#i have given up and now bias him

[purinfelix]

walking 'cross the campus - n. riki ⋆˚࿔

summary: one too many drinks lands you in the arms of a handsome stranger, who you suddenly end up confessing to - but given that you've never met before, it shouldn't be too big a deal, right? ─────── college au niki x reader || warnings: alcohol, reader being a sappy and kinda cringey drunk, fluffy awkwardness, tension || w/c: 2.5k

a/n: i fear the Niki brainrot is taking over me lately (blame my younger sister whos a niki bias and who has just been influencing me LOLLL) also not that anyone gafs but i actually had this fic idea for a formula one driver originally but never finished it so i recycled it .... hope u guys enjoy !!!!

Maybe this party hadn't been a good idea.

It had certainly seemed like it a couple of days ago when you'd decided to go, despite the assignments and readings piling up on your never-ending to-do list. Even a couple of hours ago, when you were there and enjoying yourself quite a bit, it hadn't seemed too bad an idea. But now, as you heard back to your dorm, barely able to keep your head up or your eyes open after enjoying yourself a little too much, you were starting to regret your decision

And it didn't help that you were being carried bridal-style by the most attractive guy you'd seen all year.

"What did you say your name was again?" you slurred, trying your best to stay awake in his arms.

"Niki," he says, his voice deeper than you were expecting, "though I doubt you'll remember that tomorrow morning." You watch as he chuckles to himself softly, eyes fixed on the stairs he's carrying you up.

"Huh- why?"

"Do you even remember how many drinks you had?"

"I stopped counting after," you unloop your hands from around his neck to count on your fingers, "eight?"

He lets out a small sigh, followed by a shake of his head, as if he's tired of you. But as he does, there's a ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth, almost as if he's trying not to laugh. "And that's if you can even call the shit in those solo cups 'drinks'. You're braver than I am, trusting frat boys with what you put in your mouth."

You let out a quiet hiccup before speaking in a high, giggly tone, "That sounds dirty." As you lay your head back on his broad chest, you can feel him laugh under his breath.

"Is this your floor?"

You nod, despite having absolutely no idea where you are - surely you can trust your past self to have been stupid enough to tell a total stranger where your dorm is, especially one as good-looking as this.

"I won't forget you," you hum happily, fighting the weight of your eyelids to look up at him, though he just looks ahead, brows furrowed as he tries to find your room.

"And why is that?"

"Well, you're so nice for doing this," you pause, a playful smile spreading across your face, "plus, you're not bad to look at, I don't think I could forget a face like this if I tried."

Without thinking, one of your hands comes up to cup his jaw, pulling him to look at you. Without your hands around his neck, his grip on you slips- and it doesn't help that your words, actions, and the sudden eye contact have caught him completely off guard.

"Wh-careful!" He scolds you with a soft hiss as he quickly repositions his hands to keep you upright.

"Oops!" you hic, unable to comprehend just how much of a hassle you're being right now, but still aware enough to catch the pink flush across his cheeks as he lets out a sigh of relief at the sight of the door with your name on it.

"Key?" he asks, somewhat impatiently, and you clumsily fumble around in your pocket for them before slamming them into his open palm. You hear the familiar sound of your dorm door opening and soon, the cool feeling of your plush bedsheets.

"There you go," he hums softly as he lays you down, though your grip on his neck doesn't loosen.

"Hey, mister," you huff through pouted lips.

"Yes, missus?" He replies in a tone that's equal parts amused and endeared, despite how exhausted he must be with you.

"I think..." you pause to reposition yourself, widening your eyes and pulling him close as if to force him to see the earnest expression on your face, "I think I might love you."

You don't have time to hear his response because you're passed out stone-cold the next second, and the only thing you hear is quiet shuffling followed by the soft click of your dorm door shutting.

The next morning hits you like a truck. Hard.

Your head throbs as you peel it off your pillow, and your mouth feels like sandpaper as you let out a croaky groan. You squeeze your eyes shut, lying there for a few moments and slowly, memories from last night trickle in.

Loud music, sticky floors, flashing lights, one drink, two, six - after that, nothing, a complete blank. Though if you try hard enough to can conjure up the faint memory of someone's hands on the small of your back, and yours around their neck.

You try not to overthink it, sitting up slowly and glancing around your room for any signs of damage. Everything looks normal enough, no carelessly thrown clothes or items belonging to anyone other than you.

With a painful stretch, you reach for your phone, which is neatly waiting for you on your bedside table. All it takes is one look at the time to force you out of bed in a rush - class starts in 20 minutes, great.

You do your best to slip into class unnoticed, making a beeline for your usual spot at the back with your hoodie over your head, sunglasses shoved onto your face to protect you from the harsh overhead lights. You think you've succeeded and start to rummage through your bag for your laptop when you notice someone drop into the seat next to you.

At first, you don't think anything of it, but curiosity forces you to attempt to glance at him over the top of your glasses. He's handsome, there's no doubt about it - he has a sort of boyish charm that you can sense from the way he's lounging in the seat, dark hair falling over his sharp features. It almost irritates you how put-together he looks for how early in the morning it is.

Then you realise he's looking right at you, with an amused smirk spread across his face that makes your heart unexpectedly flutter and your stomach twist.

"Rough night?" he asks, his voice deeper than you expected as he gestures to your sunglasses. His eyes don't leave yours, and there's a mischievous glint in them as he speaks.

You blink. "Uhm... yeah?"

He lets out a low laugh, and you can't help but feel like there's something more going on here that you're not quite getting. "You don't remember much, do you?" he drawls through a smile as he leans back, eyes raking over you.

"Should I?"

"Figured," he laughs, low and teasing, instead of answering your question.

You narrow your eyes at him, chewing on your bottom lip as you struggle to place him - he looks familiar, somewhat, but you're sure you'd remember meeting someone like him before. He certainly doesn't have a face you'd see every day around campus, so you're pretty sure you've never spoken to him before.

"I'm Niki," he offers casually, but as he does, a pang of deja vu hits you, and you don't get long to wonder why before he speaks again. "We kind of met last night."

You feel your stomach drop. Kind of?

"You were at the party?" you blurt out in surprise.

"Yeah, you were a mess," he says, the corners of his lip quirking into an entertained smile.

You're unable to hold back from letting out a mortified groan, hiding your face in your hands - partially to hide your blush but mostly because you can't stand to meet his eye right now. "Please tell me I didn't throw up on anyone or anything," you whine out.

"No puke, don't worry," he assures, "but you did need a little help getting home.

You peek at him through a gap in your fingers. "Who by?" you ask, speaking slowly as if you don't really want to know the answer.

He gestures to himself, a smug grin growing on his face. "Yours truly."

"You drove me?"

"Carried," he corrects.

"Carried?!"

"Bridal style, actually, the entire way."

Your eyes almost pop out of your head from how wide you open them, and all he does is tilt his head to get a better look at your reaction to what he's just said - almost as if he's savouring it. "Oh my god," you sigh, "I am so sorry."

"Don't be," he shrugs calmly, bringing up a hand to run through his hair, "you were pretty entertaining compared to that boring party."

"What exactly did I do?" You feel your chest tighten as you ask, wincing at the endless possibilities of ways you might've embarrassed yourself.

"You don't want to know," he scoffs, turning away from you.

"No, I really do," you insist, despite your better judgement telling you that you were probably better off blissfully ignorant.

He leans back in, dropping his voice to a low tone that feels like it's a secret just for the two of you. "Let's just say you were very ... affectionate."

You blink, unsure of how to respond. "Affectionate?" you echo.

"Yep," he says, and it irritates you just how unaffected he seems by all of this. "You told me you loved me, and I have to say it was pretty convincing."

He turns to you, watching with a playful glint in his eye as you struggle to comprehend his words. If he feels bad for teasing you, he certainly doesn't show it, instead continuing with a taunting tone. "Practically begged me not to leave."

You feel your face burn hot with frustration as you furrow your brows. "You're lying," you insist.

"Maybe," he shrugs, "guess you'll just have to trust me."

"Okay, just tell me I didn't, like, cling to you or anything."

He raises an eyebrow, attempting to fight a smile as he speaks. "Define cling."

You let out a guttural groan of embarrassment, pulling your hood down to hide your face again. "I am never drinking again," you sigh dramatically, your voice partially muffled by it.

"Aww, c'mon, I kinda liked that side of you," you hear him taunt, "it was cute."

"I hate you," you huff curtly, flicking back your hoodie to meet his eye, though the pink blush spreading across your cheeks betrays your words.

"That's not what you were saying last night," he chuckles to himself, turning back to his laptop and focusing his attention back to the lecture which, at this point, is almost over. You feel your frustration grow at the sight of him pretending he actually cares about it, as if he hasn't just dropped an earth-shatteringly embarrassing bomb on you.

You try to do the same, to make an effort to show just how much his words aren't affecting you, how totally normal you are about what he's just revealed - or more the thought of what he's still hiding. But you can't. Even as you try to focus on what your professor is saying, you can't seem to comprehend a single word. All you can think about is the boy sitting next to you, about the faint memories you have and how every single one aligns horrifyingly with what he's told you.

You're so lost in these memories in fact that you don't notice him leaning close to you again, not until his low voice hums in your ear.

"You really don't remember anything?"

You jump slightly, turning just enough to catch his eye, which is a lot closer than you're expecting - close enough that you can see the slight hint of worry in his expression. "Not a thing," you sigh curtly.

"That's a shame," he says, clicking his tongue as he shifts back in his seat, flicking his hair in the opposite direction as if to avoid your eye "I was starting to think you meant it." By how exaggeratedly he sighs, you can tell he's meaning to poke fun at you, but the slight waver in his voice betrays him, and instead, you sense just a tinge of disappointment in his words.

"So, what now?" you mumble, shifting awkwardly in your seat, "Do I owe you a thank-you or something?"

He tilts his head back to you, round eyes lighting up despite the rest of his face clearly trying to convey nonchalance. "I wouldn't say no to a coffee."

You narrow your eyes at him, "You're not trying to ask me out, are you?"

He stiffens slightly at your words, but is quick to cover it up before speaking again. "Would you say yes?"

You open your mouth, then close it, unsure of what to say in response. He's caught you off guard for what feels like the millionth time this morning - not by what he's asked, but rather by how not casual he sounds for once. In the time you take to process his question, you get a chance to study him, searching for a sign. One that tells you that he's just messing with you, that this is all an elaborate prank and that the previous night didn't actually happen the way he says it did.

But instead, you get something completely different, something unexpected. You watch as his eyes suddenly flicker away from yours, and he turns his attention to fiddling with the several rings on his fingers, as if he's trying to act like he hasn't just asked whether you'd consider a date with him.

That's when it clicks - he's nervous.

The guy who witnessed you make a total embarrassment of yourself last night, whom you drunkenly confessed to and whom has been doing nothing but teasing you and basking in your flustered responses for the past hour, is nervous.

You're unable to stop your lips from twitching into a small smile at the feeling of the tension suddenly flipping. "Maybe," you answer, trying to mirror his calm tone.

He glances at you again, something flickering across his face that slightly resembles hope, maybe relief, as he bites back a wide smile. "I'll take that."

The lecture finally draws to an end, and you watch as he stands up, grabbing his bag swiftly before turning to you. He's failing at hiding his smirk, but now it lacks the same smug self-assurance you found irritating just a couple of minutes ago, and you swear you see him hesitate for just a second before speaking.

"Think about it," his voice is lower now, almost careful, "and then if that maybe becomes a yes, you know where to find me. Or, I guess, I know where to find you technically."

"That sounds stalker-ish," you scoff.

"Hey, you're the one who told me you loved me."

"Fair," you shrug, resigned. With another low chuckle, he's slipping out of the classroom - but not before sending you one last look, as if his eyes refuse to let yours go. He sends you a lazy grin, one that seems like an affirmation of everything that happened the previous night.

And now you're sitting there, heart beating a little faster than before, head still a little foggy with blurry memories - but not enough to fully miss everything that just happened.

'Think about it.'

You've never really noticed Niki before, not like this, but now with the memory of his low voice in your ear, his teasing gaze on yours and his inability to let you live anything down ever - you're definitely thinking about it.

taglist for ni-ki fics (love u!! <3) : @miniw0nz @microwvdstrawb3rri3s @charsworld96

[audliminal]

Survivability Bias Pt 1

Masterpost - Ao3

Danny stares at the screen in front of him. The fact that he’s in a library is the only reason he’s not squealing at the clearly well-maintained website he’s currently exploring. As it turns out, this dimension does have NASA. That fact on its own isn’t too terribly surprising, considering all the other ways it’s similar to Danny’s home. What is surprising (and, in no small part, exciting!), is that in this dimension NASA seems to have much better funding. Danny had managed to resist looking up anything related to space for the first hour of his time in the library, but then Danny had chanced across an article about the ISS, and his resolve had crumbled. Not even fifteen minutes later, and Danny is here, exploring the very nice NASA website. Plumbing its depths, really, for all the information it can provide on what space is like in this world.There’s lots of new information; space research is definitely more advanced here than it was back home, and there’s occasional vague allusions to odd things like the livability of Mars, and other oddities, it’s almost like this dimension has come to the forgone conclusion that aliens must exist. Which is certainly an exciting thought, but it also seems odd to Danny. What divergent experiences lead to such a conclusion Danny wonders, as he absently hovers over the opportunities tab for the fifth time. He knows he really shouldn’t get his hopes up, but with a more funded NASA, maybe he could find a way to get a job there eventually. After all he has no real idea when, or even if, he’ll ever manage to go home, so maybe it’s okay to think about the future a little bit.

Maybe they’ve already come into contact with aliens, Danny thinks. Maybe I could get a job working with aliens! It’s that thought that gets him to actually click the tab, desperate to know if that’s even a possibility. The page that opens doesn’t really list specific jobs or anything. Mostly, it seems to just be advertising that NASA is always looking for smart people that are passionate about space (Danny’s definitely one of those things, at least). But there is an interesting little banner advertising a special summer camp for aspiring astronomers, ages 14-18. The idea of that is both surprising and exciting. Danny doesn’t think his home world’s NASA had anything like that. Sam had sent him through with some money, but he’s still unsure if it’ll even work here, and he’s also not sure he wants to risk getting in trouble if it’s just a really close match. Plus it’s definitely not enough to afford the inevitable cost of a whole entire space camp. Danny remembers going to summer camps a couple times as a kid and he knows they weren’t cheap. Still, Danny remembers that Sam had also given him a few pieces of really nice jewelry that he could pawn off for cash, and maybe that could let him afford it?.

It would be so much easier if Danny had a social security number. Or, like, literally anything proving that he really does exist. But, well, technically he doesn’t exist here. Obviously, physically he is here, but he certainly wasn’t born here. He’s basically an undocumented immigrant, just from a place that he literally can’t ever physically go back to. Even the computer he’s using right now highlights just how alien this place is to him, with its large, flat screen and graphics better than anything he’s ever seen in his life. It runs so smoothly, too, that he just knows Tucker would cry if he could see it. And this is what they have in a library. Danny can’t even begin to imagine what high end tech here might look like.

