#--; like was it quick stops and they didn't talk to him

[honeyjynxxed]

It hurts to not be trusted, to feel the need to hide an intrinsic part of yourself from everyone even in your own home but...well... It technically isn't anything new to Danny. He's been hiding his powers from everyone except his closest friends since he was fourteen and he doesn't know why four years later he expected anything to be any different.

Attending Gotham University was fine, his tuition being almost entirely covered by the Wayne STEM scholarship. Meeting Tim had been nice even if he was a little weird at times and was probably going to become a ghost way too quickly from all the caffeine he consumed but hey who was Danny to judge? So when the dorms had flooded and Tim offered to let Danny crash at his place until things were settled again he hadn't really thought too hard about accepting. It took two weeks for him to start regretting that decision. He'd thought that when Tim offered he meant his apartment but no he'd meant Wayne Manor...with the entire rest of his family popping in and out on a regular basis. Apparently it was closer to campus, Alfred's cooking was better than quick breakfast every morning, etc etc. All excuses that Danny had taken at face value because he wanted to trust Tim, he wanted to believe that his friend was being genuine in his offers and his words.

Of course things could never be that simple. At first it was small things, lingering gazes, the hushed conversations, whispers that stopped as soon as he entered a room. Which fine, he was essentially a stranger entering a family home, there was going to be things they couldn't say in front of him. He could understand that but then... it just kept getting bigger. A near oppressive silence that followed him around the house, his personal items turning up missing only to be found left out in common areas he wouldn't have left them, questions about his family and friends and life before Gotham. Even Tim didn't hang around him in a casual manner anymore and it just....all of it just hurt. The only two people who seemed to still treat him with any sense of normality was the butler and Tim's older brother Jason but seeing as Jason avoided the manner like the plaque meant he was left with Alfred. So when he couldn't find an excuse to be out of the manor he was with the older man helping wherever he was allowed to.

"I just...I like Tim or I guess I liked hanging out with him and being friends with him. I just wanna go back to that time, before everyone started acting like I'm gonna....gonna.... I don't know murder someone in their sleep!" That's where he was now in fact, helping Alfred with the laundry and lowkey ranting to him about what everyone was doing. "I mean I can't be the only one in this house with secrets, I know Tim isn't entirely honest with me about what he does that has him sneaking into this manor super early in the morning and i know he lies about his injuries and where they come from but do you see me question him? No! Cause I trust my friend." Danny huffed as he folded another pair of sweatpants. "And I thought he trusted me...Well at least the dorms will be fixed soon and I can get out of his hair. I'm sorry to dump all this on you Alfred, I know how close you are to them."

The butler simply hummed, set down the perfectly folded dress shirt that Danny honestly didn't know how he had gotten that giant stain out of, before turning his entire body to address him straight on. "Would you like me to say something, Master Danny?"

Danny fought back a cringe at the title as he always did. "Ah no you don't need to do that Alfred and I already said you don't gotta call me that either. I'm not here permanently after all." He scratched at the back of his neck absentmindedly as he spoke, not liking the full force of Alfred's attention. "Anyway, how have you been? I didn't get back in time for dinner last night but I know you tried out that new recipe you were talking about. Did it turn out alright?"

And that was that. Danny felt bad about ranting later and made up for it best he could by helping out extra around the manor but Alfred didn't bring it up again so he thought he was fine, safe even. He pushed the conversation from his mind, forgetting about it so effectively that he almost didn't even notice when the others began to act...different. Not worse, definitely not worse, but definitely different. Still, he kept with his usual tactics of staying out of the house as often as possible and when he was there, disappearing to do chores quickly. This routine continued for perhaps another week after his conversation with Alfred until his was, for all intents and purposes, ambushed by none other than Damian after getting back to the manor from his classes for the day. "Follow me...Danny." The boy had muttered before swiftly turning and his heels and walking away. Danny was shocked for a moment, faltering before hurrying to follow. Damian never called him Danny, usually Fenton or Daniel if he had to use his first name, never Danny.

Follow Damian led him to a living room with- Oh no. Here it was. They were going to confront him about being a Halfa and hand him over to the GIW. Danny froze in the entryway, eyes hopping from Dick to Bruce to Damian and finally settling on Tim. That probably hurt the most, seeing Tim sitting there and realizing that his only friend hadn't been a friend at all. This must've shown on his face because not even a minute after setting his gaze on Tim was the boy jumping up from the couch and making his way toward Danny, stopping when he flinched back and took a step away from the entry. "Wait Danny! This isn't... We aren't going to hurt you."

A hand on his shoulder stopped him from stepping any further back and he looked up to see Alfred standing behind him. "Please, allow them to explain, Danny." And later he wouldn't be able to explain why he listened, only that deep down in the depths of his very core he knew that Alfred wouldn't let them hurt him. So he did, he entered the room and sat down.

Tim, as the only was standing, was the first to speak. "I'm sorry. We- I haven't acted like a good friend to you. I brought you here under false pretenses, I questioned you, I took your stuff, I-..." He seemed to cut himself off, his fists clenching at his sides. "What I did was wrong and you have every right to want nothing to do with me. I violated your trust, I didn't respect you or your belongings and I'm sorry. If you have secrets they are yours, to share or not share whenever you're ready."

And on it continued. Damian spoke, Dick spoke, Bruce spoke. They all apologized one after another. They said the only reason why Jason wasn't there was that he hadn't participated in any of it. That the first conversation he'd had with Danny had been enough and he didn't see a reason for their suspicions. "Jason said if you don't want to be here anymore you can stay with him. I would understand if you want that Danny. I'm so sorry for how I acted." Tim was the one who took lead, it seems after being the first to speak the others were fine with letting him continue to do so.

All in all, Danny didn't know how to feel. "I trusted you." It was the first time he'd spoken to Tim in weeks now. "You were my first and only friend since moving to Gotham and I thought that was genuine. Then I come here and you and your family treat me like some....some dangerous criminal! I just..." Danny wasn't ashamed to hear tears in his voice and he could barely get out all he wanted to say. "I think I'm going to take Jason up on that offer. Maybe if I'm out of your home you won't feel inclined to search for possible skeletons in my closet."

It hurt to say and the crumpled expression on Tim's face hurt even more but Danny just wasn't ready to forgive him yet. Sure Danny had been betrayed before but this hurt on a level that he couldn't articulate. Still, when no one said anything after that he left the living room and headed up to his room to pack. If he heard Tim actually start to cry then he ignored it, just like all the times he's sure the boy ignored him crying himself to sleep.

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

I tried to write fluff I swear officer, I don't know how that angst got there! I might tie this into the other WIP I wrote for Tim x Danny but I know if I do it will lead to me lowkey abandoning the Tomarry work I'm writing on Ao3.

Who knows though, I might just end up writing for both at the same time lol

Dp x dc fluff prompt

Danny, for whatever reason, is stuck with the batfam, and they're getting suspicious of him. But before there's any big reveal, before Danny feels pressured to act, Alfred steps in.

Alfred puts his foot down. He tells the bats that the boy is here to be safe, to be loved, and to be protected. Snooping on this would be a huge invasion of privacy, and other than just having powers, Danny hasn't done anything to warrant questioning. "He will come to you when he's ready"

Just a fun story of them doing their best to have Danny be comfortable, and slowly, Danny just casually starts using his powers. No one questions it. No one bothers with it. Danny has powers, so what?

Sure, they get curious sometimes, but Alfred said no snooping.

You can have the official reveal go however you want.

This prompt is very basic, but i just wanted a sweet and simple one.

[ariestrxsh]

dealer!chris x dealer!reader

💸 content warning: smut/angst (in later chapters; this one's mostly just suggestive), mentions of hard drugs and guns, enemies to lovers, slow burn

💸 summary: you and chris set aside your differences to join forces and close on a sweet deal with a local supplier.

there will be several parts to this story, and they will contain sex, drugs, violence, use of weapons, and a lot of things that could be triggering if you've ever been apart of the drug world or loved someone with an addiction. i don't mean to glorify drug use, selling, or anything like that, but i wanted this story to be realistic, so it does appear like a somewhat "glamorous" lifestyle to chris and the reader in the first few parts. i want to make it very clear that when you get involved in the drug world in real life, you usually end up in one of two places: the ground or prison.

WHEN SPARKS FLY

chapters: | intro | 1 |

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Chris Sturniolo," you sneered, crossing your arms after stepping out onto your porch into the cool air. You'd recognize him anywhere, even if it was just a silhouette of the back of his head at sundown on your doorstep, which was one of the last places you expected to see him.

He slowly turned to face you, a nearly-spent joint between his lips that were curled into a smug smirk. He looked you up and down, admiring the fancy dress and blazer you were wearing.

"What do you want?" You asked, raising an eyebrow as the smell of marijuana filled your senses. This better be good. "You know, ma, I halfway didn't expect you to answer after looking through the peephole," Chris motioned towards the shut door behind you.

You and Chris both knew that in your intertwined lines of business that looking through the peephole in the door was always a must. You never knew who'd be on the other side.

"Hot date tonight?" He wondered, gesturing towards your outfit with the cherry-end of his joint. "Something like that. You better make this quick," you said, cutting through his tendency to beat around the bush and talk in a series of metaphors rather than getting to the point.

"Mind if I come in? I wanna talk to you about something. Business-related," Chris mumbled, blowing out a final puff of smoke and squashing the roach between the ground and his sneaker. You hesitantly let him inside your home, but mostly because you didn't want any passersby to hear your conversation.

"Before you say anything," you said, stopping him before he could speak. You shut the barrier between your living room and the outside world, and you kneeled down in front of him.

"Hey, woah. What are you doing, ma? If you wanted to give me a blow job, you could just ask," he chuckled, smiling down at you. "Ha ha. You're hilarious," you dryly answered, rolling your eyes.

You began to pat him down, starting at his ankles. You lifted his pantleg and unholstered his pistol, placing it on the coffee table next to you. "Come on, ma. You don't trust me?" He pouted at you. "Oh, not one bit," you responded, glancing up at him as you ran your palms across his lower stomach.

You pulled up his shirt a bit to reveal a glock tucked into the front of his jeans. You confiscated it and set it next to his first gun. Your hands moved to his pockets, pulling out his phone and a wad of cash and placing them all on your wooden table with his other belongings.

