#jaedx

jaeyong is aware of the importance of reputation now more than ever. it's about all he learns during the day: how to shine in front of the cameras, how to maintain your image no matter what, how to be the paragon of heroism in the eyes of the public.

so, he probably shouldn't be in one of red light lane's illegal gambling dens. and yet his future is why he's here: no one really knows his name yet. why shouldn't he enjoy what fame and maintaining his image will deny him of eventually?

he doesn't intend to stay for long, anyway. jaeyong may be cocky and over-confident in most matters, but he's well-aware the house wins more often than not. he has no delusions of becoming rich tonight, though he supposes you never know. he's just...bored. and curious. a recipe for disaster in many cases, but jaeyong is self-aware enough to know that much, which makes disaster significantly less likely. right?

after about 15 minutes at the table, he gets why people develop gambling addictions. he won't, but there is some small part of you that believes, surely next time. you lose enough, and you're sure to win eventually. it's just statistics, right?

20 minutes at the table and he realizes something is off. it's like the air shifts. he watches the dealer ( @jaedx ) shuffle the cards. jaeyong loses again, but this time it's different. manipulated. not just natural bad luck, but a mutagen ability.

( 𝒹𝑒𝒶𝓇 @jaedx)

yingyue moved around the kitchen poised with a quiet grace, her fingers gliding over the list of ingredients. the scent of freshly chopped ginger fused with the soft sweetness of sauteing garlic, generating a fragrant warmth that filled the space. the melodic rhythm of her chopping was the only sound in pace, a peaceful counterpoint to the nervous butterflies dancing in her chest.

why am i so nervous? she pondered, wiping her hands on her apron as she looked over at the simmering pot. as she watched the broth bubbling gently, the wisps of steam curling into the air like tendrils of unspoken thoughts; she still wasn't sure why this meal felt more important than others. perhaps it was the subtle rift that had grown between her and jae, something that she still couldn't quite understand but could feel the drastic changes in the air before a storm.

she stirred the pot with care, her movements slow and thoughtful. the act of cooking was her way of speaking when words failed her. cooking for a cared one from the stove's warmth, the sizzling of the pan, and the vibrant colors of the vegetables—each aspect was a message that said i care for you, i see you, you're important.

tw: mentions of alcohol

jiha loved parties, always had, talking to people, drinking, it was all fun. so when a friend hosted a party and he didn’t have to work that day, he of course showed up, some of the people he knew, some he didn’t, but he attempted to speak to everyone. jiha has a high alcohol intolerance, it’s not too often he gets drunk, but at this party he constantly had a new drink in his hand, not even realizing how much he was drinking. the start of the party was amazing, the end was a bit of a blur.

his eyes are a bit heavy, it’s the day after the party, part of him wants to wake up, part of him does not, he’s in a bed he can feel, hopefully his own, or someone he knows’. a yawn escapes his lips, he rolls over, his eyes still closed. he puts his arm over something… wait? or someone? this… this feels like another person in the bed. he sits up, eyes open, okay well, this is his apartment, but who is the person in his bed? he puts a hand on their shoulder, shaking them a bit in an attempt to wake up whoever this is.