#even in a weird parallel universe

[ghostcreaturetypething]

“Get out of the car.”

“I’m goin with you.”

“You’re just gonna slow me down.”

“Tough.”

“This is dangerous and you could get hurt.”

“Yeah, and so could you Dean.”

“Sam!”

“Look, whatever stupid thing you’re about to do, you’re not doing it alone, and that’s that.”

“I don’t understand, why’re you doin this?”

“Because you’re still my brother.”

“Bitch.”

“What’re you callin me a bitch for?”

“You’re supposed to say jerk.”

“What?”

“Nevermind.”

[raiseupyourbat]

Gonna be honest though human(?) is such a real thing to say about siffrin isat to me. I'm a one universe truther forever and always and I love the idea that isat siffrin is like. Some kind of construct from the universe, in a sense, who came into existence after loop's wish, to take their place in the loops. Almost like literal stardust, if you will

(though I've seen the idea around that sasasaap siffrin instead split into two resulting in isat siffrin and loop and that's cool too)

[frameconfessions]

I don't think the Technocyte Coda "boys" are the original On-Lyne boys. I think the originals are long dead and these things are cloned from leftover DNA like hairbrushes and things like that (like one of Amir's datamined emails mentions in the mall). We know the Orokin like trying to do longevity experiments and cloning experiments later on in the timeline and if Gregory V is Alad V's ancestor, the motivations would certainly line up.

[janamensch]

I lost the thread of what I actually wanted to depict with this halfway through the drawing but it’s okay, here’s Veselvena and her prince

[opens-up-4-nobody]

I feel like if I ever actually talked about the terror with people, the conversations would be profoundly unhinged.

[br1ghtestlight]

i love to make up horrible toxic fanon ships for my own ocs. its so funny 2 me and also interesting..... like every combination of characters that could conceivably happen i have thought about. some of them would 100% without a doubt make each other WORSE. some of them i genuinely think couldve worked if i had come up with them earlier and invested the time into their romantic relationship. some of them are actual jokes between my characters in "canon" bcuz specifically i think the idea of jayden thinking two is hot is funny Tbh. like he doesn't want u bro!!!!!! he barely even wants sunshine!!!!!

[anghimalaaynasapuso]

GYM CRUSH SIMON

sfw + nsfw. unsafe sex. womb fucking. no condom.

you never planned on becoming a late-night gym rat. it just …happened. like most things in your life, it started with good intentions and spiraled into something you weren’t entirely in control of.

you’d made a new year’s resolution to get in shape— because health, discipline, all that crap— and, in a moment of overzealous optimism, you splurged on a gym membership. a pricey one, to add. the kind that made your bank account cry, which meant quitting wasn’t an option.

there was only one problem. you were busy. between classes, assignments, and the absolute joke that was your sleep schedule, the only time you could consistently work out was well past normal human hours.

at first, the idea of hitting the gym at midnight felt… weird. like stepping into a parallel universe where only insomniacs and questionable life choices existed. but then you considered the alternative— going during peak hours and getting judged for your piss-poor form, or worse, waiting in line for machines behind a dude who was live-streaming his workout.

midnight schedule it was.

it grew on you eventually. the routine became second nature. drag yourself in after class, half-asleep, toss your bag into a locker, and start on the treadmill to wake yourself up. a slow warm-up, music blasting through your headphones, then a mostly half-hearted attempt at strength training.

the people who showed up at this hour were predictable. a few other students— dead-eyed, running on caffeine fumes. a handful of older folks, the dedicated ones who treated the gym like a sacred temple.

and then there was him.

tall. broad. built like something out of a military recruitment ad.

the first time you noticed him, you’d nearly tripped on the treadmill. one second, you were zoning out, staring at the clock, and the next�� there he was. buzz cut barely visible beneath the hood of his sweatshirt, arms thick with muscle, veins running down his forearms in stark lines. tattoos peeked from under his sleeves, black ink tracing the ridges of his skin.

(the combat boots were what threw you off. who the hell wore combat boots to the gym?)

he moved through his workout with terrifying

efficiency. no wasted movements, no unnecessary pauses. heavyweights. circuits. the kind of training that looked more like preparation for war than casual fitness. he never looked winded either. no gasping for breath, no pausing to rest, just relentless, controlled effort.

you developed a— not a crush— an appreciation for him. admiration. respect. that was it. not the way his hoodie stretched across his shoulders when he adjusted his grip on the barbell. not the way his jaw clenched in concentration. not the way his fingers wrapped around the weights with an ease that made you feel woefully inadequate.

“it’s a crush,” your friend announced one evening, stabbing a straw into his juice box.

you scoffed, flipping through your notes. “it’s not.”

“it is. i’m fit too, but i don’t see you staring at me like you wanna lick salt off my abs.”

you made a disgusted noise. “jesus, shut up.”

he grinned, tipping his juice box back dramatically. “i’m just saying. the fact that you haven’t even talked to him and yet know his entire workout routine is very-"

“i do not know his entire workout routine.”

your friend raised a brow.

you sighed. “…he does back and legs on tuesdays.”

his brow lifted higher.

“…and arms on thursdays.”

silence.

“right.”

“shut up.”

you’d considered talking to him. maybe asking for tips or making some awkward joke about his frankly ridiculous choice of gym footwear. but he didn’t exactly radiate approachable.

the man looked like he’d rather be waterboarded than engage in small talk.

and you? you weren’t some plucky rom-com protagonist who could charm the brooding loner into friendship with a dazzling smile and sheer force of personality. so, you kept your distance. which was fine. totally fine.

What the hell would you even say? “hey, nice pecs, can I bury my face between them?” he’d call the police on you.

so, you stayed quiet..

until the night you made the monumentally stupid decision to start lifting weights.

in your defense, it wasn’t entirely your idea. you were perfectly content with your usual treadmill-and-machines routine. but then your friend had to go and mock you.

“you’re paying for a full gym membership,” he said, flicking a fry at your forehead, “and you’re not even using the weight room?”

“i use it,” you protested.

“you walk through it.”

okay, fine. he had a point. which was how you ended up here, standing in front of a barbell, mentally preparing yourself to lift it like you were about to perform brain surgery.

you’d done your research— watched some youtube tutorials, read some articles. you knew the basics. foot placement. core engagement. not arching your back like a possessed demon.

you took a deep breath, squared your stance, wrapped your hands around the bar, and— nothing.

the bar didn’t budge.

you frowned, adjusted your grip. another deep breath. still nothing.

okay. you could do this. just, more force. maybe a little momentum. you planted your feet, sucked in a breath, and heaved—

"y’need a spotter?"

you startle so hard you nearly fall backward, breath catching as you whip around. close— he’s close, and jesus, he’s even bigger up close. broad shoulders, thick arms crossed over his chest, pale eyes flicking between you and the barbell like he’s already making peace with witnessing an injury. his hoodie is pulled up like always, shadows cutting sharp over the edges of his jaw, but there’s something vaguely unimpressed about his expression. braced for disaster.

you swallow. "uh."

his brow lifts, expectant, as if this is some kind of trick question. "that a yes or a no?"

