#oh but i also have work in-between all of this and some more research to do for a lot of these assignments

[mitigatedchaos]

A: "It's too late. I have already depicted myself as the fun, intellectual, sophisticated crow, and you as the dumb, unsophisticated, socially conservative crow that hangs onto relationship jealousy. Polyamory is the natural order of being. All human beings are bonobos. To be logically consistent, you have to let me fuck your wife."

B: "Oh, really? Have you heard of paternal uncertainty?"

I don't think anyone is actually learning anything in the above exchange.

The problem comes from relative formalization. Mr. A is probably citing some larger body of theory that's most likely garbage produced by motivated reasoning, but in the moment, he appears to have the academic higher ground.

Knowing that it's false is more intuitive. Debunking it means conducting hours or possibly days of research to provide a formal response.

These days, we might say, "That doesn't sound like it's going to survive the replication crisis," if centrist, essentially pushing Mr. A to show that it's a cross-partisan consensus, or a right-winger might dismiss almost the entire field of anthropology since 1970 based on new studies of historical migration patterns and then start challenging Mr. A on his other beliefs.

Though, bringing up the asymmetry raises an alternative response, which is, "Tell you what, that sounds like a contentious position. Maybe I'll do some research, but I've got a lot on my plate, so it will probably be a few years before I get to it, maybe more."

The above move kicks it back out of the immediate timeframe. It also says that Mr. B is not going to prioritize information presented in the adversarial stance.

Someone who is older and more experienced might cite personal experience, e.g., "I saw a [social relation]'s polyamorous relationship blow up, and I don't want to do that to my marriage." It might be softened with, "It might work for some people, but it isn't for me. [My wife] and I are happy together. Monogamy is what works for us."

A normie might just blow it off and then not comply, or might say, "Keep your hands off my wife." (Possibly followed with, "Can't you see you're making her uncomfortable?")

Another option might be, "Listen, Mr. A, when you're in my house, I need you to respect my boundaries, and I need you to respect my wife's boundaries."

Someone with less tact and/or less personal experience might answer, "Haven't you heard of paternal uncertainty, dumbass?" (i.e. "It's normal and healthy for a male to have relationship jealousy.")

In general, this is somewhat similar to the problem of needing an ideological permission slip to not like some genre of music.

This is just sort of explaining... where the discursive front is, and how different backgrounds and capabilities influence the choices people make.

Personally, I don't think you can really learn human nature from the contemporary social sciences without discernment and going through the effort to check studies manually (although psychology should be OK in the field of mental illness, and economics is good until you hit the limits of its underlying basis).

In the current low-trustworthiness environment, it's better to practice observation with humility, or run a comparison with a text that's genuinely old and/or foreign.

To pick an example text, The Analects of Confucius is (1) over 2,000 years old, and (2) Eastern, not Western. Similarities between issues that Confucius describes in governing, and modern problems of government, are probably more human nature rather than just contemporary ideology.

To pick an example more contemporary observation, as I recall, Lee Kuan Yew reported that people would steal the trees planted in the medians back when his team were building up Singapore. Obviously, this wouldn't happen now. (Of course, if you tried to steal one now, you would be punished!) This suggests the range in behavior that can be altered by social norms and expectations.

Something I took care to address in Now, Melt [1] is that the nature of an organism can have both more fixed and more fluid elements. For human beings, something like greed or cowardice will pretty much always reoccur, while particular cultural practices might be limited to one time and place.

Anyhow, having described the discursive front above, we can then think about how to shift it.

I would say that the way to alter the composition is to bring forth the better arguments (and better evidence) so that they are ready to hand, and cultivate improved social skills.

This would then make it easier to split off the people that want to argue that, "Evolutionary psychology means that we must legally require all women to wear sundresses; it's science," from the larger group.

Obviously, people like Mr. A will work to socially disconnect arguments about what he's doing, that is, render them socially inadmissible as evidence, but, in general, the maintenance of knowledge is something that is active, not passive.

