sir?" "Because you fly like you've never been inside a plane before." 

And I think he might say this to a colleague trying to pull rank over him that he neither respects nor cares about:

"I've neither the time, nor the crayons, to explain this to you." 

I think Mav would be so annoyed, too. "why do I have the reputation for being hard to work with when you're going around saying the meanest crap to these kids?" 

All Ice would do is laugh. "Sounds like a personal problem." 

Not to say that Ice is an asshole without restraint. Hell, the Iceman is all about restraint. He doesn't kick people when they're down. He doesn't say cutting stuff like this to people who are genuinely trying and not being a showoff. This is to knock overly arrogant kids down a few pegs, not send people into a shame self-doubting spiral, and Ice is usually pretty damn good at walking that line. 

Like, I imagine one of the students not understanding something to do with the physics portions of their classes and so he goes to Ice super nervous about getting reamed, and Ice is very patient with him. When Mav comes in and starts talking to Ice about instructor stuff, the student goes "oh, I can come back later, you know I think I'm getting it!" out of fear of wasting Ice's time and Ice would chuckle and be like "no, you clearly don't get it, and that's fine. Easier to teach you on dry land as opposed to up in the air, so let's keep working through it. Long as Mav's not about to talk to me about anything confidential --" which Mav shakes his head no "--alright, then how about you sit right there and keep working at it until you get it, and you will get it. If you've got the time, I've got the time, so let's get it done," and the kid stays in the office and keeps working at it for hours, occasionally checking his work with Mav and Ice until, voila, he does actually get it and also has a whole new understanding of Ice. 

Or if, god forbid, anyone had an accident, Ice would be all over trying to help with that (and help Mav work through it too) and protecting the students from any fallout from the brass because fuck them, they don't know what it's like to be in the air anymore. 

I also think that before the TOPGUN class starts, Ice would find Mav checking on all the canopies of all the jets and, once Ice realized that was what Mav was doing, would spend the next several hours with him helping out and making sure everything was operating properly, even though engineering had already looked at them. Can never be too sure, and if it provides Mav peace of mind, then Ice will do it, no questions asked. 

And so, despite saying some of the rudest crap most of these students have ever heard, they all love him. They all respect the ever-living-crap out of him, and learn to find him actually just kind of funny. It'd be a lot harder to like him if he were wrong, but he's so rarely wrong that in the end even the ones who do get pissed off at him manage to calm down. Students, as they graduate and leave TOPGUN, would probably talk to other graduating classes when they meet them on deployments like "oh my god, what did he say to your class?" "he once said --" "I didn't find it funny then but now I laugh every time I think about it -- " "he helped me figure out how to do..." so on so forth. 

There are a couple of the brass that aren't amused, but I think that's where Mav would come into play in his own way. Because Ice is good at what he does, and Mav sure as hell wants him around, and so should everyone else. Ice is just also not afraid to be an asshole about being good -- which the last person this is news to is Maverick. 

Maverick's just the only one Ice has encountered who can give as good as he gets, which is why as instructors, they do a pretty damn good job working together to whip their classes into shape. It's just funny that never in a million years did Mav think he'd be the "good cop" in their good cop/bad cop instructor situation, but he's resigned himself to his fate all the same. 

[wormizette]

ok so… blu scout…................…….

imagine loving your family more than anything and then finding out those memories aren’t even yours. they belonged to some other guy. blu scout doesn't have to

sooo i’ve been thinking about cross-team speedingbullet stuff lately and needed to get this out, usually i TRY TO let the art speak for itself but i know barely anything gets across. this is js my take/headcanon dump don’t take it too personal lol

first off, blu mercs are clones. they got all these fake memories of their “past” and a bit of each other, but none of it actually happened. they feel like they somewhat know each other but it’s just built-in impressions. kinda uncanny. red team at least had time to bond before getting cloned, so their relationships are real. blu team got the bootleg version of that

and scout's like 20-21 when he gets the job (in the comics where he's 26-27 he said he worked for miss pauling for 7 years, i portray him some years after like 22-24 years old), still just a kid really. the og's already full of insecurity and feeling like he doesn't fit in, now imagine a clone of that. with identity issues stacked on top.

he feels weird in his own skin, like, dysphoric? pissed off most of the time. can’t remember being paler, can’t remember ever having freckles. all the blu guys notice weird stuff like how their eyes don’t shine right but they try not to mention it. they’re also not allowed to leave the base, they're told red can’t either (which is a lie. red gets to walk out. blu do it too but have no idea that red's are allowed to)

and yea blu scout gets along with blu sniper but even that feels off. they have “memories” of their first interactions but scout feels like something's wrong. blu sniper supports him and all but scout still feels like he’s losing his mind sometimes. and meanwhile blu sniper is like………. well you probably saw my art. straight up OFF not just quiet like red sniper, but uncanny (I'd say he's a shizoid with no care to his problem with socialization in contrast to red sniper's insecurity and autism??) blu snipes has no personal space, no filter, no sense of boundaries, just chill in this weird detached way. he’s fine with his team but gives everyone that “something’s wrong” vibe

and here’s the part that kinda messes them both up — blu scout and blu sniper are both lowkey obsessed with their red counterparts. they feel like those are the people they actually met first, even if they never did. blu scout doesn’t fully trust blu sniper because something in him knows it’s not the real thing but they're close and try to make it up. blu sniper’s attached to both scouts but unlike red sniper he’s got no hesitation about crossing lines. while he doesn't have to do it to reach blu scout, it gets MESSY (TO SAY AT LEAST) while getting towards red

red scout and red sniper are okay btw. even though sniper's older and way more reserved he doesn’t see scout as a burden or some annoying kid. scout needs someone older to look up to a bit, but not in a way where he’s talked down to or treated like he’s less. prob is, sniper’s kinda scared of getting too close, doesn’t wanna mess scout up by becoming something like a father figure when he already sees himself as this old tired kinda broken guy. he’s ashamed of not being better, not being what scout might need but that’s the thing, scout’s not asking for some perfect role model, just someone who respects him and stays. and he proves that over time, shows sniper he’s serious, chooses to be there and eventually they get to something real and solid

blu will never get any of that

mourning for something he never had

what’s funny is how blu scout and red sniper were the most popular version of this ship like since forever but i never really got how it would work with how i see things. but after thinking more about the clone stuff i think it goes like… blu scout’s jealous of red in general, and his want to connect with red sniper turns into this weird frustration. he's mad at himself for even wanting this, he's mad that he barely has any chance. and red sniper is kinda confused by it, he doesn’t fully get why blu scout's acting like that but he also just… can’t bring himself to fight back ig… he’s too careful with scout, even the blu one. he feels sorry for him and tries to be gentle even if it's awkward

i actually got a ton more to say abt these two both in and outside the ship but this post’s already hella long and kinda unstructured waaaaaaaaaaah i hope you got what i meant tho!!!!!!!!!! really hope i won't die from cringe and get the motivation to do more eventually phew

[norriszn]

"𝐖𝐄'𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐉𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐍 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝟏. 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐄" And perhaps only in Japan - land of ceremony, restraint, and polite indifference - could the most talked about man on the F1 grid saunter through a city, hood up, without a phone being shoved in his face. Well, until I whip mine out to show him a photo from the first time TopGear inter-viewed him, back in 2019.

"S**t, would you look at that!" he exclaims, unleashing his trademark helium giggle.

Back then, he was a 19-year-old prep-ping to become the youngest British driver ever to start a Grand Prix. Now, 134 GPs later with a neck like an oak trunk he's visibly stronger, more con-fident, but still fantastically lucid and funny.

"Time flies and it's mad to think it's my seventh year in Formula One. It felt like not long ago I was trying to get to Formula One. Don't get me wrong, everything still feels crazy, but more normal now - like Formula One is my everyday life, rather than feeling like I've got an everyday life and then I do Formula One."

But we're not in Japan for the F1. Quite the opposite. We're in Tokyo - 250 miles from the pad-dock in Suzuka - so Lando can take his new car for a midnight spin. A very much not a McLaren, 600bhp Liberty Walk R32 Nissan Skyline - Lando's first JDM car to join an ever-growing and increasingly juicy collection.

"I had the Gumball 3000 Top Trumps cards when I was a kid and always remember the Nissan Skyline. Back then, I also played Gran Turismo, and I remember racing around the streets of Japan - it just looked awesome. So I've always wanted to see what that's like in reality."

Tonight is that make a wish moment for Lando. And as we make our way to rendezvous with his insane kaido racer inspired GT-R, he fills me in on his increasing love for road cars.

"I just love to drive. I know Lewis [Hamilton] has had a lot of cars, and probably has a better collec-tion of cars, but I really love to drive."