"i-" your brain short-circuits. every ounce of confidence you had a second ago shrivels up and dies. "i totally got this."

he exhales sharply, something between a scoff and a sigh. he shifts his weight, one foot bracing slightly forward. "sure you do.

your face heats. you turn back to the barbell, fingers tightening around the metal, and pull. it lifts— barely. your arms burn, hands already sweating, but you’re stubborn. you have it. almost.

"you’re about to smash your fucking face in," he mutters.

you falter— just for a second— but that’s all it takes. your grip slips, the weight tilting. shit, shit, shit!

he moves fast. faster than you expect. before you can even panic properly, his hands brace yours, steadying the bar with zero effort. he’s strong, fingers wrapping over yours for a brief moment before smoothly guiding the weight back onto the rack like it weighs nothing. you stumble back, arms trembling from the strain, but he doesn’t step away yet, just watches you catch your breath.

"right," he says after a beat, stepping back. "now that you’ve definitely got it, mind if i give you some actual pointers?"

you blink up at him, still processing the fact that you almost died, and this guy just saved your life like it was nothing. "you train people?"

"no. just rather not watch someone crush their skull in." which is… fair, you suppose.

you wipe your sweaty palms on your leggings, trying not to look as embarrassed as you feel. "okay. please. teach me."

you and simon— you learn his name by the third day!— slowly fall into a routine, much to his chagrin. he hadn’t expected offering to help you not splatter brain matter across the gym floor would lead to... this. a persistent presence. a shadow in his periphery.

he doesn’t know how it happened, how you managed to wedge yourself into the one place he thought was untouchable, but somehow, you did. and now, you’re there. always. not in an overbearing way. you don’t talk his ear off or force yourself on him. if anything, you’re surprisingly easy to be around. and worse— comfortable. which is fucking dangerous.

a routine starts forming. he hadn’t expected that offering to help you not crush your own skull under a barbell would lead to… this. hadn’t expected that you’d still be here, three days later, four, a week, waving at him when he walks in, bright-eyed and warm despite the ungodly hour. he tries to keep you at arm’s length, really, he does.

but you’re not loud. you don’t force yourself on him. you don’t pry or try to push past his walls— you just exist, alongside him, like it’s a natural thing in the world. you ask him questions, ease him into conversations so seamlessly that sometimes he doesn’t even notice he’s talking until he’s already halfway into answering.

"you ever listen to anything in those headphones?"

he glances at you, then down at his battered over-ear set, blinking like he’d forgotten they were even on. "sometimes."

you hum, stepping up to adjust your weights. "what kinda music?

he hesitates. "depends."

"on?"

"the day."

you narrow your eyes. "that’s not an answer."

"sure it is."

you mutter something under your breath about how “everyone in this gym is allergic to giving a straight answer,” but drop it— he notices that about you. you ask, but you never push. never press. you’re content with whatever he gives, and somehow that makes him want to give you more.

it’s little things at first. small details. he learns that you hate most protein juices but drink it anyway, that you run cold so you always wear a hoodie even when you’re sweating through it, that you hate country music and give him a long, horrified look when you learn that he doesn’t. ("not all of it," he defends, rolling his eyes. "some of it’s alright." you just shake your head at him like he’s beyond saving.)

you learn things too. that his tattoos are actually a full sleeve ("when’d you get these?" "over time." "wow, thanks, that clears so much up."), that he has an endless supply of grey hoodies and sweatpants that he refuses to explain.

"you ever heard of color?" you ask, plucking at his sleeve, and he swats your hand away. "practical," he grunts. "s’not a fuckin’ fashion show."

and then— of course— you fixate on the boots. the combat boots. “okay, but why?” you prod, nudging the toe of his boot with yours. “you know you can wear actual gym shoes, right?”

he gives you a flat look, expression unreadable under the shadow of his hood. “they’re my only pair.”

you freeze. your face twists, and there’s this flicker of genuine horror in your eyes that throws him completely off guard. “simon... are you... homeless?” your voice drops to a whisper, hesitant, like you’re afraid to even ask. his brain short-circuits. he smacks you lightly over the head, more shocked than anything.

"what the fuck- no, i'm not homeless, jesus."

you rub the spot with a pout, still eyeing him like you're not completely convinced. “well, i don’t know,” you mumble.

“you wear the same thing every day, never see you with a bag or a wallet or-”

“drop it.”

“-you don’t even buy pre-workout, simon, who does that-”

“drop it.”

some days, he comes into the gym in a mood. the kind where his head is full of static, his skin prickling with the restless need to exhaust himself into oblivion. those are the days he doesn’t want to talk. doesn’t want to be seen. and you— you notice. you don’t come up to him, don’t pester him or try to joke around like normal. instead, you just stand off to the side, watching him with this soft, wide-eyed expression like some kind of kicked puppy.

it’s unbearable.

like an itch under his skin that won’t go away. it eats at him, gnaws at the edges of his concentration, and before he can help it, he’s groaning and gesturing you over with a sharp flick of his fingers. “for fuck’s sake, just get over here already.”

you grin like you’ve won something, practically bouncing on the balls of your feet as you jog over, and he regrets it immediately.

you bring him coffee sometimes. at first, he doesn’t know how to react. he just stares at it when you shove the cup into his hands, blinking down at the little scribbled name on the side like it’s some kind of foreign object. he doesn’t even like sugary coffee, but he drinks it anyway.

the next day, guilt eats at him, so he shoves a protein shake into your hands, unwilling to meet your eyes. "s’only fair."

you squint at it, shake the bottle, listening to the liquid inside slosh around. “what’s in it?”

he scoffs. "fuckin’ cyanide."

you take an exaggerated sniff before grinning. “smells like peanut butter.”

his eye twitches. “just drink it.”

and then, somehow, that becomes a thing, too. a habit. every other day, one of you brings the other something— coffee, protein shakes, the occasional energy drink when you can tell he’s running on fumes.

one night, the gym is nearly empty. just the hum of air conditioning, the occasional clink of metal, the low buzz of some forgotten playlist over the speakers. the late hour has driven most people out, leaving only you and simon.

you’re exhausted, arms shaking, muscles burning with that deep, satisfying ache, but you’re pushing for one more rep. just one.

simon stands behind you, watching through the mirror. arms crossed, weight shifted slightly forward. tracking every movement, every shift in your stance, the way your hands tighten around the bar.

"you're on fumes," he mutters, but steps closer anyway, close enough that the heat of him presses against your back.

you roll your shoulders, shake out your wrists. “i got it.”

he exhales sharp through his nose, scoff and sigh rolled into one, but he doesn’t argue. just moves in, bracketing your sides, his presence steadying.

"alright," he murmurs, watching as you adjust your grip.

you brace yourself, pull, and the weight barely moves. your arms burn immediately, tendons screaming under the strain. your grip shifts, fingers trembling, slipping—

his hands are there. firm and certain, sliding just beneath yours, adjusting your hold without taking over. his chest nearly against your back, his breath warm against the top of your head.

"fix that grip, sweetheart."

you do, fingers locking down harder, shoulders bracing. he doesn’t let go, not fully, his palms ghosting over your forearms, steadying you just enough.