The contemporary right-wing position (depending on which part of the right we're talking about) is that essentially everything is subject to evolutionary dynamics. As I told Nick Land (not that it moved him very much), I think this undervalues the role of choice, and also undervalues the effects of friction across time and space.

I do think about evolutionary dynamics and their potential impact on human psychology; I just don't talk about it much. Individual human beings and circumstances vary significantly, so I think it's often better to step back and avoid overgeneralizing. [2]

In terms of how I would use evolutionary psychology, I might bring up the Gombe Chimpanzee War as evidence that organized war for territory is not unique to humans, and therefore likely not a product of contemporary ideology or social relations (at least, not entirely).

(On the other hand, the idea of "alpha wolves" is now said to have been based solely on the observation of wolves in captivity, and apparently isn't a good fit for wild wolves.)

[1] Particularly section 6.g, "The Tortoise." One way to think about this is in terms of layers (based on "bands of abstraction"), covered in section 10.a, "Layer-Based Analysis."

[2] See Section 6.e of Now, Melt, "Regarding Monster Trucks."

Well, I think that's part of the appeal—believing unflattering stories about the world makes you feel privy to the Dark Truth that everything else is Too Afraid To Admit, while also giving you plenty of material to tar your opponents with, etc. etc. But really it's uniquely shameful for the rationalists, because evopsych is at the intersection of like three axes of epistemic shaky-ground.

[goquokka00]

You are just the Best at writing so Can u make more minsung smut plsss (if u would like ofc😁)

Abso-motherfucking-lutely!! Hopefully this satisfies the craving...I'll also try to get a bit more Minsung out, too when I have the time! Love you ❤️

The Best Beauty of the Body

Summary: You loved Minho and Jisung. You really truly did. But there were times when they both ended up getting on your nerves. It was mostly when they argued. And this time wasn't any different. Though...the topic wasn't exactly what you expected.

Pairing: Minho X F! Reader X Jisung

Genre: Humor, Smut (18+)

Warnings: Argument about tits vs ass (you can assume who's arguing for what), Dom! Minho, Switch/Dom! Jisung, Sub! Reader, nipple play, fingering, anal (please be careful and do your research with this shiii), double penetration, unprotected penetrative sex (wrap it before you tap it please!!), begging (from Jisung), creampies, 100% 18+ (seriously like if you're a minor don't read pls and thank you <3)

Word Count: 3.4K

Let's start off with making one thing very clear. You loved Minho and Jisung. A lot. Why else would you be in a poly relationship with them? They were your whole world. Your everything. And you were theirs. It was something all of you agreed on. Besides, the best part of having two boyfriends meant that you had two people to rely on.

Jisung was your emotional crutch. He was a lot easier to talk to, he understood what your problems were and did whatever he could to make things better. Minho was your comfort. He'd make you comforting foods, he'd hold you in your arms until you felt better...And while he was a little more on the difficult side when getting your emotions across, he was still there to listen to you rant about your day.

And the sex...oh, the sex. But...we don't need to talk about that.

Yeah, you loved them a lot. They held a very special place in your heart, and there was no denying it. But the boys definitely had their days when you were ready to strangle both of them and throw them into the Han River.

Unfortunately, today was one of those days.

You had a long day at work and was ready to sit down with your boys and rant, maybe eat some sundubu jjigae, when you heard it. Distant muffled voices in the distance. At first, curiosity filled you. Were Minho and Jisung actually fighting? No way...they loved each other way too much to be full on fighting. And even if they were, it would've been broken up before you got home. Maybe they just didn't realize you were home...

But then, as you went closer to the bedroom where they were, you overheard the conversation a lot better.

"But asses are disgusting! I mean seriously, you shit from an ass!"

"Well it's tighter than fucking a pair of tits!"

"You can do more with tits than an ass, hyung!"

"You can do just as much with an ass, if not more and you know it!"

Oh.

You let out a sigh as you heard them argue like an old married couple. This was unfortunately very normal in your household, and you just learned to deal with it. And so, you took a moment, willing yourself to be strong and not yell at them, and walked in, seeing both of them there.