Something Instagram's algorithm loves too. When we first interviewed Lando, he was driving a diesel Mini. Nowadays, he's seen rocking up to lunch in Monaco looking like the card-board cutout of cool in his knuckle-bitingly beautiful Blu Julie over orange leather, gold wheeled Lamborghini Miura P400.

"My Miura is my favourite. It's the first proper, proper car that I bought, and probably my favourite in terms of looks. And it was all Because I watched the Lam-borghini movie. Growing up, I was more into modern cars - I think most young kids are. But I've definitely switched to vin-tage cars because I've changed quite a lot. I know myself a lot more now - what I like, what I don't. And when I first had my own money to spend, I was just getting crap. I was like, why on Earth did I ever buy those things?"

With a Ferrari F40, AC Cobra, Carrera GT and Fiat 500 Jolly all having taken up space in his garage (plus, naturally, the greatest hits of modern McLarens, including a 765LT Spider, P1 and Senna) that Top Trumps pack has morphed from card-board to actual bits of metal and carbon fibre. It's an eclectic, con-sidered selection, with a McLaren F1 and Mazda 787B still being the ultimates to collect. So why has he bought and modified a two-door 1990s Japanese coupe?

"If I could, I'd have a collection of Skylines. But the R32 is the one that you don't see as much - it's not as obvious and as noticeable."

Until you put a Liberty Walk widebody Super Silhouette race-car bodykit on it. Liberty Walk might be one of the most polarising tuners on the planet. It has become notorious for bandsawing the arches off a multitude of exotic supercars, only to then rivet supersized bodykits and fit slammed air suspension setups in place. For good or bad, people will always have something to say about it. And when Lando, someone in tune with street culture -wanted to collaborate through his motorsport inspired lifestyle and apparel brand Quadrant, there was only one company he wanted to speak to. In person, the car is even more extreme than pictures. The stance is off the scale, with step-like side skirts, fat arches and massive rims shod in steamroller spec semi-slick Yokohama rubber. Then there's the bespoke bonnet extending out like a peaked cap, a 'jutta' chin spoiler below, and a bumper slung oil cooler in between - it's as JDM wild as it gets and a throwback to Japanese circuit racers of old. It also makes for a potentially spicy combination when paired with the uprated Garrett single turbo (the size of a wheelie bin lid) that's been bolted onto the side of the iconic RB motor for over 600bhp.

To add more jeopardy into the mix, tonight it's raining sideways.

[rory-multifandom-mess]

Exitor Coiny AU - Infodump

I’m finally doing this thing, yay!

AU PREMISE: Coiny is eliminated in BFB Episode 8 instead of Loser! When the EXITors try to escape in the split episode, Stapy escapes in Coiny's place. Coiny spends 6 years in the EXIT along side Pencil, Match, and the others. Once out of Four's head, he gets voted into TPOT instead of Liy.

Ever since the EXIT, Coiny has been much more self-sacrifical. All throughout his time inside, he spent most of it purposefully getting on Four's nerves in order to pull attention off of his fellow classmates.

Mentally, Coiny is still stuck inside, fighting a battle that has long been over, protecting others from an imaginary threat.

I didn't know how to properly fit this in the little "introduction" thing, but another change is that Tree gets voted out in TPOT 16 instead of Pin. Anyways, let's get into these Fun Facts!

IN THE EXIT:

In canon, when Loser gets eliminated, Donut just shoves him in a Jawbreaker and he stays in there until the split episode. Coiny would have broken out right when Four finally comes back and sends him and the others into the EXIT

Most of the other EXITors have mixed feelings on him; while his antics did get them out of Four's crosshairs, his constant pissing them off would get them more work assigned.

They did think it was funny at first. But slowly they grew annoyed, and some would even tell him to stop because he would just get himself hurt.

A few things Coiny would do to piss Four off include: - Throwing crumpled up pieces of paper (or other things) at the back of their head - Purposefully interrupting them - Asking insanely off-topic questions - Spitballs - He would never do the work - Randomly getting up and walking around and other disruptive behaviors.

Not only does he do these things out of protection, it is also his strange version of revenge. To him, he is teaching Four a lesson. To everyone else, Coiny is only making a fool of himself.

Coiny would also constantly try to find ways to get out of the classroom, from climbing through a vent to trying to climb out through the ceiling panels. No matter what, though, Four would always catch him.

Though most of the EXITORs don't exactly like him, he views them all as his friends, especially Match, Liy, and Pencil. They all went through something traumatic together, and that means something to him. (Match and Liy because he was teamed up with them in their final escape, and Pencil because she would scold him the most for pissing Four off.)

His values toward friendship and loyalty are even stronger now because of his experience.

Though Coiny doesn't show it, he is also afraid of Four. He hides it in his anger by making Four's life a living hell. - This doesn't mean his fear doesn't make itself known at times. Sometimes he'll flinch when Four starts speaking, or his heart will sink when they look at him.

BUTTERFLY EFFECT; PEN

His friendship with Coiny is rekindled since they're on the same team.

Coiny relies on him when Pin isn't around due to her now being on Death Pact's team

Unfortunately, due to Coiny's focus being on Four, Pen is left to deal with his anger towards Pencil alone.

He doesn't find a good, healthy way to let out his anger, so it simply festers. And festers. And builds. Until he is overwhelmed and can't take it anymore, eventually lashing out aggressively (illustrated in this post)

With Coiny's (late) help, he learns how to let his anger out through talking it out instead of getting physically aggressive like Liy teaches him in canon.

BUTTERFLY EFFECT; PIN

The last time she saw him before his elimination was in BFB 7, the twinkle episode where they have that talk under the basket.

Coiny's absence, at first, leaves her sad, obviously. She basically has the same issue she did in TPOT 9 just way earlier.

His absence is clearly felt by her, which would lead to her asking herself "what would Coiny say?" frequently

The decisions made on her team(s) by him would likely be made by her instead, taking up the role as leader again.

She would also likely become even closer with other characters like Needle, Donut, Saw, and Gaty now that her "object of affection" (get it) is missing

She would be very concerned seeing him act the way he would once in TPOT. She didn't think he would be effected by it all, quickly realizing she'd be wrong.

EXTRA INFO ABOUT COINY

He has picked up random little hobbies from the other EXITors, most notably origami from Stapy (this is a headcanon within a headcanon but basically Stapy would miss Foldy and Marker so much he'd make little origami friends in class of the two of them)

He has a really hard time adjusting to Pin not being constantly by his side, both when he first enters the EXIT and when he rejoins TPOT. The TPOT rejoin is even tougher because he knows she's reachable, but they're against each other.

He doesn't fully recognize why he acts the way he does.

Coiny's "love language" is physical touch. So you can imagine how rough it would be going 6 years without affectionate touch, y'know like hand holding, someone leaning on him- pretty much all the things he'd do with Pin - His reunion with Pin was very emotional, he basically started crying the moment she hugged him

The little mindscape he shares with Pin has been effected by this, reflecting his mental state;

it is now inflicted with a blue haze. In addition to this, the shift between orange, pink, red, and yellow is much faster than normal and it is extremely loud in there. So much so that the sheer amount of noise, from static buzzing to echoed shouts and electricity zapping, stops Pin from being able to reach him through their telepathic connection.

The scuffs on Coiny's face are permanent. He also has permanent nerve damage in his right arm, an after effect of being zapped by Four so damn frequently. Also, migraines sometimes, due to frequent screeching from Four

-------------------

Ok that's all for now methinks! I might post a masterpost later to keep track of my various doodle dumps and other info (and the lovely fanart I've been getting)

[chokifandom]

— CHAPTER I: INCIPIO

wc: 5k [please check the masterlist for content warnings!]

a/n: oh shdhsj i’m lowkey so scared to post this bc i’m writing this after literal months of not writing... but anyway hello arknights nation i hope you’ll have me i love ebenholz mwah have a good day

masterlist

1085

alone in his room at the top of the spire, seven year old graf franz von urtica peers out of the small window with a stir in his heart. he watches the people toil in the fields, and sellers marketing their wares, until a servant whose name he had never bothered to learn finds him. “the sun is going to tan you, mein herr!” she exclaims, scampering to close the blinds. the room falls into a darkness just like his heart does after the servant leaves, shutting the door behind her.

franz does not bother lighting the candles, and so his room remains shrouded in darkness for hours after the sun dips below the horizon; he only sees light once more when a servant knocks to escort him to dinner, the light from the hallway spilling into the room and bathing it in a sombre orange glow.

he eats only what he’s been served, aware of every lethargic movement of his jaw. although there are a multitude dishes on the dining table, there is still an obvious unspoken limitation of choice. he feels eyes burning into the back of his head, burning into his scalp, burning his body whole like he is a sinner stepping into hellfire.

he had stepped out of one cage and right into another.

but young franz cannot comprehend the weight of his circumstances. all he knows is that he isn’t allowed to play outside with the other kids under the sun, that he isn’t allowed to watch the night sky full of stars, and that wherever he goes, he would be scorned for bearing the name of the most despised family in all of leithanien.

there is a knock on his door early in the morning. “come in,” he says, almost inquiringly; and in walks a little child, around his age, panting for breath as you shut the door behind you, only sighing in relief once you hear the click of the lock. “mutti won’t stop pestering me to eat my breakfast. she won’t think to look for me here because i’m not really allowed to be here.”

it is almost incredulous— franz had never before interacted with another child, let alone one of his age. he surmises that you must be the child of one of the servants. “what are you looking at me like that for?!” you are now equally as bewildered, before you remember your manners and the person before you, and clear your throat— “i– i’m sorry if i bother you, graf franz. i will leave right now, if that is what you want—”

“no, you can stay.” the corners of his lips turn upward in a smile that he is so obviously trying to conceal, and you burst into a fit of laughter.