"lock it out," he says, quiet but insistent. his hands shift, one flattening against your stomach, the other hovering at your ribs, like he can feel where the tension is pulling wrong, where you need to engage. "push through. i’ve got you."

your breath stutters, something curling low in your stomach, and you force everything into that last pull, dragging the bar up, arms shaking, until you finally lock it out.

his fingers press in, just briefly, a quick squeeze at your ribs. "good."

you hold it for a second before guiding the weight back down, slow and controlled. the second it racks, your body gives, arms dead, shoulders screaming.

you stumble, just a little, and his hands are already there, catching at your waist. warm. solid. fingers pressing in just enough to steady you. they linger, just a second too long.

and then— "good girl."

barely above a murmur, just breath and heat against your skin, but it slams through you all the same.

your stomach tightens. your pulse jumps. you freeze.

you turn, still breathless, muscles trembling from exertion.

and he’s right there. solid. massive. crowding you. broad chest rising and falling, sweat clinging to the fabric stretched over muscle. too close, heat rolling off him, sinking into your skin, and making your stomach twist. up close, he’s all sharp lines and thick muscle, biceps flexing slightly as he rolls his shoulders back, tilting his head down to look at you.

"don’t-" your voice breaks. you swallow hard. "don’t do that."

simon’s brow lifts, lazy. "don’t do what, sweetheart?"

your fingers twitch at your sides. you gesture vaguely, heat curling up your spine. "that. the- the praise."

his mouth quirks, amusement flickering at the edges. "what, telling you you’re doing good?"

"yes."

he makes a sound low in his throat. "why? thought you liked it."

you try to start a defense, but he steps closer, and fuck, there’s nowhere to go.

"you did so good," he murmurs. his hand lifts, brushing over the curve of your waist. "pushed yourself real hard. took every single rep like a good girl."

your breath catches and oh, does he catch on to that.

"you like hearing that, don’t you?" his fingers curl, pressing into your hip. "knowing i’m right there, watching you, making sure you finish strong."

low, warm, approving—

"bet that’s why you pushed so hard," he continues, like he’s musing to himself. "just to hear me say it. just to make me proud."

simon’s eyes flicker to the vein in your neck. his other hand lifts, brushing a damp strand of hair away from your face, slow, almost tender.

"say it, sweetheart," he murmurs. "let me take care of you.”

“please.”

the rest of the gym is a blur. you don’t even register leaving, don’t remember how you end up outside, only that simon’s hand is wrapped tight around your wrist, dragging you through the parking lot with a single-minded purpose. the concrete expanse is empty except for simon’s truck parked just underneath a street lamp.

simon hauls you into the backseat, the door slamming shut behind him. the truck rocks with the force of it, windows already fogging, the stale scent of leather and the last remnants of his cologne in the air. the streetlights outside cast a dim glow that cuts through the darkness in thin streaks, glinting off the sweat at his temples.

his hands are on you before you can think. rough, impatient. he grabs your hips, yanks you into his lap, drags you down until you crash against him. the heat of him burns through every layer between you.

his hips roll up.

you jolt, hands flying to his shoulders, gripping tight as the thick shape of him grinds against your clit. even through the fabric, you feel everything— the ridges, the weight, the solid pressure slotting perfectly against you.

he does it again.

your breath catches, legs tensing where they straddle his thighs. you try to move, to adjust, but his hands flex, fingers digging in, keeping you pinned where he wants you.

"shh," simon hushes, arm against your skin, grip tightening as he forces you down harder, thighs flexing beneath you. "let me feel you."

his hips drag against you and you react before your brain can catch up, instinct driving you forward, grinding down, chasing the pressure.

his breath stutters, shoulders tensing as he watches you move. the friction grows slicker, hotter, the damp fabric sticking between you.

you glance down— and then you see it. his sweats, darkened, soaked where you grind against him, your arousal leaking through, making a mess of him.

"fuck-"

he exhales sharply, hands shifting, one palm smoothing down your thigh before gripping, pulling you into him.

"that’s it." he’s almost slurring his words now, his hips rolling up to meet yours. "so fuckin’ wet..."

your nails bite into his arms, your body working without thought, hips rolling, pressing down harder. the truck shifts with every movement, the worn leather seat creaking beneath you.

"fuck, baby." his lips brush your jaw. "so messy. feel that?"

you nod frantically and his cock jumps at your eagerness.

his patience snaps.

one moment you’re grinding down against him, chasing the delicious friction, and the next you're scrambling for purchase as he lifts you.

simon shoves his sweats down, and his cock springs free, slapping up against his stomach. it's thick. throbbing. the flushed tip leaking pre, smearing along the ridges of his abs, catching in the dim of the streetlights.

he’s big. not just in length— though fuck, he’s long enough to make your stomach clench— but thick, too. veins run along the shaft, disappearing beneath the flushed, ruddy skin. the head is a deep, aching red, fat and swollen, leaking so much it dribbles down, streaking along his cock, mixing with the slick mess you’ve already made on him.

the weight of him makes his cock hang low even as it twitches, pulsing with the rush of blood. it looks almost angry, the veins along the base throbbing, his whole cock flexing with each slow pump of his fist as he strokes himself, spreading the mess of precum along his length.

simon watches your expression shift, pleased. "knew you’d like that.”

he's teasing but you barely hear it. your eyes stay locked on him, pulse hammering as you take in the sheer size, the stretch you’re about to take—

he shifts his grip, one arm wrapped around your waist, the other around his cock. your hips twitch, instinct making you reach for him, trying to press forward, but he holds you back, squeezes to get your attention.

"look at that..” simon presses the head of his cock against your stomach, dragging it up, smearing wet along your skin. "gonna take all this, yeah? let me stretch that little cunt open?"

"yes- yes, please-"

"fuck." his breath shudders, his hold on you tightening. "greedy thing."

he yanks you forward, spreads your legs wider, fits himself between your thighs, grinds his cock through your slit.

the first press makes you jolt, your whole body twitching, a choked sound slipping from your throat. he groans, gripping your waist, shoving you down, rubbing your swollen clit against the head, dragging himself through your slick over and over again.

"desperate," he muses, almost cruel. "thought you could take me just like that?"

you try to answer, try to say something, but your brain doesn't work, body too busy chasing relief, hips jerking, cunt aching, a mess of whimpers spilling from your lips.

his cock is heavy against your stomach, his tip leaving a damp streak along your skin as he drags it upward. the grip he has on your waist is firm, fingers pressing deep into your flesh, keeping you still, making sure you see exactly how much of him is about to disappear inside you.