Chris rolled his eyes and smirked at you as you accidentally brushed against the bulge in his jeans. "Sorry," you mumbled, clearing your throat and standing back up.

You started to feel under his shirt, running your hands and across his chest. "Come on, ma. You got all my guns. What else are you looking for?" He chuckled, looking into your eyes for a few seconds too long. He couldn't deny that he was getting a little turned on by the way your fingers gently glided across his warm skin.

"A wire. I'm not an idiot, Sturniolo. Why the fuck else would you wanna talk?" You snarked back, returning his lingering gaze. There was a thick sexual tension in the air for just a moment.

"Whatever, ma. You really think I'm a rat?" Chris asked, sounding a bit offended and giving you a hurt expression. "Can't be too careful. You know that," you said, running your hands down his arms, trying to ignore how gorgeous his blue eyes were and how the veins on his forearms felt.

"Alright. Now that I know you're not here to bust me or rob me. What do you want, Chris?" You asked him, sounding annoyed. "You ever think about you and me?" Chris said in a low, raspy voice. "What? You come over to ask me on a date?" You laughed.

"That's not what I meant. You ever think about you and me working together?" Chris asked, clarifying his original question. "You know, it would have been less insane for you to ask me on a date," you chuckled in amusement, heading back over towards the door to walk him out.

"C'mon, ma. We could help each other out," Chris gently grabbed your arm to keep you from walking away. "I know I could help you out. How could you help me out?" You skeptically wondered, narrowing your gaze at Chris.

"I could offer you protection. A lady shouldn't be going on runs alone in this business without a man," Chris replied. "I don't need a man. I can hold my own," you shook your head fervently, crossing your arms and tightening your jaw. You were somewhat offended by his comment.

"I know you don't need a man, ma. Feminism and all that shit. But wouldn't it make you feel safer? Just to have someone to accompany you on your runs? Someone to help take the edge off?" Chris asked, giving you a smug look.

You knew he was right. Drug dealing was a man's world, and there had been many occasions where it would have been safer to have someone like Chris with you. You unclenched your jaw and relaxed your shoulders.

"What's in it for you?" You asked, smirking at him. You mulled over his offer, assuming you already knew the answer. "You know, ma. I'm trying to make more money. Work my way up," Chris smiled at you.

"I don't mean to be condescending, but Chris, you're just a low-level weed dealer. Do you have what it takes to sell the harder shit?" You cocked your head to the side, giving him an inquisitive look, your eyes dropping to his full lips. "You act like I don't know what I'm doing," Chris responded, giving you another hurt expression.

"Chris. Think about it like this. You're like a lawyer, and I'm like a surgeon," you replied, giving him a methaphor he'd understand. "Both valuable skill sets, but if I walk into your courtroom, my scalpel isn't gonna do shit, and if you walk into my ER, your law knowledge isn't going to help you perform an operation."

"Ma, let me prove to you that I have what it takes," Chris responded, confidence creeping into the corner of his lip in a sly smile as he took a step closer to you. You peered down at your watch.

Your connect hated it when you were running late, but even more than that, he hated when you brought unexpected company with you.

"I'm about to go meet my guy right now and make a deal," you hesitantly told him. "So, that's what you're all dressed up for? You got a crush on your connect, ma?" He asked as he motioned towards your dress, giving you a condescending grin and nudging you in the arm.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. "No, Chris. We're meeting somewhere nice. The goal is to not look out of place. Look, I think I have a blazer and some slacks that might fit you in my room. Let's get you changed, because you look like a fucking drug dealer," you chuckled.

"I'll call my guy and let him know a colleague is coming with me," you said, making your way for the staircase "Colleague? I like the sound of that," Chris nodded in approval, following behind you.

"Not yet, Chris. That's just what I'm gonna tell him to avoid having to explain the intricacies. Just keep your mouth shut and don't look them in the eyes for too long," you rolled your eyes at Chris, hastily heading towards your dimly lit bedroom. You opened your closet door and reached towards the back of the rack, pulling out a black suit.

"Here, try this on," you told Chris, handing it to him. He hung the suit over the back of your chair, pulled off his hoodie, and then took his shirt off. Your eyes danced over his shoulders and his chest in the soft lighting, and you subtly bit your lip as you studied his build.

You and Chris may not have exactly been friends. In fact, you'd had a history with him, and the two of you were more like enemies, but you couldn't deny how hot he was. "Mind giving me some privacy, ma?" He chuckled, starting to undo his belt.

"My bad," you said, shifting your gaze away from him and heading out of your room, closing the door behind you. You snuck one last glance at his body through the waning sliver in the door as you pulled it shut.

You went back downstairs to retrieve your suitcase, pulling the address up on your phone and scanning the directions.

A few minutes later, Chris came down. He stood in front of you, presenting the blazer and slacks that were just slightly too long for him, and the two of you giggled. "You know, it's not a perfect fit, but it's close enough," you replied, heading towards the door.

Chris followed, getting into the passenger seat as you pulled open your driver's side and climbed in beside him. You dialed your connect as you backed out of your driveway, turning on your headlights, and throwing your car in drive once you reversed out onto the main room.

"What's up? You on your way?" The man on the other end of the phone answered. "Yeah, just letting you know I'm bringing my business partner with me. We're about ten minutes away," you said, looking over at Chris who reached for his joint that he had tucked behind his ear, and as he went to light it, you smacked the lighter out of his hand.

"What the fuck?" Chris asked in a voice just above a whisper, furrowing his brow at you. "It's room 152 when you get here," your guy told you over the phone. "Okay, see you soon," you replied, ending the call and snatching the joint from him.

"You're not smoking that shit in my car. I swear to God, Chris, if we get pulled over and you give the pigs a reason to search us, not only will it be the last run you ever make with me, it'll be the last run either one of us makes period because we'll both be sitting in prison," you told him, tossing the joint into your cup holder.

"Relaaax," he told you, drawing out the word. "No. If you're working with me, you follow my rules. If you relax, you get complacent. This is exactly why I don't do runs with weed dealers," you stated, shaking your head and regretting your decision to let him join you on your reup.

"Okay, ma. Damn. I'm sorry. I didn't realize it was so serious," he said, raising his hands in a defensive position. "Never break more than one law at a time. If we're ever doing a reup, we use our turn signals, we go the speed limit, and we don't stink up the car with pot," you responded, paying more attention to the road than you were to Chris.

"Alright, ma. I got it," Chris said, his tone softening. "Also, I know you can get away with smoking some of your own shit, because you just sell weed, but when it comes to the hard stuff, you don't get high on your own supply," you said, letting him in on your code.

"You test the product out on your gums when we pick it up, but that's as close as you get to doing the stuff we sell. The shit we're messing with is highly addictive, and you don't want all your hard-earned money disappearing up your nose," you sternly told him. "Don't worry, ma. I only do the natural shit," Chris said, peering out the window at all the streetlights.

As the two of you pulled into a parking spot outside a fancy hotel, it started to drizzle outside. You put the car in park and reached over Chris, pulling your shotgun out of your glove box. You hiked up your dress and tucked your weapon into your lace garter.

"Damn, ma. That thigh holster is kinda sexy," Chris rasped, his eyes drawn to your legs. You scoffed and narrowed your gaze at him, trying to act disgusted by his comment.

"Turn off your cell. Let me do the talking. I've only been doing business with this guy for about a year, but if he knows this is our first deal together, he'll call the whole thing off," you said, ignoring him and looking dead into his eyes before reaching for your suitcase in the backseat. He nodded at you.

"I'm trusting you, Chris. Don't fuck this up. This is a $300,000 deal that's gonna make me $150k in profit if I play my cards right." Chris' eyes widened. He'd never bought $300,000 worth of weed. Maybe in his lifetime, but not in one run.

The two of you got out of the car, and Chris snatched the joint back from out of your cup holder after turning off his phone and tucked it back behind his ear. Your heels clicked against the pavement as you approached the entrance of the hotel.

The two of you walked through the crowded lobby undetected, making your way up a flight of stairs. You guys headed down the long corridor, both sets of your shoes hitting the hideous paisley-printed carpet beneath you.

You approached the room, knocking softly on the door, and a few seconds later, your connect answered. He looked at both of you, looked both ways down the long hallway, and motioned for you guys to enter. "Okay, I got your stuff. You got my money?" Your supplier asked, presenting a suitcase on the hotel bed that was nearly identical to yours.

There were two men in sunglasses and nice suits who were standing behind him. You acknowledged them each with a nod out of respect, and your eyes wandered back over to your dealer. "It's all right here," you said, tossing your suitcase onto the bed beside his.

The two men in the room popped open the case and started running your cash through a money counter. Chris had been in the drug world for a few years, but he'd never seen so much money all at once, and he certainly hadn't met any dealers that had money counters on hand.

"Hey, I'm Chris. 'Sup gentleman?" Chris acknowledged the other two men as well. "What's your name?" Chris asked, extending his hand and smiling at your connect. "Uh. Miles," he hesitantly replied, glancing between both you and Chris.

Shit, you thought, widening your eyes and thinking about how you were going to ream Chris after this deal for not keeping his mouth shut.

"How you doing, Miles? I know my girl here is a loyal customer of yours, but I just wanted to let you know that I gotta guy that can get us the same shit for about $100k less. I know my girl here doesn't wanna take her business elsewhere, but I've been trying to convince her, because it's kind of a steal," Chris said.

Your jaw slightly fell open, still stunned that Chris was so comfortable talking to such high profile dealers he'd just met. "Who? Is it Diablo, man? That asshole is always trying to take my customers!" Miles slammed his fist down on the table.

"You know I don't like to name names in this industry. You're nicer to deal with anyway. I just was wondering if you could maybe sweeten the deal for us?" Chris asked, pulling the joint out from behind his ear and extending it as an offering.

"If you can knock down the price for us, I'm going to be helping my girl move this shit, so we'll do it twice as fast and be back to buy more in half the time. You'd be making money, really. Then you and your boys can share this joint in celebration of how much abundance and wealth you're going to see this year," Chris smirked.

Miles was silent for a moment as if he were actually mulling over the idea. He peered back at his men, who were both too stunned to speak, but they all shrugged and then silently nodded in agreement. "What do you say? $200k?" Chris inquired, raising his eyebrows and looking between the three men.