Everything here is strange and new, and Danny doesn’t even really know what he needs to catch up on. He wishes he could have stayed. He had wanted to stay. Of course he had. But after the second time the Guys in White managed to capture him, well, it wasn’t hard to see why they wanted him gone. So when Sam and Tucker and Jazz had cornered him, and explained that they’d found a way to send him away, to somewhere that the GIW couldn’t follow, he hadn’t argued. He hadn’t argued when they dragged him down to the lab, and he hadn’t argued when Jazz shoved a backpack into his hands, and he hadn’t argued when Sam had told him that she’d added cash and jewelry to what Jazz had gathered. He hadn’t argued as Tucker had messed with the portal, and he hadn’t argued when they pushed him towards it.

He can’t go home. Maybe just for a while, but maybe not ever again. He can’t see his friends, and he can’t go to sleep in his own bed, and he can’t come home from school and play Doomed with Sam and Tucker. But maybe all that wouldn’t be so terribly painful, if he could just have one little thing here that he couldn’t have done back home. Danny knows it’s a long shot, but he clicks on the banner, just to see.

The first thing he notices as he reads through the description, is that it offers a lot. Eight weeks, overnight in a specialized science camp facility, an opportunity to experience both a shuttle launch simulation and a zero gravity simulator? The opportunity to experience multiple different kinds of jobs? This isn’t some camp that wants to introduce kids to the idea of astronomy, this is designed for kids who already want to be astronomers. All in all, it’s everything Danny could have imagined and more. It’s not exactly cheap, though. Five thousand dollars isn’t exactly affordable when all you have is some cash that may or not work, and a few necklaces, fancy as they may be. After all, it’s not like Danny knows enough about jewelry to have even a hope of not being ripped off.

At the bottom of the description, there is mention of scholarships, though, and maybe if he angles it right, he can manage to make use of one of those? Danny glances through the list. He doubts he can prove himself worth the aptitude scholarship. His grades weren’t exactly good back home, even if he did have his transcripts. And he’s hardly going to get the financial hardship scholarship if he’s got no proof that he even exists here. One of the scholarships catches his eye, though, specifically because he has no idea what it’s for. 

Danny knows the word meta. It’s like self-referential shit or something. But it’s not exactly a scientific thing. That’s language arts stuff, the kind of thing Mr. Lancer goes on about, and there should be no reason for it to be a kind of scholarship. But maybe it’s an acronym or something? Danny mouses over, and clicks through to see what exactly it is, even if it probably won’t be relevant to him.

“Here at NASA we understand that people don’t always fit our standard expectations of normality!” The meta scholarship page reads. Danny tries not to let his hackles go up at the mention of normality. They can’t possibly be talking about people like him, after all. Nothing he’s seen so far has implied that ghosts have any sort of presence here. “In our efforts to expand our understanding of the infinite expanse of space, it only makes sense to do our best to work with those who do not conform to those expectations, especially when those exceptions often represent unique opportunities for possible field work. If you identify as a meta, and believe your talents make you uniquely suited to extreme environments, we welcome you to apply for our full-expense meta scholarship!*”

The introductory paragraph only leaves Danny more confused, and a bit wary. The references to normality and unique opportunities for field work have bile rising into Danny’s throat, and he shakily opens a new tab, and types the word meta into the search bar. If they’re experimenting on people here too-

The search returns an astonishing number of results. Among the first ones are a wikipedia article on metas, and so many news articles. Danny clicks on the wikipedia page first.

“Metas refers to an individual who possesses meta powers. Derived from the prefix “meta-”, meaning beyond or transcending, meta powers are innately defined by the natural capabilities of the general population. Thus, on Earth, the term meta, or metahuman, typically refers to anyone who has abilities beyond the standard human experience. A significant portion of metas can be attributed to the human metagene,  which typically triggers in moments of intense physical or mental stress, and can produce unique situational abilities. Other metas, may belong to other species who naturally have certain abilities, or to individuals who are granted powers by various deific forces or even objects.”

What.

It can’t possibly be that easy. This world can’t possibly be that perfect. Danny keeps reading. He realizes as he continues that this article is long, with literally dozens of subsections. On top of that, as he begins to read, there are references to numerous other events, and topics that he’s never heard of before. And by the time the librarian arrives to usher him out of the library for the night, he still isn’t finished with it, but he has learned quite a bit.

Apparently, it isn’t exactly as perfect as it sounded. Rather, this dimension has a long history of meta-related conflict. There’s been plenty of discrimination and mistreatment in the past; the kind of thing that Danny is more than familiar with. But on top of that, there’s literal, actual superheroes here. A lot of them. Superheroes that have fought against numerous world-ending threats and won. And those same superheroes have worked with the world governments, and ratified the protection of metas’ rights as being fundamental human rights. If Wikipedia is to be believed, Danny really is safe.

Still, Danny knows first-hand the way that governments can and will lie. And just because the internet claims that these so-called metas are treated fairly, doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s true. 

Propaganda, Danny thinks. Who’s to say it isn’t all just propaganda? I need to be more careful about transforming tonight.

But the library does need to close, so Danny heads out into the second night in his new hometown, mind racing as he thinks about the implications of everything he’s read. The space camp seems so far away now, in the aftermath of the following revelations. Danny needs to get further from civilization if he wants to transform tonight. He follows the main street out, away from town. Maybe in a field somewhere, he’ll be okay? This doesn’t exactly seem like a large town. Even if it’s not true, Danny thinks as he walks. At least I’m not alone here. And I didn’t see anything about Anti-Ecto Acts.

[ririblogsss]

what if Danny give no fu-ks

Ok hear me out, Dannys obsession has never truest been confirmed by the show itself (that I remember) I've seen a lot of people say his obsession comes from wanting to help / protect people. But what if he feels as though that he is now doing more damage than good, after all there are a lot of people getting hurt as colateral damage from the chases he has to go on. Or simply when he has to run away from getting captured.

What if one night he was up late and saw a post about a tragedy that happened because he slipped up (it wasn't even his fault, but he still blames himself for everything). And then he starts looking at all the bad comments against him ignoring all the good ones saying how much Danny Phantom has helped Amity. Because Danny is still human and confirmation bias is real. Imagine how he felt the moment he realized that he was causing people to get hurt instead of keeping them save.

Image the desperation clawing at him with the realization that he has never been able to fully manage his obsession. it makes him sad, desperate, angry.

His entire self is filled with too many emotions at the sametime he isn't even able to identify them and catalogue them properly like Jazz taught him.

and then everything stops and he feels nothing.

Completely and utterly numb.

Like his whole reason to keep going suddenly disappears.

And it has.

He gave up on his obsession and now he has to make / get a new one.

But it's not that easy.

This drastic change could've ended any ghost as they run on (live off) emotions.

Luckily because he's a Halfa, so that has given him the upper hand. Unfortunately it makes it so that he is completely devoid of any emotion.

Months go by and people immediately notice changes, the more drastic one is that Phantom went missing, and eventually a lot of ghost that where coming in looking for him stop. Amity Park is no longer populated by ghosts, and slowly the GIW started to retreat from Amity going to another place following a lead that says there are more ghost activities up north.

But those changes aren't the only ones noticeable. Dannys classmates and teachers can vouch that Danny has changed. Most say he was always quite , and others say he looked down right depressed. Danny didn't do much in classes not that he paid attention before. Its just this time it seems that its not out of being sleepy or anxious about another ghost attacking the school instead Danny looks like he coundn't give less of a fu-k about anything.

He never smiles anymore not even when his favorite subjects (mechanics and space) are brought up. Not even a quirk of a smile. The school decided to contact his parents about Dannys new behaviors. That includes skipping classes, not handing in work, not doing the assigned work in class ect....

And its not like his parents havent noticed, they've had more time in their hands since they aren't using hours of the day/night going out hunting anymore. and they have witnessed their son become a shell of himself. They don't know what to do, and they don't want to worry Jazz about it because she's at collage and needs to focus on her studies.

So when the school contact them and told them that the behavior is the same in school they decided major changes needed to happen. Starting with a change of environment.

Maddie and Jack decided that Amity park was too big of a city with too many people. They could nearly see the stars at night because of the light pollution, hence they decided to move next door to Alicia, Maddie sister, home in SmallVille.

They decided it was the best choice, Danny would be surrounded by nature and he could do online classes that would go the pace he wanted. The move was immediate, the day off they packed everything sold the house and moved.

They only stopped to say goodbye to Danny's friends. A small bye and hug later they were on a 7 hour road trip to their new home.

When they got there the old resident handed them the keys of the home and told them to ignore the their neighbors 'The Kents' as they often made a lot of noice and had group gatherings every month.

The one thing Jack and Maddie forgot to double check was if the house was an actual house or a farm house. Sounds similar, but completely different as they now had 2 cows, 16 chickens, 1 rooster, and 3 pigs to take care off.

Danny was put on duty of taking care of the animals, such as feeding them on time and making sure they were healthy. Jack and Maddie made more of the heavy weight as to re building broken fences and fixing the questionable roof.

(The first thing Danny did when meeting all the animals was name them. After all this was about all the interaction he was going to do.)

Danny didn't have time to think about his lost obsession or his lack of emotions as he was now too busy making sure each animal was taken care off.

Marcy and linda (the cows) were danny's favorite they were very gentle and he felt that they could understand him when he spoke to them the stories of his vigilante past.

On the other hand The Chickens were a nightmare, Glinda was cool as she never chased him down. But Matilda and Bethany were a nightmarish duo spiteful too when he was seconds late to the finding time. Mark the rooster was chill he mainly acted as of he was part of the group that needed protection.

Marice, Betty, and Miss Piggy were the chillest of the bunch never gave Danny any trouble when feeding them and always made a point that they loved their new mudbath installation that Danny made for them on his first 2 days on the farm.

A month after arriving at the farm house Danny noticed that mark was missing. Danny looked everywhere around the property and saw him from afar, at the road. So Danny did the sensible thing anyone would do when spotting a run away pet, and that is call their name at the top of your lungs whilst running after them.

naturally Mark the escape artist run the opposite direction. By the time Danny caught up to him Danny didn't recognize the house he was infant off. So with Mark comfortably in his arms He swears he can see a smug look on marks face. Danny turned away from the house to start his walk back to the farm, but he was met with a kid his age looking at him with distrust.

"Ehhh look kid Im sorry to have crossed the properties border but Mark here" Danny made a point to acentuate Mark in his arms "Runaway from me this morning and I've been trying to catch him ever since, anyways I need to go feed the girls"

The kid starred at him for a second "OMG your from the new family in Mr.duncans farm right? in Aver ST.?" and wow the kid was like a ray of sunshine.

"Yea-" Danny could even finish his sentence before the kid cut him off by starting to talk a mile a minute about how he was so exited to meet people his age that lived near by and how farm chores were harder that normal house chores.

"Jon, give him time to respond. Im Damian this is Jon" Danny jumped he hadn't noticed the second kid at all

"Oh yeah... sorry about that what's your name?" The kid (Jon) slightly less enthusiasm, a bit embarrassed if his tone of voice was anything to get by.

"Danny, Im 15" he responded before he started walking away after all he did need to get in time to feed the chickens unless he wants to suffer their furry. Danny shuddered at the memory that popped up in his head.

"Wait!!! I just thought we could be friends cause we live close by u know" Jon said catching up with Dannys steps. Damian was following from behind.

"Sure kid I don't care" Dannys voice was monotone much like it had been for months.

"Hey were not kids for your information, Im 14 and Damians 16 soon to be 17, so if anything you night be the actual kid!" Danny chuckled slightly it was more similar to releasing air from his lips than a laugh.

Soon a quite and enjoyable science encompassed the group as they went to Dannys home.

"Hmm... you're hold on Mark is adequate and the your determination for getting home in time for feeding is acceptable" Damian spoke up after a while of the passive silence.

"yeah and what is It to you" Danny was slightly urked by Damians default setting speach. He told him as such.

Jon blanched before erupting into giggles that sent him to lay down on the grass uncontrollably laughing. Damians right eyebrow quirked up in what Danny assumed was amusement.

Thus a new friendship grew that day.

They often gathered at Dannys or Jons yard to have picnic in the weekends (as Damian and Jon has school in Metropolis on week days) and hangout with the animals. Danny found out that Damian was a vegetarian and that he had various animals at home. One time he brought his Great Dane Titus, who bodied Danny on sight to give him kisses.

Also Damian was Damian Wayne as in bruce Wayne, Batman sugar daddy. When he said that, Jons milk flew out of his nose and Damian choked on his cucumber wrap. Even Titus gave him a judgemental stare.

Slowly Danny started to smile more, laugh every so often. And things were feeling so much better after not being able to feel anything for a while.

Jazz, Aunt Alicia and especially Maddie and Jack felt so relived to see that Danny was slowly coming back to them.

Danny to this day backs the fact that Mark knew something and planned the whole thing.

[bitchlessdino]

hello! 🤍 can i request a bad boy type wonwoo having a soft spot for also a cold type reader?

like they always acting so cold towards other people and even both of them acting like they hate each other.

and people are like "oh there is no way they can date", but wonwoo is only kind to reader and viceversa even without them noticing

Oh, and they dont even realized their feelings until reader feels jealous when they saw wonwoo with someone else and thats when they realized about it, but are afraid to said something since reader doesnt know how wonwoo will react

Kinda angst maybe, but fluff at the end

take your time btw! 🤍 it is also totally okay if is not possible, hope you are having an excellent day 🌸

Pairing: wonwoox gn!reader Genre: slight angst, fluff, slice of life Word count: 6.3k tags: mentions alcohol, childhood au, biker!wonu, frienemy!wonwoo, possible love triangle, reader called a bitch, presence of violence and imminent danger, analogy using car wrecks, mc and wonwoo stilling living with their parents as adults because that's normal ok, kinda messy, intimates kisses Summary: Hard to maintain a good acquaintanceship if it started off on the wrong foot, but Wonwoo tries to do just that, no matter how much you resent him from childhood. Now reunited as adults, you're questioning whether your negative impression of him has stuck since being away or have you grown up just enough to realize how much between the two you have changed? author note: this was collecting dust but finally she is here. just in time for wonwoo to be in my bias list 🙂

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @goblinvern @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch

You will never willingly be associated with Jeon Wonwoo. 

His mom had just happened to be someone your mom knew. Someone that she hadn’t talked to or seen in a long time. Long enough to have built their own families and have their kids without realizing it. It was as if they fell back into place. A long-time childhood friendship that quickly rekindled in a grocery store one day. From that day on, your families were inseparable. As long as they were still friends, you’d see each other every day.

“Why would I babysit some weirdo kid? I have better things to do.”

The problem was he wanted nothing to do with you.

When you met him the first time, you were a child barely getting around to a bike without training wheels, and Wonwoo was meeting the first stages of fungal acne. He was a bit older than you were then and his mom had given him the duty to look after you, the neighbor’s kid. The neighbor’s weirdo kid.

His mom bragged to yours about how good of an older brother he was to his younger brother, Seonwoo, but that seemed that seems to be his limit. Having freshly turned a teen, it all made sense. Wonwoo didn’t know you, and all of a sudden in his growing years he’s stuck taking care of a kid he knows by association. Understandably, he’d have that teen angst.

You didn't mean to overhear. You just happened to eavesdrop behind a pillar that day in their obnoxiously nice house when you came across him and his mother talking privately. Admittedly, you hadn’t made the best impression, but you were any kid in their single digits: annoying, talkative, maybe skeptical. But you were a kid. A kid that got their feelings easily hurt.

Despite saying such hurtful words, Wonwoo listened. He treated you with care–consideration almost–following his mother's orders, but you didn't make it easy for him. Every group breakfast, every dinner, every ride to school. You became relentless. You knew how he really felt about your situation after all. Your mind was made up at that point.