“look at that,” he murmurs, lilted by something dark and pleased. “gonna fit all this inside, yeah? stretch that little cunt open real nice for me?”

your breath shudders in your throat. the weight of him, the sheer size, sends a pulse of heat through you, thighs trembling where he holds them apart. he presses his cock higher, smearing himself over your navel, dragging slow just to watch the way your stomach flexes beneath him.

simon's fingers tighten at your hips, anchoring you in place. his eyes flick up, locking onto yours. “still want it?”

you can’t nod fast enough, hands fisting in the hard muscle of his shoulders, your pulse drumming against your ribs. “yes-”

he huffs a quiet laugh before shaking his head. then he moves, his hands shifting to your waistband. simon doesn’t take his time, doesn’t tease— just yanks your shorts down in one rough motion, shoving them past your thighs, tossing them aside like they’re nothing.

your panties are soaked through, the thin fabric clinging to your skin, darker where arousal has seeped into it. his gaze drops, and he groans, fingers flexing against your thighs.

his eyes practically shine as he reaches down, hooking two fingers into the waistband, pulling the fabric to the side instead of taking it off completely. “how long have you been sittin’ here all wet for me, huh?”

then, without warning, he lifts his cock and slaps it against your cunt. the obscene sound echoes between you.

you jolt, a sharp gasp catching in your throat. the weight of him presses down, drags over your swollen folds, smearing your slick along the length of him, leaving him just as messy as you.

simon's breath hitches, jaw going tight for a moment before he grins. “feel that?” he rocks his hips, slow and deliberate, the ridge of his head catching against your clit with every motion. “soaked for me. filthy girl.”

he keeps at it, rutting through your folds, dragging his cock against you in long, teasing glides. every lazy roll of his hips spreads more wetness between you, slick growing messier, needier, your arousal coating every inch of him.

his voice drops lower, almost awed. “you always this wet?”

you shake your head. you're not even sure why you're this wet. it’s obscene, every slow slide of him making a sticky, wet sound, the kind that makes your face burn with embarrassment.

his grip on your thighs tightens. he presses against you harder, lets his cock drag through the mess, smearing it everywhere, making it worse.

“just for me then?” he asks, watching the way his cock glistens, slick with everything you’ve given him. “i kind of like that.”

he lines himself up, pressing the thick, leaking tip against your aching entrance. he lets it catch there for a second, teasing, before dragging it up one last time, rubbing against your clit, watching you twitch beneath him.

then he settles back down, pressing again, the heavy weight of him poised to sink inside.

his eyes flick back to yours. “gonna let me in now, yeah?”

the first push is a mistake. he realizes it the second you tense up, sucking in a sharp breath, thighs trembling where they’re spread over his lap. his cock barely breaches you— just the tip, barely an inch— and your body locks up, refusing to take more.

simon grits his teeth, hands firm on your waist, trying to ease you down, but you’re too tight, squeezing around him like you’re trying to push him out. the head of his cock throbs where it’s barely inside you, thick and unyielding, stretching you too much, too fast.

he exhales through his nose, slow and measured, and tries again. rocks his hips, nudging deeper, letting you feel the weight of him pressing in. but you whimper, body trembling, nails biting into his skin. your walls clench down hard, resisting, and—

he stops. groans, and drops his head back against the seat.

"jesus christ." his palm drags over his face. "knew you were tight, but- fuck. you’re not gonna take me like this."

your face burns. your throat aches. frustration coils hot in your chest. "i’m sorry-"

"oh, sweetheart." simon's hands slide up your back, rough palms smoothing over your skin before he leans back, head tilting, eyes flicking over you. half amused, half exasperated. "you apologizing for having a cunt this tight?"

you sniffle, shifting in his lap, arousal sticky between your thighs. "but i wanted to-"

"you will." his voice is steady, calm, but his grip on your hips tightens. "just gotta take my time, yeah? don’t want you cryin’ when i finally get this cock in you."

you sniff again, blinking up at him, vision blurred, lips parted. "too late."

he huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "fuckin’ hell."

then his hands are moving again, trailing lower, fingers slipping between your slick folds, pressing in slow.

you jolt at the touch, a sharp, wrecked little sound catching in your throat. simon groans, watching the way you twitch in his lap.

"fuck, baby. so sensitive. all worked up and nowhere to put it, huh?"

you nod, heat crawling up your neck, hips jerking as he rubs slow, lazy circles over your clit. his fingers are thick, rough, dragging through the mess between your thighs, teasing, pressing just enough to make your breath stutter.

"s’not fair," you mumble.

"life’s not fair, sweetheart." his fingers press in again, pushing deeper. one first, stretching you open, curling inside. then another. then a third. his other hand stays on your thigh, keeping you spread, holding you open so he can watch the way you take him.

"gotta get you nice and open." his voice low and warm. "don’t want you breakin’ on me just yet."

you whimper, rocking into his hand, clenching down around his fingers. your clit throbs under his thumb, swollen and aching, every slow grind of his palm sending another shudder through you.

"shh. just let me do this for you, yeah?"

you do. trembling, gasping, grinding down, taking everything he gives until you’re loose, slick, ready.

when he pulls his fingers out, you whine, walls fluttering around nothing.

then his cock is back, pressing against your entrance, thick and hot, teasing for only a moment before he pushes in—

you take him.

the stretch is unbearable. every inch forces you open, slow and deliberate, the thick drag of him pressing deeper than anything ever has. your breath stutters, body shaking, thighs trembling where they rest over his.

"fuck, sweetheart," he groans, voice tight, hands gripping your hips, keeping you still, keeping you from pulling away. "you feel that? squeezing me so fuckin’ tight."

you do. every ridge, every vein, the slow, impossible push of him splitting you open, inch by inch, pressing deep— then he stops.

breath stuttering, you blink at him, dazed, confused, still so empty. "w-why-"

"baby," his voice is almost pained. "m’pressing right up against your cervix. can’t go any deeper."

but it’s not enough. you whimper, hips twitching, shifting to take more, to sink lower. "but i still feel empty, si.."

his jaw clenches, fingers digging into your thighs, trying to keep you still, stopping you from punching a fucking hole through your guts. "jesus, sweetheart. you don’t know what you’re askin."

"please," you breathe, eyes glassy, desperate. "si, please, want all of you-"

he groans, head dropping back against the seat, restraint hanging by a thread. "fuck."

then his grip tightens, and before you can say another word, he forces you down the rest of the way.

"oh-oh my god-" your whole body shakes, a strangled moan ripping from your throat as the thick head of his cock breaches your cervix, slipping into your womb, stuffing you full.

simon grunts, the squeeze of you making his vision blur for a second. "jesus fuckin’ christ."

the moment he bottoms out, your walls clamp down, fluttering, pulsing around him— the pleasure snaps without warning, white-hot, rolling through you all at once.

"fuck- fuck, baby." he curses, the squeeze of your cunt almost painful. his half-lidded eyes are trained on where the two of you connect, the way you gush around him, soaking his cock. "just from takin’ me all the way? filthy fuckin’ thing-"

he huffs a rough laugh, fingers flexing against your hips, appreciating the extra slick easing the way. "makes it easier, at least," he mutters, then starts to move.

it’s slow at first— just enough to let you feel it, to make you ache through the thick drag of him pulling back, just enough to let you whimper at the sheer pressure of his cock pressing against every swollen, overstimulated inch of your cunt.

but you’re already gone.

your lashes flutter, your lips part around soft, wrecked little sounds, your hips twitching even though he’s holding you down, even though you’re already stuffed so fucking full.

"look at you," he murmurs, dragging a palm up your belly, pressing down right where he’s so deep, groaning when he feels the outline of himself inside you. "fuckin’ cock-drunk already, sweetheart?"

you sob, thighs squeezing around his waist, hands grasping at him, trying to find something to hold onto as your hips jerk, rolling forward mindlessly, instinct driving you to take more, take everything.

he groans, gripping your jaw, tilting your face up so he can see all of it.

"can’t even talk, can you? too fuckin’ dumb to think straight."