Both of them were shirtless, Jisung a bit flushed and his hair wet. They probably got back from practice and were taking turns showering, as Minho was still sweaty. But either way, you cleared your throat, crossing your arms as you looked to them.

"Do I even need to ask?" The second you spoke, both of the guys looked at you. But it only took a second for Jisung to speak up.

"Y/n, tell Minho-hyung that tits are better!"

"No way, even if she's the one to say it, I still think asses are better."

"Asses aren't even that great!"

"They're better than tits and you know it-"

"Okay, okay! Stop!" You threw your hands up, going to stand between them both as they let out huffs. It seemed like they had been arguing about this for a while, unfortunately. And that meant that it'd be difficult for them to let it go.

How wonderful.

"Minho, go and take a shower. Jisung, finish getting dressed, please." As you spoke, you watched as both boys glared at each other before going along with what you had said.

"But I'm already dressed-"

"Then find something else to do." And then, you crossed your arms, looking at both of them. "We'll discuss this in the living room in thirty minutes."

With that, you left the room. You swore that these two were going to give you grey hairs if you weren't careful. But it was fine. You were going to help them get through this once and for all.

||

And so, after the two were brought back out to the couches in the living room (Minho sat on one while Jisung sat on the other), you crossed your arms, looking at both of them as if they were kids on time out.

"Alright. Jisung, please share why you think a woman's tits are better than the ass." You looked to him, giving him a soft smile of encouragement, only to hear Minho scoff.

"They definitely aren't-"

"I didn't tell you that you could talk yet. It's Jisung's turn." You were quick to shut Minho down, knowing that it would only start another argument. And after Minho sulked and grumbled, you looked to Jisung, urging him to start.

"Well, tits are amazing. I mean, they're like nature's stress balls. And you can suck on them, too. God, sucking on your tits after a long and stressful day is amazing..." Jisung leaned back, his eyes closing as a dopey smile spread across his face. "And when you get all squirmy from being all sensitive? And the sounds you make? Oh my god...it gets me so hard..."

You hummed, crossing your arms. Jisung definitely had a point. Your nipples were always sensitive, so when he sucked on them, he'd almost always get a reaction out of you.

"And then you have the way they look when you suck my dick...and when you squish them together and let me fuck them...and when I cum on them-God, I might bust a nut just thinking about it right now..." Jisung let out a breath, gripping his already forming tent before you cleared your throat, nodding.

"Alright, it seems like those are some very valid reasons." And then, you turned over to the grumpy cat man, seeing the upset pout on his lips. "Now let's hear your reasonings, Minho."

"Fucking finally." Minho sat up, clearing his throat before speaking. "For starters, as the man who fucks both of you until you can't walk, I firmly believe that the ass is better because first off, seeing the way you both squirm and push your ass towards me when I'm prepping it is fucking adorable. Then, when I'm actually inside you both, the ass is way tighter than any pussy could ever be. Not to mention how the cheeks just feel so good when you grip them and slap them...and when you pound hard enough, the cheeks will actually bounce and ripple better than tits--"

"Whoa whoa whoa, did you just fucking say they ripple?" You blinked, all while Jisung instantly started cackling.

"It's not funny! They do, seriously!" Minho sat up more, determined to get both of you to see his point of view. "The way that the ass moves when you're fucking it is insane!"

"Okay, okay, I believe you!" You couldn't help but laugh, before looking back to Jisung. Time to get back to business. "Okay...Jisung, do you have any counter arguments for Minho?"

"Yeah, I do." Jisung then looked to Minho, crossing his arms. "While the ass might be amazing, it's literally where shit comes from. And you have to clean both the inside and the outside, and its so much work. But with titties, all you have to do is just push the shirt and bra up, and boom. Suckle time, baby."

You instantly facepalmed. These two were hopeless.

"Okay...Minho? Counter arguments?"

"What if the chest is flat?" The second Minho asked that, Jisung's brain stopped working. Minho just smirked as Jisung tried to think of a reason, before Jisung just spoke up.

"W-Well what if...what if the ass was flat? Or boney?"

"Who in the fuck has a boney ass?"