"I can't go that low. I got people to pay," Miles sternly shook his head. "How about $250,000?" Chris asked. "How about $275k, and I throw in an extra couple of kilos?" Miles offered. "What do you think, ma? Sound like a deal to you?" Chris asked, acknowledging that this was your deal, and that the final say was ultimately up to you.

Miles shifted his gaze towards you. You were dumbfounded and at a loss for words, but you nodded in response. "Alright. Pleasure doing business, Miles," Chris passed Miles the joint and gave him another stern handshake.

The two men opened up the suitcase they were handing off to you and put back $25,000 along with another two kilos of white powder that were strategically bagged tightly and wrapped snugly in plastic.

Chris' eyes subtly widened as his gaze traveled to the drugs. He had only seen cocaine a few times in his life, and it had always been in small quantities. Never 12 kilos worth. But he managed to keep his composure, hoping they couldn't detect that this was the first deal of this magnitude that Chris had closed, and they didn't.

"You don't mind if I test it, do you?" Chris asked, motioning towards the substance. "Not at all," Miles said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small baggy. He shook a bit of it out into Chris' palm. Chris licked his finger, dipped it into the powder, and ran it along his gums.

"Alright, Miles. This is some good shit," Chris complimented him, and the two of you made your way out the door, suitcase in hand, and you guys glided down the steps and out through the lobby doors.

"Holy shit, ma. I didn't know how much I could feel my teeth until I couldn't," Chris mumbled, surprised by the effects of the cocaine as the two of you stepped out into the rain.

It wasn't until you were each sitting side-by-side in the car that you finally spoke up. "Chris, how did you learn to do that?" You asked, peering over at him, the rain pitter pattering on your windshield. "I know how to talk to people," Chris nonchalantly told you, a smirk playing in the corner of his lip as he shrugged.

"Wait. Who's your other guy who could get it for $200k?" You asked, wrinkling your brows. "There is no other guy," Chris shrugged. "Just used a fake story as leverage. But now I know he has an enemy who's always stealing his clientele, Diablo. You know, kinda like how we were when you were just selling weed," Chris playfully nudged you in the arm.

"What were you going to do if he didn't budge?" You asked, searching his face for answers. "That's the thing. They always budge. He doesn't want to lose out on a sale," Chris told you. You stared at him in silent awe for a few seconds.

"Do you have any idea how much profit you just made me?" You asked him. "I've never been good at math, but I have a vague idea. I wanna split it. 50/50," he gave you a smug look. "How about 40/60," you suggested, raising an eyebrow at him. "Deal," he said without hesitation.

"Chris. That was single-handedly the hottest thing I've ever seen a man do," you admitted, your gaze dancing from his blue eyes to his pouty smile. You wanted to tear his clothes off right then and there and fuck him senseless in the back seat.

taglist: @skye-44 @bsturnzmtts @sturniolo-girl @theyluvme-2315 @jassturn @brookiecookie-18 @maggot3647 @slut4chriztopher @strnlslvr @sleepysturniolo @lvrsturniolo @sofieeeeex @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @matts-myloverboy @witchofthehour @slutforsturniolosss @sturniolosweetheart33 @whoahoahoahoahoa @ilovechrissturniolosposts @smt-obsessed @sturnioloxlver @that1fangirll @hrtz4alex2211 @luvhsien @sp3ncerslvt @sturniolo-munch44 @jakewebberswifee @ssturniolooss @thenickgurl @sturniolo-fann @sst7niolo @babysturniolo @chestersturniolo @riowritesitall @camzeecorner @mattsturnixlo @annedebeijer @scorpioosworld @mattlover-00 @sweetlikesug4rvenom @m11rx @sturniolocharms @mickelodeon-2003 @sigmarizzler1 @chrislova @stellarsturns @lelesturniolo @sturniolodoll @ilovemattsturn @blahbel668

"I know, ma. I know. By the way, you owe me a joint."

chapter two here ! 💸

[leonastarry]

{ 11 } A Love Lost In Time. ✧. ┊    s.jinwoo x lover!reader

Sung Jinwoo had spent his entire life pursuing power. It was his sole goal, his sole obsession—the need to become stronger, to survive, to protect. He had fought, bled, and sacrificed everything in pursuit of power. He had abandoned his old self, his fears, his weaknesses… and, apparently, even you.

And he didn't even realize it.

At first, you told yourself he was just busy.

Sung Jinwoo had always been diligent—pushing his limits, taking on jobs no sane hunter would accept, constantly risking his life. You understood that. You admired that about him.

So when he immediately stopped responding to your messages, you didn't think much of it.

When your call went to voicemail, you reassured yourself that he was probably training.

When nights spent talking until sunrise are reduced to short, distracting texts—"I'll call you back later," "Sorry, something came up"—you tell yourself to be patient.

But then later never come.

And there's always something more important.

At some point, the missed calls stop being accidental. At some point, the silence becomes intentional.

You're not sure exactly when you started feeling like a ghost—hovering over the edge of his life, present but invisible, waiting for a door that will never open again.

Then one day, you muster up the courage to confront him.

You find him where he used to wait for you after work. Except this time, he's not waiting. He just walked past, his mind elsewhere, his steps quick and purposeful—like he had somewhere much more important to be.

"Jinwoo."

He barely responded.

You swallowed, stepping in front of him. "Darling, can we talk?"

For a moment, just a moment, his eyes flickered over you. And in that moment, you searched for something—acknowledgement, warmth, hesitation.

But all you saw was exhaustion. Detachment. Like you were just another person, just another part of the world he no longer had time for.

"…I have things to do," he muttered. And then—he walked past you.

No goodbye. No promise to talk later.

Just silence.

And that's when you understood.

Sung Jinwoo hasn't broken up with you yet.

He just… forgot about you.

And somehow, that hurts even more.

It feels like you don't matter that much anymore.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Until now.

Until time turned back, and your voice—soft, familiar, aching, nostalgic—called his name.

"Jinwoo!"

His breath caught. Something inside him stirred, an unshakable feeling of déjà vu. But it wasn't until he turned around and saw you standing there, smiling naturally that his entire body stiffened. Memories flooded back to him all at once—memories he didn't even know he'd buried.

You were there.

You were always there.

Memories of late-night conversations under the streetlights, of your hand slipping into his without hesitation, of whispers of reassurance when the world felt too cruel. He remembered how you used to tease him when he was just an E-rank Hunter, how you were his safe place when everything seemed impossible. He remembered the warmth of your laughter, the way you always seemed to believe in him, even when he didn't believe in himself.

And then—he remembered that he had lost you.

Not because you died. Not because of some tragic accident.

But because he had forgotten you.

Because in his madness of leveling up, in his single-minded pursuit of power, he had pushed aside everything that wasn't related to survival. He had stopped answering your calls. Stopped meeting you at the coffee shop you both frequented. Stopped thinking about you.

You tried—he could remember it now, like a ghostly echo. The unread messages. The unanswered calls. The last time he saw you in the old timeline, you had reached out to him, asking if everything was okay.

And he had just walked away.

He left you, not with words, not with outright rejection, but with silence.

His stomach twisted. His throat tightened. But then, there you were, looking at him with clear, unburdened eyes, completely unaware of the weight on his chest.

Because in this timeline, you don't remember any of it.

You don't remember how he slowly drifted away, how his obsession with power erased you from his life. You don't remember how you were everything to him—before he threw it all away without a second thought.

And that's the cruelest part.

He had committed some crime that you didn't remember at all.

"Jinwoo?" you asked again, tilting your head, the way you always did when he was silent for too long. "What's wrong? You're staring."

His lips parted but no words came out.

What was he supposed to say? That he had forgotten you? That he had been so focused on power that he had let go of the only person who had always been there for him? That he had left you, and only now, standing here in a time where he still had a second chance, did he realize how unforgivably selfish he had been?

He clenched his fists.

NO.

No, he would not miss this chance.

He would not let himself forget again.

This time, he would win your love.

This time, he would never let you go again.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Sung Jinwoo has been acting strange lately.

You can't pinpoint exactly when it started, but suddenly one day he's been looking at you differently. There's something heavy in his eyes whenever he looks at you, something raw and unspoken.

Guilt.

You don't understand it.

You didn't do anything wrong. He didn't do anything wrong.

But every time you smile at him, his fingers twitch as if he wants to reach out to you but can't. Every time you laugh, his jaw clenches as if it hurts him to hear it. And every time you look into his eyes, you feel the weight of something you shouldn't be carrying—something he refuses to say.

It's frustrating.

Why? Why does he look at you like that?

"Jinwoo," you call, your voice soft but steady. He stiffened, as if expecting you to ask the very question he feared.

But you didn't.

Instead, you smiled, soft and warm, reaching out to take his hand. His fingers tensed under your touch, but he didn't pull away.

"I don't know what you're feeling guilty about," you admitted, watching his throat rise and fall, his expression darkening. "I don't know what you think you did. But I do know one thing."

You squeezed his hand gently, reassuringly.

"I will always forgive you, Jinwoo."

His breathing quickened. His eyes widened with an almost desperate look.

No hesitation. No questions asked. You would forgive him—no matter what.

Because that was how much you loved him.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Bonus:

Jinwoo still stared at you, his expression a jumble of emotions—guilt, relief, and something that looked like self-loathing. He squeezed your hand, and he opened his mouth, probably to say something dramatic and self-sacrificing.

But before he could, you grinned. "So… does that mean I can take your credit card?"

Jinwoo choked. "Huh?"

"You know, since you're so guilty and all," you continued, completely serious. "I feel like retail therapy might actually help me cope with whatever terrible things you think you did."

He blinked. Once. Twice.

Then, for the first time in days, you saw something other than guilt on his face—helplessness and indulgence. "…It doesn't work like that."

"That's exactly how it works," you retorted, poking his chest. "Forgiveness isn't cheap, darling. Pay up."

Jinwoo sighed wearily, rubbing his temples. "I think I like it better when you don’t know how to take advantage of me."

You smiled brightly. "Oh, but you still love me, right?"

He glanced at you, guilt temporarily replaced by fondness. His lips twitched.

"Yeah," he admitted. "I still love you."

"Great!" You patted his arm. "Now, about that credit card—"

"Yeah, you can have it. Just don't make me broke"

"Deal."

@in-dire-need-for-help I'm done !! 🎉

Feeling like I'm full of energy today .