"s-simon-"

"what, love? too far gone already?"

his smirk is wicked, his grip tight as he presses his hips up, spearing you open all over again.

you scream, body jerking, back arching, thighs trembling around him. "ohh- oh fuck-"

"there we go." his voice is full of praise, full of something dark and indulgent. "there’s my good girl."

he sets a slow rhythm, dragging his cock out until only the thick head is inside you before slamming all the way back in, spearing you open, making sure you feel it, making sure you take every inch.

"bloody hell," he mutterd, feeling the way your walls squeeze him, the way you shudder, the way you drip around him, slick gushing, soaking his cock, ruining his seats.

"listen to that, sweetheart," he groans, shifting his grip, spreading his knees just a little wider to pin you in place. "fuckin’ mess you’re makin."

he glances down, eyes nearly rolling at the sight— your cunt stretched wide around him, slick dripping down to his balls, pooling beneath you.

"christ, love." he has to gasp for breath. "fuckin’ leaking all over me- ruinin’ my fuckin’ truck-"

"s-simon-" you lose your train of thought, babbling incomprehensible strings of words.

"can't think?" simon's grin sharpens. "good. don’t need you thinkin."

then he fucks you properly.

[malachitezmeyka]

Since I posted my mermaid AU fic 38-ish hours ago I received three comments on it from people I don't know and I honestly have no idea how to react to it

[angelcatsiel]

ooof there goes my dad pissing me off with his opinions again

[boogiewoogieweeb]

I'm not saying The Terror in general and Joplittle specifically have definitively given me permanent brain rot but I am finding it funny that I'm picking up parallels and similarities with both in a series as far removed from it as Netflix's Blue Eye Samurai

[deadsetobsessions]

Danny Fenton is so damn sick of rich fruit loops. It’s worse now, since he’s one of them.

It’s not Vlad that he’s with, thank the Ancients, but Danny isn’t sure that this is better.

Because he’s Timothy Drake, a baby, and he’s been reincarnated after the Ancient of Reincarnation accidentally drank too much wine.

He’s going to kick their ass so hard when he gets back.

Danny huffs. He rolls over, ignoring the silent manor. Sure, he’s read the comics. Sure, he laughed and imagined being adopted by Batman- come on, Danny had black hair and blue eyes even back then, he was totally adoption bait- when his parents gave him reason to lose trust in their love. But that’s it, that’s all he thought it was. A day dream, a wish for a universe that didn’t exist.

Danny hadn’t understood the reality of the whole Infinite Realms thing, a place he was now the King of. Batman? Real. Danny? Reincarnated. Hotel? Trivago.

Like, this wasn’t what he meant, dammit.

And now he’s stuck as Timothy Drake, and Ancients, he was starting to see parallels.

——

Danny tried photography. He really did. He wanted to at least stick to the source material. But that’s not who he is. Even with the shiny new brain that memorized, catalogued, and put together clues at the snap of his fingers, but Danny’s never been one to take photos. It’s a respectable art, for sure, but Danny preferred to live in the moment instead of capturing it to remember forever. It’s just-

He watched the Graysons fall. He watched Dick Grayson turn into Robin. And Danny can’t and won’t ever betray his Obsession like that, ever again. He can’t let Jason die for his “story” to begin. That’s not how Danny works.

He’s there to protect.

Danny hasn’t ever been just Tim. Danny was also Tim and the Ghost King without a haunt. But now? Gotham is his haunt. He, in lieu of an actual city spirit, is Gotham. He’s also a Drake. And Drakes were meant to hoard.

Batman and Robin? They are his.

He claimed them, as a Drake. But that claim is weak. So he claimed them as their city, and that is a claim that will never be able to be challenged.

Danny’ll be damned before he allows some lanky starved clown beat the life out of one of his Robins. So, for the first time in his nine years on this planet, Tim-Danny goes ghost and flies.

“Who- who. Are you?” Robin slurred from his place in Danny’s hold. He is broken, yes. But not dead. Danny infuses some of his vitality, his ecto, into Jason’s injuries to help them heal.

“Gotham.” Danny replied, layering his ghostly voice with those of the city.

“Goth’m?”

“Gotham. Sleep, little bird. Your city has got you.”

When Robin, Jason, settled with a sense of trust that tugs at Danny’s core, Danny carried him to Batman, whose eyes were wild and manic. He glared menacingly at the green and white ghost in front of him, who was holding his broken and beaten son-

Well, it’d be menacing if Danny hadn’t watched him eat bricks and mortar, crashing into a building while using his grappling gun.

“You-”

“I am Gotham.” Danny cut him off. Despite his wary nature and natural paranoia, Batman settled at his city’s gaze rested on him. Danny knew that Batman recognized his city. Batman’s head bowed, but his eyes stayed on Robin. “You were supposed to take care of Robin.”

“I- I know.” And that voice was all Bruce Wayne the Dad instead of Batman the Vigilante. Danny gently placed Robin in Batman’s arms, taking in the tremors as he held his son close.

“Go back, Bruce. And make sure Jason knows how much you love him.”

He laughed as Bruce whipped his head upwards. “I am your city. You are mine as much as I am yours. I’ve known of you before you were born.”

Technically? Not untrue. But Bruce will chalk it up to weird magic shit. It’s not like it’s a secret that Gotham’s kind of curse. Besides, this way, Danny will be able to help out more often. And Bruce won’t be able to connect Tim Drake to the “Spirit of Gotham.”

“Return, my knight. This is not your city. I can not protect you as well as I can in Gotham.”

“Thank you… Gotham.”

Danny sighed. He wondered when he’ll have to field questions from a John Constantine. He’s pretty sure Bruce will call in magical help, even if it was his own city he was investigating.

Batman’s lucky Danny liked him enough to allow it.

[sheeezu]

Things to expect when you've mastered shifting

This isn't the normal "oh you'll feel on top the world" kind of post which just hypes up everything and the sole purpose is to motivate. This is (???) the logistics, the indepth version of what you'll face psychologically.

I've shifted close to about a hundred times, whether it was from this reality, or shifting within a reality I shifted.

This is all from my personal experience, you might experience differently.

⋆ Disassociation: when you shift back to your original reality, you'll often times confuse both reality's memory, of course, we all know this, doesn't matter if you shifted or not. But what I've seen no one talk about is that sometimes events and certain objects from your DR will unintentionally manifest into your CR, just because of how deeply rooted they become in your subconscious. For example, I had maybe mentioned this somewhere else, but in my DR I had scripted expensive china cups, which broke on my second day being there. Well two weeks ago my family was gifted the same teacups (some details were off) and one of them managed to get a crack in them after we served the guests tea in it.

⋆ Weird Dreams: Not only is the concept of the dreams weird, but overall mechanics of it are unusual as well (I didn't shift unconsciously in my dreams, that's one boundary I've established)

For example, dreams with people claiming to know the future, telling me, and it coming true the next day, but it being minor details, people from my DRs channeling me, dreams which involves falling out of reality/finding the end of the multiverse.

Dreams which involves me floating, strong winds which blow away entirely of the void reality (CR), I had started getting this dream since I've wanted to permashift, the wind is so strong and I feel it, I'm usually at my college and or doing a mundane activity in my current reality, everything dissapears and I end up in the void state for the rest of the night.

Once my S/O visited me in my dream, he asked me to come back home, it was a lucid dream so I consciously agreed because I couldn't deny him; ended up in my home reality.