“you look so funny! do they not let you smile?”

“stop saying such… ridiculous things!” he huffs in indignation, red tinting his cheeks, gaze averted. franz’s tone lacks the bite that nobles usually have, you think. but you also think that it maybe that he is simply still a child and so it makes sense that he wouldn’t speak the same way that all those adults do. “of course i can!”

“see!” he breaks into a toothy grin, held up completely unnaturally from wanting to prove that fact to you, the corners of his lips quivering slightly as he hopes this would be enough to quell your mocking laughter. but he was evidently wrong, as it only grows in intensity instead.

“silly graf! you’re missing one of your front teeth!”

“sh-shut up, it’s not like you aren’t!” you’re still laughing though, and even the gloomy boy in front of you can’t help but feel the smile returning to him as he hears the joyous sound escaping your lips.

“well, i think i should leave now,” you say after the both of you let the laughter die down, heaving a sigh, “i can’t hide in here forever, can i?”

“well—” he begins. “just don’t let anyone see you around here, alright?”

“yeah! i’ll come back here tomorrow, graf franz!” you reply, and you are out of the door before he can rebuke, the click of the lock sounding through the room once more. the caprinae’s face immediately falls back into one of neutrality, though his fingers can’t seem to still themselves, energy flowing through his veins like he had just been revitalised.

for all the sadness and annoyance that seven year old boy feels, he is still just that— a curious child. and so he allows you to break the rules this blatantly, and leaves the door to his bedroom unlocked at night so you can slip in at the crack of dawn. depending on your mood, you’d choose to either rudely awaken him from his slumber, or entertain yourself with the books stacked neatly upon the shelves— although they were mostly those adult books pertaining to subjects about politics, nobility and etiquette, which did not tickle your fancy.

some days, he’d wake up to find you snuggled in right beside him, snoring away without a care in the world. and then you’d leave as soon as the sun was fully up in the sky, and he wouldn’t see you again for the rest of the day, no matter how hard he looked among all the servants at mealtime, hoping to catch even a glimpse of your face.

one morning, you shake his shoulders frantically, begging him to wake up. the boy sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and looking at you. he yawns. “what’s wrong?”

“my mutti said they wanted you gone!” you cry out, the horror of it all dawning upon you. “why do they want you gone? a-are you a bad person?”

“i’m not! i swear i am not! who wants me gone?”

“but she said that you’re the great-great-great-great-great grandson of the…” voice reducing to a whisper, you say— “the-the witch king!”

franz’s eyes go wide at the revalation, but he does not seem too shocked— but a voice resounds in his brain, and suddenly he’s struggling not to collapse under the weight of his own head. “did you not a-already know? he is one of the forebears of urtica.” seeing that the fact does little to pacify you, he hurriedly adds his defense. “but-but i’m not like him! i’d never hurt you. or anyone else.”

“oh, franz!” your arms are thrown over his shoulders, and you sob into them with all the drama of a maiden about to be left by her husband going to war. he can do nothing but awkwardly pat your back, wondering if he was doing the right thing. “i knew mutti was wrong about you! i’ll go get you some water!”

so many years, the two of you spent in the same hushed routine. your hair had grown longer, both yours and franz’s— his horns were always neatly trimmed just like they used to be years ago, and he was ever the same prim and proper boy that he had been when you first met him, while the voice in his head only got louder and louder.

one time, you barge into his room in the dead of the night, right as he teeters on the edge of slumber— you take his hand in yours and pull him out of bed and out of his room. your steps are featherlight as neither of you dare to make a sound more than you should, climbing up the stairs of the spire and hoping, praying to the golden melody that you would not be discovered by the servants still roaming the building.

the night breeze hits you as soon as you open the door to the roof. having not let go of franz’s hand yet, you pull him to the ridge and motion for him to lie down next to you.

“i’m not doing that. my clothes are going to get soiled.”

“well, it is true that the roof has turned dusty from years of not being tended to,” you pout at him. “but i think an experience of this sort is in order for you.”

“and who are you to decide that for me?” he asks.

“your friend, of course!” you laugh, somewhere between a joke and a statement. “those servants down there want nothing but for you to rot to death in your bedroom. i’m far better than them, you know it.”

friend. sometimes, he wonders if you are only bound together by circumstance. you were all that he had, and he was all that you had— confined to the solitary spire, both of you bound to your doomed fates as the puppet graf von urtica and a lowly servant child who was forbidden from disturbing the graf and his peace. you had both seen each other laugh and cry, had devastating arguments and talked about everything under the sun, just like two real friends might have.

a chuckle slips past his lips. “amuse me then, dear friend. what have they been saying about me this time?”

“oh, it’s nothing new. just the same old drivel about how they’ll poison your food or never let you meet with any of the noblewomen and their daughters so that urtica would never have an heir. about how the witch king’s legacy must absolutely not be allowed to pass down into the future.”

the sky is bleak, so bleak, completely dark and filled with gloomy clouds. it’s not a worthwhile sight by any means, but franz does not care. his heart is already beating out of his chest, adrenaline rushing through his normally calm veins. it almost makes him feel giddy; the thought of being able to stare at the night sky with you for real begins to form in the back of his mind.

“when i finally become a graf—”

“are you not already a graf, franz?” you giggle, the honorific prefixed to his name long being dropped.

“you know what i mean! anyway,” franz looks towards you as you continue to stare at the sky as you both lie next to each other on the roof of the spire— something that would have the both of you in for a huge scolding if you were found. “i’m going to depose of this godforsaken house, that nobody in this country wants anyway, and then we’ll be free to live as we please!”

would you stay until that day arrives? the question begins to form in his throat, but he never gets the chance to—

“i’m sure we will,” you finally turn, meeting his pale purple eyes, standing up and dusting yourself off. “we should head down now, my dear graf, before they go on a wild chase for you and me, after which they are sure to kick my family out of the spire for influencing the graf himself to get up to this sort of mischief.”

the two of you return quietly to his bedroom, but franz can feel it. he feels a pair of eyes burning into the back of his skull, like the ones at mealtime. a shiver runs down his spine, and his heart refuses to stop pounding against his ribcage even after he shuts the door behind him.

after that night, you never showed up in his bedroom again. graf franz von urtica is fourteen now, learning to tread the murky waters of politics and nobility. he waits in his room like he always does, but the doorknob doesn’t turn. one day turns into years, and clammy hands turn into walls. now he only wears a sombre expression, hiding the pain in his heart and building the high fortress, mincing and dressing his words in sarcasm, refusing to spare another word to anyone else in the spire that should be his.

1098

the afterglow hall stands majestic in the daylight, and franz cannot help but wince at the structure that so resembled the cursed spires built by his distant relative. though the witch king’s blood has only thinned down in his veins, it is still there; it is still an ugly part of him that he cannot deny.

franz had mostly resigned to his fate by now— he knows there are still many who covet what he has, and that there are still many more who are trying to have a tug at the strings attached to his body and his seat.

the famous infected musician by the name of william fichte czerny prepares to have his farewell concert, with musicians from all over leithanien invited to participate. a long, long line of musicians formed right outside the afterglow hall— it is only understandable, since this could very well mean a potential path to fame for everyone of them, regardless of their intentions for participating.

but franz is only here for one thing— to get herkunftschorn, the witch king, out of his mind. this is what dame strollo of vysenheim had promised to him, a ticket to freedom like no other he’s ever seen. he only needed to participate in mr. czerny’s concert, and dame strollo would pull all the other strings behind the scene to remove the voice of mundane from him.

he thinks about it as he walks towards the center of the city— the deal with dame strollo truly looked tempting. he wonders if she’s also among the people who want to use him and his status to further their own interests. but it’s an offer that’s hard to refuse— it could only mean something good for him if it worked in his favour, but to be scorned and hunted to the ends of the earth and being labelled as a remnant of the witch king if he were to outright refuse.