"...Hyunjin--"

"OKAY!" You just let out a sigh, rubbing your face as you questioned your sanity. "Clearly, you both love tits and ass respectfully. Can we just all agree that both tits and ass are incredible in their own right and move on?"

"No!" Both Jisung and Minho yelled it, making you groan. There had to be a way to get them to understand each other. Had to be. Because frankly, you really didn't know how much longer you could handle this.

"Okay...can I tell you what I think?" And after the two looked at each other, they both looked to you.

"I guess..."

"Yeah, sure."

"Okay. Firstly, Jisung has a point with the ass shit. Prep takes forever, and cleaning the inside and outside is a pain in the butt. Literally. But there are nice qualities to the ass, too. Like...When Minho's pounding into either of us and grips or slaps our ass. You like that, don't you Jisung?"

"I mean, yeah...I guess so." Jisung looked away, crossing his arms.

"Great. Tits are also nice, but mine personally make my back hurt. If I'm not wearing a sport's bra, it's hard to move. And men can be so picky with tits, too. I mean, they can be all sorts of shapes and sizes, and even mine aren't perfect." And then, you crossed your arms. "But they have their purpose, too. They can help get me aroused, they help Jisung relieve stress, and Minho, you love watching them when I ride you."

"Yeah, I guess." Minho shrugged, making you sigh.

"So why can't you guys agree that both are good? Or like, agree to disagree or something?"

"It's a man's pride, Y/n. We stand by our beliefs." Jisung then hit his chest with his fist, Minho nodding.

"Yeah, he's got a point. It's like...we have what we believe, and that one opinion is right. There's no other option." Minho's explanation made absolutely no sense. But okay.

"So...it's all because of your pride?" You raised a brow, watching your two boyfriends nod. "You two are impossible."

All they did was smile and laugh a bit. There was that feeling of needing to strangle them again.

"So then, is there any way you two could make a truce?"

"Nope."

"No way in hell."

"And what if I said that if you two make a truce, I'll let you both fuck me right here and now?"

Silence. The two looked at each other, blinked, before simultaneously reaching out to shake each other's hands.

"Y'know, asses aren't actually that bad. I like them a lot more than I let on."

"Tits are pretty cool, too. They really make a woman, y'know?"

Hope. Less.

But hey, they made up. And so, you stood up and walked over to both of them, smiling as they stood up to meet you halfway.

"See? Was that so hard, boys?" You asked, watching as Minho went in front of you while Jisung went behind.

"Oh, it was horrible." As Minho spoke, his hands went straight for your ass, Jisung's finding your tits from behind you. You could feel Jisung kissing your neck, his hands groping and kneading your chest.

"Hated it..." Jisung murmured, Minho guiding you into a kiss. You hummed, kissing Minho back as he lifted one of your legs up to go around his waist. "You'll make it better though, right?"

"Mhm..." You hummed your response in the kiss, before breaking away and going to kiss Jisung in return.

All the while, Minho grabbed your shorts and panties, starting to tug them off. You put your leg down so Minho could get the clothes off before putting it back around his waist. And when you pulled away from the kiss, Jisung was the one to lift your shirt up and over. And he groaned when he realized you didn't have anything on underneath.

"Fuck, I love when you don't wear a bra..." And with that, Jisung turned you around so you were facing him, only to guide you to the couch and onto his lap. All the while, Minho headed off to the bedroom to grab the lube. He'd need it in order to do what he wanted to you.

Not that you minded.

For now, you put your focus on Jisung, who was gently kneading your chest, pinching and playing with your nipples, his cock growing harder by the minute. And you just let out soft moans, your eyes fluttering closed as you looked at him, watching as he played with your chest.

And then, he latched onto your left nipple, his tongue gently rolling and flicking against it. You couldn't help but push out your chest, making him groan and use his finger to play around with the other.

"J-Jisung...God, that feels so good..." All you could do was run your hands through his hair, gently gripping at it, which made him whine for you.

And that was when the sound of footsteps could be heard. You turned and looked up, seeing that it was Minho. And he had the lube in hand, ready to go.