⋆ Feeling weirdly sad about your CR: this one might be personal to me. truth be told, I haven't studied a single day since I've successfully shifted. This year all of my classmates and age fellows are going to start looking at university applications, the ones they mention are usually universities I used to dream all day long about getting into, when I didn't know about shifting. It forms a pit in my heart, the passion I once used to have regarding hardwork by investing blood sweat tears into studying, pinterest board filled with quotes such as "some dreams are worth more than my sleep" not stirring anything within me. It's not that I think I can't get these things, i know i can just shift to a parallel reality and get it, but I just don't want to, I don't feel the same about this reality anymore, slowly letting it go, no matter how much I try to cling onto it, I know I was never meant to be here.

⋆ Personality changes: When you become an expert at shifting its no question that you'd shift very frequently. Those DR selfs would influence your personality, and people can think you're developing a split personality disorder.

Take me as an example, if you look at the posts on my blog, you'd notice a different tone in each one of them, some are in a more softer tone and the others feel clinical.

⋆ Putting your DR family first, even though they're not here: I don't know how to explain this one, so I'd just take an example out of my own experience again.

I was out shopping with my mother for sweaters, the ones we were coming across were really good quality, but I could only think of my S/O, she was pointing out the things she thought I'd like, but I kept looking at the men's sweater, subconsciously trying to pick one out for him, which weirded my mother out slightly.

...

Why am I crying.

Anyways I have planned to permashift out of this reality before new year, it was my childhood dream to blog, but I was too shy to do so and never had anything common with anyone. But I've finally completed the final thing on my list, alongside with meeting my cousin who I adored, I decided to add her to my DR.

That's it, I'll go on and answer the 50 asks in my inbox.

...

[akanemnon]

TWIN RUNES MASTERPOST

Because of the limited amount of links you can put into a post, you can find the links to each page in these sub-posts:

To be continued...

FAQ under the cut!

TWIN RUNES MINI COMICS

Glasses - Frisk Dance - But nobody came - An acquired taste -Smalltalk - All You Can Eat - Page 75 EXTRA - Page 84 EXTRA - Kris the Detective - Don't Try This at Home

AFTER RUNES:

Not-To-Do-List - Beach Episode - Salute the Frick - Morning Routine - The Universe is a Hologram - Trick as a Treat - Taste the Painbow - Dungeon Doofus - Tour de Nope - Explosive Start - Conveniently shaped... - Sibling Bonding - Home for Iinfite Avoidance - Be Mine Moss - Canine Collision - FUUUUUUTUREEEEE - Nontendi - Mango - Normal Human Interaction

PRE-RUNES:

Fallen down - First steps - Press [C] - Eye opening - Whatstheirface - This Nugget is Not in Service Acid reflux - Connection issues - Normal Human Behavior - Hide and Squeaky Clean

TWIN ROOMIES:

______________________________________________________________

TWIN RUNES - FAQ

What exactly is this AU about? Twin Runes is essentially a comedic crossover AU between the universes of Deltarune and Undertale. No fancy nicnacs. Just the characters being their chaotic selves. But there might be some darkness lurking up ahead... ____________________

When is the next comic? The comic updates most Sundays at 6:30 PM Central European Time. ____________________

Why is this AU called Twin Runes? The name is more or less a play on the typical naming format of most AU's by featuring the "Runes" part. There are no literal Twin Runes. The whole name is more of a stand in for Undertale and Deltarune as parallel worlds. Hence the "Twin" part. ____________________

When does Twin Runes take place? This AU takes place between a hypothetical Chapter 3 and Chapter 4 of Deltarune. On the Undertale side of things, it takes place post neutral route just as Frisk was about to deliver Undyne's letter to Alphys.

How many pages are there going to be? The script for this comic estimates that the comic is going to be 137 pages long (if I don't make any major changes). ____________________

What software do you use to make your art/the comic? I use Clip Studio Paint. ____________________

Is the Player a thing in this AU? The Player(s) lost control over both human children as soon as Frisk entered the world of Deltarune. Essentially, the reader takes on the role of the Player. You have no influence on the outcome of the story anymore. All you can do is watch. Both Kris and Frisk refer to the Player as "It" and "the THING". ____________________

Is there going to be a Weird Route? Due to the lack of Player, all choices made by Kris are now their own. How to engage in battle all depends on Kris, and not the Player. Because of that, there are NO DIFFERENT ROUTES. There is only one route and that one is based on Kris' choices. Because of the lack of save points, there is no "what-if" scenario. ____________________

When Chapter 3 and 4 are released, will it affect the story? Any chapters after Chapter 3 won't affect the story in the grand scheme of things. Twin Runes created a new timeline so to speak. UPDATE: We are nearing the final arc of the story. The script has been long completed and is set in stone. Even with Chapter 3 and 4's release there is no way for me to incorporate anything from Chapter 3 (read the rest of the FAQ) into the story without making a mess of things. Yes, that also includes your favorite character Pluey. UPDATE OF THE UPDATE: Since Twin Runes was created before Chapters 3 and 4, there are bound to be inconsistencies going forward!Luckily, this is an AU, and I designed it to be purposefully off in some parts because I knew I would inevitably be wrong!!!! So no. There won't be any references to Chapter 3 in the comic going forward (since the story takes place between a hypothetical Chapter 3 and 4 [so not the canon ones]) And it won't be moved downwards the timeline. ____________________

How old are the characters in this story? Frisk appears to be around 9 years old. Kris thinks they're 14. (Both Frisk and Kris don't know their actual age.) Chara died when they were around 10-11. Susie is around 15-16 (she was held back once) Ralsei appears to be the same age as Kris. ____________________

What's up with Kris' and Frisk's hair? The red bits of their hair is more or less a representation of their souls. That in turn is also why Chara doesn't have that feature. They are soulless. It's a stylistic choice. ____________________

What's that thing on Kris' chest? It's a scar they got from tearing out their soul.

And why do they have weird lines all over their body? Both Kris and Frisk's anatomy resemble that of ball-jointed dolls. They appear just as markings across their bodies. Think of them as elaborate birthmarks. Kris and Frisk are still made of flesh and blood, but are in fact hypermobile. The reason as to why they do is still a little secret :) People here like to refer to these markings as "puppet limbs". You can get a better look at them and the scar in this artwork

Why does Kris have braces? This is why:

Are old art, comics and asks from your blog part of Twin Runes? Unless stated otherwise, all art that was made prior to the start of the comic are not canon to Twin Runes. That mainly includes the old asks. __________________

Why is Dark World Frisk green? Frisk changes their main sweater colors with Kris when they enter the Dark World.