If he wanted nothing to do with you, you wanted nothing to do with him. 

“Keep walking.”

Your eyes barely glaze over at the unfamiliar figure before waving off your hand as if dismissing a nuisance, which in this case was accurate. The unsolicited stranger scoffs, getting up from his unwelcome seat, hacking and spitting on the spot on the floor next to your chair. “I don’t fuck with bitches anyway.”

You roll your eyes as you shoo him away with the flick of your wrist again, then feel another unwanted presence join you in your once peaceful solitude. You tightly shut your eyes in frustration before taking a deep exhale, finding silence impossible under your circumstances. “I don’t want to hear it, Jeon.”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything,” you hear Wonwoo arrogantly chuckle, shrugging off the thick leather off his shoulders and setting them on his lap as he takes a seat.

With your back turned to him, you imagine the pristinely lit smile on his face he gives when he’s amused, a rarity in these parts with the exception of you, someone he’s known long enough to recount every blemish that once appeared on your face. He watches you finish the rest of your drink, the bob of your throat shifting before you pull the glass away from your lips. Your resting bitch face is still intact after all these years.

“Good, keep it that way.” 

Wonwoo could have chosen to keep the peace as he said he would, but it was just too easy with you. Even after you’ve left for college and come back, he acts as if nothing has changed. In his eyes, you were still that same angsty kid who always has something snarky to say when he’s around. And man, did he always have just as smart a rebuttal. “It’s just, that was the fifth guy you’ve scared off—course, the guy was a moron—but you like dying alone, Frosty?”

Frosty. The Snowman. Much unlike the jolly creature, however, you were given that name being somewhat of a cold character, particularly to Wonwoo and anything he witnesses face the wrath of your harsh but honest judgment. 

You begin getting up from your seat, scowling at the abhorred nickname, the prediction of this dinner a mistake an accurate calculation. “Should’ve known you’d run your mouth. Tell mom I’m heading to the store across the street.”

Your mother was so proud to have you back home for a period before you’d find a new place again, and she insisted on holding a small intimate gathering at bar type restaurant. That meant sharing the space with other patrons, the Jeons, and unfortunately Wonwoo, who only grew more irritating than you last remember. 

“I’ll tell her, but I’m coming with.”

The caretaker role he was bestowed upon so long ago seems to resonate with him still, insisting on trailing behind you with nonchalance. To which you answer with a brash:

“Fuck off.”

Your eyes go to the back of your skull the nth time tonight before you’re off on your stroll, noticing the annoying scrap of Wonwoo’s heel following behind you after he waves your mom and the rest of the party farewell. You ignore him, darting towards the antique shop that warms your stomach with nostalgia, hearing the wind chimes clang when you enter with a cool musk breeze to follow.

“That all you have to say to me? Even if you hate me, there has to be some…sentiment.” 

You finger through the old hardcovers, eyes scanning over the aged wood of the shelves until they move on to the glossy wood of the cuckoo clocks on the walls. “Not even a little bit, Jeon.”

There’s the breathiness of his scoff that lingers in the musk air. He crosses your arms, the leather rubs loudly against itself. “Well, that’s sad to hear,” he responds, not sounding sad at all.

“Don’t you have an actual sibling to bother? Why are you being a nuisance to me?”

He simply shrugs. “Seonwoo isn’t back from his work-study just yet. Plus he’d be happy to know I kept you company.”

Unlike Wonwoo, Seonwoo was actually tolerable, pleasant even. If you were envious of Wonwoo for anything, it was having a nice little brother like Seonwoo. You weren’t exactly close but he was a nice kid, a lot nicer than Wonwoo anyway, and not at all that annoying kind of nice that chirps every two seconds.

You sigh. “Now that’s actually sad to hear.”

“I knew you’d say that. You always liked him better than me.”

Only because you never liked me in the first place.

“Mmhmm.”

“Oh my god, Wonwoo?”

A shrill voice beckons from the store entrance, an older version of a girl from your adolescence runs towards you both. “I thought I heard your gorgeous voice. Gorgeous face as well as always, how are you?”

Gina also grew up in the same neighborhood you both did and was typically nice, but around Wonwoo, she seemed to lose all train of thought since all her eyes could train on was him. She bats her eyelashes the same flirtatious way several years ago, and instinctively her body is drawn to him like mosquitos to blood, drinking in masculine appearance for all its worth.

If you were anything like her, you’d get it. Wonwoo is an attractive man by society's standards, but the truth of the matter is you can’t stand him. And you know deep down he can’t stand you. His fake politeness isn’t fooling anybody. Okay, that is a lie. His fake politeness doesn’t fool you, but his limitless charm made everyone else weak in the knees.

“Good, good.” He nods cordially, a smile drained from his face only leaving a straight stare, eyes only landing on Gina momentarily before they return to you.

Gina finds his gaze’s target before the light is slightly dimmed from her initially bright eyes. “And you too. Oh gosh, you must’ve got back too. Can you believe we’ve both graduated from college?”

You wonder if she does, considering you did graduate from the same university.

“Yeah, it’s…crazy.” You answer, sounding unintentionally sarcastic.

Gina awkwardly chuckles, eyes back on Wonwoo as if they never left. “All we need is Seonwoo and it’s like the musketeers again, huh?”

Hardly the musketeers when she only ever stalked Wonwoo the entire time. You’re surprised you didn’t find she didn’t follow him all the way to the bathroom too.

Wonwoo’s cold expression is a steel cage that lacks interest. He blindly nods, mumbling “sure,” and not giving any other sign of continuing the conversation.

“Well, you guys should totally make it to my housewarming party. I’m inviting all the other guys from the neighborhood. Invite Seonwoo too! It’ll be a nice way to catch up.”

“We’ll think about it,” Wonwoo answers, giving her another curt nod.

“I’ll be really, really grateful if you did.”

There are stars in her eyes, like a treat is dangling in front of it, that treat being a six-foot body of steel and perfect Wonwoo.

 “Right,” he grunts.

She finally waves you both goodbye before making it past the glass doors with a quirk in her step.

You continue to peruse the rest of the store, picking up that one wooden statue that’s never been sold, or if it has, it keeps getting returned. It makes you wonder if it’s cursed. “Just reject her already and let her move on. Even I feel sorry for her.”

“I’m not ready for the aftermath of all that.”

You really have to unlearn that eye roll of yours. You could tell it’s giving you a headache. “Of course you aren’t.”

“You’re not going, are you? The thing she mentioned?”

“This the first time you met me? Of course, I’m not going. You are?”

He shrugs. “A party never hurt anybody.” 

“Without an address?”

He pulls out his phone with a notification as clear as day, Gina’s Instagram handle ushering him with details of where the party whereabouts. “Who said I didn’t have an address?”

“She really needs to find a hobby.”

Wonwoo chuckles, tucking the phone back in his front pocket. “Ready to head back now? Unless you want to look through the store a second time.”

You groan. “Stop policing me. I’m going home.”

“I’ll take you.” 

You raise your brow. “On your fucking death trap? No thanks.”

He scoffs, crossing his arms, the leather of his jacket speaking out of turn again. “You say that as if people aren’t begging to the back of my Harley.”

“Only people with a death wish.”

That goes on for some time until you make yourself walk the mile before your feet give out. Wonwoo obviously is the first with a smile on his face before he forces you to get the rest of the couple miles on the back of his bike, which was admittedly prettier in person than the photos your mom showed you. 

There’s a bitter taste in your mouth as you get on—no doubt regret—questioning the proximity. “Hold on,” he says, to which you answer, “fat fucking chance.”

Your spiteful words are wasted as you find yourself tugging on him as you speed off on the vehicle from hell on the freeway.

“You’re an asshole!” You scream from your lungs.

“And I told you to hold on!” He screams back, a wide smile on his face you have no way of seeing.

You desperately wrap your arms around his torso, your life flashing before your eyes like a movie. All you hear is the wind in your ears while the traffic lights are hardly visible through your tightly shut eyes. You feel your soul leave your body, thinking nothing but the idea of an afterlife. If there was one good thing about the predicament you’re in, it’d be that he can’t see the terror in your eyes. He doesn’t know how much you want to scream bloody murder.

Before you know it, you arrive home safe and sound, the gas stopping at the curb of your house. He abruptly uses the bike break and you crash against broad shoulders, and you exude bumbling idiocy as you cling to him like a baby with separation anxiety. Oxygen finally enters your brain and you recognize your compromised position, forcing your grip off of him. You unbuckle and shove his helmet into his lap as you get off, a permanent scowl on your face. 

“Fuck you.”

“Glad to see you haven’t changed, Frosty.”

You don’t forget that encounter back then and you never get a chance to with your mom finding any excuse to see the Jeons day after day since your arrival. If that perfect apartment with affordable rent were to drop at your feet at a perfect time just when you so desperately needed it, it’d be now.

“Bring that in over next door. The Jeons will be thrilled to see their fridge stocked. And remember I’ll be gone until the morning.”

“We just gave them homemade wine yesterday. Mom, just because they live next door doesn’t mean we always have to plan to meet. We see them anyway.” You grab the cumbersome container of whatever it was anyway and hold it to your side like like a football, a strained expression on your face.

“You need to understand the value of lasting relationships. That’s why you’re still single, honey.”

You roll your eyes, groaning as you trod off, not wanting to start up another one of lectures why you're in your mid-twenties room with hardly any men in your books let alone in your court. Better off facing Jeon Wonwoo again than that, you guess.

You knock on their familiar white door, awaiting an answer from the other side. Soon enough you hear a masculine voice, but a voice that isn’t quite Wonwoo’s. The boy's fresh face on the receiving end piques your interest, an expression telling of a life of light and ease. Seonwoo stares back at you with a smile before politely waving. “It’s good seeing you! Been a minute.”

You find yourself returning a gesture, relaxing your arms. “It has. Mom wanted to send things over. Again.”

“Of course. Come in.”

You leave the box of goods in their fridge, feeling the presence of the younger Jeon follow behind you like a benevolent puppy. “Did you get in yesterday?”

“This morning. Early flight.”

You grin. “Singapore doing you good, I see.”

“Nothing like home though.”

You softly chuckle, “Yeah, there isn’t.”

Your conversation is cut short with another family coming down the stairs, one that looks ready to leave. They meet your eyes in amusement and his steps begin to falter in turn. “I saw you yesterday.”

“Don’t you dare make a joke about me missing you. It wasn’t funny any of the first five times.”

He’s smug as expected, entertained by the fact you’ve kept count. “I won’t, but it won’t make it any less true.”

You scoff. “Live in reality for once in your life, Wonwoo.”

“I will when you do.” He comes to the kitchen—briefly passing by you to do so and grazing your forearm—to fill a glass of water and downs it, his signature jacket thrown over his shoulders. He let out a refreshed sigh in your direction and put it away as soon as he finished. “I’m leaving now. When you change your mind about missing me, I’ll be at Gina’s party. Might actually find some fun there while you’re at it.”

The door closes behind him dramatically and your attention is right back on Seonwoo, the successful bystander. “Your brother is annoying.”

The young man smiles, finding the nostalgia in that small event. “Reminds me of the good old times.”

“Well, I should get going.”

“You’re going to the party too?”

You shake your head. “Not the slightest bit interested. Just trying to keep myself busy while I’m still in town.”

“Plan on leaving already? You just got here.”

“I can’t live on my parents forever. Need to make a living of my own you know.”

He softly laughs, a warm light enveloping his presence. He always seems to emit pure joy. Like there was nothing that could ruin this kid's day. “Nice to see you haven’t changed. Still self-reliant.”

You can’t help but smile back, “… Wouldn't be me if I wasn’t. I'll see you later, kid.”

You walk back home and go on with the rest of your afternoon by carrying on the duties of a college graduate with no job: endless job hunting. You let yourself go on that way for an hour, already bored by rereading your applicant details and sending in copies and copies of cover letters and documents. Your eyes have started to see stars shooting from either corner, warning signs of mental fatigue.

Shaking the numbing feeling, you shut off your laptop and notice the time on the clock. In the back of your mind, you’re remembering that party Wonwoo ended up going to. These parties weren’t by any means rare, but it had been some time since you let yourself give into environments as such. You said you wouldn't go but in dire situations of weary silences, perhaps it would hurt to take a second in a new subsubspace. Something to take off the edge of the weight of your undetermined future.

Against your initial better judgment, you force yourself out of that house to enter that very party you said you wouldn't go to. So like Gina to make an event over a normal thing like this. You don’t put much thought into what you wear and leave the house and when you arrive late as you were, you are unsurprised by the huge turnout. Five seconds in, you’re already regretting the 10 bucks you paid via UBER to get there.

The house was so Gina. As expected of one of the daughters of the wealthiest families in town. As you enter, all you hear is music, loud and rambunctious voices and laughter, and shouts of barely adults chugging whatever concoction in those house party solo cups. It all quickly reminds you of college and high school, times in your life you were relieved to know were over.

Why did you decide to come again if you knew this was going to happen?

You try ignoring the voices that seem to recognize you, evading and walking through the place for a potential drink to buzz you out of self-consciousness. If you were going to be in a place like this, a drink was warranted by all means.

“Wonwoo, come on!”

Gina’s voice, easily distinguishable, resonates from the other end of the room and sees how her presence bounces like a kite in the wind. You look in the direction of her gaze to find the person she seeks, ultimately having Wonwoo being dragged by the wrist, his hair sweeping the swift breeze of her force.  You were a bit relieved to see him, someone who is more similar to you in ways you’d never willingly admit.

You feel the urge to approach, curious how he’ll handle this one, but intentions all change of a brisk move, changing setting immediately. One second Gina looks up at him with doe eyes that speak longing and ache, another second her arms are looped around his neck and she pulls his lips against hers, massaging against them naturally as if rehearsed. Your feet stop, watching the unsightly scene like it’s a car crash as if in slow motion, taking you only a second to realize he hasn't yet let go.

Slowly then quickly, your chest pulls up like a marionette doll before it drops in a lump, repeating until the sound of your heart is rapidly pounding into your skull. You don’t understand it, but you don’t want to either. Swiftly, you duck back and turn your head in the other direction, having seen enough.

Then panic ensues.

People are harder to brush through than you realize. Colliding each one was like speed bumps in your way of a smooth departure. You were bound to have one person take a drunken offense to your rash movement and there it was: a subtle push that led to a spilled drink that stains the shirt of a man big enough to frighten children if he approached.

“Watch the fuckkk ya goin’!”

You don’t bother with the importance of apologizing or even acknowledging him. You realize it too late when he pulls at your collar back towards him, strangling you at the throat.

“S…stupid bitch can’t even see…fucking ruin my—hic—deink”

Your hands come around his grip, attempting to pry him off. “L-let me go. The fuck?”

“The fuck you say to me piece of shi—ah!”

He finally releases you when Wonwoo appears from behind him, tossing him out like an old ragdoll with no weight. The drunkard comes crashing down to the hardwood floor and before he realizes the cause of it, said cause whisks you away with his gril looping around your wrist.

“You’re going home right the fuck now,” Wonwoo grumbles, dragging you out of other guests' way and right out of the door, once again leading you to his motorcycle. “Bike now.”

“Wonwoo, what the fuck—“

“You aren’t an idiot. You knew what was gonna happen if I hadn’t stepped in. Now get on before fee fi fo fum finds out we left.”

“I’m not getting on that death trap again!”