“but i’m really in a rush to get my application over with,” a soft, timid voice piques his interest. he stops a few feet away from the line, watching a young man try to negotiate with presumably a standing officer, his pale hair shining under the bright sun. “i’m still caring for my grandpa back home.”

“no can do. look, we’re all afterglowers. who hasn’t got someone to care for at home?”

the black haired man approaches the pair, and musters all the authority that he can in his next words. “can you really not accommodate, just this once?”

“i said no. that’s just—” the officer begins, but then she turns to look at franz, and her eyes widen; in recognition, shock, or fear, he can’t tell. “wait, y-you’re a noble, aren’t you? you’re here to apply to our concert?”

“if you see as much, then could you oblige myself and my friend here?” franz retorts.

“but we’ve got rules…”

“or do you plan to reject a noble’s sincerest request?”

“i wouldn’t dare.”

“thank you for your understanding. come, now,”

the pale haired man is evidently quite surprised by the turn of events. he questions the appropriateness of the events that just took place in front of him— after all, the officer wasn’t wrong in her statement either.

“didn’t you hear me? they’re letting us through.”

“alright, but…” he begins, but franz is already making his way to the front of the line, deaf to any protests that he would make. he runs to catch up with him, entering the hall in perfect step together.

the hall is… grand. it is bustling with people from all over vyseheim, who have all come together to witness the first round of selections for the concert. but even then, franz cannot help but shake off the feeling that someone is watching— it is so similar to how he is treated in his spire, he almost wonders if he is merely hallucinating the feeling.

the emcee calls for the next person in line— the white haired man next to franz, who he learns is called kreide, takes his leave, and walks up onto the stage. his presence is humble and unauthoritative as he answers the questions he is asked— his name, and whether he had his own instrument or not (which he had not brought).

kreide is allowed to pick from amidst the collection of common-use instruments provided by mr. czerny— he picks up the cello and returns to the stage. “you may begin. do not go over a minute.”

but kreide doesn’t begin. franz sees the way his eyebrows furrow only slightly in confusion. “is there a problem?”

he speaks, just as softly as he had been. “i didn’t get to ask just now, but how do you determine pay for participation?”

“pay?” now everyone’s confused. “there is no material reward for performing in the concert.”

“well, it is your decision to perform or not. however, i do hope that you would grace us with a fine melody before you leave, if that is what you decide.”

after this revelation, kreide sighs in defeat, but he picks up the bow of the cello anyway, channeling his concentration into the instrument in his hands instead. but something stirs within franz, and his hands move to his flute. a few bars pass, and then he raises it to his lips.

he blows through the cold metal and joins kreide on the stage. the white haired man is momentarily taken aback, but he continues his passage while franz accompanies him, seeming almost like they’ve fallen into a telepathic harmony, halting as soon as the timer runs out.

“and… that’s one minute,” the commentator rises to greet them on the stage once more as the crowd gathered in the hall erupts into a thunderous applause. “well done, gentlemen, that just might be the most beautiful performance i’ve heard today.”

“are you here to apply to the concert too?” he inquires, turning towards franz.

“yes. i was planning to do so alone, but herr kreide’s performance struck me deep,” he affirms. “i would be loathe to miss the chance to perform with such an amazing instrumentalist as himself.”

“understood. may i have your name?”

franz takes a moment to think, before answering. “… ebenholz.”

“are you certain? your real name is ebenholz?” the man in front of him is surprised. “that’s not an alias you just came up with?”

“what does it matter if it is?”

“but you are a noble… your lineage and estate—”

“i’ll say it again, my name is ebenholz. do you have any other questions?”

“very well then.” he retreats, and turns his attention to kreide once more. “that said, since you and herr kreide brought no agreement on whether to apply as an ensemble, the decision lies with him. herr kreide…”

“well, i was only applying to this concert for my grandpa’s medical fees…” kreide begins, a resignation ready on the tip of his tongue.

franz interjects before he gets the chance to say it. “should kreide assent to an ensemble, i’d be very willing to provide him and his grandfather economic assistance.”

hope blooms in the heart of the pale haired caprinae and reflects in his eyes. “really?”

“i would advise you to be careful, herr kreide. such aid does not come without strings attached.” the emcee warns.

“please, i ask for some respect.” it takes franz— or rather, ebenholz— everything not to roll his eyes at the third man while kreide hums in contemplation.

“i’ll do it!”

“then i’ll leave it at that.” the two men smile at each other as they walk off the stage. kreide lets out a sigh of relief as soon as he steps out of the building. the sudden change in temperature from stepping out of the air-conditioned hallways of the concert hall does not go unnoticed.

“thank you, really! i can go back home to check on grandpa without any worries now.” kreide clasps his hands together.

“it’s no problem. let me accompany you.” ebenholz smiles back at him. it’s probably the most he’s smiled in a day in the time after his only friend left the spire years ago without so much as a noise.

“are you sure? afterglow is a while away from cliffy patio after all…”

“what’s it gonna take, just an extra few miles of walking?” ebenholz snorts. “besides, we could practice together after this.”

“well, as long as you’re okay with it.”

“herr kreide!” someone shouts. the pair look around to see two women wading through the crowd towards them— one of them with bright purple hair and sharp sarkaz horns distinct from the kind seen on the heads of the caprinae in leithanien. “herr kreide, if we may…”

the sarkaz woman introduces herself first. “i’m hibiscus, and this is my colleague, andante. we were present for your performance just now in afterglow hall.”

“we’re from rhodes island— we’d like to offer to you our assistance in treating your grandfather.”

“i… thank you for offering, but we currently cannot afford any sort of treatment right now…”

“do not worry, herr. we strive to provide treatment and other services to the infected at the most affordable rates. i’d at least recommend a free testing, so that you will be free to decide how you’d like to proceed further.”

“you do have a point, frau hibiscus,” kreide says. “i suppose a free test wouldn’t hurt.”

“do you live in afterglow, herr kreide?” andante asks. “we were on our way there too, we could come along.”

“of course. might i ask why? not a lot of people have business there.”

the group make their way back to afterglow district. ebenholz sees many infected out on the streets. some of them, familiar with kreide, greet him a good afternoon. kreide wishes them back before turning his attention back to the operators of rhodes island. the people are lively, and it is an environment much unlike his home turf.

“we’re trying to investigate a few cases of abnormal infected recovery, and they all happen to be located in the district.” hibiscus answers. a few scornful looks are thrown at her from the sides of the streets, but she ignores them.

“i see.”

“we’re here.” kreide stops at a fairly derelict building and announces. ebenholz notices as he enters the stairwell of the building that it is in far worse condition than the other buildings in afterglow; not that they were in good enough shape themselves either. kreide fishes out a bunch of keys from his pocket when they reach the top of the staircase. they slot awkwardly into the keyhole, and it takes a few tries for him to open the door, but he eventually gets it open. “the lock system’s probably rusted…”

“grandpa! i’m back.”

“kreide… what is this?”

ebeenholz, hibiscus and andante introduce themselves to the old man lying on the lone cot in the room. he struggles to sit up, but with kreide’s support, he is able to rise. “you want me to get tested?”

“yes, sir. we believe this would aid recovery and help us explore more nuanced treatment options.”

“i… well, i’d be willing to test, since you said you’d provide it free of cost, but we don’t have the money for treatment.” the old man says. “and besides, i’m almost about to be a goner, anyway, all that money would be better off for whatever other use my boy would want to put it to.”

“don’t say that, grandpa! i want you to get better.”

andante prepares the equipment— there is so much in the seemingly little bag that she carries around, that kreide almost believes it is some sort of arts modified device. hibiscus hands kreide a pad with some forms and asks him to fill it.

“test results are in,” andante announces after what feels like an eternity of waiting. kreide’s ears perk up at this. “i can’t say it’s too severe, but it’s not good by any means. any patient should receive standard treatment and hospitalised recovery at this stage.”

“the test might’ve been of no charge, but there’s no way i could get it all for free, is there?” grandpa says; it is the voice of a man resigned to his fate.

“we can refer you to some of the organisations that rhodes island is partnered with in vyseheim. you will receive treatment on subsidised prices under the collaborative protocol we have…” she says. “or i could try to negotiate and offset the prices even further for you.”

“there will be no need,” grandpa stands up weakly. “the hospitals still wouldn’t be angels to me, and i don’t want my life to be at their whimsy. kreide, you’ll return every last cent to that noble. we’re done here.”

“but…!” kreide begins to protest, but for lack of a better suggestion, no words come out of his mouth.

“how about he convalesces at the branch, instead of going to any partners?” after a long silence, hibiscus suggests. andante contemplates it, but her next words are worried. “hibiscus, it is only an office that we have…”

“i could give up my guest bed for him. besides, we would be able to monitor his condition more tightly.” she continues. there is a newfound determination in her voice. “sir, i guarantee you, your treatment will be of the highest priority to us.”

