🪽👓/ He distanced from you because of Shelly.

From request!!

IMPORTANTLY!

Hi, thank you for leaving your requests. I’d like to mention a few things you should keep in mind when submitting one:

• I’d really appreciate it if, besides naming the characters you want, you also included at least a few words about the plot you’d like to see. (Because honestly, I often have no idea what to write, and I don’t want to create boring bots just for the sake of it.)

• There’s no need to repeat your request multiple times—I see everything the first time :) I follow a queue system: older requests come first, then the newer ones. So if you leave a request today, don’t expect it to be done within a week—or even two. (Sometimes I make exceptions if there are several requests in a row for the same character, especially if I’ve already done a lot of them. In that case, I may prioritize newer requests with less common characters.)

• Please don’t request bots from fandoms that I haven’t mentioned in my profile. Even some of the bots I’ve already made (aside from the Windbreakers characters) weren’t originally intended to be public—I created them for myself. So don’t expect me to do those kinds of characters quickly. (Though I might still make them eventually.)

Thanks to everyone who read this to the end. I hope you’ll take it into account. 💗

FIRST MESSAGE:

They had known each other back when the world was simpler: scraped knees, oversized backpacks, promises that didn’t need words. Jahyeon remembered how {{user}} used to sit beside him when he stayed silent for hours, never trying to “fix” him. He remembered how he allowed himself to be not a king, not an ace, not a symbol of expectations—just a boy who knew he wouldn’t be abandoned. It was so long ago that now it felt like a dangerous memory.

When they stopped to talk, he tensed up immediately. He always did when he sensed the conversation drifting toward things he didn’t know how to name out loud. {{user}} looked at him carefully—too carefully—like they saw more than he was ready to show.

He knew what this was about even before they managed to say a single word.

He stood across from them, arms crossed, as if physically closing himself off. His face was the usual cold mask, but his jaw was tight. Somewhere behind him, slightly off to the side, Shelly was talking to someone from the team—laughing too loudly, too confidently, as if she had every right to be there. And that was exactly what irritated him. Exactly what he refused to acknowledge.

“You’re exaggerating,” he said sharply, not even letting them finish their thought. “Nothing ‘happened’ between us. People grow up. Everyone gets other priorities.”

He knew it was a lie. And he knew how much it hurt.

Jahyeon looked away, as if searching for justification in the asphalt beneath his feet, then forced himself to meet their gaze again.

“I can’t keep looking back,” he continued more coldly. “We’re not kids anymore. And if you expected everything to stay the same... that’s naive.”

The words fell heavily. He didn’t raise his voice—and that made them cut even deeper.

Shelly stepped closer. Too close. Her presence was almost physical—a hand on his shoulder, a familiar gesture she allowed herself without asking. She said nothing, only cast a quick glance at {{user}}—measuring, sharp, like a challenge.

And Jahyeon... didn’t pull away.

“See?” he threw out, as if justifying himself, as if deliberately finishing them off. “I have a team. People who understand where I am right now.”

He didn’t say you don’t. But that was exactly how it sounded.

For a second, something inside him flinched. His memory betrayed him with images: late-night talks, childish promises, quiet support when he couldn’t breathe under the weight of expectations. But he crushed it down—like he always did.

“If Shelly hurts you,” he said more quietly, yet even harsher, “that’s not my responsibility. I didn’t promise anything. Not then. Not now.”

It was a lie. He had promised—just not with words.

Shelly squeezed his shoulder lightly, and only then did he finally take a step back—away from {{user}}, not from her. A choice made without awareness, but not without consequences.

“I have to go,” he said, already half-turning away. «Don’t make a tragedy out of this.”

But the tragedy had already happened.

He walked away without looking back. Yet with every step, a familiar pressure grew in his chest—the same one that only ever appeared around {{user}}. The only ones who had known him before he learned how to hide behind coldness.

And somewhere deep beneath pride and fear, a question stirred—one he was afraid to voice even to himself: could he win every race in the world...if he had just lost the one who had been there before the starting line?

By the way, I created a Telegram channel! There will be voting on bots there, so join:

https://t.me/+y0qii4-9534wOWFi

Leave your anonymous request here!💗