His glare pierces right through you. “I know you'd rather be at home than here. Especially with the probability of becoming a statistic. Get on.”

He is right for the most part and even you’re seeing through your nonsensical defiance. Reluctantly, you follow his lead, knowing he’s left you with no other choice. You endure another near death experience, this time clutching on to him less resistantly unlike last time all the way back home. It is when you’re at the foot of your door you only realize the keys that were supposed to be in your pocket but left on the kitchen counter instead.

“Shit.”

Wonwoo quickly puts the pieces together. “No key?”

You shake your head, embarrassed slightly over your feeble appearance. “No, and mom won’t be back until the morning so I’m screwed.”

“Alright. You’re sleeping over.”

You scoff looking back at him, wondering whether he’s in the right state of mind to make that call. “You’re kidding.”

“Not unless you’re okay slumbering at the footstep of your door.”

Another choice made of your hands. You discouragingly follow after him as he unlocks the door across the street. Seonwoo was evidently still home with his loafers by the foot of the door but dead asleep upstairs in bed. 

“You take my bed. I’ll take the couch,” he offers nodding in the direction of the living room.

“No thanks, I’ll take the couch.”

He groans, giving that irritated look. “Don’t be difficult and just sleep in the damn bed.”

You huff, strutting over towards the couch. “Sleep in your own damn bed, Jeon. Stop treating me like you’re my babysitter.”

He follows after you, crossing his arms like an annoyed mother, “You’re really gonna be like this?”

“I’m not being like anything.”

“You know what?” He grabs the throw pillow off the couch, “Fine. We’ll share the couch.”

“Excuse me?” Your eyes narrow back at him.

The smug smile on his face says it all, knowing there was no rebuttal to follow. “Neither of us will take the bed, we’ll both will take the couch.”

Before you can argue, he ascends the stairs for more bedding and comes back to toss you a blanket and pillow. He keeps one of each for himself, sprawling on the other end of the massive couch, gesturing you to do the exact same. Cautiously, you mirrored his image, crawling under your borrowed blanket. Despite your feet not touching, you couldn’t help but feel suffocated by the close proximity, forcing you to crunch up your legs and bring your knees close to your chest. 

Wonwoo’s eyes drop in place, nuzzling into his thick blanket. “Good night.”

“Whatever.”

He softly scoffs with a smile, basking in the silence. Meanwhile, there was you, wondering why you listened to his instructions so willingly. You sigh, your eyes glued to the ceiling counting every bump and curve of its textured surface. 

“This is stupid it’s literally 10 pm”

“Sounds like bedtime.”

You peek back at him, his eyes still closed. “You did not go to a party to plan on sleeping at 10 pm.”

“You don’t know what my plans are. Sleep now.”

“I could’ve handled it, you know,” you argue.

“I bet you could’ve,” he responds dryly. “Wasn’t gonna take that risk though.”

“I’m serious…you didn’t have to, especially since…”

“What?” 

“You know,” you take a moment to form the words, “whatever that was with Gina.”

You hear him scoff, shifting on his side of the couch. “Nothing was happening with Gina.”

You let out a parched laugh, in disbelief of the words leaving his lips. “Wow, that lie comes so easy, does it?”

“Believe what you want. It’s not what you think anyway.”

“You’re so…obnoxious,” you sputter.

“Thank you.”

“So when did that happen? You and Gina?”

He huffs hot air out of his nose.“There’s no me and Gina. I don’t know what you saw, but…it’s nothing.”

“You were kissing.”

“You could call it that.”

“For a while,” You add.

“Just enough for her to find closure.”

“And did she?”

“Saved your ass before I could find out.”

You have no response to that and you let the silence take over for a few minutes. After those few minutes, Wonwoo was the one to break the peace.

“You asleep yet.”

“No, it’s not even 11,” you answer exasperatedly. 

“Well, I'm tired.”

“Go to sleep then.”

“You should sleep before I do.”

“Why?”

He shrugs, “I'm supposed to take care of you. It’s what your mom would want.”

“Why? I'm a grown adult.”

“I don’t think an explanation is needed.”

“Ever heard of personal space?”

“Make some smart decisions and I’ll consider it.”

“You’re such a dick,” you grunt, turning away from view.

“I’m only trying to protect you.”

This shit again. You pushed yourself up from the couch to sit up, fuming in his direction. “Because your mom asked. Okay, I get it, but you’re not obligated to anymore because I’m your mom's friend’s kid. Just stop.”

“That’s not why–”

“Stop lying–”

“I’m not fucking lying,” he says matching your stance. His gaze meets yours in anguish, urging you to drop it. 

You scoff, lying back down in a sleeping position with your back turned towards him. “Whatever.”

“...Despite popular belief, I’m actually concerned about you sometimes.”

“I guess…I don't entirely find that hard to believe.”

“Thank you. It’s not like I hate you.”

“Sure,” you answer, voice basted in sarcasm.

“I don’t.” You hear his body shift back down on the couch, finding comfort between the leather cushions.

“Then why are you such a dick.”

He sighs. “Sorry.”

“That’s all you have to say?”

“...Sorry.”

You ponder to yourself, wanting to turn back the clock to the earlier conversation for unknown reasons. You turn your body, seeing how his body mimics your body seconds ago, back turned, eyes closed, and facing the couch. “So if not Gina–”

“There’s no one,” he cuts off, “I mean, I'm not seeing anyone.”

It reassures you. Not that it should’ve. “Okay. I believe you.”

“Okay.”

You’re unsure when you drifted off, you only remember it being mid-conversation that your vision started to blur, followed by darkness and soon the light of the following morning. You wake up in Wonwoo’s house unexpectedly alone, quiet enough to hear the sound of a pin dropping. You enter the kitchen, parched, and you find a plate of food. You approach cautiously, catching a glimpse of the note, immediately catching on to why it was so damn empty. 

Went to get stuff done. Keep yourself entertained for a bit. - Wonwoo and Seonwoo

With an impish grin, you quickly run your fork over and over into the balanced meal and nourish your body, but slow down as your subconscious reminds you of last night's events. It wanders to your impulse to attend a party out of sheer boredom, stumbling upon an unexpected scene, before immediately trying to escape it before you are caught. The kiss becomes a scene stuck on replay, playing the image like a broken record. You did not black out, though you wish you had, considering your uncalled-for badgering of Wonwoo’s relationship status you shouldn’t have cared less about. Yet do.

You try bruising it off if you can help it, quick to leave, and relieved to find your mom home to let you in. Your day begins a new, and with a new day, she already has stuff for you to do. You’d be annoyed if you weren’t so grateful to be let back in home, remembering to grab your keys this time as you left the house again following her request for grocery shopping. 

You drink in the town for the first time since being back, questioning yourself why you hadn’t done it earlier. The block isn’t that different since you left, perhaps more greenery and flowers, but otherwise everything looked the same. Same old town, same old stores, the only thing difference was the people. Fine lines got deeper, toddlers now taller, and you now a stranger. Even the grocery store has changed managers, one adolescent bag boy at a time.

Even long finished with grocery shopping, you’re still wandering the center of town, circling in steps of the alternating tiles of the ground. For a moment, you free yourself from your thoughts, your worries, your ambitions, and live in the moment. It had been so long since you felt like this. You expected the feeling to emerge in college but that had been just another thing on your plate and suddenly you’re reminded of Wonwoo. Knowing him, he’d like this sight of you, proud to see you experience another emotion for a change.

Then your eyes flit back to the scene several meters from you. He reappears in your vision just as he has in your thoughts, only now Gina embracing him, squeezing the life out of him just as the life is squeezed out of your chest. He meets your eyes, his pupils expanding, before lightly pushing the poor girl off of him, but not in enough time to stop you from trying to escape again.

“Hey!”

You ignore him, letting your feet take you where it guides you. You’re blind to the incoming obstacles, brushing past pedestrians, shoulder everybody you meet, and you barely register the busy road before your feet make an unexpected halt. You hear the blaring honks until you’re pulled out, face crashing into their shoulder, arms coming around your in strong enclosure.

“Are you stupid? Why are you running into oncoming traffic?”

You shove him off, heart beating louder in your chest than any bike ride he’s taken you on has, and you’re seething in an emotion that you never expected to be in. Never in this lifetime at least. “Wonwoo just stop. Please.”

“I’m not doing anything. I don’t get why you’re trying to push me away.”

“I’m just sick of this. Of you. I can’t do this.”

“Why? Why? What do you think this is?”

“Just, leave me alone, Wonwoo.”

He sees you trying to walk out on him again and he doesn’t let you. Taking you by your arm, he pulls you towards him, leaving only the width of your forearm as his gaze pierces right through you, brimming with a mix of concern and utter anger. Frustration. Impatience.

If there was one thing about Wonwoo, he may have looked like he came from an anger management class, but he did manage it well. When he didn’t, your feet would feel glued to the concrete, frozen in the fire of his eyes, for once fearing what the man had to say.

“You know what? No. I’m not letting you do this? I don’t understand what’s going on or why you hate me so much–”

“God,” you groan, “it would be so easy if I just hated you.”

“Then what is it? You don’t hate me. You don’t like me. What? I’m wracking my brain trying to understand you–”

You don’t let him finish. You aren't sure what was in the breakfast you had today but you find yourself pulling him by the collar to meet his lips only to push him away in that instant, barely a whisper of his presence in your mouth. You clamp your hand over your mouth before finally treading away shocked by your actions, scurrying away.

He doesn’t follow you and you don’t blame him. You retrieve your once-abandoned groceries from the intersection to then find your way home. Rain is close to follow, drenching from head to toe. As if things couldn’t get any worse.

When you get home, you’re alone once again. The door shuts with a clang and you’re left in your self wallow, regret burning the back of your throat. Your back slid against the wood, a deep exhale expelling from your lungs. “So that’s what’s wrong with me.”

Like clockwork, you feel a knock erupt from the same door. Conceding to whatever was on the other side, you brush yourself up from the ground and turn the knob, only to be taken aback. Wonwoo, wet like made from glass with his locks swept over his head, stands before you panting. On either hand is a bundle of flowers barely protected in the cellophane it came with when he bought them and his cell phone he’s death gripping in his hand, no doubt damaged by the rain.

You blink back at him, lips parting in confusion. “Wonwoo…You’re wet.”

“Likewise.” He invites himself in and sets the flowers on a table nearby, not even for a second letting his gaze stray from yours. “You left me hanging there. Kiss a guy and walk away like he means nothing?”

You shake your head in disbelief, processing this, him. “Why are you here…with flowers?”

“I really do have to spell out everything for you, don’t I?” he responds smiling.

The squelch of his shoes trod in your direction, the invisible string connecting you two shortening. Preventing your evasion, you feel the palm of his hand against your back and your lips crash in a lingering reunion. The squeak of his slippery leather doesn't make it past your ears, distracted by the heat of his lips in the clash of the coolness of his rain-stained skin. 

Your hand crawls up his neck to press him closer, feeling the strength of his arms wrap around you tighter before shutting the front door effortlessly with his foot. He lets you pin him against the door, lips tight bound to yours, and relief settles in his stomach as you show no sign of pulling away. He finds himself whispering a word of gratitude in every language, smiling against your lips. “No more excuses…I’m not letting anyone get in the way. Not even you.”

You finally break out in a smile, brushing it against his lips before reclaiming them, not minding the wet leather.

You spend the rest of the day in each other’s company. You put away the groceries before the room temperature worked against their favor and got yourselves changed out of your rain-dampened clothes, throwing them in the dryer. Even if he lived right next door, you allow him to wear your most oversized shirt after he insisted he should, watching the cotton fabric cling to his broad shoulders with the hem just hitting him at his hip bone.

Man, he’s a large man.

“Kinda snug.”

You scoff, crossing your arms in an attempt to hold yourself back. “You can get clothes next door. You’re just a few steps away.”

He grins, approaching you. “It’s raining…I could get sick.” His long arms land on either of your shoulders, reminding you of that cat that knew too much in a childhood cartoon. “You don’t want me sick…”

“You wouldn’t get sick taking two long strides to your house, Jeon,” you respond, rolling your eyes, unable to meet his.

“But you’d take care of me if I was, right?” 

You roll your eyes, accepting his advances of a hug and feeling his chin fit in the crook of your neck. “Kiss a guy two times too many and he follows you around like a stray cat.”

He grins. “You like it. Don’t act like you don’t. You probably even like my bike and you’re not telling me.”

“Okay well, no. Those are two separate matters.”

His arms wrap around you tighter before reuniting your lips, such tenderness and sweetness in his gaze as he thumbs over the curve of your cheek. “You don’t deny that other thing.”

“I thought was already point blank. You know, when I didn’t push you away, kicking and screaming.”

“Yeah, but,” he shrugs, his cheekbones only getting higher. “Hard to come by something nice from you. I want to hear it.”

You sigh, giving in. “Fine.”

Your head fit between the divide of his chest, hearing a quickened pulse underneath it. You close your eyes as your hand strokes against his back. “I have�� feelings for you. Maybe for once good feelings. Just don’t get cocky about it.”

Overwashed with calm joy, he takes you tighter, inhaling the soap in your hair. “Too late.”

[eomayas]

acts of service • hjs

pairing: joshua x f!reader, established relationship

genre: fluff

synopsis: joshua takes care of you without you having to ask

warnings: none

a/n: i’m starting to look like a joshua stan which is funny because he’s not my svt bias but the brain plays funny tricks on us! but hope u enjoy :) unedited

“joshua, my feet hurt,” you whine, smooshing your cheek against his shoulder. your feet are on fire from the tall, uncomfortable heels you wore on your date tonight. honestly, everything is uncomfortable right now, up to your dress feeling suffocating, and the headache you feel coming on.

“we’re almost at the house baby,” he says. he’s already given you his jacket because you didn’t bring one, and it’s much windier than you guys expected. he doesn’t know if he can give up his shoes too. “can you hold on?”

“fine,” you huff. you know you’re just being dramatic because you’re just so uncomfortable, but you can’t help it. you walk gingerly beside him, wincing with every step you take. it feels like your ankles are going to fall off, though you’re not too upset at the idea of that happening in the next five seconds. “shua, my feet hurt so bad!” you whine after another minute of unbearable pain.

he sighs quietly beside you and stops walking. “ready?” he mutters, one arm slinging under your thighs and the other going across your back. you nod, and he swoops you into his arms bridal style. you circle your arms around his neck and smile to yourself.

“shua, you’re the best,” you sigh, head resting in his neck. he hums, but doesn’t say anything. you decide to keep quiet the rest of the way, not wanting to make him more annoyed than you can tell he already is. he keeps his eyes straight ahead, just wanting to get home and crawl into bed.

finally, you arrive at the apartment building at he walks you over to the keypad to put the code in. you press the sequence of numbers in, and the door pops open. he walks through, careful not to hit your legs against the frame, and walks over to the elevator. joshua sets you down with a sigh, and flexes his hands to bring feeling back into them. “too heavy?” you joke, tone lighthearted.

“no, i lift more than you at the gym,” he mumbles, pressing the button to call the elevator, not even sparing you a glance. “just cold.” you bite your bottom lip and stand there next to him, waiting.

“want your jacket?” you ask.