“i agree!” kreide adds. “besides, i have to practice with ebenholz, too. i might not have the time to look after you. the office is certainly a step up from the conditions here at home, too…”

grandpa’s sigh almost sends kreide’s heart into a spiral of guilt— but he pacifies himself by remembering that it is only for the best. “allow me to pack some of my things, then.”

“oh, look at the time… would you like to have dinner before you leave? i can cook something up real quick!” kreide shoots ebenholz an apologetic smile. hibiscus and andante have been long gone by now, and grandpa’s bed remains empty. “it probably wouldn’t have gotten so late if that whole thing with my grandpa hadn’t happened…”

“don’t sweat it, kreide,” ebenholz’s voice softens in a way that it barely had over the past years— at least not after you left him so suddenly. “we both want to do our best on mr. czerny’s stage after all, do we not?”

“i suppose you’re right,” he doesn’t fight back. “dinner?”

“it’s already so late, and i must rush back to cliffy patio. you’ve also got your grandpa to take care of, no?”

“it’s not a bother, really! you’ve already helped so much! this is the least i could do to repay you.”

“no need, kreide. i am glad, but you need the aid more.” with that, he turns to leave, bidding farewell to his new friend, and in a mood far brighter than he had been when he left his spire in the morning— perhaps, talking to these normal civilians was nothing like having to deal with the spire servants or other nobles.

the streets of the district are practically empty. it is not surprising considering the hour; what is more surprising though, is the footsteps he hears approaching him from behind, pace quickening every second.

“it’s you! franz, what are you doing here in afterglow?” ebenholz is surprised that there existed someone in this district who knew of his real name.

“you…” he turns around at the sound of the voice, almost unable to recognise the person he’s facing. “_____?”

he doesn’t smile. the years of memories consume him like a tide, and so does the sadness, anger and loneliness. his throat closes up, but he cannot find it in himself to rage at you. “i…”

“is… is this not a good time?” the smile on your face falters when you see his eyebrows raised in what you can only guess is anger or irritation. “i-i guess i’ll see you around then.”

he watches you back away and briskly walk into a turning, your dress flowing behind you, and then turns, continuing his solitary walk back to urtica’s spire.

as soon as you see the familiar building, you enter the stairwell and climb until you find yourself at kreide’s door. the pale haired caprinae greets you as soon as you rap against the old wood, and you let yourself in.

“hey, kreide! how’d the selections go?” you open your arms and he worms into your embrace.

“_____! it’s been a while since you’ve come home,” he sighs. “the selections went really well! the next round will be personally supervised by mr. czerny though…”

“oh, chin up, i’m sure you’ll do well.” you notice the empty bed behind kreide as you let go. “where’s grandpa?”

“his infection flared up, and we had to get him to the hospital.” kreide turns around, staring solemnly at the bed. “well, if the rhodes island branch office here counts…”

“he’ll be alright, then! they’ve got a good hand about these things. got my mutti into a good hospital at a much lower fee.”

“how’s she doing these days?”

“you know, same old. at least the infection is stable right now.”

“well, that’s still a good thing for now,” he replies.

his knife scratches against the cutting board and you sigh, deflating onto the empty bed that had belonged to his grandpa. “mind if i lie down here for a bit?”

“not at all!”

you shut your eyes, but as soon as you do, the image of the dark haired caprinae immediately flashes in your mind, his sour expression and irritated eyebrows down to the boot. you can hear him complain about the servants in his spire once more, and you wonder if he still does— if he’s found another to bemoan his fate with.

“alright, what’s bothering you?”

“you can tell?”

“you’ve been sighing and tossing and turning— it doesn’t take much to see that.” kreide’s violet eyes are the first thing you see when you open your own, as he kneels down next to you. “did anything happen?”

“i really can’t hide anything from you, can i?” you say. “it’s-it’s really no big deal at all, though.”

“you can tell me if anything’s wrong, _____.”

“i told you already, it’s nothing big! chop chop and get back to cooking. come, i’ll join you too.”

taglist: @arknights-imagines

[linoyes]

home and i have post concert thoughts so 🥲

first of all they were sooooo good the energy was insane and they were so funny 🥹

chan always looks soooo happy to be on stage and its contagious my cheeks were hurting after from smiling 😭😭😭 love that guy sm

lino was so silly yday u would think hyunjin had rolled in catnip the way he was laying and dancing on him

HAN DID HIS MIROH RAP IN FRONT OF US......... PEOPLE DIED

one of the girls behind me saw her name on the screen during cinema and the girl next to her was crying 😭😭😭 also seungmin trying to find jennifer f after to make sure the names were real 😭

hyunjin was on fire every time the screen showed him im pretty sure i looked like this :O

felix saying cooked a million times and chan saying he was hooked on cooked... shaking him shaking him

when they had split up the floors to see who was loudest and seungmin said who wants me.. amazing that i still have my voice.. and then he had us booing the other floors 😌 we love an instigator

seungmin wearing a braves jersey towards the end 😭😭😭 i grew up w my grandparents being huge braves fans and them taking us to games so just a full circle moment for me

for chk chk boom i think? the screen in front of us had glitched out in the middle and lino looked back so confused he stopped walking for a sec.. for some reason very endearing to me waiting for scientists to get back to me on that one

as much as i was sad abt not seeing the solos live the duets were so good i was rly trying to not record the whole time but after truman started i had to whip my phone right tf back out like 😭 the energy and vocals for all of them.. insane

2min trying to get us to sing cinema for them but it died off and lino was giving everyone the 🤨 and seungmin going u guys are the best singers like we didn't fail him aldhdk

really amazing to me that they are always working so hard and yet still have so much energy to give for concerts they deserve every bit of success they have and more 🫶 tldr i love skz a normal amount and definitely didnt cry on the way home

[florineseexpertfanfic]

Not an Idiot

Title: Not an Idiot

Rated: General Audience

Fandom/Pairing: Sonic the Hedgehog/Shadamy

Despite what certain mobians may think, Sonic the Hedgehog was actually a pretty smart dude. He was cunning, calculated, and caring. Sure, there were moments where his feet went faster than his brain- but everyone has moments like that. 

So despite what certain mobians think,  Sonic was pretty smart, and he noticed a lot of things. 

That ‘certain mobian’ was starting to spend an awful lot of time in Green Hills. Especially when he knew Amy Rose was going to be present. The same mobian also seemed to be always around in a fight. Now, that in itself wasn't unusual. That hedgehog hybrid loved a good fight. 

But Sonic noticed that if, for whatever reason, Amy wasn’t involved, then he would not bother to show up. He would claim that ‘his team can handle such small things’.

But it wasn’t just Shadow acting oddly. Amy was just as bad. Whenever the group of them got together, her emerald eyes scanned the room. When she didn't see him, her ears drooped. When he was, they always seemed to find themselves next to each other.  Her whole demeanor would change. She would be happier, peppier. She couldn't help but smile- and he would smile too, in his own ‘I'm too cool for this but can't help it’ way.

If they weren't together, then she would almost constantly be on her phone. Before, if she received a message, she had no problem with her curious friends. Sonic, being ever nosey, would always ask who she was talking to. Amy would smile, and say whomever it was- Cream, Rouge. If it was something funny or cute, she would show it to him.

Now she jumped, startled, and locked her phone screen claiming it was ‘Nothing!’. 

Sonic leaned back into the couch in Tail’s workshop, his legs spreading out, listening to his incredibly smart fox friend go on about his newest invention. He was listening, but he heard a light giggle that caught his attention. His ear twitched. His green eyes shifted to behind Tails, where he saw Amy, sitting at the desk, phone in hand. Tails didn’t notice her not paying a lick of attention.

Then he felt a slight vibration in his quills and pulled his phone out. He gestured to Tails to keep talking, which the fox gladly did, and opened up the text message from the thread entitled ‘Rouge 🦇 🧡’. 

I think he is texting her again! XD

Below this message came a photo of Shadow, eyes glued to his phone, a smile on his face. He did not seem to notice that Rouge snuck a photo of him, or even that she was present. 

Sonic, grinning, held his phone up and snapped a picture of Amy. She was leaning on the desk, phone in hand, a shining smile on her pretty face. She looked so happy.

Tail joined Sonic at his side and placed a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. Sonic simply sent Rouge the picture, a sly smile on his lips.

 STOP THEY ARE SO CUTE!!! 🩷🖤

Rouge’s text made Tails and Sonic laugh out loud, startling Amy from her little world and causing her to blush. 

“Sorry! What’s going on?” Amy asked, locking her phone and placing it face down on the desktop.

“Nothing. Just an inside joke between me and Tails.” Sonic looked up at her, a knowing smile gracing his face. “What’s got you so locked in?"