Could other ghosts see Chara? (pre Darkner transformation) No, only Frisk and Kris were able to see Chara. ____________________

IS KRIS NOW FRISK'S COUNTERPART OR CHARA'S???? :) ____________________

Where are Jevil and Spamton? Are they in Castle Town? The Fun Gang have already fought these two in the previous chapters and added them into their inventory. Outside of that little dream sequence, neither will be making an appearance. ____________________

Is anyone from Undertale Yellow gonna make an apperance? Outside of a tiny cameo from Clover (that has no greater bearing on the story) no one from Undertale Yellow is going to make an appearance. ____________________

How would the characters from Deltarune react if they met their Undertale counterpart? The universe would implode if that happens. ____________________

But what abou- The. Universe. Would. Implode. Next question! ____________________

How did you come up with the idea of Twin Runes? Twin Runes is an offshoot of a separate script I started in 2023. The concept of this script is similar to Twin Runes, but turned on its head. The funny moments in that script made me continue what now is the start of Twin Runes. I pretty much just wanted to see if I am actually capable of drawing a comic to begin with. So... in a way Twin Runes is my first attempt at a comic ever. If I ever finish Twin Runes, then I know I can tackle turning that mammoth project of a script into a comic too. In the grand scheme of things these two projects are sister series. They have A LOT in common and even share similar plot elements. When Twin Runes is over you will automatically also know certain mysteries of The Other Script. ____________________

What is The Other Script? As of this moment I call The Other Script: "Lost in the In-Between". At its core it's an inverse of Twin Runes. I.e. Kris falling into the underground and being aided by Frisk on their quest to return home. The story is considerably more grounded than Twin Runes and so are the characters. Though they do have their silly moments from time to time. The overall mood of that script is a lot darker in nature and it's a 200+ page passion project of mine. The script OF The Other Script is not open to the public. Only a select few people have access to it for proof reading. ____________________

Is there x ship in Twin Runes? The focus of this story is not on shipping. If it's in the game it will very likely be mentioned or brought up, but that's about it. ____________________

What pronouns do the human children use in this story? THEY/THEM FOR ALL OF THEM WITHOUT ANY EXCEPTIONS. That is what they are in this story. This is not open to interpretation. Please respect that. If this is a dealbreaker for you, then unfortunately this story is not for you.

___________________________________________________________

ABOUT FAN CONTENT

Am I allowed to make fanart? ABSOLUTELY! You are very welcome to make fanart if you feel like it. Please let me know if you do by tagging me, so I can share it with everyone to see so that you get the appreciation you deserve! ____________________ Can I use the funny faces you draw for memes or for stuff like memes or for profile pictures? That's what they're here for! ____________________

Am I allowed to translate the comic and post the translation to a different site? I get asked very often by people who want to translate my comic in different languages, so it's quite hard for me to keep up with who asked for permission or not. This is why the comic is free to translate if you like. All I ask is that you are well-versed in the language you're translating it into and to please link the original work with the proper credit given. ------------------------

Am I allowed to dub your comic? See the point above. You are free to dub the comic if you like. The same simple rules apply. With ONE important rule you NEED to adhere to... -----------------------

If I create content off your comic (dubbing, translations, etc...), am I allowed to monetize it? NO. Everything about Twin Runes is NON-PROFIT. Meaning that I don't make any money off this comic either, as it is purely fan content. If I see people making money off my work, I WILL use my right to ask you to remove it.

______________________________________________________________

ABOUT ASKS

Asks will open after a new comic has been released. I will queue the questions from Monday until Friday. Once the queue is full, asks will close. Your questions will then be answered over the course of the week.

Try not to submit multiple asks. If necessary, just keep everything in one post.

Keep in mind that I receive AL LOT of asks. There is no guarantee that every question will be answered.

Questions containing spoilers will not be answered on principle. Wouldn't be as fun if the surprise was ruined, right?

Before leaving an ask (mostly for everyone who's new), please make sure to read the FAQ section above. A lot of times your question might have been answered already.

I love memes and dumb jokes as much as the next guy, but try not to spam

It probably goes without saying, but please stay civil. I want to give everyone the respect they deserve, and naturally like to be treated the same way.

Please be mindful about drawing requests. It is understandable if you're eager to see a certain character drawn in my style, but I do not like to be bombarded by requests. The more it happens, the less likely I am to do it. Be kind and ask nicely.

I don't take unsolicited comic ideas.

Don't use other people's posts that I reblogged to ask me questions! It has happened before and I do not wish to see this!

This isn't an ask blog. The comic has a script that will not deviate. Reader interaction with the characters won't be possible due to the overall "no Player" subplot.

Please do not ask me to put your characters into the story. Like I said, the script is already finished and I'm quite happy with it. Your characters are in better hands with yourself and your own stories. Please have respect for mine.

______________________________________________________________

ABOUT SUBMISSIONS

The submission box is for FANART ONLY!

It is meant for those who do not want to submit their fanart to their own blogs, in case they feel scared or intimidated to do so.

ASKS AND REQUESTS THAT ARE SUBMITTED THIS WAY WILL NOT BE ANSWERED.

Please wait until the ask box opens. You can read more on how asks work in the section above.

______________________________________________________________

REFERENCE SHEETS

The following are ref sheets of characters that don't have established Dark World forms yet (as of writing this comic). The list will be updated as soon as a new character enters the Dark World. Here you will also find references of characters that might appear as surprise cameos, or maybe even completely new faces...

______________________________________________________________

FULL ART

[br1ghtestlight]

some of my object ocs have uhh weird relationships to mother's day i think. some of them (watermelon, rainbow, blue) have normal and good relationships with their moms and are very close to them. building block doesn't have a mom (gay dads) so it's a nonstarter for her

bubblegum's mom died when she was a baby and she has no connection to her or a relationship so it just feels kinda Empty to pretend to care about this person she never even met

two's parents are dead so it isn't like he spends a lot of time thinking about them especially cuz there isn't anyone whos still alive who even knew them or who he could share those memories w/. jayden's mom did her best as a single mom but theyve certainly had their issues and he doesn't see her anymore. so im sure he'd rather not think about her or their relationship cuz it just makes him feel bad about everything and resentful and kinda sad bcuz he doesn't have his family or anyone anymore </3

starr's parents were horrible but he has a weird relationship with them. but they're pretty distant these days so i cant imagine them like getting together or anything. MAYBE a phone call. but even then it just turns into this weird vy for attention and power struggle!!! sunshine hasn't spoken to his family in like..... 40 years and they've made clear they dont care about him or reconnecting so as with most things sunshine is just kinda sad and alone. well nonetheless,

[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

[kannady]

do you remember me too?

pairing: sylus x mc reader

synopsis: love and deepspace was a newfound obsession of yours. you installed the game shortly after sylus was released as a love interest. it'd be safe to say he was the reason you installed the app. however, finals week was approaching and you had to say goodbye to your favourite game. not for long, ofcourse. but you decide to login for the last time to check the new event.

word count: 2k

a/n: hey everyone! hope ur enjoying the story so far! my mans sylus FINALLY HERE! teheheh ull see. and i hope this chapter gives some closure abt what is going on. thats my own imagination btw, its not from the game. would love to know ur thoughts. enjoy!

check out all chapters here

Chapter Four

“Excuse me?” Your heart raced. How could she possibly know? Or did she even?

However, instead of answering you, your sister scrutinized you, her gaze sweeping up and down, as if she were trying to confirm something. When the silence grew too awkward, you repeated your question. At this, your sister hastily entered the room and closed the door behind her.

“If what I’m thinking is happening—holy shit!” she squeaked, plopping onto the bed. “Does anything seem weird to you? Or different?” How were you supposed to reply to that? Tell the truth or lie? Why was she asking that specific question?

“Umm… Is it supposed to?” Great. Stay vague.