“keep it.”

the elevator dings and the doors slide open. ever the gentleman, he holds his arm in front of the doors so they don’t slide closed, and waits for you to get in before he does. you press your floor number and lean against the wall, holding onto the support bars to take some of your weight off of your feet.

reaching your floor, you step out of the elevator and, wordlessly, joshua immediately lifts you back into his arms. he carries you down the hall and stops in front of the door. “keys are in the right pocket,” he says. you dig your hand into the pocket of his coat to retrieve the keys, and unlock the door for the two of you.

joshua deposits you onto the kitchen counter and helps you out of his jacket. he disappears down the hall, leaving you with your headache and your aching feet. “god, everything hurts,” you mumble, rolling your ankles in your shoes. “shua, can you help me take these off?” you ask when he comes back down the hallway.

you watch him suck in a breath, holding it for a moment before blowing it out. “of course,” he says, but it’s not the way you’d respond of course! to if somebody asked if you wanted to go to disneyland with them. he comes to a stop in front of you and picks up your foot, resting it on his thigh and begins unlacing your heel.

“thank you,” you say as he works your shoe off. you sigh in relief when your right foot is free from the heel, flexing and wiggling your toes. he takes your foot and softly massages it, and you feel so many things for him at once. “you’re the best.”

he just smiles, annoyance evident in the tightness of his mouth, but doesn’t look up at you. “i mean it. i know you’re annoyed with me right now, but i love and appreciate you so much,” you say.

joshua finally meets your eye, and his features soften. “i know, i love you too,” he leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead. “you’re quite the complainer tonight.” he mutters, kissing your forehead once more.

you smile with teeth at him, leaning back on your hands. “i know—you’re my rock,” joshua bends your leg and presses a kiss to your knee, flicking his eyes up to yours before working your other shoe off.

content sighs leave your lips when he pulls you heel off and massages your other foot. his fingers work deftly to bring down relief into your toes and pressure points, pressing the pads of his fingers into the skin. after a few moments, he stops and holds onto the counter, boxing your legs between his arms. “better?”

“mhm,” you say. he gives you a small smile before leaning forward to capture your lips in a kiss. you open your legs to bring him closer and then wrap them around his waist, crossing them at the ankles. “love you.” you murmur, hand softly stroking the back of his head.

“i love you. anything else i can do for you?” he asks, teasingly pinching your chin between his thumb and pointer finger.

you lift your arms up like a little kid. “carry me?” joshua chuckles and nods, kissing you once more before lifting you from the counter and hoisting you into his arms. he carries you down the hall to your shared bedroom, and tosses you onto the bed. he smiles when you shriek and giggle, bouncing a bit before settling on the bed. joshua grabs some pajamas out of the dresser: a pair of sleep pants for him, and one of his big t-shirts for you.

he helps you out of your dress, and laughs when you stretch like a cat. “that bad?”

“horrible.”

“why’d you wear it?” he asks, massaging your shoulders.

“for you, bozo. and it looked nice,” you say, poking him in the side. joshua pokes you back, and the two of you have a mini poking war before his fingers begin to crawl over your skin, wiggling into your sides. “okay, stop! you win.” you say, hands griping his wrists tightly so he doesn’t begin tickling you mercilessly.

he just grins at you and tugs his hands out of your grip. joshua helps slip the shirt over your head. the rest of your night goes something like that; joshua taking care of you without you having to ask for it. he helps you take off your makeup, and earrings and sets them in your jewelry tray before taking care of himself and doing his own night routine. he makes sure you’re tucked cutely in the bed before disappearing into the bathroom to handle his own business.

when he comes back in just his pajamas pants, you throw the duvet open for him. he smiles and slides in next to you, rolling onto his side to curl you into him. and this is what you love most about him, he just always knows what you need without you having to ask.

[lame-cameoliob]

Kallus' motivations are so interesting

I just need to get these thoughts out so I’m throwing this ramble here:

Now, this may totally just be me thinking too much (fork found in kitchen) but I feel like when it comes to how we tend to think about Kallus’ characterization, the implications of Kallus’ experience on Onderon are very overlooked. 

So he goes to Onderon with “the boys”-- which, the term “the boys” has its own set of implications about how Kallus must have really cared for those troopers under his command but I digress– and on a patrol they’re attacked, yada yada, we all know the story. 

But Kallus becomes fully paralyzed. He doesn’t describe the extent of his paralyzation but given that he had to watch as his squad was “finished off one by one” it’s pretty fair to assume that he could not move whatsoever. The fear that any person would experience in that situation is completely indescribable, that is genuinely some shit straight out of a night terror. 

He is– as we know– spared (albeit we don’t get exact details (did the merc try to kill him but reinforcements arrived before he could? Did the merc think that Kallus was already dead? Secret 3rd option?)) and he makes a full physical recovery, but there is no way in hell that he is not coming out of that encounter with some crazy PTSD. 

There’s not a whole lot of info on Imperial mental health services but I don’t think it’s a longshot to assume that they are probably close to nonexistent.

So the empire now has… an ISB agent with field experience… with untreated PTSD… where said PTSDs inciting incident pertained to a Lasat… and they’re looking to make an example out of Lasan……….. Are you picking up what I'm putting down here…...?

If you aren’t; it is BY NO MEANS a wild assumption to say that the Empire– essentially– weaponized Kallus’ PTSD, given that he would be less likely to question the moral atrocities happening on Lasan since he was already biased against Lasat as a whole. 

Now, we don’t really have a solid grasp on what Kallus’ exact role in Lasan was since he’s  kiiiiinnnd of an unreliable narrator– I mean we’re given the line in Droids in Distress where he takes credit for giving orders during the siege, but Kallus routinely just runs his mf mouth whenever he’s throwing hands so it’s like…  that could either be the truth or a crazy exaggeration, we as viewers have literally no idea what’s going on there– but it goes without saying that Kallus is obviously not excused from his participation just because of (likely) untreated mental illness, but that is literally like the whole point of his character so like we all knew that

Now, after Lasan, Kallus does something really bizarre for an imperial to do; he accepts the borifle given to him through the Boosan Keerah, and even though he doesn’t know about the cultural significance of that, he still takes it upon himself to learn how to use this weapon. I think that literally any other imperial would have tossed that shit out on sight, so I think it does kind of imply that Kallus did have a good deal of respect for Lasat culture.

Now we can all recall how Kallus is so annoying and also batshit insane whenever he fights Zeb for the first season and a half of rebels, and ME THINKS that this is because he wants to prove to himself that if he were not paralyzed on Onderon, he could have saved the members of his squad. He had to sit by and watch them die, and I think that he just wants the vindication; now you may be thinking, But Emma, he beat the Lasat who gave him his borifle, why would he still be obsessing over this– say it with me now– he is mentally ill. No victory will ever be enough to prove this to himself. Point blank period. 

(edit:) He is for sure operating from a place of extreme predjudice and bias but I think it's worth noting that he’s not operating under the usual xenophobic imperial mindset that other species are automaticaly lesser than. (end edit) This weird obsession that he has in seasons 1 and 2 deels like it's mostly there because he wants to outwit and outfight Zeb (and the rest of the Ghost crew… but especially Zeb) (edit: Though it is 100% influenced by Xenophobia-- his mental illness and xenopobia DO coexist!!)

And after the Honorable Ones???? It’s literally never brought up again. He chills tf out so hard after that it is high key uncanny. And like, yes duh that is because– for writing purposes– that’s the beginning of his redemption and they want viewers to root for him as fulcrum, but it also implies that after finding common ground with Zeb, and understanding where he’s coming from and who Zeb is as a person, he realizes that he’s been CRASHING TF OUT for basically no reason. 

And he is SO QUICK to switch sides?? Like, he is fulcrum at least a decent time before the beginning of season three. The whole point is that the second he asks questions and delves deeper into what the Empires motivations are he is disgusted enough that he doesn’t just drop everything and disappear, no, he became a spy for the rebels because he wants to help. I feel like that just goes to show that, at his core, Kallus is a good person. A deeply confused, and hurt, and misguided person, but a good one. 

I dunno, this is just a really long winded way of saying that Kallus is the perfect example of an imperial pawn. Like the Empire is an incredibly effecient indoctrination machine that exploits people at every turn, especially their own soldiers, and I think that Kallus’ relationship with that indoctrination along with his own motivations is just super super interesting and I think about it literally all the time

[i-dared-myself]

Name on My Skin

Jisung x reader

In which you meet the perfect soulmate for you.

In a world of soulmates, it is chaos. Oftentimes, meeting your soulmate is love at first sight. Other times, they meet their best friend. Occasionally people die before meeting theirs.

Or there are the times that people’s soulmates weren’t nice people. You would meet someone who you had positive ideas about for your entire life, only for them to be an asshole.

Your greatest fear is for your soulmate to be a jerk. For them to be some kind of psychopath or someone who should be in prison.

That is why you always avoid any chances of meeting your soulmate. You don’t go on blind dates. You refrain from physical touch, not wanting a mark to linger on your skin.

Your mother is not pleased. 

“Who’s going to take care of you?” she yells, hands on her hips. 

“I have friends,” you tiredly remind her. “And why are you here?”

She huffs and turns around, looking at all the shirts. “I don’t know why you even bother buying it. It’s not like the love of your life is going to appreciate it.”

“I have a job interview.” You rub at your forehead, fighting off a headache. “This is very important to me, okay?”

Your mother breathes out through her nose, barely hiding her disdain. “I don’t know how you expect to make any money there. Makeup? For men?”

“Men can wear makeup.” You peruse the options carefully. You don’t want anything too flashy, but you do want to stand out from all the other candidates. “And it’s their job, too.”

“What are they, models?” Your mother shakes her head and scoffs. “I don’t think this is a good fit for you, dear.”

“It’s just an interview.” You select a shirt off the rack and hold it up. You smile as you bring it out to checkout with your mother trailing after you. “It’s no guarantee of a job.”

Your mother sighs. “You’re right. You probably won’t even get it.”

But you do.

You get the job.

Now you’re a makeup artist for Stray Kids, finally making use of your degree. You had always been told it was a mistake to go into the field, but here you are.

When you walk in on your first day, you’re given the run down. Where the styling room is, who your coworkers are, and everything important.

You’re slightly ashamed to admit to your coworkers that you’d never listened to Stray Kids.

You had heard of them, just never gotten into it. You had never listened to them, nor watched anything with them.

You weren’t against them; it just had never peaked your interest enough to risk your mother’s wrath. She deeply disapproved of most things; boy bands being one of them.

So when they walk in, you might possibly be confused.

A man sits at your station, settling onto the raised stool. He smiles at you, eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’re new.”

“Uh, yes.” You bob your head, reaching past him for your tools.

“So who’s your bias?” he asks, making you pause. 

You hesitate because you don’t know any of their names. “Uh, you?”

He grins, poking the one next to him. “Do you hear that, Hyunjin? I’m the favourite!”

Hyunjin scowls and closes his eyes as his makeup artist moves to his eyes. “And?”

You try to swipe the brush over this man’s face, but he’s bouncing around wildly. You’re attempting to wrangle him back into his seat when a man walking by frowns.

“Stop it!” he scolds. “Can’t you see they’re trying to work?”

You smile softly. “It’s okay. We have time.”

“Sorry,” the man mutters. He slumps back and looks up at you, smiling sweetly. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

“Jeongin gave him too much coffee. I swear, I have to limit their caffeine intake.” The man shakes his head with a heavy sigh. “Anyways, you are…?”

You tell him your name before hesitating. “Right. Um, it’s nice to meet you…”

“Bang Chan.” Dimples form at the corners of his mouth. 

“Wait.” The man sitting in your chair frowns. He straightens and looks at you in horror. “Do you not know who I am, either?”

Hyunjin laughs, shoulders shaking. “This took a turn.”

“Sorry, no.” You wring your hands nervously. “I promise I’m not trying to disrespect you and- and-“

“I’m Jisung,” he declares. He crosses his arms over his chest and lifts his chin. “You lied to me.”

Your face burns with embarrassment. “Sorry. I just- You-“

“So I was your favourite without you even knowing who I was!” Jisung exclaims. He begins to slap Hyunjin’s arm excitedly. “Did you hear that! Did you hear that?”

Hyunjin wordlessly slides out of his seat and pads towards the door.

Jisung winces at you. “He’s not a morning person.”

“Jisung!” Bang Chan calls from the other side of the room. “Hurry up!”

Jisung grimaces. “Right. Sorry, let’s do this.”

You finish the rest of his face, smiling gently at him as he bounces away. He tries to take you with him, but you dodge his hand. 

“I’ll be here if you need a touch-up,” you tell him, feeling bad when he pouts. 

“I’ll try my best to not smudge it!” Jisung vows solemnly, as if the weight of the world is on his shoulders. “I don’t want you working so hard on your first day.”

“Aw, that’s sweet.” You laugh lightly. It’s nice that he cares so much. “But that’s why I’m here. Don’t worry about it.”

Jisung just giggles as he runs off, going the way Bang Chan had gone. You shake your head, hiding a smile as you clean up your station. You have no idea how it got so messy already.

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

You hoist your bag over your shoulder, checking your phone. You don’t have any notifications so you open the weather app so it looks like you’re still busy. You love your new job, but you’re tired after training and training and smalltalk galore.

Your nose is so buried in your screen that you don’t even notice the man sprinting in your path, head turned in the other direction. He knocks into you and your phone clatters tk the ground. You collapse as well, and his hands grip your forearms to help you up.

“Jisung?” You frown as he bends down to pick your phone up. “Are you okay?”

“I should be asking you that.” He scratches the back of his neck, eyes flicking up from where they had been focused on the ground. They widen a fraction and his lips part in surprise.

“Jisung?” You wave a palm in front of his face. “You good?”

“You- I-“ He gasps and points frantically to your arm, where there’s a tattoo of his name.

You blink at it. “That’s new.”

“Oh my gosh.” Jisung stumbles away from you. “You’re a crazy stalker!”

You shake your head desperately. “No! I have no idea how that got there!”

He wets his lips with his tongue. “Then that means…”

You both stare at each other for a minute. Neither of you seems to want to say it, but the words seem to hang in the air.

You found your soulmate, and he’s Jisung. Jisung is your soulmate. What you had been avoiding for years finally arrived.

“Um.” Jisung’s throat flexed as he swallows. “This is a thing.”

“Yes,” you agree. “This is a thing.”

Jisung watches as his name fades from your skin, never to be seen again. Now that you know who the other is, the only thing left to do is discuss where this leads.

“Are you gay?” Jisung blurts out. He winces. “I mean- I’m totally okay if you are. I support! I love, um, lesbians? Okay that came out wrong. I just mean that like-“

“I like men,” you assure him, heart melting. This… Jisung is the type that you wouldn’t be scared of. “And I would be willing to explore a relationship.”

His shoulder slump as he blows out a heavy breath of relief. “Okay, I’d like that. Can I buy you dinner?”

“Sure.” You nod and tuck your phone in your bag. “How was your day?”

Jisung seems taken aback by your question, but walks by your side as the two of you go out the door. “It was really good. I bet you can guess why.”

You smile, feeling all gooey inside. “I bet I can. Uh, I know it’s not great if we’re seen in public together, so is there anywhere specific you want to eat? Somewhere you go often?”

Jisung considers it for a moment before brightening. “Oh! There’s a really small shop near here. Good food, and no one is ever there.”

“Lead the way,” you say. You’re so glad your soulmate is someone like him. 