“Oh!” A light blush dusted her muzzle, making the pretty hedgehog glow. “Just,  uh, reading one of those romance stories. It's silly, but good.”

Just then, her phone chimed, and with no hesitation she picked it up.  As she unlocked the screen,  Sonic stood and quickly dashed to be behind her. 

“What's it called?” Sonic laughed as Amy struggled to lock her phone. But he had a quick glance at it,  and it confirmed everyone's suspicions. 

“Ah!” Amy jumped off her seat and began walking to the front door of Tails’ workshop. “I, uh, actually have to get going. See ya later,  guys!”

The two friends watched as Amy hurried down the front path. Once she was well and truly out of sight,  Tails turned to Sonic.

“So, what did you find out?”

“That she misses him, he misses her, and he can't wait until she is back in his arms.”

“Wow!” the young fox exclaimed. “Didn't realize it was that serious.”

“Never knew the old man had it in him. But he did it, he successfully swept Amy Rose off her feet.”

Sonic’s phone dinged, and the hedgehog saw another message from Rouge pop up.

He’s suddenly leaving. My entertainment is over.

Sonic’s thumbs flew over his keyboard. 

Amy just left too. Think they are meeting up?

I’m following him.

Right behind ya.

_________________________________________

The flower garden attached to the park was gorgeous… but not as beautiful as the pink hedgehog that was walking towards him. This place had become one of their secret spots, a place for them to meet. 

Shadow still couldn't believe his good luck. A few months ago, he started becoming closer to the girl of his dreams. Now he felt his heart race at the sight of her smile. He wasn’t sure what they were yet. It had only been a couple of weeks, but they had taken to stealing a few private moments here and there.

Holding her in his arms had become addictive.

“Hey.” Amy greeted, stepping easily into his arms. She smiled, pursing her lips slightly.

He eagerly met her lips with his own, giving her a chaste kiss. 

“Hi.”

If holding her was addictive, it didn’t compare to her kisses. He felt his toes curl in his air shoes as she lightly pinched his back quills, her lips dancing along with his.

“I missed you.”

Shadow, in his trademark dead- pan way, replied dryly. “You saw me yesterday.”

“Oh, well, if that’s how you want to play it, I can easily leave you alone for a few days-” Amy began, pulling away from his arms.

He was having none of that. Tugging gently, the pink hedgehog fell back into his arms, and he kissed her again. It was something that he could do for the rest of their lives. 

“Shadow…” Amy murmured against his muzzle. “I…”

Amy Rose pulled back, her emerald eyes searching his crimson ones. He looked at her,  as if she was the whole world sitting in his arms. 

“Would you like to go out with me?” The words tumbled from her lips, bringing along a clenching sensation in her stomach. She had spoken this question many times before, to a different hedgehog, only to be reminded over and over of their friendship- and nothing more.

Shadow leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers. The tension in her released in a sigh. 

“Yes.”

“EEEEEEH!”

“WHOA!”

Snap, tumble, thud.

Sonic laid on his back, staring up at the blue sky. He briefly saw the bottom of Rouge’s boots as she took off into the air, going to hide amongst the top of the trees. His vision was suddenly filled with the face of a very angry hedgehog hybrid, staring down at him with disgust. 

When Shadow said yes to Amy, Rouge had squealed, making Sonic tumble forward. Sonic gulped. 

“You have two seconds to explain yourself.”

Sonic the Hedgehog, despite what Shadow thought, was actually pretty smart.  He knew when to run. 

Luckily for him, he also knew how to run. 

“See ya!”

He didn't need to look behind him to know that the black hedgehog was chasing after him. 

[serapharua]

୨୧ 一 BOYNEXTDOOR AS HYBRIDS

bnd ot6 — GENRE : imagines headcanon fluff hybrid au — WARNING : none — REQUESTED : nope. ☆ — BND MASTERLIST

note : these are all so easy to guess

SUNGHO as an orange cat hybrid :

Sungho has this vibe that’s neat, well-mannered, and thoughtful, but with just enough unpredictability to keep you on your toes. Orange cats are known for their slightly chaotic but lovable personalities, and while Sungho isn’t always loud or wild, he does have this mischief to him. He feels like the type who’ll politely side-eye you, quietly judge, and then do something subtly funny when no one’s expecting it.

He’s the kind of hybrid who always looks clean and put-together, sleeps in the sunniest spots, and acts aloof until he decides you’re worth his time. But when he does choose you, he’s surprisingly clingy, curling up beside you and giving soft purrs (or snarky remarks).

Also, yes, I do know that an orange cat isn't a breed of cat, just color type, and I'm mainly saying orange cat cause that stereotype fits him well, but if I had to give him a breed, then I think he’d be an Abyssinian cat breed.

♡ Meticulous groomer. Always neat.

♡ Sharp reflexes, likes observing others from a distance.

♡ Might act like he doesn’t care, but he notices everything.

♡ Gets annoyed when his nap is interrupted.

♡ Probably bites playfully but says, “I was just testing your reflexes.”

♡ Will show affection when no one else is around, secret softie energy.

He’s got that classic orange cat attitude

RIWOO as an otter hybrid :

Riwoo gives off soft, serene, and gentle vibes, like the calm ripples of a stream. He’s not loud or flashy, but his presence is comforting, almost therapeutic. Otters are known for being affectionate, clever, and low-key playful, which matches Riwoo’s subtle humor and warm nature.

He feels like the type of hybrid who loves small, cozy spaces, probably nestles under blankets, or curls up with his tail around him when he’s tired. He’s someone who needs time to open up, but once he trusts you, he becomes a loyal and slightly clingy companion, always nearby or subtly checking on you.

♡ Loves water, showers too long, bath times relaxing.

♡ Fidgets with objects: pebbles, pens, rings, classic otter behavior.

♡ Very touch-oriented when comfortable: shoulder leans, gentle hand-holding.

♡ Sensitive to loud noises or big crowds. Needs quiet recharge time.

♡ Carries emotional depth but expresses it in soft, nonverbal ways.

♡ Can be unexpectedly stubborn about tiny things, like a favorite mug or routine.

He’s the hybrid who swims around quietly, seems shy, and then suddenly dunks his friends underwater just to tease them, then pretends it wasn’t him.

JAEHYUN as a Labrador hybrid :

Jaehyun radiates the dependable, affectionate, and endlessly upbeat energy that’s a signature Labrador. Compared to the often silly golden retriever, Labradors tend to feel a bit more grounded, but just as friendly. They’re the ultimate companions: loyal, playful, emotionally intuitive, and always trying their best to make others feel good.

Jaehyun feels like the hybrid who shows up early to help, carries everyone’s bags without being asked, and makes sure no one’s left behind. He’s got a strong sense of responsibility, but he’s also incredibly goofy when he’s relaxed, tail wagging, eyes sparkling, ready to play or joke around.

♡ Makes friends with everyone. Even the shy ones love him.

♡ Natural protector, he checks in on people without making a big deal about it.

♡ A little clumsy when excited. Knocks over a water bottle, apologizes too much.

♡ Gets super motivated when praised. Becomes 10x more helpful.

♡ Probably loves snacks and would do anything for treats (or compliments).

♡ Learns quickly, especially when it means he can help the group.

He’s the kind of Labrador hybrid who’ll rest his head on your lap when you’re sad, then suddenly jump up and say, “Wanna go for a walk? Or ice cream?”, just to cheer you up. A soft heart in a sturdy frame.

TAESAN as a black cat hybrid :

Taesan has that distinct black cat energy: calm, cool, maybe a little aloof, but in a way that draws people in rather than pushes them away. There’s a quiet confidence to him, like he knows exactly who he is and doesn’t need to prove it to anyone. Black cats are mysterious, observant, and often misunderstood, which fits Taesan’s introspective and creative side.

He’s the hybrid who slips out of a room without anyone noticing, then shows up again with a thoughtful gift or an idea no one else thought of. Not overly talkative, but when he does speak, it lands, his words have weight, and his humor is dry and smart. He watches more than he speaks, but he notices everything.

For his breed, I of course am learning towards the Bombay cat breed, basically THE black cat. I see him having like medium length fur, he definitely would be annoyed if it were longer. I see Sungho to have fuller-looking ears and Taesan having kinda like thinner yet still fluffy ears. How a Bombay kitten looks.

♡ Likes dark corners, soft music, and quiet nights.

♡ Has a habit of staring intensely, but he’s just spacing out.

♡ Scary good memory. Remembers the thing you said three weeks ago in passing.

♡ Hates being told what to do, will ignore you on purpose.

♡ Rarely shows affection in public, but has a soft spot for certain people.

♡ Purrs? Maybe. If he really trusts you. But you’ll never hear it again.