"Alright, princess. Lean forward for me." As Minho gave his command, you did as told. You got up on your knees, hovering your breasts over Jisung's face so Minho could get to your tiny little ass. "Good girl...spread those legs, just like that...there we go."

And with that, Minho took the lube and rubbed it over your perked ass, prodding against the tight hole. You couldn't help but whimper, holding onto Jisung's shoulders before feeling Minho push a finger in.

"M-Min..."

"I know, sweetheart, I know...you're doing good for me, though. So, so good..." Minho's encouragement helped you press forward. He slowly inched his finger in, making sure that he added lube when needed so you were ready to go. And once that first finger was inside, you let out a breath, wiggling your hips. "How's it feel, baby? Good?"

"A...A bit dry..."

"A bit dry, huh? Well, we can't have that." And so, Minho pulled his finger out before lubing his finger up more, as best as he could before slowly inching his finger back in, slowly working to stretch your hole out. "Better?"

"M-Mhm...better..." You gave a soft nod, only to gasp as you felt Jisung nip at your nipple. His eyes were on you, his mouth open as he switched to the other nipple. You knew what that meant. Jisung wanted attention, too. "Ji...it feels good...really good, keep using your tongue..."

And that's exactly what Jisung did. His main priority? Make sure that you were satisfied and feeling good while Minho stretched you out. And as you felt a second finger enter you, Jisung worked double time to make sure you felt amazing. While he suckled your breasts, a finger went to your pussy to play with your clit, making you whine and buck your hips.

"Look at our girl, feeling so good...you're taking my fingers so well, baby..." Minho placed soft kisses along your back, scissoring his fingers so he knew that you were nice and stretched and ready to go. "I'm gonna put one more in, okay? One more..."

And after you nodded, the third finger went in. You whined louder, but Jisung gently pinched your clit to help ground you. And as Minho worked his three fingers in and out of your ass, Jisung looked up at you, smiling softly as his mouth left your breasts.

"Sweet girl...Can I have your pussy? Please? Drown me in your tits while my cock's in that beautiful pussy, please..." God, Jisung was so hot when he begged...You couldn't help but nod, waiting for the okay from Minho to get situated.

"Alright, pretty girl. Let's get you settled on Jisung, okay?" And once his fingers were out, Minho backed away to get his sweatpants off. Jisung did the same, struggling a bit but managing to kick them off. And once he was ready, Jisung lined himself up and let you sink down onto his dick.

"Oh, fuck...you feel like heaven, baby..." Jisung let out a breath, grabbing at your waist before reaching his hands back up to your chest, fondling your breasts to guide them back into his mouth. He really couldn't get enough of them...

All the while, Minho went behind you once more, moving you to where he needed you to be before lining himself up as well, placing soft kisses on your shoulder to make sure that you were all set and ready to go for him.

"Deep breaths, baby...gonna make you feel so full..." And as Minho spoke, he slowly pushed into you, making you groan and grasp onto Jisung. God, it was so much, but it felt absolutely incredible. You hadn't felt that full in your life. But it was a glorious feeling.

Jisung also groaned, pulling back from your tits to look up at his boyfriend, seeing Minho's brow furrowed.

"God, I can feel you entering her...it's making her so much tighter, hyung..."

"Good...that means less work for you, huh?" Minho smirked, knowing how sensitive Jisung's dick was. If Jisung could feel Minho from inside your pussy, then Minho could technically fuck both of you.

It really went to show how the ass was better. But Minho wasn't gonna bring that up right now.

After letting you get adjusted, Minho leaned back, grabbing your ass a bit before looking to you and Jisung, his eyes narrowing.

"I'm gonna move...okay?"

"Okay..." You gave him a soft nod, only to gasp and moan as Minho slowly began to thrust. Since you weren't a freak like Jisung, you weren't as used to anal, let alone double penetration. So he knew he needed to start slow.

"Fuck...oh, fuck, I can feel you moving, hyung...fuck, that feels so good..." Jisung, per usual, couldn't shut up. And you were a moaning mess, turning your head back to look at Minho with glossy eyes. Oh, how he loved that look.