Taglist:

@velvetmoonlght @jinnie-ret @hansmic @imeverycliche @strawberryscentedd @iwuberic @lezleeferguson-120

[bbyobbyo]

You don’t usually wake up at the same time as Jihoon, but he definitely makes sure that you wake up with him everyday.

content: fluff, established relationship, idol!Jihoon x non-idol!reader, domesticity, spotify as a plot point lol

wc: 1.6k

note: inspired by this reddit post which i thought was 100% something jihoon would do especially now that i know he uses spotify lol. i feel like im the only one who finds it hardest to write for their bias, i get really in my head about whether or not im portraying him in the way I want to. i’ve never written idol!au either (bc i think it’s easy to overdo) which only adds to me overthinking ahhhh but hope that you guys enjoy this one !! as always feedback or comments are appreciated 🥰 I read all of them and they make me so happy hehe

[read pt.2 here!]

Jihoon swears there's something magical about waking up to a calm and quiet morning. The sun is barely just rising, blanketing the world in a soft twilight that cuts the dark blues of the waning night. And in his bed, he finds something equally as magical: your soundly sleeping figure next to him. The world is silent except for your steady breaths, and he has to take extra caution to not fall asleep again if just to enjoy the brief moments of tranquility like this during his otherwise busy life. Eventually he gets up to start his schedule for the day, taking one last look at your peaceful slumber in fondness before he closes the door behind him.

Make no mistake, Jihoon loves his job. Having 13 members in his group is fantastic, except when you realize that 13 people requiring styling and wardrobe before every public appearance takes a lot of time. His mornings may start early, but in reality most of his time is spent listening to music in salon chairs and dozing off in waiting rooms.

In fact, it was in the middle of getting his makeup done when he discovered that around 8:20 am every day, his Spotify (which he uses to listen to his daily Bruno Mars Mix playlist) stops playing on his phone and switches to… the speaker at home? He bought a new speaker a few days ago because the last one you had was on its last legs from years of use, but if it’s malfunctioning already then he might have to look into getting a new speaker sooner than he thought.

Upon closer observation, Jihoon also notices that the song has changed — it’s playing one of his songs, your favorite one actually. Immediately he realizes what happened. He contemplates shooting you a text to tell you to disconnect him and just sync your own Spotify account to the speaker, you’re home more often than him anyway. That thought quickly disappears, however, as he imagines you getting ready for work listening to the sound of his voice and genuinely enjoying the music that he pours his heart and soul into, he can’t bring himself to disturb you even for a moment. His eyes soften as he stares blankly at the Spotify home screen, headphones now deafeningly silent. Surely, Jihoon decides, he can live without his Bruno Mars Mix for just a while longer.

-

You sometimes wonder if your boyfriend is magic. Although a good morning text has been standard in your relationship since the beginning, it's starting to concern you how perfectly timed it is.

Normally, your morning routine is simple. Wake up. Get out of bed. Bump some tunes. Check your notifications. Brush teeth. Wash face. Get dressed. Pack bag. Leave the house.

You’re usually the one to text him good morning given your later wake up time, yet he’s been beating you to it lately. Yes, he knows you set your alarm 8:15 everyday because it's “the perfect amount of time you need to get ready and still make it to work on the dot”. But that doesn't explain why “rise n shine babe :))” pops up on your phone as you brush your teeth on the days you wake up early, too.

[8:06 am] you have to tell me how you do it

[8:06 am] Do what????

[8:07 am] im onto you mister 👁👄👁

[8:07 am] 👍👍👍

You spiral through the possible scenarios in your head: he has your location, but that wouldn’t tell him when you woke up right? Does your icon move around on the map? No, the location data isn’t that accurate. Maybe when you open your phone, your Facebook status shows that you’re online? No, you know for a fact that you both haven’t opened that app in years. Hmm, did he plant cameras everywhere in the apartment? Sure, you get the security utility of it but if he did it without telling you, there would be some SERIOUS things to talk about, maybe it really is all just guesswork and coincidence?

Sigh… you’ll get to the bottom of this eventually.

-

Jihoon doesn’t plan on telling you, but rather wants you to figure it out yourself. After all, he’s been dropping so many hints already. Your chill hangouts at his studio have a gentle hum of your favorite songs as background noise. He purposely asks you about the new albums of your favorite artists that, surprise, he’s already listened to. He even makes it a point to remind you that the speaker at home is hooked to his account every now and then.

Sometimes, he swears that you’ve figured it out and were just messing with him when you make little comments about your his song choices like “Really babe, you listen to your own songs this often? Are you sure you’re not a narcissist or something?” But besides these moments, there was no indication that you knew about his secret morning routine as you questioned him regularly about his tactics.

He has to admit, it was kind of amusing to see you growing increasingly suspicious of how on earth he figures out when you wake up, being particularly fond of the cute annoyed face you make when he tells you “No babe, I did not put an Air Tag in your pajamas, you barely sleep in clothes anyway.” Even your pout is adorable as you pretend to give him the silent treatment, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to keep it up for long. His little secret is safe for another day.

-

Jihoon has been working brutal hours lately. As deadlines for the upcoming albums drew near, his days start earlier than ever and end equally as late. However, the one thing he can always count on is coming home to you waiting for him.

It was the night of the new album release and you were more excited than usual, greeting him at the door like a lovesick puppy as soon as you heard the door handle turning. “Hi love, what are you doing up so late?” he pulls you into a quick kiss as he sets his stuff down.

“I wanted to wait to listen to the new album with you so you could see my reaction to it!” your eyes were beaming with enthusiasm. Jihoon’s heart swells at the sentiment, knowing that his partner supports him and his passions with such sincerity. You excitedly motion him to join you in your shared bedroom, full of anticipation to hear the fruits of your boyfriend’s labor for the past months. “Alright, you’re not allowed to be disappointed then” he jokes as he pulls out his phone, quickly finding the recently released album and making sure the volume is high enough before tapping the first track and handing it over to you.

Only a few seconds of the song passes before an idea flashes across your eyes. “Wait, let’s play it on the speaker!” you interrupt. You’re on your feet in seconds and before Jihoon could even reach over to press pause, you’ve already commanded your home speaker to play the track out loud. The music immediately ceases on his phone and switches over to the speaker.

Shit, he’s done for, he thinks to himself. He studies your face carefully for any indication that he’s been found out but surprisingly, your attention is laser focused on the melodies now reverberating around your apartment. You’re mostly quiet during the songs but the rhythmic nodding of your head and facial expressions are a tell all of how much you enjoy each track that plays, contorting in a myriad of impressed shapes as killing part after killing part reaches your ears.

As the album comes to an end you look like you’re about to burst at the seams. Your boyfriend can’t control his smile as compliments and detailed thoughts flow freely from your lips for the rest of the night, not ceasing even as the both of you walk through your unwinding routines together. God, you love comeback days. The elaborate music show stages that you will undoubtedly watch later that evening has already been pre-recorded, giving you precious time together in the morning before his schedule whisks him away from your arms once again.

As you get ready for bed, you drift off to sleep knowing that tomorrow, for the first time in what seems like forever, you can finally tell him good morning in person before he can.

-

Your alarm rings at 8:15 am. Jihoon doesn’t need to be up this early, but he would do anything in order to be the first thing you see when you wake. You roll around in his embrace and press a kiss to his cheek. “Good morning” you both whisper to each other at the same time, sending you both into a fit of giggles as you argue who said it first.

Jihoon watches in adoration from the bed as you so naturally go through your morning routine, one that he misses out on more often than he would like. Today, you forgo your usual morning songs as you queue up your personal favorites off the new album, much to his delight. He tries his best to burn this scene into his memory as you gather your things and prepare to head out, giving him one last kiss. You’re about to unlock the door when you pause in your tracks.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” he hums back from the bedroom.

“Enjoy the speaker, I can’t kick you off today.” you say with a smirk on your face as you exit the apartment, leaving Jihoon speechless.

[koiir]

SWEETEST LOVER

Blue lock boys who are the BEST lovers ( I’m bias) Relationships with them { not proofread }

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ Chigiri, hiori, reo, isagi, kurona

CHIGIRI H.

Chigiri is the definition of “best friend and partner” he’s rather open to you (having known for years) and also being the person who’s the best boyfriend you can could ask for.

The advice he gives is one of harsh criticism yet the most truthful, many would be surprised by how blunt he can be with you although it shows in how he cares and truly only wants the best for you. If opening your eyes with a hard truth will help then he will take that route.

Although of course, he isn’t heartless. He comforts you with a warm smile, heart beating at how attentive he becomes with you. Giving you the princess treatment one would die for. He knows comfort can differ in various ways, so he will always try and communicate on what you need.

I feel as though chigiri struggles with communication concerning his wants, so he tries to grow in order to be the best version of himself he can give you. Yet there will be moments where this can “problem” can arise and he will always realize his faults.

Other than that, his knack for his wellbeing swells into you as well. Hair is rather important for the guy, so when he comes to you with a grin about a new hair secret, expect a days worth of hair care. The two of you are seen as rather “gossipers” yet you two just find anything and everything interesting. Really, anything with chigiri can turn into an interesting conversation. Thus making him an amazing boyfriend and best friend in one<33 ( I could go on about him but I’ll save that for later)

HIORI Y.

SO UNDERRATED I LUV HIORI. Ugh he’s the sweetest I mean cmonnn…

With his already calm and polite demeanor, falling in love with him is that of a warm spring that flourishes into a bond greater than words can say.

A quick learner, can easily pick up your moods and will give it his all for you! Very much a giver and will cherish whatever you give him, hiori becomes emotional seeing how much you give to him, already viewing your love the best thing he could every ask for.

From his childhood, he was told he was loved, although feeling it would come and go. Yet when you come into the picture, it’s as if he experiences the feeling of being loved for the first time ever. His past one of hallow that now with you, it beams with hope and joy, making him the more doting on you with showing how much he truly cherishes what you have given to him.

The type of guy who would let you drag him anywhere, as his face is filled with adoration for you, soft smile evident as he lets your body take the lead as he follows you to no end. Out and about, would definitely rub your wrist gently before crossing the street whispering a faint “be careful” that causes your heart to race in seconds.

Can’t forgot how he would definitely, want you to game with him. Even if you don’t he finds a way for you to be near or engage with him. Whether that be you seated next to him or him lying across you, the peace hiori has in being close to you is infinite. A safe space he never wishes to let go of.

Seems squishy (don’t ask)

ISAGI Y.

GREEN FLAG I REPEAT ULTIMATE GREEN FLAG. Might be bias but cmon it’s isagi

The boyfriend who literally will do ANYTHING you wish for (as long as it’s reasonable ofc) Follows you around like a lovesick puppy as he comments on places he thinks you would like or you two should go to. Will love to get stuff where it compliments the other, almost as if something that matches.

He once asked you what you were going to wear and showed up with a similar color combo, mind you he bought you two the same shoes for days where you want to match.

The kind of guy who will hold eye contact whenever you talk, even if you can’t hold it with him because of how intense his gaze is. He will continue looking at you as id you’re all he can stare at. How can someone make you flustered without anything at all?? That’s isagi for you

Isagi is someone you admire, someone you learn from even as you two grow in the relationship. His kind heart giving you the courage to try new things as he supports you all the way, words of encouragement making a hue of light shine in your life.

Overall, a loving caring guy who always has your back and a cutie

BACHIRA M.

Bachira just like anyone has his…quirks. Although nothing severe to the point of destruction or hurting you. If anything he’s the most loyal and treats you with such care, fearing that one day you might perish or realize he’s not so called normal.

His insecurities one that you know from the beginning, tending the wounds he has held from years of the past. His reluctance to thank you with the best he can give you, his affection and loyalty to you one of scarce of losing you. He can’t fathom this, you with him. Together. So it’s only natural he wishes to show you what others cannot see.

There’s never a dull moment with him, his vibrant persona melting into you as you intoxicate in the newfound confidence he gives you. Bachira is the type to move you out of your comfort zone, making a break to see you in a new light that he’s lucky enough to see and be the cause for.

His affection spreads throughout every aspect, in public he resembles a dog that clings onto its owner that holds eyes filled with adoration.

His warm hands allowing for yours to bask in his warmth, feeling more as he squeezes yours and grins from ear to ear viewing your flushed expression. “There’s that face I adore oh so much!”

Eyes wander to your figure as bachira sees the shiver in your figure, cold winds swirling around causing you to feel the cold sensation of the winds. His embrace eternal, fitting like a puzzle as he snuggles up behind you swaying your bodies side to side. The norm would be teasing words, yet for now he embraces the delight with you in his arms.

Ah bachira

KURONA R.

Cutest boy I mean cmon he has shark teeth

No matter the time being, kurona can’t fathom that you’re truly his, his mornings being filled with a lovesick smile at the thought of you.

His teeth hold many stories, the most memorable being how insecure he is because of them, smile showing less due to this fact. But the day you tell him to smile, hands on his cheeks as you gaze into his eyes, the crack in his lips breaking as he smiles at you softly.

It’s only natural for kurona to want to be the reasons for your smiles, indulging in what will make your smile come to fruition so he can also gift you with his smile.

His adoration for sharks weaves into you, no matter what he makes a correlation between you. Expect matching trinkets of any shark related item. Plushies that greet you in a pair that hold eachother, his lips spilling the words of “look, it’s us”

What may come to a surprise is his ability to make you swoon with his words, maybe not directly, but on paper. The reassurance kurona needs is spilled onto messages late at night, showing his vulnerability on text because he cannot bear with how you might respond. He knows you would comfort him, although he knows his heart will experience speed to limits unknown.

So when morning dew comes and you wake up with his messages, your heart grows fond seeing just how much the boy wants you to know, his heart is all yours and he wishes to hold it for the eternity to come.

a/n; MONTHSS of not posting anything…prob cause I’m almost out of school and have inspo

edit; guys I’m sorry reo wasn’t added my ass was just tired after writing for bachira😞

[kararisa]

darling, starling

— 27. through it all — ✦ (wc: 0.8k)

notes: this took longer than expected ^^ hope you guys enjoy the chapter!

To Yae Miko's credit, she cut straight to the chase. 

Not that Scaramouche would give her much credit in general, given that she had always treated him with such indifference over the years before he finally moved out. But he'd take his small blessings whenever he could.

It was a cut-and-dry deal: Yae Miko would interview Scaramouche regarding the recent scandal between his partner and one of the band members of Windborne. He would get the chance to clear the air with the help of one of the most influential news outlets in all of Inazuma, while Yae Miko would get an exclusive story people could only dream about.

It should have been over the moment they ended the interview. But here they are, making casual conversation. At least as casual as it gets between a son and his estranged mother-in-law.

Scaramouche has seen these tactics before. Whenever Yae Miko wanted information, she’d make casual conversation with the interviewee to get them to open up. And that’s when she strikes.

Ironically enough, it was also Yae Miko who taught him how to avoid this. She was the one who taught him when to give information and when to hold back; how to satiate people’s curiosity enough so they leave you alone. Basic media training — training he and Kaori knew by heart.

Yae Miko tilts her chin downwards, the way she does whenever she gets curious. “You’ve been back in Inazuma for a little over a year now. Is it nice living with them? I’m assuming so since no one’s spotted you packing your bags just yet.”

“I still live with them. But that’s none of your business.”

“Oh come now, you saw me turn off the recorder. Everything we’re saying right now is off the record.”

Against his better judgment, he yields, “It’s... nice. On the days when they actually wake up early, they help me cook. It’s become a routine of sorts.”

He knew that was exactly what she was looking for when he saw the hint of satisfaction in her eyes.