I've written 30 short fics of Jinwoo x reader! So proud of me 😎

Anyways, thanks for 160+ followers, I love you guys 💗💗

[akindaflora]

Lip Mask

Description: (Established relationship) Chan comes home after tour and can’t get enough of your lip mask and well your lips!

warning: mentions of making out, some grinding, lap sitting, one use of the word saliva, Names used Channie Bang Chan and Christopher, mentions of making a video

Definitely will be blocking no age accounts if your under 18 please avoid this one sorry :)

Author note: Did my best to correct any mistakes and rearranged some of the flow but its pretty much the same as the unedited version! Thanks again for reading. <3

Edited 1/29/25 Word Count: 1,335

It had been a rough, dry day—nothing your skincare routine couldn’t help—and your boyfriend, Bang Chan, was home after the tour. After what felt like years, nothing could ruin your afternoon, not even your boss, who was unnecessarily rude today.

Like always after your shower you dried and changed into some comfy shorts and one of Chan’s many black shirts. Washing your hands you began to first brush your teeth, next you washed your face, then you began applying your face and eye cream and finally you applied your lip mask. When you looked into the mirror you definitely weren’t that far off from a disco ball how shiny your face became.

When Chan and you first started dating you noticed how soft his lips were whenever you kissed or in general constantly not hearing him from you staring at his lips which would be followed by a blush when he called you out on it. Though he was never mad more embarrassed after you would tell him his lips looked absolutely irresistible. But because of that obsession with his lips, when winter came you noticed how cracked yours would get and even had a few days where you wouldn’t kiss him out of embarrassment. To which he would tell you after pouting for days on end, constantly telling you that no amount of crack lips could keep you away. Yet his constant support didn’t stop you from finding new ways to keep them soft and after what felt like weeks of trial and error your lips were finally as pillowy as Chans. Smiling at yourself in the mirror from the memory, you made your way to your living room. Where your boyfriend sat on the couch scrolling through streaming services with intentions to cuddle and watch anything with you. It had been a long tour and he intended to let nothing stop him and you time. At the sound of your feet softly patting on the hardwood floor, he looked up quickly smiling as his eyes met yours.

“Hello gorgeous,” he said with a smirk using one of his hands to pat the seat right next to him, “Come here,” he said quietly as he lifted the blanket specifically for living room cuddles. Quickly walking over you plopped down next to him and laid your head on his shoulder. This small jester said everything that he didn't need to put into words. “I’ve missed you too,” you said quietly to which he responded with a soft hum and an arm that softly wrapped around your back pulling you in closer if that was physically possible. “What have you decided on?” You said softly and slightly turned your head to look up at the man next to you. After a while, he didn’t respond, from what you could see he definitely had a few eye bags from all the traveling and touring. You brought your hand up to softly caress his cheek missing the softness of his skin and the warmth that followed. After being away for so long you kept talking hoping to wake up the sleepy prince.

“Mmmm, definitely not horror right? Or maybe you wanna watch a rom-com but we both know how that ends” you said with a giggle as his head leaned into your touch and yet he didn’t respond only taking in the details of your eyes, your cheeks, and your… lips? While he didn’t say anything he did giggle when you did so maybe he was just tired you thought so you kept talking.

“Ooo maybe we could watch the new season of Dr Stone or maybe Solo Level? Felix is featured on the “ You were stopped by a sudden quick peck. And before you could question him it just kept going but only on your lips. Every time you opened your mouth another attack would happen until you finally turned your head to the side in a fit of giggles.

“CHANNIE” you streaked, “stop it I just put my lip mask on” you jokingly complained.

“I’m sorry baby but your lips are just so soft” the syllables of soft coming out more like a whine from his lips. “just one more,” he said after hiding in your neck out of embarrassment.

After what felt like a few minutes but only a few seconds you sighed heavily and replied with a bemused fine.

Quickly he grabbed your face bring your lips to his own. But what was agreed upon as one peck turned into a full make-out session. He grabbed your waist nearly pulling you into his lap his other hand holding the back of your neck as if he were afraid you would pull away. But when your hands slowly crept up from his chest to move around his neck he made home of his hands softly rubbing circles with his thumb on your waist underneath the shirt you wore. Successfully pulling you onto his lap.

Your lips become messy with the mix of lip mask and the saliva that mixed between your contact with his. With the way your soft lips and his touched it was more like a pillow fight as each lip overlapped the other. Soft moans left his and your mouth, as he roughly swiped your lower half to his. You pulled back as the high of the kiss started to feel less like heaven and more like air loss. Your forehead met his with a few pants passing from your lips that met his own as you tried to breathe.

Still sitting on his lap his eyes looking intensely into yours slightly darkening as his lips were brought into a smirk. “Channie you said only one kiss that was nearly a make-out session,” you said jokingly pouting. He only quietly laughed still out of breath but as if your lips were his cure he pecked your lips more between each huff. You giggle but ultimately move your head back as his kisses move to your neck. The soft pillows left heat from his breath as they made contact.

“Channie” you whined out in between giggles still trying to catch your breath. He only sighed in the home he made into your neck taking in the scent of your freshly showered skin. “I’m sorry but your lips are incredibly soft, I just can’t get enough!” His head quickly popped out of your neck to look you into your eyes. Finally able to see his face again you noticed your lip mask making his lips extremely shiny from your little session. Shinny and extremely pink as you assumed yours to be, you moved your hands to either side of his face softly letting your thumbs run across his checks quickly swiping some of the mask that rubbed its way on the outside of his mouth before you went back in for a quick peck. Also not being able to resist now that your favorite pillows had become a shiny treat. A rich smile filled with joy popped onto his face but slowly turned into something slightly mischievous.

“Channie wait no what about-“ cut off again as he swiftly picked you up and laid your back softly on the couch as he lay over you his hands caressing the sides of your body as his lips found yours again. This kiss not lasting as long as the other but nearly as intense left you pouting from the lack of contact, “We can make a movie if you’re so worried about it” he said quickly tucking a piece of hair that lay on your cheek.

Feeling the blush on your cheeks you quickly looked to the left. Jokingly tapping his shoulder with a loud smack, his name coming out loudly from your mouth “Christopher!” All he could respond was a quick laugh as his hand brought your face back to his lips. Yeah this was definitely an afternoon for the books, how could not be just your Channie and your skin routine against the world?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After writing notes: If you made it to here thank you ❤️ This is my first time writing anything like this so i only hope i could do you all justice with this fluff. But i couldn’t help but keep thinking about this moment with Channie specially since I started doing a lip care routine. And i mean come on you’ve seen this man’s lips.

-YaYa

[ihadtohaveone-blog]

Father was silent for long time staring at Cervan. You see slight twitches in his eyes. He was searching for something. Then as if something finally snapped into place, his shoulders fell. He laughed a dry, humorless laugh.

"I had given up. I had given up on my dear Y/N getting married. With most the eligible candidates marrying others and the ones that weren't being rejected left and right..." He clasped his hands together and set them on the table. A move he taught you when you were losing. A move to steady yourself. "Y/N. Do you wish to marry him? Do you wish to marry Cervan Violiére?"

"I..." You stop. Words clogged in your throat. Were you actually doing this? Your heart was hurting, You couldn't breath, and your stomach was in knots so tight your sure it'd burst.

A hand meet yours and clasped it with such gentleness.

"My dove?" Cervan spoke softly. His eyes, oh his eyes, held love so deep. How had you'd not noticed before? He was scared. Just like you.

You took a much needed breath, squared Your shoulders, and looked your father straight in eye. Yes. Yes you were doing this.

"I'll be honest father. Before today I also was under the Impression I would never marry. None of the candidates meet my standard. They were either arrogant, Ill mannered, or narcissistic. I had no qualms with it. But," you looked toward your hand, Cervan gently squeezed. He was with you. "I've always envied you and mother. You lifted each other up. You made a safe place for each other when either of you fell. I..." You tearing up now. "Didn't think I'd find them. The one who'd let me fly free. The one who'd catch me when I fell. Cervan?"

Cervan startled. He seemed to have been caught up in your speech. "Yes my dear?" Your turned your head, your eyes meeting his. Now it was your turn to search him.

"you care for me, don't you?" It was the first time you felt like this. Dating others were always so hard. You twisted and contorted before you finally gave up. But with Cervan it came so easy. His opinion of himself wasn't so great he refused to take criticism. He didn't talk down to you due to your father's origin. He didn't think think his beauty was so great you'd fall at his feet to be with him.

He looked shocked. As if the thought of you doubting his intentions never crossed his mind. "I do. My dove. You lit a fire In me that I thought would never catch. Like you I made peace with never getting married. But when I saw you, a diamond amongst quartz, restraint amongst excess, I had to meet you. I'm so glad I did. Your eye for risk is second to none. Your wit as quick as a whip. Your heart... For better or worse your heart is as deep as the ocean."

"Father?" You were about to break. "I would like to try. I would like to go forward with this. I would like to marry him."

"An engagement then." Father chuckled eyes shining with a bittersweetness. "I'll send my approval to the king and I'll arrange for a meeting with the record keepers. They're no doubt already preparing for my arrival." His eyes grew sharp as dagger as he addressed Cervan. Taking his glass he held it to a toast. "If I find out you've hurt her, I don't care if the minister of defense, I will find a way to hurt you."

It was Cervans time to laugh. Held his glass to meet fathers. "If I end up hurting her I'd welcome it"

That did it. Tears fell from your eyes like rivers. Your hands searching your pockets for your handkerchief. You probably looked ridiculous. Hair not perfectly combed, dress askew, and now your face was a mess. Neither Cervan or father seemed to care.

The food tasted like heaven.

When everything was said and done you said your goodbyes, promised to meet soon. You were kissed on the cheek. Father didn't seem to approve but he kept his thoughts to himself. You and your father left for home. Cervan kept you in his gaze until he couldn't see your carriage anymore before he went inside.

Everyone was exhausted from a very long day. Eager to rest and relax.

Bad End: Kept Safe (1)

[Art by Miu_A]

You ever give someone advice, knowing full well they aren't going to take it? Even AFTER they have begged and pleaded and WHINED at you, for hours, for it? Even after they poured their heart and soul out to you? And you, a good friend, carefully and tactfully, tried your best to help? LIKE THEY ASKED?