He’s the black cat hybrid people whisper about, “I heard he only opens up to one person.” But he’s not cold. He just values connection deeply, and once he gives it, it means something.

LEEHAN (lion hybrid) :

Leehan has that quiet, noble presence that fits a lion hybrid to a T, not the loud, roaring kind of lion, but the calm, observant one who watches from a distance and only acts when necessary. Lions carry a natural grace and subtle dominance, which fits Leehan’s grounded, level-headed personality. He doesn’t beg for attention, but when he walks in, people notice.

There’s also this duality with Leehan: the composed “king of the jungle” exterior… and then moments of absolute softness, like a lion lazily rolling onto its back and batting at butterflies. His fans notice both sides, his mature, protective energy and his quirky, unexpectedly funny one.

♡ Very still. Doesn’t move unless he needs to. Majestic lounge mode.

♡ Protective over younger members, probably covers them with his jacket or stands behind them in crowds.

♡ Has a strong presence even when silent. Commands attention without trying.

♡ Will blink slowly at you when bored or unimpressed.

♡ Has “unusual interests” energy (aquariums, aliens, random trivia).

♡ Deeply loyal. If he considers you his pride, you’re family for life.

He’s the lion hybrid who seems unreadable at first, but once he opens up, you realize he’s thoughtful, incredibly observant, and kind of a dork in the best way.

WOONHAK (bear hybrid) :

Woonhak has all the energetic charm of a playful cub with the warm, comforting presence of a gentle giant in the making. Bear hybrids are known for being affectionate, expressive, and a little clumsy in the cutest way. That’s exactly Woonhak’s vibe: someone who’s big-hearted, goofy, and gives the best hugs, even if he accidentally knocks stuff over while doing it.

He’s the hybrid who bounds into a room, instantly lightens the mood, and then clings to his favorite people like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He’s very touch-driven, emotionally honest, and fiercely loyal. You’ll never have to wonder how he feels, he shows it, loud and clear (sometimes literally).

♡ Big reactions. Loud laugh, loud surprise, loud joy.

♡ Eats a lot. Always has snacks. Probably offers them to others constantly.

♡ Craves physical affection, hugs, leaning, grabbing hands, etc.

♡ Has a strong sense of fairness and will speak up if something feels wrong.

♡ Gets pouty when scolded but bounces back fast.

♡ If you’re sad, he’ll sit right next to you, even if he doesn’t know what to say.

Woonhak is the bear hybrid who’ll wrestle you for fun, then pull you into a bear hug after. He might growl when he’s annoyed, but he’s all warmth and softness underneath, especially with the people he loves most.

Word count : 1410 | serapharua, 2025.

[silence-ofthe-llamas]

Chapter 6 of Domino Milkshake!

Read here or on AO3!

(I also have no idea how to tag these things so?? Enjoy my furious yeeting at the void)

Jazz woke up feeling very warm and comfortable indeed.

He was slow to online, feeling abnormally groggy and lethargic. He racked his processor for information – was he on a mission? Had things gone terribly bad? But the fact that he was warm, comfortable, and not in any kind of pain suggested that he hadn’t been given the jump whilst on a mission. It was something else instead.

His visor slowly onlined, and he found himself having to restart it a few times before he fully understood what he was seeing.

How they both fit was completely beyond him, but for whatever reason, he was currently very much cuddled up to a very asleep Prowl, the other mech tucked into his shoulder, arm casually thrown over his waist.

He’d died. He’d died, and gone to join Primus in the well of allsparks. This is what it had to be, it couldn’t be anything else.

Prowl’s hand twitched and he made a quiet noise, shifting in his sleep to press closer to him. Jazz felt himself catapult straight into the upper stratosphere.

What had he done to be rewarded with this? Or what was he going to lose? Was this moment simply being dangled in front of him like a carrot? Was a cruel deity presenting him with what he so desperately wanted, only to rip it away at the last moment unless Jazz did as they wanted?

… He’d never seen Prowl look so… calm. His face, now that he had something to compare it with, always looked so stern and cold. But right now, it looked soft, and he wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch it, to trace his fingers down the curve of his cheek, the gentle slope of his nose, and plush lips. His optics, too – they were so much softer when Prowl was asleep, the blue a much softer glow-

Wait.

The two stared at each other in silence, Prowls systems audibly slowly coming online. His optics became brighter, more chilly and cold, and his face slowly, slowly turned a wonderful shade of pink.

“I am so sorry.” He spluttered, desperately untangling himself from Jazz and the duvet at once. It was all very uncoordinated and pitiful to watch, honestly – and if Jazz helped Prowl untangle himself from the trap that was the blanket, he didn’t make a show of it.

“I didn’t think we started off in the same berth.” Jazz couldn’t help but laugh.

“Me neither. Did I get confused and join you..?” Prowl looked up. No, that couldn’t be, that was his berth over there, and he was fairly confident that he’d left Jazz there the previous night.

“I must’ve joined you.” Jazz wriggled himself free, moving to be sitting upright by the pillow. Prowl slipped off beside him, stretching out his joints as he checked the time.

“Oh, frag!” He loudly swore, hopping on the spot in distress. “My shift starts in five kliks!”

“Best run.” Jazz languidly stretched, arms behind his head as he reclined backwards. “Wouldn’t wanna be late!”

“Jazz, you’re on shift too, remember? Ultra Magnus wanted to see you?”

Jazz felt his face fall, tugging on the structures enough to make it twinge. “Oh, fuck.”

A cruel deity indeed.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Apparently it had been rather funny to watch the two of them emerge from the same room and sprint in opposite directions, both looking somewhat worse for wear yet somehow refreshed.

“Good night?” Smokescreen teased as Prowl clocked in, chest heaving. He’d just made it.

“Jealousy isn’t a good look.” Prowl retorted, taking a moment to catch his breath. Primus, he really needed to work out more. A run like that would have been a walk in the park whilst he was with the Enforcers. Being a sedentary tactician was clearly not for him.

“Har de har.” Smokescreen sarcastically replied, shoving a datapad into his chest. “Here are your tasks for today. Read them extra carefully, okay?”

Prowl nodded as he took the datapad, suddenly more alert. Smokescreen had taken the time too tell him to read them extra carefully, even knowing the sort of mech he was – there had to be something in them that he absolutely could not afford to miss.

He sat at his own terminal before he even onlined the datapad, checking that no one was behind him before he unlocked it and read the files inside.

Smokescreen had presented him with four different scenarios, and each scenario had been assigned a different name.

Prowl. Redshift. Paragon. Step.

Ah. It clicked. Smokescreen had mentioned him requiring aliases – apparently, these were the mechs he’d be ghostwriting for. He recognised the names – Redshift, a spacecraft who worked down the hall from him. Paragon, a team mate of his. Turned into a motorcycle. Step, a frankly excruciatingly annoying mech who worked in the office opposite them who insisted he turned into a hovercraft but seemed more like a boat, in all honesty. It made perfect sense that they’d assign him the names of mechs who already existed, however how they would attribute these plans back to himself he didn’t know, or how they’d avoid these mechs catching wind of them and the fact that Prowl was pretending to be them.

Eh. Smokescreens problem.

He read through the first scenario, making a mental checklist, and set himself to work.

The end of his shift found him knocking on Smokescreens door, waiting to be invited in before entering.

“I finished my assignments for the day,” Prowl said, handing him a datapad, “And I think my coworkers forgot this. I’m not sure what’s on it, but I’d hate for them to have missed handing in an assignment.”

“Thank you, Prowl.” Smokescreen nodded, accepting both datapads. “I’ll check it over. Good work.” He placed both onto the table, the misplaced datapad on top. “Primus, you’re so fast...”

“The lowest success rate achieved today was 87%.”

“You’re really scary, did you know that?”

“So I am told.”

“All things aside, I’m glad you’re enjoying it here. And I’m very, very glad to have you on my team.”

“It is extremely enjoyable, I am finding I prefer it to battlefield tactics.”

“Careful, don’t let Ironhide hear you say that! He’s rather cross that I’ve poached you.”

“Ah, that explains the longing looks. Jazz was beginning to become concerned.”

Smokescreen roared with laughter. “He’s got nothing to worry about, you’re a good egg. Now, off with you. Your shift is over and I’ll not have you spend another klick in here if I can help it, Primus knows you’ll sneak into the filing cabinets and continue working. Like some kind of gremlin.”

Prowl snorted in disbelief. “You do it once…”

“Damn right I’ll never let you forget. Not so long as I breathe, dear brother of mine. I’ll see you bright and early, and on time, tomorrow.”

“I was on time today.” Prowl objected as he made to leave. “Just… out of breath.”

“Very out of breath. You were a mess.”