It’s a slippery slope, trusting a journalist. Some will risk their lives for the truth while others will stab you in the back while shaking your hand. But if it’s Yae Miko, he has no doubt she’ll only publish the truth, if only a little embellished. She has to sell stories, after all.

“You’re never usually this civil with me,” Scaramouche doesn’t attempt to mask his suspicion. “What do you hope to gain with a conversation that’s off the record?”

Yae Miko offered a cryptic smile, her eyes revealing a flicker of sincerity. “Am I not allowed to be curious? People are actively looking for you just for the chance at an interview and you reached out to me in the hopes of clearing the air about your relationship.”

He’d be loathe to admit that she was one of the few people he trusted to handle the story properly. But he still had to ask, “And now you’re just this so-called off-the-record conversation as some sort of blackmail?”

She sighs, “I’m getting an exclusive interview with the author who’s dating an Inazuman pop star. Would you blame me for asking a few questions? Besides, you’ll see none of this conversation mentioned in any articles.”

“How do I know you’re not just bullshitting me...”

“I can understand your apprehension, but words hold power, Scaramouche. Everyone in the industry knows this. And so do you.”

Scaramouche has never really seen eye-to-eye with Yae Miko on a multitude of things, but one of the few things they can agree on is that people shouldn’t just blindly believe what people say just because they have a large following. The Narukami Press has always strived to publish articles that are reflective of the truth. 

But bias is inevitable, whether you work in journalism or public relations.

“A large majority of people are always going to want to chase the latest drama without caring if it’s true or not,” she starts. “You’ll find no such motivation in me to keep fanning the flames. I want them to die down as much as you do.”

“People like us have a responsibility to be careful with what we say and how we say it,” she continues. “The drama with Zenith was blown out of proportion, that much is for sure. People were hungry to see their downfall given that they were on top for so long but they were just as eager to drag you down with them.”

“Setting the record straight by yourself will be nearly impossible,” she states matter-of-factly. “But your friends have been preparing their statements to defend your partner, yes?”

He isn’t even surprised that she knows about this, especially a PR move this big. Working with his friends will be the best way to get the rumors to die down to a manageable level.

“Your word and Xiao’s will be what people hang onto the most. Make it count.”

“And fight for them, Scaramouche. They need you now more than ever. If you decide to ignore all my advice, then that’s fine by me. But never stop fighting for them.”

“Like hell I’d ever stop. No matter what happens, I’ll be with my partner through it all.”

✧— previous — masterlist — next —✧

summary: being the world-famous singer-songwriter "zenith", the limelight has been on you ever since the start of your career. however, the media becomes relentless when leaks of music you never meant to release begin to circulate. your friend scaramouche, meanwhile, seems to have gotten stuck while writing his second book. with a deadline fast approaching, he comes to you with a deal: act as if you're dating him so he can gather reference material and, in turn, he'll help keep the press' eyes off of your leaks until you release your next album. a win-win in your book, so why not help a friend out?

author's notes:

i lied, this was my favorite chapter to write by far

happy new year everyone!! updates will probably slow down from here but i hope you enjoyed the chapter ^^

taglist — currently CLOSED:

@aestherin @your-kuya-pogi @yourstrulykore @krnzysh @vxnuslogy @yumiaur @featuredtofu @kodzusmiles @meigalaxy @nymphxie @motherscrustytoenailclippings @samyayaya @hiimera @beriiov @e0nssadrift @dazaisboner @nillajhayne @chluuvr @deffenferofjustice @romyoia @xiaomainlmao @hotgirlshit5 @potabletable @letthewindlead @esuz @toriiee @kclremin @angelkazusstuff @phoenix-eclipses @sakiimeo @mayuumine @lilybythevalley @one-and-only-tay @keiiqq @what-just-happened-huh @haunts-gh0st @layla240 @miaakai @duckyyyx @cinnaniyoom @kgogoma @xtobefreex @mechanicalbeat1 @feiherp @venturinea @nnasv @retiredmommylover @onmywaytoteyvat @tiredslepz @saccharine-sucks

[shorthaltsjester]

i could talk a lot about the reasons that i think vox machina as pcs is actually a perfect insertion into the c3 narrative right now but the one that’s really sticking out to me is the diversity in the opinions on the gods that the party has and the lack of influence their individual opinions have on their commitment to save the world. because with bh they’re all pretty ambivalent or anti-god with fcg and now braius being outliers, but both of those cases are still very unique and particular ones: fcg had his cleric powers prior to his religiosity and so it was largely just about the personal meaning he found in the changebringer but he still ended up having divine exchanges with her and braius is in the fjord stone school of being a willing child of god divorce. and with those of bh who dislike the gods it’s for completely valid reasons with completely invalid application of their personal woes to a universal scale. but in vox machina we see the way that experience with people that the gods matter to beyond just the magical exchange and experience with the weight that denying the rise of a new betrayer left on the shoulders of the gods they aided. i have to say that beyond the fact that i am just fond of vox machina as a party, it is also incredibly refreshing to see people who have diverse opinions about the gods but also actually engaged with opinions (a word which here refers to taking seriously, and not using confirmation bias) beyond those of their insular party.

a while ago ashton with his insistently short sight said he’d like to see the gods pray to mortals — something they’ve always been doing and is in fact a definitive part of their established metaphysical status in exandria — and vox machina is taking on the role in the c3 narrative of proving (once again) that has been the case, but they differ from bh because where bh (as a group) tends to deny the pleas from the gods unless it already serves or proves what they’ve assumed to be true about the world and the gods, vm (as a gorup) took seriously that the gods might have something new to introduce to them. i mean that’s obvious in scanlan and vex, both of whom became champions of gods they hadn’t really even considered in a serious vein prior to speaking to them. and scanlan very much takes on the label of ioun’s champion as a job to be fulfilled in the specific battle, but with vex being pelor’s champion has more significant weight tied to whitestone becoming her home and the fact that she belongs to a community that does, very much, take seriously the symbolic and literal power of the dawn, and she admits she hadn’t really realized the people-ness of the gods themselves until she met the everlight and the dawnfather.

but from the very same community, with a more historical basis in it, we get percy, who is very much uninterested in gods, until of course he might find value in an exchange with them. or, in one of my favourite moments from percy, until he is given hope that his family still exists somewhere beyond his memory of them, even if bound in the divine books of a god that calls him out on his selfish habits. vox machina also has keyleth who is pretty anti-god, not to the degree of ‘let’s kill them’ that we’ve seen in bh, but even when facing them directly, she wasn’t subtle about how little she cares for them, especially when offset by the people that matter much more to her. vm has pike who is the spearhead of the everlight’s return to power, they have grog who fucks with the stormlord’s teachings even if he doesn’t deal with the god part all that much. there’s a multiplicity of god-to-mortal relationships in vox machina that is diverse in a way that bh certainly isn’t, and i think that allows a really interesting deepening of what’s at stake. because, of course, their focus is getting vax out of the orb, but there’s a weight they all carry regarding what happens to the world if it loses the gods, especially if the way they go is through the machinations of a ancient elven jackass.

and i mean it’s a jokey moment but i think an exchange that’s really illustrative of why it’s so nice to get vm who are certain about their stances about the gods and who don’t have to discuss the philosophical implications of their actual lived and material reality is the one between vex and keyleth where they’re discussing stopping predathos and vex jokes that ‘hey maybe predathos gets out and just eats the matron, surely that’d be fine’ and keyleth laughs with her but then they both kind of step out of that and are still committed to fighting predathos. because as keyleth emphasizes in her speech, exandria belongs to a collective, one made up of people who both hate and love the gods and though vex and keyleth both hate one god in particular, they have the awareness to treat that as their own issue, not one worth risking exandria to solve. anyway. this isn’t super well put and maybe i’ll elaborate some other time but i’ve seen a lot of people being bitter about vox machina showing up (which is their right!) but saying they’re only there in ways that detract from the narrative (i obviously disagree) so i just wanted to put into words why i think that’s wrong (though to be clear i don’t doubt that the fact that vm is cr’s personal blorbos plays a significant hand in the fact that vm showed up, they just also are succeeding (to me) at having a narrative purpose as well)

[janitetsu]

Househusband Kureishi Headcanons!

wc: 1,550 Happy birthday, Mitsuyo!! The more I see of him, the more I swoon and fall in love. One of the newest additions to my Kengan Husbands tier. ^0^ Who are the rest? Well...you will find out soon.

WARNINGS: - mostly gender-neutral s/o, mentions of pussy, gendered spousal terms, creampie mention, breeding mention

As per Strike it Rich chapter 39, this man is a smooth talker. If he can freely call other ladies beautiful, what more with the person he’s decided to spend the rest of his life with? Gives you compliments anytime, anywhere. He is so shameless about it, too

Gives you cute nicknames (sweetie, sweetheart, darling, wifey), and said nickname is also your name in his contacts list. When you’re calling, he will definitely make some buzz about it, whether he’s massaging someone’s joints in his orthopedic clinic, training Cosmo and Adam (or Nozomi, Nozomin as he calls her, from ISSK) in his dojo, or just hanging out with Joji.

Kureishi: Oho, what’s this? My sweetheart is calling me, excuse me~ (He earns eye rolls from Adam and chuckles from Cosmo and Nozomi)

Joji: Your wife/husband/partner never hits you. I’m jealous, Kureishi.

Maybe I’m too woke but I HATE how Joji’s domestic abuse and eye-scratch scar are played for laughs because it’s done by his wife each time he comes home from drinking T.T Anyway…

He WILL help out with all the household chores and offer to do them for you. His favorite chore is ironing clothes. 

When he sees you already doing chores, he will always offer to take over. Afterwards, he gives you a massage: his expertise! This man canonically has many certificates not just for being a great martial artist, but also for being a skilled chiropractor. You get Japan’s best chiropractor to give you massages…for free!

If you put him in charge of cooking, he’s going to have a bias towards cooking and serving his own favorite food: curry. After a while of just curry rice, though, he learns to cook different varieties of curry like Thai Curry and Filipino Curry (Kare-Kare), among others.

Compared to his gladiator/fighting arena days in Fist of the Seeker, he’s really mellowed out and will continue to be just as chill in marriage. His “bone-breaking fetish” is purely towards opponents and people he deems dangerous to his loved ones (though he *does* feel some tingles when massaging you and hearing some joints or bones crack. Don’t worry. Unlike before where he’d just “rub one out” in the shower, he’ll kindly ask you to help him with his “problem”, should it get “bigger and harder”.)

 Will only “revert” back to his old ways when he has to beat up someone who wronged you. He was protective of Koga, again, what more with his life partner?

Loves wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and resting his chin on your head (or shoulder if you’re taller) and barraging you with compliments while doing so.

“You smell so good, as always.”, “You’re so cute, so beautiful/handsome.”, “How’d I get so lucky?”, “God, I love you so much.”

Never really thought he’d settle down, given his gladiator past and current background (famous national mixed martial artist/coach and awarded chiropractor). Many have tried, but he either found them shallow, or he just didn’t have the time due to his busy schedule given that he’s got two jobs.

Bought a house after you two got engaged. His apartment days were over the moment you passed 2 years of dating. He was already looking to buy a house and just never told you.

Money was and will never be a problem. Years after the events of FOTS, he’s likely earned quite a bit of cash given that he’s now famous all over Japan as a martial artist and chiropractor. Never had anything else to spend on besides equipment and maintenance of his dojo and clinic, which are in adjacent buildings (to maximize the space and minimize the cost of maintenance and travel). Because of this, he loves spoiling you and getting you little trinkets that you mentioned in passing liking, or outright expensive things you request for. A Rilakkuma teddy bear? Noted. Vivienne Westwood designer goods? Noted as well. Be careful what you randomly say, he WILL end up buying it later. (“Hey, this one looks cool/cute!”, pretends to not notice). 

He (most likely) lives in TOKYO! His dojo and clinic are canonically located in Ochanomizu and he most likely lives within the area, too. Living expenses in Tokyo are insane, a rough estimate being 158,000 yen (over 1000 USD, or 60,000 PHP in my currency). Trust me when I say your future is secure with Mitsuyo.

Not really much of a drinker and only drinks on occasion, unlike his old pal Joji. Perhaps during anniversaries, special holidays, or birthdays. He always advises his orthopedic clinic patients to not drink booze and opt for water instead (Danberu Chapter 21), so you bet he’ll do his best to apply the advice he always gives them to himself.

Will ease off the teasing in the honeymoon stages of your marriage (he’s in the “Swooning, I can’t believe this is my reality now”-rose-tinted shades phase) but goes back to it after a few months or so.

Being the youngest of five siblings, he’s probably gotten tasked with looking after nieces and nephews. I like to think this is one of the reasons he’s a natural at teaching. Because of this, he has never-ending patience. Need help with improving at any chore? He’s got you covered. Prepare for a lot of teasing when he’s teaching you, though. He loves getting a rise out of you. When you’ve reached a “boiling” point, he kisses you on the forehead, cheek, or lips, depending on the severity.

“My sweetheart, so cute, even when you’re angry. Even when your brows are almost one because of how much you’re scowling ♡. I love you so much ♥. (PUNCH HIM!!! You try; he catches your fist and chuckles before kissing it. HE IS INSUFFERABLE!!!)

Related to above, is experienced with kids. Definitely wants lots of them. Proposes to outdo his older siblings and have four or five children. Is excited to get to the point of your married life where you get to call each other “Mama”, “Papa”, “Mommy”, or “Daddy”.

“How is Mama doing today, hmmm ♥?”, “Mitsu…really…?” “No, no, you should be saying “Papa” ♥”

Your kid: “Papa, Papa! I want—” Kureishi: “Hmmhmm, ask Mama/Daddy/Mommy ♡”

Your kid: “Papa, can I go outside to play?” Kureishi: “Mm, I don’t know, can you?”

Teases his kids too, but his favorite person to tease will always be you.

If you can have biological children, they will have his natural pink hair. Sorry. (I refuse!! the anime’s color choice!!! PINK-HAIRED KUREISHI is the only valid Kureishi!)

NSFW

Has gotten around before dating you, mostly short flings, never anything too long-term because of his busy schedule.

Sex…in his chiropractor uniform. Have you SEEN how tightly snug that damn uniform is on him? It’s like he’s doing it on purpose. His muscles and chest are ready to burst out at the seams. He’s definitely closed up shop early or heck, spontaneously to fuck you on his massage table.

Sometimes (around a 50/50 chance. THAT kind of sometimes), massages can lead to sex, it’s up to you if you want to stop his advances or let him continue. He can’t help himself—he loves you too much.

You’re lying on your chest, eyes closed and smiling, thinking today is a normal Mitsuyo Massage Day…and then as he’s massaging your back, he snakes his arm under and fondles your chest, his calloused fingers playing with your nipples. Well. Looks like you were wrong today.

HATES being belittled. Ask him “Is that all you got?”, “Can you go any slower?”, “Is this it?”, “Are you really a martial artist?” and you will open the (white) flood gates. You WILL get folded in half, you WILL get creampied many times, and you WILL not walk for weeks. He will NOT massage you afterwards to teach you a lesson. During these times, aftercare will mostly consist of kisses and praises.

“Hmm?? It hurts? Well, that’s what brats like you get ♡.” *kisses u*

Holds your hand during sex and loves brushing his thumb over your wedding ring. It’s mark and proof that you’re his. (though he does love marking you inside, too)

I WILL make everyone have breeding kinks and LOVE the mating press!!!