Ever find yourself the designated "run too dramatically weep in the arms off" friend?

I have.

It is hell. I am in hell.

This is my punishment for all those hours I spent reading and playing Otome Isekai junk instead of, I don't know, solving world hunger or something. Because it HAS to be. I am clearly being punished. Repeatedly. By some sort of petty, petty, anime God.

Fuck you too, buddy.

A fresh round of highly dramatic Protagonist sobbing peirces the air. Dear lord, she has a set of lungs on her, does she? It's like an air siren. But more... upset toddler. It was bizarre. I'd LIKED her as a character. I HAD. Bright and cheerful, determined with a good heart. She'd been a bit naive, yes, but she'd grown. Love had changed her for the better.

But THIS?

This was some middle school "he threw away my secret note, that I didn't sign, so that means he HATES MEEEEE~" bullshit. It went on and on and ON! God, it'd been MONTHS! Years!

I made friends with the Protagonist when we were in The Royal Academy. The story's setting. It SHOULD have finished by graduation. SHOULD. HAVE. But DID it? No! This nonsense had spilled into the COURT! The general population! Actual political factions were starting to get involved!

All because my "friend" COULDN'T PICK A MAN.

And she didn't listen. I tried. God, how I TRIED! No matter HOW I phrased "just fucking TALK to them" it didn't get through her dense fucking skull. I tried taking a break. To calm down. She HUNTED ME DOWN with her little Harem of political trainwrecks!

That poor port city STILL has yet to recover from the chaos they unleashed.

I don't... God, I don't even LIKE her anymore. I've just been reduced to her HANDLER. Forced into girlish tea parties devoid of any taste, because no one ELSE will come. Followed by winces and pitying looks by every lady in all of polite society. The sacrifice to keep HER distracted, lest her gaurd dogs decide its a good idea to do something unhinged again.

It's exhausting.

I'm not even listening.

She seems to have worked through her usual cycle of "cry, mope, what about meeeee~, then I going to go be Plucky at them! Tee Hee~♡!". Good, good. You go have fun, you little train wreck. I'm going to go find an actual ADULT to hide behind.

I have my maids change me out of an outfit that, frankly? I am too old for. I am not sixteen. We are not GIRLS, for the heaven's sake. We are WOMEN. It was a cute outfit. I enjoyed wearing it, back when I was physically young enough that it was appropriate. But even THEN... that's the down side of the whole "isekai" thing.

You keep your mental age.

Everyone around you? INFANTS. Fresh faced babies. You are being flirted with by fourteen year olds and? It is DISGUSTING. They can never be anything more then "cute kids" to you. The characters you once thirsted over? Reduced to actual, living, breathing, pre-schoolers.

There's no going back after that. I'll NEVER unsee it. Can only continue to age, even as they simply... grow up. And then? When they started behaving like FOUR YEAR OLDS? Forget it! I'm beginning to share my parents fears I may die single.

At least I have a refuge. A place of SANITY and SENSE.

I grab the imported wine I had purchased. I'd noticed him drink it before on special occasions. Found a tea seller that was willing to also bring some back. Mother LOVED the tea and my friend was going to love the wine, I could just tell.

Cautiously poking my head out of the guest apartments i was staying in, I checked the hall. Left. Right. Left. Thank god. No Protagonist in sight, she hasn't come back yet. Better hurry though.

I walk fast and keep close to the wall. Ducking into alcoves at every new female voice. Passing servants, Nobles, and the occasional Knight either murmur what they know of Protagonist's last known location or politely pretend not to see me. For anyone else, this would be scandalous behavior. For ME? Well... everyone knew EXACTLY why I was being driven to such extremes.

I thankfully reached the governance wing unmolested. It was far quite and none of the pack of fools ever really set foot here. Not ever the ones who were SUPPOSED to be busy learning their future roles as leaders of this country. God, I could only hope the third prince somehow quietly pulls a coup.

Not that I'd SAY that.

The gaurds don't even bother to announce me, I'm here so often. Merely opening the door. I maintain my decorum none the less. JUST long enough for the doors to finally close and I am able to drop my social mask like whipping of my bra after a long day. Oh thank fuuuuuuck. FREEDOM!

A familiar chuckle, like incense smoke, wafts from the second floor of the office.

"Oh my~, so tired?" My friend muses, his voice that ever lilting purr. I hear him closing whatever heavy tome he's currently studying. "And so early in the DAY! Was it the little nuisance again? Surely she must have SOMETHING better to do?"

Gently putting the wine I'm gifting him on his desk, I then throw up my arms. You would THINK! Wouldn't you?! It's an old complaint. And frankly? I'm glad he still let's me vent about it. It HAS to get old. Yet? He let's me complain anyway.

I met the, roughly translated, "Keeper Of The Shield" at one of the Crown Prince's many ridiculous parties. I was dragged along as Protagonist's plus one. Because GOD FORBID she bring one of her suitors! That might lean towards CHOICE! Can't have THAT!

It was an overly dramatic, gaudy, slow motion trainwreck from beginning to end. I? Got very, VERY drunk. I knew I shouldn't. It was wildly inappropriate. But I was HORRIFIED. Hid near the balconies and drank to forget. Contemplating jumping.

Was likely the only one there my age NOT in ten layers of bows and fabric flowers. It was probably why Crevan decide to talk to me. That and the look of abject suffering. He informed that, sadly, the balconies were locked. But if I planned to maim my self to escape, he could probably boost me up enough to reach the upper windows.

I choked on my drink and guffawd like an idiot. It was SUPER flattering. Very pretty. And honestly? The best conversation I'd had in YEARS. He was droll. Witty. Snarky. In just as much hell as I was. We gleefully narrated the drama playing out before us in as cutting a manner as possible. Grown adults, government officals! Behaving like fucking CHILDREN.

Only after, did I learn I had been chatting with the equivalent of the minister of the Defense. THE commander of our nation's defensive forces. All of them. Knights, army, spies. All of it. And the poor man had been dragged from his desk to play party prop by a glorified teenager. I was horrified. Appalled. Fucking OUTRAGED to learn that it was just... normal!

This country was a nightmare! Otome games are HELL. Lacey, sparkly HELL!!!

But at least I had Crevan to keep me sane. He was always willing to listen. Advise when he could. We had HOPED that Protagonist would start maturing... I'd even mentioned it, but it just seemed like she back slid again and again! Trapping me. Isolating me! Ruining my chances to move ON and have a LIFE!

I don't know what went wrong! Is it me? Am I too hand holdy? It's starting to destabilize the country! Not that the royal family even seems to notice! God no, if it weren't for Crevan, the whole PLACE would have collapsed!

I flop down on my couch. Technically it's not "mine", but honestly? He's fooling no one. The man barely had ANY guest furniture before we became friends. It's totally my couch. (He even got a tea table for us, the softy.)

"Oh? A gift? How thoughtful, dear~" It's only months of friendship that keep from jumping these days. I should get that man a BELL. "Would you like some?"

I can't help but huff a laugh. He always looks to PLEASED when he gets the jump on someone. Startles them. A mischievous asshole, that one. Touchy, too. Forever cupping my cheek or earnestly taking my hand. Patting my head. Guiding me by the elbow or shoulder. He has so few friends... I am certain he is touch starved.

A thought occurs to him, as he pours two cups. A sly grin stretching across his face as he turns to offer me a cup. The wine's scent mixes, burning and delicate, with the ever present smells of incense and his favorite herbal cigarettes. Blurring the senses and relaxing. It's a pretty strong drink.

"You KNOW... it just occurs to me! Darling, if you want to avoid that pest? Why not spend the day HERE? I'd love to have you. " his voice becomes low and serious for a moment, almost catching me off gaurd, bouncing back before I can really think about it. "You could trash my shelves again! Camp out on my couches! It'll be like a little party~ Just you and me! Not a care in the world. You won't have to worry a single thing~"

He grins, glasses catching the light, toothy like the old scheming fox he is.

"I'll keep you nice and safe~"

[sirxlla]

Better Late Than Never

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

Warnings: Fluff 🥰

Prompt: He's always late but you're understanding. (request: @nesting-dreams )

Notes: female reader, italics are actions and thoughts.

-With that said it's all under the cut-

If there was one thing that stressed Dick out, it was trying to balance his work, life, and sleep schedule in the limited time that was twenty-four hours. There wasn't even remotely any pressure from you, even if he felt there was; he's a goddamn superhero; The guy is busy, of course, he is. No matter how many times you tell Dick that it's okay, he just won't remove that weight from his shoulders.

Date night...Oh, you were so excited. You got cleaned up real spiffy, the dress, the heals, the makeup, and the lingerie you sneakily had under your dress on the off chance he actually had the time or made it cause, let's face it, Dick always makes time for that, your sex life is awesome even if it was quick some times. The things he often struggled with were the things that took longer, the talking and dates, and such.

Thirty minutes had passed by and the waiter asked if there was gonna be someone else to which you politely reminded him yes there is. The waiter was being rather annoying as he kept trying to make sly comments about not keeping you waiting and how he'd never do that. You rolled your eyes in your mind but smiled.

"Well, I appreciate it but I have a boyfriend." You said as politely as one could considering how rude and frustrating this man was being.

"What boyfriend? I don't see him and you could do so much better..." The waiter boasted he was unattractive in looks but even more so in his continuing attitude, so when even though Dick showed up out of breath and covered in sweat, it was a relief.

"Just on time." You smile as you looked at Dick even though he and you both knew he was damn sure not on time.

"Just on time, it's been forty mi-" He stops as you give him a look to help him become aware of the situation, to which he clears his throat.

"Yeah, you're right, Baby," Dick says with a smile as he slightly dead-eyes the waiter so he gets the message. Thankfully the waiter gets it even as he looks at Dick judgementally cause of his clothes.

"Hey, I'm so sorry; I- the bat bike broke down, and I ran the rest of the way here. I- I promise, I didn't forge-" Stopped by your hand, reaching across the table to gently fix his hair.

"You don't have to explain anything to me, Honey. You know that."

"But I- I should have been on time."

"Yeah, Shame on you. I nearly melted into a puddle like the Wicked Witch." You teased trying to distract him from his worries.

"I mean, that would be awful; that would not be how I picture that dress on the floor tonight." He quipped as he almost forgot his worry.