Prowl simply waved as he left, and then Smokescreen turned his attention to the datapads. He took the top datapad, the one Prowl had claimed had been left behind by a coworker, and onlined it.

Tsk. Bloody liar. It was his ghost writer work. He’d even written in the notes that it wasn’t urgent, and yet he’d still done it far, far ahead of the deadline. Very, very soon, they’d be running out of work to keep him busy with.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Jazz looked absolutely miserable that evening.

Prowl was collecting a cube in the rec room when he sensed Jazz sneak up behind him, and was about to turn and greet him, offering him the cube he had just collected, when he felt arms wrap around him and a warm face press into his back, just in between his doorwings.

It felt… very nice, actually.

“Can I come over tonight?” Jazz asked, voice muffled in his back.

“Of course. Are you okay?”

“Magnus is real cross with me.” Jazz whined.

“Here.” Prowl tapped Jazz’s hands with the cube he’d just collected. “Take this, we can drink it there.”

He took another one for himself after Jazz had released his hold on him to accept the cube.

Smokescreen watched the pair leave in disbelief, energon running down his chin and splashing on the table from where he’d gone slack jawed mid drink. What?!

“… What’s wrong with you?” Cliffjumper bluntly asked.

“My brother….” Smokescreen absently wiped the energon from his chin. “That cannot be my brother.” If he tried that, he’d find the barrel of a gun in between his optics – and they’d near enough grown up together. Bluestreak may have gotten away with it, but Prowl would definitely have wriggled away and physically held him at an arms length.

But Jazz? Jazz had been allowed to walk behind him, to stand behind him, to exist behind him, and to hug him. Prowl was the type to accept a very, awkwardly short hug from the front. You’d get five seconds if you were crying, maybe. Smokescreen began counting on his fingers. They’d known each other for a handful of groons at most – Prowl had mentioned that they’d met at their orientation to the Iacon base – and yet Jazz had already worked himself past Prowls thick, impenetrable walls and settled in rather nicely on the other side. For whatever reason, Prowl had let Jazz in.

But damn, if he wasn’t jealous.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Jazz looked at the crystals on the shelf, admiring them, whilst Prowl made the berths. They hadn’t had time to right them that morning. Tucked in behind a small purple crystal was a picture frame containing a photo of three young Praxians – one was oh so obviously Prowl, doorwings held high and taut, and another Smokescreen, the beginnings of that familiar grin and the easy going way he held himself, and in between them was a very, very young mech, clinging onto both of their hands for support as they tried to stand, frame grey with splashes of blue and red.

“Who’s that?” Jazz asked, pointing to them. Prowl peered over his shoulder at the photograph.

“That’s Bluestreak. I’m going to assume the other two don’t require any introduction.”

“Nah, you haven’t changed a bit.” Jazz teased. “A cute lil’ thing.”

Prowl snorted, turning away to continue righting the room. Jazz continued to study the photograph, picking it up from the shelf to get a better look.

They were in what he guessed by the sheer volume of crystals around them to be Praxus. Behind them were two elderly looking femmes, hands delicately placed on Prowl and Smokescreen’s helms. And behind them all stood a building, words in Praxian script written on it.

“What does it say?”

Prowl was very quiet for a moment. “The building?” He finally asked.

“Yeah. I can figure out a few sounds, but...”

“… It’s an orphanage.”

“Your creators died?”

“As far as I know.” Prowl fiddled absent mindedly with the edge of a blanket, sitting down on his berth as he finally took his energon cube from his subspace. “I never knew them.”

“But Bluestreak’s so much younger than you.” Jazz frowned at the photo.

“While I am flattered that you think we have familial resemblance, we’re not biological family.”

Jazz balked, rapidly looking between Prowl and the photograph. “Seriously?!”

“No.” Prowl couldn’t help but smirk in amusement. “None of us are.”

“Not even you and Smokey?” Jazz stared blankly into space. “I had no idea...”

“Not very many do.” Prowl replied, patting the berth next to him. “We all consider the other to be family, however, and that is what matters in the end, isn’t it?”

“I guess, yeah.” Jazz accepted the offer and plopped himself down next to Prowl after returning the photo to its rightful spot on the shelf. “So ya all managed to stick together?”

“We did.” Prowl nodded. “After Smokescreen aged out of the system, he took us both with him. I joined the enforcers, we raised Bluestreak.” Prowl shrugged. “All things considered, I think we turned out okay.”

Jazz whistled. “Doesn’t sound like you had much of a childhood.”

“That’s for another time, I think.” Prowl drank from his cube. “We are here for you, are we not?”

Jazz grimaced. “Magnus.”

“Magnus.” Prowl nodded.

“He gave me a lecture on the importance of punctuality. How he managed to stretch it to fit 2 whole joors without repeating a single word I do not know and I’m not willing to spend time pondering it. He then followed that up with another lecture on how being punctual, and able to sit still for long periods of time was what made a good Ops Agent.”

“I’ve seen your stats.” Prowl finished his cube. “You are excellent at what you do.”

“Not good enough, apparently.” Jazz sulked. “I’m missing too much, or getting injured too frequently.”

“Granted, me getting you blown up was not that great, but that is no reflection on you or your ability.” Prowl reached out and squeezed his hand. “Don’t let yourself become discouraged. I’m looking forwards to working with you.”

“I’ll do my best, Prowler.” Jazz squeezed his hand back. “Thank you.”

They stayed in a comfortable silence, their hands still intertwined on the berth between them, slowly drinking their cubes. Once he had finished, Jazz turned back to the crystals growing on Prowls shelf.

“That blue one’s growing real fast!” Jazz commented. “I’m so jealous, mine is still like an engorged egg.”

“A what egg?” Prowl snorted in laughter. “Engorged? I don’t think I have ever heard someone describe anything like that before.”

Jazz shrugged. “It was the best I could come up with to describe it. Not quite small enough to be an egg, but not big enough to be anything else.”

“And that was the best you could come up with?”

“In hindsight, not my best moment.”

“Apparently.” Prowl laughed again. “May I see it?”

Jazz seemed to fight with himself internally, before sighing and nodding. “I really wanted to wait until it got bigger, but I’m worried I’m doing something wrong now...”

“This is your first crystal, Jazz. There’s no shame in getting things wrong.”

“I know, but you took your time to explain how to do it to me, I wanna do it well.”

Prowl felt an odd stab of pride and affection. “You really don’t have to show me.”

“Nah, I will.” Jazz hopped up onto his feet and held his hands out to Prowl, wiggling his fingers. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

Prowl allowed Jazz to pull him up, being pulled by the hand as Jazz lead them through the base to his quarters.

“Ooh, lucky. The room’s empty.” Jazz said as he typed in the code to open the door. He pulled Prowl in behind him and left him by the door as he went over to his storage unit, unlocking it and removing the crystal.

Prowl felt a tight ball in his throat and a light, airy feeling in his chest when he saw it.

Red. Bright, bright red, and what was unmistakeably a new growth of a clear segment, called white in the business.

“Red is extremely rare.” He managed to choke out, engine spluttering. Jazz looked absolutely elated.

“Really?!”

He could only nod in response. Jazz happily jumped about the room, gushing excitedly about the crystal and how he’d been caring for it.

“I’ve been singing to it twice a day – when I wake up, and before I go to bed-”

“I think it missed its dose this morning.”

“Do you want me to sing to it now?”

“Please.” Any distraction away from how red his face was going, or the difficulties he experienced in keeping his face together would be extremely good right now, thank you!

Jazz sat on the berth, crystal in hand, and softly began to sing to it, the sound resonating within the crystal and being repeated back in a higher tone.

“That’s a perfect sound.” Prowl commented. Jazz’s voice faltered as he smiled, the two sharing a look before Jazz turned back to his crystal. Prowl watched in silent awe, for a moment considering himself the luckiest mech on the planet.

[julijbee]

girlbossing too close to the sun.

[sysig]

Skelekinz (Patreon)

[baeshijima]

ever since the 5.2 trailer this is all ive been able to think about

once again, the genshin pokemon au thoughts are running wild

excuse the mega long rant in tags bc i geeked out perhaps a lil too much abt pkmn au but ourghghg.... we do not talk abt how i spent at least an hour writing all this out....

[docsbestkissedoperative]

a ref of jeb i made for a thing i'm making teehee

(more thoughts in the tags bc i'm shy but his design is mostly based off of his mpn and live appearance! i got the idea to tear his lab coat up and finally decided to make his pants darker like his live action ver from @/fluffydeoxys' design and the elbow bandages from someone who gave him elbow pads but i can't find them SOBS.

i see his bandages as his way to keep himself together in some fear he'd come apart lol

also thought about the cross necklace from @/mersei47's design and it's on the mpn card of him! i did put some beads to make it appear a bit more rosary like but never able to finish even a single mystery on it. no one to reach out to but yourself now!)