Can go for many rounds. He’s a martial artist, what do you expect? Him being in his mid-thirties isn’t an obstacle, either.

A good 6.5-7 inches, not too girthy, but can give you a good stretch. Cum taste ranges from nothing to just a bit salty, making it easy to swallow despite the slight thick texture.

His crushing grip on your thighs, legs, waist, or hips leaves bruises. He does that on purpose. He doesn’t want to break his beloved’s bones, but he does want to leave marks.

Pussy-eating expert!!! Never gets exhausted and will never complain about his tongue being tired or numb. RIDE HIS FACE and he will be a happy man. No such thing as too heavy for this martial artist.

Overall: amazing husband, amazing sex skills, ALWAYS knows what he’s saying and doing. 1000/10

[writingwithcolor]

Desi Parenthood, Adoption, and Stereotypes

I have a story set in the modern day with supernatural traces, with three characters: a young boy, his bio dad, and his adoptive dad. The boy and his bio dad are Indian, the adoptive dad is Chinese. The bio dad is one of the few people in the story with powers. He put his son up for adoption when he was a child because at the time he was a young single father, had little control of the strength of his powers: he feared accidentally hurting his child. The son is adopted by the other dad, who holds spite to the bio dad for giving up his son since he lost his father as a young age and couldn't get why someone would willingly abandon their child. This also results in him being overprotective and strict over his son. When the child is older, the bio dad comes to their town and the son gets closer to him, which makes the adoptive dad pissed, mostly acting hostile to the other guy, paranoid that he'll decide to take away the child he didn't help raise. Later when they get closer he does change his biases. I can see the possible stereotypes here: the absent father being the darkskinned character, the light-skinned adoptive dad being richer than the bio dad, the lightskinned character being hostile and looking down on the darkskinned character, the overprotective asian parent, the adoptive dad assuming the bio dad abandoned the son. The reason for his bias isn't inherently racist, but I get how it can be seen that way. Is there a way to make this work? Would it be better to scrap it?

Two problem areas stand out with this ask: 

You seem confused with respect to how racial stereotypes are created, and what effect they have on society.

Your characterization of the Indian father suggests a lack of familiarity with many desi cultures as they pertain to family and child-rearing.

Racial Stereotypes are Specific

Your concern seems to stem from believing the absent father trope is applied to all dark-skinned individuals, when it’s really only applied to a subset of dark-skinned people for specific historical/ social/ political reasons. The reality is stereotypes are often targeted.

The “absent father” stereotype is often applied to Black fathers, particularly in countries where chattel slavery or colonialism meant that many Black fathers were separated from their children, often by force. The "absent black father" trope today serves to enforce anti-black notions of Black men as anti-social, neglectful of their responsibilities, not nurturing, etc. Please see the WWC tag #absent black father for further reading. 

Now, it’s true many desis have dark skin. There are also Black desis. I would go as far as to say despite anti-black bias and colorism in many desi cultures, if one was asked to tell many non-Black desis from places like S. India and Sri Lanka apart from Black people from places like E. Africa, the rate of failure would be quite high. However, negative stereotypes for desi fathers are not the same as negative stereotypes for non-desi Black fathers, because racially, most Black people and desis are often not perceived as being part of the same racial group by other racial groups, particularly white majorities in Western countries. Negative stereotypes for desi fathers are often things like: uncaring, socially regressive/ conservative, sexist. They are more focused around narratives that portray these men as at odds with Western culture and Western norms of parenting. 

Desi Parents are Not this Way

Secondly, the setup makes little sense given how actual desi families tend to operate when one or both parents are unable to be present for whatever reason. Children are often sent to be raised by grandparents, available relatives or boarding schools (Family resources permitting). Having children be raised by an outsider is a move of last resort. You make no mention of why your protagonist’s father didn’t choose such an option. The trope of many desi family networks being incredibly large is not unfounded. Why was extended family not an option?

These two points trouble me because you have told us you are writing a story involving relationship dynamics between characters of both different races and ethnicities. I’m worried you don’t know enough about the groups you are writing about, how they are perceived by each other and society at large in order to tell the story you want to tell.

As with many instances of writing with color, your problem is not an issue of scrap versus don’t scrap. It’s being cognizant of the current limits of your knowledge. How you address this knowledge deficit and its effect on your interpretation of your characters and the story overall will determine if readers from the portrayed groups find the story compelling.

- Marika.

I have one response: what? Where are the father’s parents? Any siblings? Is he cut off? Is he American? A Desi that has stayed in India? 

Estrangement is not completely out of the question if the father is Westernized; goodness knows that I have personal experience with seeing estrangement. But you haven’t established any of that. What will you add?

-Jaya

[cantareincminor]

Lives May Hinge

Given my recent Handler obsession, I've been rereading chapters where she features heavily, including chapter 63. This is the chapter where WISE has to thwart an assassination attempt on an opera singer without Twilight's help.

At the start of the chapter, as the WISE rookie spouts off about the tabloids smearing the opera singer, we see several shots of Handler in Fullmetal Lady mode. Shadowed or invisible eyes, threatening expression and actions.

Then she says this, which struck me as a layer deeper than everything else:

"Never forget that lives may hinge on any little scrap of information."

Now it could be that she's just referring to how the last war started in the first place. Both sides accused the other of instigating the war, as we find out during Franky and [Redacted]'s argument on the hillside. Ordinary foot soldiers had no idea which version was true, mostly believing the propaganda they were sold by their country's leadership.

She could also be referring to her experience in intelligence in general. The success or failure of many missions may have hinged on a seemingly insignificant piece of information.

But during this readthrough, something about Handler's expression, her shadowed eyes and the deep tiredness they hold, made me think she's talking about something personal. Endo often uses these solemn close-ups of characters' faces and eyes when they're thinking about the personal losses they suffered in the war.

For example, Twilight in chapter 20 (bomb dog arc):

Yor, in chapter 91:

And for Sylvia, in chapter 78, we see this:

We pretty much know that Sylvia's husband and daughter died in the war from her epic speech to the university students. It's possible she's talking about her husband when she says: "Have you ever discovered a blown-off piece of your lover stuck to a wall?"

But how exactly did she lose them? Could it be that a "little scrap of information" could have been the difference between their survival or death?

The backstory I've created for Sylvia in the Orpheus universe is that she was already working for WISE when she was married with a kid (she reveals this during Chapter 35 in her conversation with Yor). Her husband was fully supportive of her clandestine career despite the risks. And when her cover was blown, the Ostanian military bombed her home and killed her husband and daughter. All these years, she's had to live with the haunting guilt and regret of what she could have done to save them. In The Signal and the Smoke, I plan to explore this in more detail. Maybe it was a simple, tiny mistake she made on a mission that gave her away to the enemy. A scrap of information that escaped her grasp and ultimately led to the deaths of her family.

And that is why she is so exacting in her methods. So intent on cutting through noise and bullshit for the truth. So keen on having concrete data and evidence to back up any claim. And drilling the same instincts into her agents. It's not just to preserve the peace at large. It's to save people she cares about from dying, and to teach her agents to do the same.

This is what also gives me hope about how she'll deal with the eventual Twiyor reveal and the knowledge that Yor is a Garden assassin. In her own words, she will not view everything in black and white. She won't try to make everything fit into preconceived notions. And she won't rationalize.

She will be aware of her own bias, and after the initial anger and disbelief and shock have passed, she'll try to save as many lives as possible with her decisions. The Forger family will have a formidable force in their corner when all the cards are on the table (and after Handler reprimands Twilight so harshly she makes him cry lol).

[egoistrin]

rewind !!

Notes: 662 words. Just Sae experiencing love at first sight LMFAO! idk what this is...... i js wanna post something abt Sae..... i luv him (sorry rin)

Thinking about professional soccer player Sae attending an awards show in South Korea to receive an award. Him sitting in the corner together with all of the other idols performing for the award show. He can be seen sitting alone, legs crossed together with his hands laid on top of his thighs. As usual, his nonchalant facial expression can be seen and it's obvious enough that his patience is slowly running out. 

Sae doesn’t know how these lukewarm idols can manage to sit here for hours, just watching other people perform and hearing the crowd's screams. It doesn’t really differ from his point of view while playing soccer—well, at least he is the one playing and not just a standby who’s watching from the side. He thinks of standing up under the pretense of going to the bathroom but he actually wants to sneak out and just call his manager that he went home because he’s feeling sick, but luck doesn’t seem to be on his side tonight as his manager went towards him and whispered that he should stay as the awarding should start any moment now. 

Well, fuck. Now his plan is trashed and he’s still stuck at this stupid awarding show. Why can’t they just send me the award instead of attending this event? Sae thought. Scrolling through his phone wouldn’t even be a viable action as he’s sure that it will just get him multiple headlines on how he was rude and disrespectful during an award show and towards the people around him. He doesn’t care though…. he’s had multiple headlines about him being rude, he’s sure that another one to the collection won’t hurt. 

Just as he had given up on the possible options he could do to entertain himself, a bright and cheery voice moved his boredom. He has heard some of these K-pop idols around him, of course, Shidou, Sendou, and Oliver won’t shut up about their bias and pull off the photocards they have received on the albums that they have bought during their vacation. He wasn’t that aware that they were all so pretty though. Now, he’s not one to fall in love at first sight but he swore that he felt his chest tighten when he saw your face on the big screen and heard your voice the first time. Your aura was just too much from him that he felt like he should look away or else he’d get caught up under your spell. Were you even casting a spell in the first place or is it just fanservice? Well, consider Itoshi Sae as a fan who is being serviced. 

Fuck this. He feels like a loser. He even fixed his slouched posture to focus perfectly on your group’s performance—to focus on you. He looks like those cameras that are focused on one member—a human fancam or whatever you call it. He feels like one of those teenage boys whose first time having a crush. He can’t help but look at your figure while performing your group’s song. He can’t take his eyes off you as you continue to dance along while singing as he’s completely enamored by your presence. He definitely gotta have your autograph after this award show to get to know you and brag to those guys that he managed to get your autograph and if he’s lucky enough, a selfie with you. 

Sae was so caught up with you that he didn’t even realize that your performances were about to end. He felt himself holding his breath as he witnessed you doing your ending fairy pose. He’s not really familiar with those words until a week later, courtesy of those three idiots. Sae thinks that you look like a goddess with the way your outfit looks and how your makeup is done. You look angelic even, words cannot fully describe how beautiful you look in Sae’s eyes. Oh, he’s definitely going to ask for your number afterward.

[sugarphoric]

warnings -- slightly suggestive (MDNI)

bsf!choso who loves to sit you on his lap. it became a regular thing somehow, and once it started, it never stopped. not enough chairs? his lap. movie night? his lap. and its almost like youre forced there if it wasnt for you also wanting to sit on his lap, because he'd get all whiny and worried thinking you were mad at him if you didnt sit on his lap, causing you both to fall in this cycle.

there was this one time when you were hanging out with your friends and choso wasnt there yet. you were shared by gojo and geto, them both curious as to why choso always had you on him. it was fun going back and forth between the two, but strangely enough it never felt comfortable, so you had to keep shifting! when choso finally arrived, his eyes were narrow and piercing, jaw tight as he chewed the insides of his cheeks. confused, you could only let out half of a hello before being picked up like a ragdoll as if you weighed nothing, then sat on his lap once again. he had his arms wrapped around you so tightly (almost possessively?) that whole night, and you couldnt even question him on what was wrong :( though you would admit it was far more comfortable than the duo earlier (who were now sending each other knowing glances? weird.)

it was so nice when he'd rub your back or pet you? its a little stupid cuz you feel like his personal puppy, but that doesnt mean you dont like it.. ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა though there would be times where his hands land a little too close to your butt, or when hed play with the hem of your shirt. some days, especially when its late into the night after your movie marathons, where his hands are pressed onto your bare tummy, truly petting you like you were a dumb puppy! sometimes his hands gets a little too close to your boobs, but he'll always pull away anyways! (and youd be a liar if you said you didnt enjoy those small 'accidents')

bsf!choso whos a higher priority than your family - he's set as your emergency contact and is almost part of your family anyways (so its not like theres a bias!!...)

i mean, anytime youd needed help, he was always one call away, willing to drop anything if you just asked. youre on your period and craved chocolate? oh yea, his midterms are in less than an hour but he was already on his way to the convenience store, practically creating a whole basket of goodies like it was your birthday (and you better believe he came back after finishing his tests to massage you and make sure you feel better). you got in a minor car accident and needed someone to talk to to calm your nerves? choso might as well have been the police officer with how fast he showed up on the streets to aid you in person (how did he even know where the accident was? he has your location silly)!

it was also just an added bonus that anytime he came with you to visit your family, they automatically assumed the two of you were in a relationship. awkward blind dates would be cancelled and droning questions and lectures of "when will you get married?" were easily avoided (though it was a little heart wrenching when you both had to stop the act after leaving home... wait what)

bsf!choso who smells so good, you can't help but have half of his closet at your dorm. half of the time (when you weren't given the pleasure of sitting on his lap), youd be sniffing him like a puppy, stuck like velcro to at least one of his body parts. holding his hand and running your fingers along his veins - and then steal a quick sniff masked with a peck to the back of it! when his hair was down it was your favorite! you could reach up as you hugged him, burrowing your face in his hair and neck, contented sighs leaving your lips right up to his furiously red ears.

and that was one thing that you were given special permission of. bsf!choso hated when people touched his hair, but weirdly enough, it felt so so good when you did. bsf!choso would honestly be awaiting to see you (as if he doesnt already) just to feel those small fingers running against his scalp, playing and weaving different braids or styles with his raven locks (it was another added bonus that this meant he could have you on his lap (but this time straddling him!) or gain extra cuddles in bed with you!).

its funny that he even ended up gifting you his cologne and laundry detergent for your birthday. as much as he loved to see you drowning in his clothes, he almost had to move out of his dorm and live with you due to how much of his clothes were magically always at your place! and it helped a bit (and also allowed him to get his clothes back), but they lacked the certain choso-ness to them :(

bsf!choso who gets so confused when people assume youre together. what, is it so weird to have you as his lockscreen and homepage? is it weird that your ringtone is different from the others to always alert him when youre contacting him? he doesnt think thats weird at all, in fact, he thinks its weird that theres still girls out there that think they have a chance with him! its... its not like hes in a relationship with you, but cant they see hes already occupied and focused on something better?

and its not weird that hes oddly possessive when out in public with you. that arm thats always around your shoulders or waist? yea dont worry about it. especially dont worry about how his eyes are literally murderous towards any guy that tries to come close to you.

bsf!choso's favorite thing to do is hug you from the behind, wrapping one arm around your torso inhibiting your movements, while the other comes to lay your chin on his palm, tilting your head up to look at him with your big, puppy-dog eyes (maybe trying to beat those puppy-allegations were pointless after all with how much he enjoyed feeding into this behavior). hes just so happy to have his best friend so small and compliable in his arms, and have your cute little butt wiggle right next to his di-

he wont stop imagining you and your cute face and cute body especially when he falls asleep, wanting to call you to come cuddle at his dorm (but that'll be a problem with how hed have to hide his raging boner). but would it really? hes always sprouting that big mess any time hes next to you anyways, so youre, technically, the one who should be responsible for it. youre also his best friend!! so shouldnt you be the one to help him with his problems?

maybe he'll call you tonight, but after he rubs one out himself as he looks at his favorite album (that's only filled with you)!