"Exactly, so it's good when you arrived at all." You smiled and grabbed his hand across the table to calm him.

"I just hate that I do this over and over." He looks into your eyes as he talks, worry in every single bit of his being, in his tone and shoulders, in his eyes and his fast heartbeat.

"Dick, No one is putting pressure on you in this relationship, just you. Okay? I get busy too, I get it. Okay?" You nod as you ask hoping he'll understand a bit or it'll at least curb his fears for the night. He nods and another sever approches, a woman.

"Sorry, your other server stepped out." She smiles as she speaks.

"Oh, thank god." You and Dick say that same time on accident before you both try to apologize.

"No, it's nothing Garrett's a complete asshole." She whispers before getting your drinks and leaves to give you a few minutes for the menu. A bit passes, and she comes back and hands over those drinks and gets your orders. She grabs the menus and she's on her way.

"You sure you're not ma-"

"Richard, if I hear about it one more time."

"I just-"

"No. Take a deep breath and look into my eyes. Does this look like someone who's upset?" You asked and forced him to look up at you with a bit by gently guiding his chin. His anxiety melted with that one look into the depths of your eyes, the layers of love, compassion, and care in them calming his worry.

"N- No."

"You're right. I'm not, so don't think I am okay. Don't ever think I am? I could never be upset with you for saving lives and kicking ass. I know what I got into when I got with you, and what I got is a badass boyfriend who I couldn't imagine was real like you've been plucked from my sweetest dreams."

"Cheesey...That was cheesy." He quips as he tries to tear up. "Like ten pounds of different flavors." He looks up trying to dry the tears by making it seem like he's looking at the light. He takes a breath and realizes his anxiety is just getting bad.

"If I ever lost you, I'd go mad." He states and kisses your knuckles, rubbing his pillowy lips across them to calm himself.

Your food arrives, and shortly after eating and on the way home, he also begins to realize he was just hungry as well, and that was contributing to it. He offered to drive your vehicle home since you had a bit of wine which, of course, you said yes. He kept his hand in yours reminding himself to add this to the list of moments in his brain to remind himself of when he gets anxious or worried.

You looked gorgeous, and he kept glancing at you, realizing you fell asleep at some point, and his heart swelled. He parks the car shortly after when he arrives at the manor. Dick can't bring himself to wake you, so he carries you inside. He gets you to the room; he knows he should wake you so you don't sleep in your makeup, but he just can't make himself.

Dick lays you down and undoes the buckle straps on your heels, gently setting them down. He unzips the dress and peels it off you only to be met with the lingerie, which causes him to let out a verbal but quiet "Damn it."

He smiles and undresses before heading to shower to rinse off the sweat residue. Dick wanted nothing more than to go to bed, but he wasn't tired, and this insomnia was kicking his ass, so he got on his laptop and scrolled around for a while looking at things from suit upgrades to engagement rings, before feeling tired enough to cuddle up against his sweet girl.

Masterlist

Send me prompts if youd like. 💙

[httpknjoon]

the art of bargaining | ksj

plot | jin knows that he should not be jealous when one of his best friends in the industry is filming an intimate scene with another actor.

word count | 1750

genres | fluff, actors!au

pairing | actor!jin x actress!reader

note | live laugh love the a listers

main masterlist | the a-listers: confidential masterlist

He shouldn’t be feeling this way. It’s unprofessional.

“Okay, folks. Stop goofing around.”

Lena, the production’s intimacy coordinator, spoke softly as you and Seb stopped laughing at something Jin badly wanted to know. You two were already in your characters’ clothes. Considering that the scene is right after your characters’ date night, you are in a silky, slip-dress, while Sebastian is in an all-black button-down and slacks outfit.

But why does he feel like this? He should not even be here. He was asked to show up at four in the afternoon but came at nine in the morning because he knew you had been shooting your scenes. When asked by other staff members why he arrived too early, he claimed he just wanted to watch others’ scenes, which is not unusual since you also do that sometimes.

Jin remembered arriving earlier, just when you and Seb were rehearsing for this physical scene. Your knees are on each side of your co-star’s lap and you are sitting on him, arms around his neck, while the director– along with the intimacy director– talked about the camera and blocking. You two were intently listening, nodding at her directions, to make sure no boundaries will be crossed. Jin stood behind the light, jaw clenching when he spotted Seb’s hand resting on the small of your back.

“Okay, let’s start off with soft kisses and giggles. Then, it builds up...” 

Filming these kinds of scenes is the least exciting one to film. Every actor and director knows it, even Jin. It can be awkward with so many people around you while acting in a supposedly intimate scene. That’s why trust between actors is important and Jin can see that you are comfortable with Seb. You once told Jin that you find it better to shoot intimate and kissing scenes with female directors since they don’t oversexualize everything and you feel more secure.

“Is it okay to hold you here?” your on-screen partner asked, pertaining to where his hands would land on your body.

Personally, Seokjin will not advise the other actor to touch your upper thighs, lower back, or upper stomach, and maybe kiss your neck too. But who is he to decide? Because you softly smiled, nodding to Sebastian, 

“Yeah, yeah. Sure.”

“YN, honey, just give Seb a tap or pinch if you feel uncomfortable. Okay?” Lena instructed before turning to Seb. “Seb, be alert with YN’s signals. Just do the things we agreed on earlier.”

As per your director’s order, every unnecessary staff member was asked to leave the set to lessen the live spectators of the intimate scene. There are only less than ten people left in the studio, including him.

“Are you not going?” Haley, who stayed on set per your request, whispered to Jin as he was standing next to her. 

“Why?” Jin asked while his eyes remained focused on you.

“I don’t know… I just think you would not enjoy YN being that close to another man.” your manager replied with her tone being something on the scale of teasing to unsure. Jin turned his head to her. She smirked, “Oh, stop with the daggers, Kim Seokjin.”

His hardened expression, which he didn't even realize he was doing, softened. He looked away, trying to exhale the heaviness he had been feeling in his chest. Hailey watched him 'release his stress' with a quick breathing exercise. She knows something you don't about Jin, but she won't tell anyone about it.

Jin worries that he looks like a tomato right now. He hopes— prays— it is not obvious on his face as it feels. It's embarrassing, the warm flush on his face won't go away. Because he can still feel it from watching your scene earlier with Sebastian.

It's stupid. It's stupid because he never feels this way. He is not the jealous type— he used to be so proud that he was never the jealous type! His ex-girlfriend once joked about how she wished he had a little bit of jealous bone in him, so they could have something immature to argue about. But she was happy he was always mature... and cool-headed.

Well, there's nothing cool with what Jin is feeling right now. There is a tight and heavy feeling in his chest and it's suffocating him. He doesn't know when it started. Oh, wait. Maybe he does. Maybe when he watched Sebastian kiss you so passionately— Wait, it wasn't just that kiss. It was when he trailed his lips from your lips to your chest then down to your exposed collarbone.

He wanted to look at something else. Well, he did. He looked down at his white shoes, on the blazer that was thrown on the ground of the set, and maybe at the director too, waiting for her to cut the whole thing and say that maybe the scene was not fitting for the movie, they should remove it in the script. But she didn't. Jin looked at everything else, but he always came back looking at you.

You, who's in character, were making little sounds of relief and pleasure. It's scripted, he knows. But he felt like it was too loud for his hearing. It's so loud that he feels like the soft sounds you're making are ringing his ears. Then, your hands. He watched them smoothly unbutton your co-actor's shirt and his throat officially ran dry, making him gulp countless times. My God, he can only hope no one noticed.

Did Hailey notice? She was standing next to him. Hopefully, she didn't. He was gulping too many times. Fidgeting too many times. Fuck.

But you are an actor and that's what you do. You act professionally. It's only work for you. And also, for Sebastian. And he's an actor himself too. He should understand. But what he cannot understand is why was he feeling like this to who's supposedly his friend. The image of your last scene is not burned in his brain, he thinks.

Jin let out a heavy sigh, running a hand in his unstyled hair. Maybe he should go outside. Maybe to a bar. Order something strong that will obviously wash the scene out of his brain and will slap some senses into him. But he hates day drinking. And it's dumb to do that today just because of this. He should just distract himself.

"Oh, god. You almost killed me!”

Jin was so deep in his thoughts, that he didn't where his feet led him after your scene. He doesn't how and why, but he ended up opening the door to your trailer, which was right next to his. His eyes widened as you seemed to be in the middle of changing. You still have the same dress on but your hands are reaching for the lock of your necklace.

“I-I’m sorry– I didn't mean to– I should just–” Jin stuttered, about to turn around and leave when you stopped him.

“No, no, no. I actually need help and Haley is out, buying something. I need someone to unclasp this stupid thing." you told him.

You turned your back to him, gathering your hair up and away from your neck. Jin licked his lips, hesitating for a second before taking a step closer to you.

He gulped once again when his eyes fell on the exposed nape of your neck. Smooth and delicate. His hands felt too clumsy when he reached out to your thin, gold necklace. He tried to stabilize his breathing, hoping you didn't head the tiny hitch in his breath when his fingertips slightly touch your skin like a ghost.

Almost instantly, your chest heaved when you felt his light touch brushing on your skin. You bit your lower lip, not wanting to react obviously. But he felt warm and you think you shivered the moment his fingers brushed on the back of your neck.

"Almost... there."

Fuck. His voice was deeper than usual when he murmured, focusing on the lock. He probably didn't mean it to sound like that, but it still made you feel something in your stomach. You felt like the world is spinning, not aware that you were making him dizzy as well.

"Got it."

Finally, he unlocked the clasp, sliding off the jewelry on your neck. He took a step back before handing you the necklace.

You turned around and almost instantly, you noticed his ears. Red as a tomato. You cannot help but smile as you whisper a soft,

"Thank you."

You're a goddess. He thought, looking at you a little more up close than earlier when you were doing your scene. He wanted to tuck that loose hair behind your ear, but he didn't want to make things more awkward.

“No problem,” he replied, forcing a smile on his lips.

Suddenly, the temperature in the trailer is rising and both of you can feel it in your skin. There is some tension in the air, it feels heavy on your chest and tightens your stomachs. But some things are maybe better left unsaid. So Jin nodded his head and was about to turn around when you held his arm and tiptoed, planting a peck on his cheek before whispering something that sent a shiver down his spine.