"Feeling good, princess?" Minho couldn't help but smile, knowing that he was making both you and Jisung feel good.

"Y-Yeah, feels good..."

"That's good...I bet you feel so fucking full right now, being stuffed with your boyfriends' dicks..." And with that, Minho leaned forward to kiss you, which only made Jisung whine.

"Hy-Hyung, no fair...! Kiss me too, please? I've been good!" Typical Jisung, always needing attention. And so, after rolling his eyes, he leaned down past your shoulder to kiss Jisung as well, who hummed and rolled his hips up. That made you moan and roll your own hips.

As Minho pulled away, he slowly began to get faster. His thrusts went from slow and deep to hard and fast, making both you and Jisung moan. The more rough he got, the closer you and Jisung got to cumming.

And eventually, Jisung got loud. That only meant one thing.

"Guh-Gonna cum! Fuck, hyung, Can I cum? Pretty please? Please, let me cum! Gotta cum so bad!" And Jisung's begging only made you whinier, meaning that it was getting close for the two of you.

"Fuck, already? God, you really are desperate, huh?" Minho couldn't help but tease, only to let out a grunt, nodding. "Fine, go ahead and fill her up. Don't waste a fucking drop."

And like that, Jisung came. He gripped onto your sides, painting your insides white as he held you close. All the while, Minho kept moving, overstimulating Jisung and getting you closer and closer. And then, finally, you turned to look at him, your eyes silently pleading him.

"M-Min...gonna cum too..." God, you were so cute when you were fucked out. How could Minho say no to you?

"Fuck...go ahead and cum, princess. I'm right behind you..." And so, with Minho's permission and a few more thrusts, you came as well, your body shuddering as you gripped onto Jisung.

And while Jisung cried out as he felt you unintentionally clench around his cock, making his overstimulation get worse, he still made an effort to kiss your cheeks, making sure you felt grounded.

It wasn't long after when Minho came, either. He let out a nice groan, pumping his load into you, holding you up against him to make sure you got it all. And as the three of you calmed down, you looked to both of them, letting out a breath.

"No more arguing about tits and ass, please..." Your voice was raspy. Dead. Fucked out. It was music to the boys' ears.

"I mean...if this is how the argument is gonna get resolved, I think we should argue about it more." Jisung just smiled up at you as he spoke, Minho humming an agreement. It only made you sigh.

"Why am I dating you two?"

"Because you love us."

"And our dicks." Minho couldn't help but add it in. And all you could do was sigh.

Yeah. You did love them.

And their dicks. But...mostly them.

Hey! Firstly, thank you so much for reading this post, and I really hope you enjoyed! If you did, please like, reblog, or comment so I can see how I'm doing with writing and getting feedback! I hope you have a lovely day! Sleep well, stay in good health, and eat something if you haven't! ❤️❤️❤️

Taglist: @miss-daisy04 @kayleefriedchicken @wolfs-archive @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @wolfs-howling @rose-w-00-d @skzlover24 @sammhisphere

[non-un-topo]

I have roughly 9 assignments due in the next 4 weeks, why am I not losing my mind?

[dollishmehrayan]

# “WOULD YOU DO ANYTHING FOR ME?, BUY A BIG DIAMOND RING FOR ME?” ── .✦ ( how batboys act when they’re engaged w reader )

dollish note ౨ৎ: I lowkey crashed out over losing Americans on tiktok but this woke up to post on tumblr but hey, also can we talk about how trump used that as a pr stunt && thought we wouldn’t notice wtf like omgg the way many americans caught on, alsoo please leave some motivation for me because I just kinda lost motivation for this app after the tiktok thingy went down 🫠 tags: (batboys x engaged!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Over the moon and not afraid to show it. Dick tells everyone the second you say yes. Alfred? He knows. Random stranger in the grocery store? The metro security guy?, Yep, they know too. He’s got that goofy, lovestruck grin plastered on his face 24/7.

Wedding planning enthusiast. You thought you’d do most of the planning? Wrong. Dick’s fully invested, showing you Pinterest boards of venues, color schemes, and “Do you think Nightwing blue (dollish note: I think ‘#3366CC’ perhaps?) would be tacky for the napkins?”