She narrowed her eyes at you. “You know, just this morning I read an article by Professor Winster—a brilliant man, really. His research is groundbreaking…”

You rolled your eyes as she rambled, scanning the room for distraction—until a single phrase snapped your attention back.

“Soul switching.”

Your sister seemed to know exactly what nerve she’d struck, because once again, that smug expression crossed her face. The words weren’t familiar at all. You had no idea what “soul switching” meant, but for some reason, it intrigued you. You struggled to accept reality, yet you didn’t want to question anything either. Was that what had happened?

“Aha! I knew it! You—” She stood and slowly approached you. “—are someone else.” After her declaration, she folded her arms as if expecting applause from an imaginary audience. It was too late to hide your shock and confusion. Having lost control of your senses, you heard yourself ask, “How do you know that?”

“Well, I wouldn’t have. Your timing was just convenient. That article I mentioned? It talks about soul switching. It’s never been practiced before because it’s extremely dangerous—not to mention completely illegal. Still, it was a very informative read.”

“Oh. Well. Here I am.” Since your sister clearly had an idea of what was going on, you decided to come clean. You told her everything—from what happened after you left to returning home from the park. She was your sister, after all.

She looked deep in thought, as if analyzing and processing everything. “Okay, your turn. What’s soul switching? Why is it dangerous and illegal? And how did you figure it out?”

She took a deep breath. “Do you believe in parallel universes? There’s a theory that another world exists—just like ours, with the same people, but different fates.” She paused, giving you a grave look before continuing. “Soul switching replaces a body’s original soul with one from an alternate universe. Same person, different you. It’s dangerous because—because…” She hesitated, but you needed to know.

“Come on, it’s okay.” You gently placed a hand on her back, encouraging her.

“It’s dangerous because the displaced soul gets lost… and the body left behind dies.”

The last word sent shivers down your spine. I am dead. Your heart sank. Your legs gave way, and you dropped to the floor. You were dead. You were ready to believe this was real—that you weren’t dreaming—but you desperately wished someone would wake you up. You looked at your sister, hoping she’d say it was another prank, but her reaction only confirmed the crushing truth.

Warm tears trickled down your cheeks until your vision blurred, until you were sobbing openly. You had died, and you hadn’t even known. The more reality sank in, the harder you cried. “What about my parents? And everyone else?” you managed between sobs.

Your sister sat beside you. For a moment, she seemed unsure how to respond, how to console you. Finally, she pulled you into her arms. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Your parents had lost their daughter. And yet, here you were—trapped who-knew-how far away. You wanted to tell them you were okay, but it seemed impossible. Was this really how your story ended?

You buried your face in her shoulder, crying until exhaustion took over. You had seen the pity in her eyes, but you were grateful—grateful for the truth, and grateful she was with you. Someone knew what you were going through. Someone was willing to stand by you. And for now, that was enough.

You didn’t know how long you’d cried or when you’d fallen asleep, but you woke to your sister still holding you, softly patting your back. You smiled to yourself. There was no one you could love more than that little devil beside you. You sat up and rubbed your eyes. “Hi.”

“Hey.” She smiled softly. “Morning, sunshine.”

“How long was I out?”

“A little over an hour. How do you feel?”

How did you feel? Better, definitely. Now that the initial shock had faded, you realized you still had unanswered questions.

“I’m okay.” She didn’t look convinced, but you pressed on. “You never told me—how did you figure out I was someone else?”

“I said your timing was convenient. Right after I finished that article, you barged in, acting strange. The rest just clicked.” She chuckled. “Anyway, while you were asleep, I tried researching soul switching, but I hit a dead end. Professor Winster’s entire blog is gone. Every article—deleted.”

“So, that’s it.” The weight of hopelessness threatened to drag you under again.

“Not necessarily. Someone went through a lot of trouble to bring you here and erase any and every proof of existence of soul switching. They must have a reason.”

You looked up. “What do you mean?”

“Soul switching isn’t just dangerous—it’s nearly impossible. It technically kills two people and requires an insane amount of energy. Bridging universes isn’t something done lightly.”

The implications chilled you. Whoever did this had power—and a motive. If they could do this, what else were they capable of? But you weren’t ready to face that yet. Maybe you already knew. Ever?

Your sister noticed your expression darken. “What is it? Do you know something?”

“No. Of course not.” If it was Ever, you couldn’t risk involving anyone else. You changed the subject. “Tell me about me. What do I do?”

She thought for a moment. “You’re training for the Hunter’s Association licensure exam.”

So, I wanted to be a Hunter.

“What’s my Evol?” You assumed every Hunter had one.

Your sister frowned. “How do you know about Evol? And how did you know Dr. Zayne?”

Would she believe you? At this point, anything was possible. You pulled out your phone. The app kept crashing, but the icon would have to do.

“Look. I used to play this game called Love & Deepspace—”

“Love and Deepspace?” She raised an eyebrow.

You handed her the phone. She tried opening the app, but it crashed again. “Oh my god. Wait here!” She dashed out and returned with a book—a catalog of paintings.

“See the icon? That’s Rafayel.” She flipped through the pages. His artwork was mesmerizing, each piece radiating emotion.

“So, you’re a fan of his?” you murmured, captivated.

“But why is his picture on the app?”

“He’s one of the love interests.”

Her jaw dropped. “What?! What kind of game is this?”

You laughed. “A dating sim, but with a serious main plot.”

“And Dr. Zayne?”

“Also a love interest.”

She stared, stunned. “This is our world? The characters, the places—in this game. They're all real...”

You nodded. “Took me all morning to process it too.”

As you flipped through the book, she added, “By the way, your Evol is Anhausen Class. Resonance.”

Your heart skipped. No. That can’t be. You needed proof before jumping to conclusions.

“How do I use it?”

“I don’t know. You just… focus on enhancing something. You can enhance mine. My Evol is water.” She summoned a water droplet.

You clasped her hand, squeezing your eyes shut. Enhance. Grow. Increase. Nothing happened. Maybe you needed more force? You gripped tighter, willing the droplet to change.

After fifteen minutes, you gave up.

“It’s okay,” she said. “You’ve never done it before.”

“Yeah.” She was right. You couldn’t expect to master something you’d just learned was real.

“So, I was thinking—wanna eat out? Just us.”

You loved the idea. A chance to bond, to learn more about this life.

“Sure. I’d love that!”

After freshening up, you followed her to an upscale restaurant—your parents’ canceled reservation worked in your favor.

“Don’t we need a reservation?” you asked, eyeing the elegant facade.

“Mom and Dad had one, but after today, they decided to stay home. So, lucky us!”

Guilt prickled at ruining their plans, but the moment passed as you were seated on the second floor near the balcony. The view was breathtaking.

You thanked the waiter as he took your jacket and pulled out your chair. Then you saw it—a single black feather resting on your plate.

As usual, everyone's been added to the taglist. Lemme know if you wanna be too. Dont forget to share ur thoughts!

tags: @zenbutnotreally, @godoffuckedupcats, @noxus123, @madam8, @agustdxjiminx, @liz9898, @lemonn015, @tearydamsel, @diegojeanne, @alyssac9, @dummiebunny, @acesgarden, @bigclownshoes, @sylusgirlie7, @roseyjean, @poptrim