"Can you stay a little longer?"

taglist rules

THE A-LISTERS: CONFIDENTIAL TAGLIST

@xiumo @joonsbvtch @firesighgirl @qualityjoonie @lojocas @txtlyn @yoontaethings @zwiehe

PERMANENT TAGLIST (closed)

@dunixxd @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @imajinthis @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23 @chimchimmarie @petalsofink @jayhope88 @moonchild1 @laylasbunbunny @nikkiordonez12 @misshale21 @marblemoonstones

[laswells-ashtray]

GOD!

I just read something you wrote about Graves and Dadler and I can has more? Please?

-🇷🇺

Oh my god, I've been wanting to write more Dadler and Baby Graves because I love it but I didn't know if anyone would care about it. Also, I'm in a childcare course at college and I get to flex what little use it has.

Adler has a rocky relationship with his ex-wife, she isn't fond of the job but she certainly isn't fond of how clingy Phillip is with his dad. It irritates her, the boy is two and he always seems to be in his father's arms and tugging at his hand for attention. Everyone expects that the behaviour will antagonize Adler, he's not known for his soft-hearted personality.

They're wrong.

Russell Adler might be a part-time asshole but he's a fully time father.

It's at his own birthday party that people start to question the Adler persona they know. He invites his ex-wife, he wouldn't deny their son the presence of his mother just because he was feeling petty. Besides, having another parent there allows him to have a beer or four, depending on how much time he spends talking to Mason and Woods.

They're in the middle of a hushed discussion about a certain actor turned president when someone small and giggly toddles past Mason's leg, almost toppling over until the man guides him with a hand on his back.

The conversation halts as Russell looks down, baby blue eyes meeting his own as Phil tugs on his jeans, He can see his ex-wife moving in his peripheral vision, approaching them with whatever scolding she could think of on her tongue.

He ignores her, reaching down to pick up his son and holding the toddler on his hip. Only as he feels little wheels drift across his chest does he notice the toy car in the little one's hand, courtesy of Uncle Frank.

The two other men offer Phil a wave and he gives them a quiet "hello" in response.

Russell uses her free hand to tap his fingers over the toddler's tummy, expression softening as the squeak of protest.

Phil seems content running his car over his father's chest and shoulders, making the occasional zoom noise to go along with the action much to the amusement of the three of men.

His ex stops beside him, reaching out to take his son from his arms and he instinctively wraps his arm around the toddler, holding him to his chest and earning a tiny plastic Porsche digging into his chest.

His eyes narrow as he looks over to her, hand spread across Phillip's back. "Leave him, he's having fun."

She rolls her eyes and at the sign of an oncoming argument, Mason and Woods step back but he gratefully acknowledges that they stay close enough to take Phil if it turns into one of their typical screaming matches.

"Hand him over, he can't spend the entire party in your arms. He's clingy enough already."

He counts to three in his head, rubbing his hand between his son's shoulder blades as Phil tries to subtly dislodge his toy car from where it's stuck between his hand and Russell's chest.

"Kid's two, he can be as clingy as he wants. My birthday, I get to choose how I spend it with my son."

As the toddler turns to try and glance at his mother, he's quick to turn his whole body around so that the only people in his line of sight are his "uncles". There's no point in subjecting a two-year-old to his mother's ire at his age-appropriate behaviour.

"At least put him down."

Her voice grates on him, like nails on a chalkboard. Only when Quint dragged his nails down a chalkboard in Jaws, the noise was bearable. His ex's insistence that a toddler finding a safe haven in his father's arms feels like swallowing glass and feeling every nick it leaves inside of him.

"You know what, he's staying here tonight. Go home, I'm keeping him for the weekend."

It says something about what little patience she has for him that she doesn't try to protest, only muttering under her breath before storming out of the gate. He doesn't loosen his hold on his son until he sees his ex-wife get into her car, and when he does he's met with the relief of no longer having a metal car stabbing him through his shirt.

Phillip looks up at him and then down at the grass below them, before meeting his father's gaze again. "Down?"

He shakes his head, dropping his hand from his son's back to run it through his blonde hair, messing up the neat style his mother had insisted on keeping it in.

"No, kid. You don't have to go down. In fact, let's go show Uncle Alex your car."

[modernwarfarelover]

Match Made in Hell PT1

My first fanfic, hope it doesn't come out ass. Thinking about Male!Reader and Ghost being absolute menaces when put together. They both like fighting each other and try to kill each other every time they meet but are like best buddies. Y/N: Your Name C/N: Code Name L/N: Last name

You were one of the best soldiers in your unit. Being good in stealth and damn good with a rifle. Other soldiers on base respected you due to your fierce reputation and skills on the field. You were a quick thinker, loyal, fast on your feet and could get the bravest men shaking in their boots. No one dared to disrespect you or your comrades. When TF141 and your team teamed up, 141 wasn't sure what to expect. Both teams had been after Makarov and came to an agreement to work together. Price and your captain got along well and everything seemed to be off to a good start. They were supposed to be meeting at your team's base today to get everything settled and so you could all officially meet. The captains have met but you'd yet to meet the rest of the team and were curious. Would they be practically attached by the hip like your teammates were? Well, only one way to find out. You stood quietly beside your captain along with the two sergeants on your team as he shook Price's hand. 141 didn't seem all that bad. In fact, they might even match up to your squad. One of them in particular caught your eye though. Their Lieutenant, Ghost. The skull mask on his face had you curious. Was there any specific reason he wore it? Was it the same reason you wore your balaclava? The thoughts were pushed aside when you heard you captain speak to you."(C/N), be a good lad and go show our new friends around, would you?" Captain Yachi addressed you with a smile. To which, you nodded in response and gestured for the three to follow you while the two captains talked. As you showed them around base, one of the sergeants, Soap, spoke up. The first thing you noticed was his accent. "So, ye're the famous (Y/N C/N L/N), aye?" He asked with a grin, "ye don't talk much very much." The mohawked man added. Gaz nodded in agreement while you just simply hummed in confirmation. You noticed Ghost was just staring at you the whole time. His gaze made more questions linger in your mind as you observed him and he did the same in return. Eventually, you came to a stop at the training room. Soap tried to peek over your shoulder to get a look, but that didn't go very well because of how damn tall you are. "This is where we'll be training and whatnot, you can all come here whenever you like." You said, crossing your slightly bulky arms over your chest. "Bloody hell, this place is a wee bit big." Soap exclaimed as you stepped aside so they could enter. Ghost was the last to come in. His eyes held a neutral expression as he took in the scenery. Then he looked at you again, silently sizing you up. It was obvious you could hold your own in a fight from the way you carried yourself. You were just slightly taller than him by a few centimeters, which almost surprised him given he was usually used to being the tall one in the room. You spotted him staring again from the corner of your eye, both of you holding eye contact for a moment. "Wanna spar?" You asked after a few minutes of silence. Ghost was quiet for a few more seconds before replying, "sure, if you think ya can keep up." He remarked dryly. Of course, he knew not to underestimate you, it was just a comment to ruffle you up a bit. So now here you both are, throwing punches and kicks at each other like one of you had wronged the other. It'd been over twenty minutes and still neither of you had managed to win. Both of you had a few bruises and scratches, maybe a black eye but no serious injuries. Soap and Gaz watched with stunned expressions as they watched the supposed sparring session. It didn't even look like sparring, more like a whole angered fist fight. Finally, you'd managed to pin Ghost down on the floor of the ring. Both of you panting with your hearts pounding in your ears from the adrenaline rush. Soap's jaw almost dropped all the way to the floor. It wasn't often anyone saw Ghost get one upped. And here he was, face down with a fellow LT sitting on his upper back and a hand pinning his head to the floor, legs on either side of him.

[sulphuricgrin]

WIP Wednesday

I always forget that it's actually Wednesday, only to be reminded when I'm tagged to share WIPS.

tagged by @skyrim-forever and @hircines-hunter <33

no pressure tagging: @pocket-vvardvark @sanza-17 @lillxart @illumiera @orfeoarte @theoneandonlysemla @changelingsandothernonsense

@scholarlyhermit @sunlightpassingthroughthewater @yewphoric @flycasual

more Elikar chapter wip. with Alcanaro (Elikar and Lilli's elder brother) and briefly introducing Estatelle. (poor Estatelle) This is just mostly dialogue. Damn chapter is currently 8k, not close to done. But to my shock, I'm finally feeling excited about it. If you see spelling/grammar mistakes, no you didn't. (I'm not at the editing stage yet obviously)

Ignoring the guests for now, he’ll focus on family. Lilliandra had yet to appear, but the rest of his family were with the room. He’ll start with his soon-to-be sister-in-law, an introduction would be best. It doesn’t take long to find her, standing at the side of his brother, who’s talking to a face he’s unfamiliar with. Elikar waits at a comfortable distance away, unwilling to interrupt the conversation. In the meantime, he observes.  First thing he notices is the golden ear cuffs, made to mimic a longer taper of the ear. He was right in his initial impression, finding her to be a drastic contrast to Alcanaro. Round face and eyes to Al’s sharp features. Instead of his overflowing confidence infecting her, it seems to smother her, if the wringing of her hands and downward eyes were anything to go by. The only thing that matches is the rich fineries she wears. It matched his brother’s tastes, likely picked out by him. When his brother begins to turn with his guest, ready to walk off, Elikar steps in to talk to the brunette. She stiffens at his approach, before looking at his brother’s back. As if on cue, he looks back, perhaps wondering where she is.  “Pardon me, my brother seems to finally want to meet my fiance. A few minutes, please,” he puts the guest’s arm before returning to them. Hands behind this back, Alcanaro looks down his nose at the both of them. When the fiance begins to fidget with her hands again, he’s quick to stop it, placing his hand over hers. “Stop that.” Elikar clears his throat, before placing his hand on his chest and offering a shallow bow of his head. “I’m sorry I’m a few years late to personally welcome you to the family. I’m Elikar.”  Her first reaction is to look to his brother for, he doesn’t know, approval? It makes him uncomfortable. “It’s about time you did,” Alcanaro’s quick to comment, trying to reprimand him. “Yes, well, I was busy, in Khenarthi’s Roost, if you remember.” In a bit of frustration, he continues, “If you want to talk, introduce me, you ass.” It surpises him the amount of vitriol that comes from his mouth, all from the silent annoyance that was bubbling during the last few days.  He clicks his tongue, before placing a hand on the back of his fiance. “Estatelle, my… younger brother.”  She smiles, albeit somewhat nervously. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Elikar. How is it being stationed in Khenarthi’s Roost?” He easily smiles back at her. “Boring, if you could believe me. Lots of ships and paperwork, nothing worth talking about,” he jokes, trying to lighten the mood.  Her blue-yellow eyes brighten at his mention of ships. “What kind of ships do you get often?”  Alcanaro rolls his eyes at her question. “If you’re going to talk about this, then find me in fifteen minutes.” He adjusts his sleeve in boredom. “That should give you plenty of time to idly speak such nonsense. Fifteen minutes,” he repeats before leaving them.  Her smile diminishes with his scathing words, her hands back to fidgeting.  “I,” he pauses, “I hope he’s not like that with you all the time.” Worry gnaws at him. He almost reaches out a hand to place on her arm in a comforting manner, but he barely knows her. (And in the back of his mind he worries that will scare her.) Estatelle offers a tiny smile. “Just the stress, I’m sure. So many important people here. He’s always a gentleman,” she tries to explain. She then waits, patiently, for him to continue their interrupted conversation.  Awkwardly, he asks, “So, ships?” Without his brother’s shadow, she brightens five-fold. She nods to his question, an excited grin replacing her timid smile. This was where he was sucked into a long conversation, answering every question the girl had. From what he could gather, her father had been in the navy and she had grown up on and around ships. She was a pleasant mer to talk to - young, possibly a bit naive, but didn't seem dim-witted.  A shame she was to be stuck with his brother. 

[dzvelinaskebiyars]

Hajun's/Joker's analysis

(This is more like a rant tbh)

I don't see lot of people talking about Hajun, whereas I think he's fascinating character and even though there's a lot we don't know about him, he's written enough for me to rant and analyse about.

Hajun, a.k.a Joker, is a character in Windbreaker webtoon written by Yongseok Jo. He's part of Sabbath crew, which plays antagonistic role in the story. Joker's moral compass can be confusing at first because he's illegally making money, but he's also well-intented person. He has taken the role of caregiver and provider for his brothers and he seems to give everything he has to live up to that role. However, the money he's making is from underground and illegal boxing, where people bet money who's gonna win and who's gonna lose. I believe fight clubs are popular outside of this manhwa so, I'm sure you all understand what I mean. It's been shown that Hajun enjoys fights and he's fascinated by mma & martial arts, but boxing is what he has taken biggest interest in. He tends to get excited whenever he meets strong opponent (like how he immediately started a fight with Owen, who's supposedly cyclist genius) and immediately asks for a fight, whether politely or not. He never misses a chance to get into fight, not for money but because he genuinely likes fighting strong opponents. He has quick reflexes and can easily block random and sudden attacks, he's also a guy who starts throwing punches before others can even blink. Can he act impulsive? Yes. Is he a bad person? No. And I'm going to explain why.

Firstly, his little brother HATES that Hajun is making money by beating people up, hence he, himself, starts working and denies his education. Hajun, as a big brother, of course can't turn blind eye to it and hence approaches his brother about it more than once. Upon hearing what his little brother said in part 3 of Windbreaker, Joker decided to change his ways of making money so his little brother wouldn't have to work so hard especially at construction site, which is very dangerous for a kid.

Mind you, it's not easy for Hajun either because as I said, he truly enjoys fighting and he needs to make money as soon as he can but there's very little he can do without professional career or guardian. It's not only money as well, he's cooking for them, handling their healthcare and etc. He's trying his best to be emotionally available for them as well and makes sure to hear them out and be understanding in his own ways.

Aside from being caregiver to his brothers, he's a person who values fairness. He refused to against Dom Kang when it was two on one because he considered it to be unfair, he doesn't pick on weaker opponents because he knows it'd be unfair - like how he refused to block Shelly because she wasn't good at physical fights and he didn't want to injure her. But he went against his own morals few times in order to gain money, like helping Wooin with drug dealing just because Sangho gave them money.(Or maybe he thinks it's alright as long as he gets money out of it) However, Joker himself never doped and achieved everything by his own strength and skills.

His morals might be little questionable at some point but he's truly well-intented man. He even stopped cycling in the middle of race, despite being close to finish line, to save the injured puppy and go to the vet afterwards. He seems to be very responsible person as well, as he took the puppy under his care, provided for it and always made sure puppy was with him and safe. Once, he also stopped at the red light during the cycling race when he didn't have to.

He's quite hardworker as well, acknowledges his weakness and trains to improve himself. He's quite motivated character and has sportsmanship whatsoever. Author is portraying him as tough on outside, soft on the inside type of guy in the series. But again, there's more to his character that has to be explored but we're lacking information, unfortunately. A really good trait of his is that he's not changing his values and morals for someone, no matter what kind of situation he really is in. He has his priorities set straight and follows it with undying loyalty.

Tag list: @shintaru

[laundrypause]

Logan signing up for the 50 singles swipe video because after a kind of lonely birthday (all her friends had partners while she didn't, and it was kind of weird to feel like you were third wheeling on your own birthday) she made the New Year's resolution to finally take control of her own life. No Sir, this year, she's going to do something about her life and not just sit on the sidelines watching the world pass her by. Can you believe that Logan's never even had a boyfriend before? Maybe it's because she never truly got over- Nope, not talking about him, sad girl shit has been left in 2024. 

How it works is the girls and the boys are segregated, only a white curtain in between them, and one by one, a person from each side goes out and chooses to either swipe left (no) or right (yes) for the person in front of them. 

Forty minutes later, Logan still hasn't gotten a match yet. She's swiped right twice but got rejected each time and swiped left the other three times. Just because she's desperate doesn't mean she doesn't have standards. That's when the producer announced that they'd be going for one last round before moving on to the single dates. Great, she's come all this way, adamant at finally taking life by the horns and she might not have anything to show for it. Maybe this last round will prove sufficient to maybe not find the boyfriend but just someone who she could get to know. Logan wasn't that naive to think her happily ever after could be in this room but saying that she'd gone on a date, albeit a short one, would definitely help get Kyle off her back with how he wants to set Logan up with one of his frat brothers.  

 

In the last round, it happens. Blue eyes, blonde hair with slight curls, a playful smirk on his face. Literal definition of a surfer boy and guess what. They both swiped right. Match made. Finally. Logan and Simon, surfer boy's name, head to the line of matched couples, where they wait for the swiping to finish. 

The swiping goes on for a little while longer but of course, the hope that this could go on drama-free all changes when she sees him walk out from behind the curtains. 

What was he even doing back in America? He was supposed to be in Australia. When did he come back? Why was he here? And why did it have to be now? He's definitely grown since the last time Logan saw him. He's almost the same height as Logan, broader than her. The polo he's wearing does nothing to hide his arms; in fact it practically accentuates them. His hair didn't look styled, and yet it still looks so dreamy....

Get it together, woman. He left you. Oscar left you. Now it looks like he's moved on. Which is good, cause you've moved on too. So get a grip. And stop drooling. God, that's embarrassing...

 

When the swiping was finished, it was single dates up next. All the matched couples would get five minutes to go on a quick date in front of everyone else while the rest sit and watch. If any one of them don't feel like they're vibing, they can use a swap card to swap their current date for another one. When halftime hits, anyone watching the date could pick up the steal card to steal the date of the person of their picking. 

Logan had to wait for 5 couples to finish their single dates before going on hers. Some were cute, some were awkward, and one ended up with a guy's best friend using the steal card to get with said guy's date. Or more accurately, ex-best friend with how the guy was glaring at him. 

 

"Next up is Logan and Simon!"

 

Cheers resounded as Logan and Simon took their place at the front. Logan's heart was hammering against her chest. Did she mention how she didn't like to be the centre of attention? 

 

"And your time starts...now!"

 

"Hey, babygirl."

 

....Was it possible for your organs to recoil? Because that's what Logan's did. Who even says that unironically? Okay, maybe the guy was just taking the piss. Yeah, that's definitely it. Off to a bumpy start but it surely can't get any worse right? 

It could and it did. Not only did Simon manage to be sexist and racist in the span of a couple of minutes, but he also managed to be slimy too, making sexual jokes about Logan's body that surely had no place on a family-friendly website. 

 

Why did she think this was a good idea again? 

 

"Mind if I take your seat?" a voice asked, rather pointedly. 

 

Logan jerks up, automatically thinking that someone wanted to take her spot (God wonders why but she'll take it as long as she could get away from Simon). She's, however, met with deep pools of brown eyes and a constellation of beauty marks she's had practically burned into the back of her brain and had daydreamed tracing over with her finger.

(How did Logan miss him walking up to them? Probably busy debating whether it'd be mean to use the swap card while Simon was in the middle of a sentence)

Oscar was holding the steal card, the red piece of cardboard clenched tightly in between his index and thumb. And he only had eyes for Logan.

[worstloki]

there is a difference between being born to a throne, maliciously vying for a throne, stealing a throne, and having a throne thrust upon you when you are already in the midst of an identity crisis. And I fear Loki's place in the line of succession has people unable to differentiate between any of these

[mistyscenter]

I love that this fandom doesn't understand Baxter's character, I adore how they patronize him,a whole ass adult, for facing the consequences of his actions.

I love how people make him feel like a sad little baby when he leaves mc as if that's not something he made extremely clear. I love how people treat this 19 year old as if he's not old enough to understand the consequences of his actions. I love how Baxter is aware of his flaw's but feels like he can't break them because people only see him as a tool and this fandom reinforces that.

I love how people will get mad at Nico for doing the cardinal crime of being 6 years old but will baby a 24 year old Baxter. I love how people make him this charismatic rich guy when it's shown that he's a hot mess that doesn't know what he wants. I love that Baxter's whole character arc is about his self sabotaging tendencies and how everyone ignores that. I love that people fell in love with the mask he had for most of the dlc.

I love that this fandom lacks reading comprehension skills and understanding of nuance characters, great job everyone for not understanding how writing works :)

[crystalkitty1220]

Man I wonder where the leader of the fear realm could've gone, it's alMOST LIKE NEVIN HAS AN

[wolfylch]

Later :

Some shots of a scene from our AU that will live rent free in my brain forever ✨️