Gets sappy at random times. You’ll catch him staring at you with a dreamy look, and when you ask why, he just shrugs. “I’m just thinking about how lucky I am.”, “Dick calm down you only proposed like 2 weeks ago.”

Brags to the Batfam constantly. “Guys, I’m going to be a husband! Can you believe it? Me! Richard Grayson!” Bruce pretends to be joyful a bit but he’s done hearing it for the 777x time but even he cracks a small smile when Dick won’t shut up about you.

Practices saying his vows in the mirror. You walked in on him once, and he was mortified. “Okay, but you didn’t hear the good part yet!”, “You literally finished the whole paper !!”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Acts like it’s not a big deal, but it’s huge for him. He’ll play it cool at first, saying something like, “It’s just a ring, babe.” But deep down, he’s nervous, excited, and trying not to let it show.

Keeps the engagement low-key. Jason’s not one for flashy announcements or grand gestures. He wants this to be something special between you two, not the whole world.

Protective x10. Now that you’re officially going to be his spouse, Jason is extra watchful. He’s already looking into ways to keep you safe and makes sure you’re never caught in the crossfire of his vigilante life.

Wants you to be 100% comfortable. He checks in with you constantly about the wedding plans. “We don’t have to do anything big, okay? Just say the word, and it’s done.” He’ll let you take the lead but secretly loves when you include him.

Teases you with the whole “fiancé” thing. “Hey, fiancée. Can you grab my coffee? Oh, did I mention you’re my fiancée now?” It’s his way of hiding how excited he really is.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Nervous wreck but totally in love. Tim overthinks everything after proposing. Did he pick the right ring? Did he say the right words? Is he even ready to be a husband? But every time he sees you smile, it calms him down.

Keeps it practical. Tim doesn’t want a huge engagement party or a grand wedding. He’s more focused on what your future together will look like your shared goals, finances, and making sure you’re both on the same page.

Researches marriage like it’s a mission. He has books on successful relationships, listens to podcasts, and even makes a checklist for wedding planning. You find it adorable when he starts using color coded spreadsheets.

Loves when you call him your fiancé. The first time you said it, he blushed so hard he had to look away. Now he’s low-key obsessed with hearing it. “You don’t have to keep calling me that… but don’t stop either.”

Gets emotional when he thinks about the future. You once caught him staring at the engagement ring on your finger, looking teary-eyed. When you asked what was wrong, he said, “I just can’t believe you’re actually mine.” (I would’ve smacked the shit out of him for that, I don’t do romance 🙄💪)

[hans-wh0re]

PRAISE ME, BABY

Synopsis: Jisung just can't act normal when you praise him. A.N: Idk how this turned out to be as it's been a while, so don't have high expectations lmao (i wanna kms).

Jisung prided himself on being a pretty calm guy. Sure, he got flustered easily, especially around his friends. But he considered himself to be pretty chill, all things considered. That is, until you came along.

He had known you for a while, you were one of his closest friends. You were always bubbly and outgoing, the life of any party, and always ready with a compliment or word of encouragement. He always appreciated your presence, but recently, he's been feeling a strange pull towards you, something he can’t quite place.

It all started with your voice. He swore he’d never been so attentive to his own name until you were the one calling him for a project. His stomach would twist, his palms would sweat, and the tips of his ears burned. At first, he figured it was just a passing thing, the nerves that everyone has when they begin a new friendship. He wanted to be your friend, and it only seemed right that the nervousness would wash away eventually. Yet weeks turned into months, and the only thing that faded was your shared space for the project.

And now, even though you’re done with the thing you were assigned together, you spend just as much time together as you did while working on the project.

The real problem began when you decided to tell him he’s good at things. Things he knew he was good at, but for some reason, meant so much more coming from you. A compliment on the new song he wrote? He nearly passed out. You telling him you thought his drawing was good? He felt like his skin would melt off. You telling him he was the best friend you could ever ask for? He was a goner. Completely gone.

It was starting to affect him in ways he couldn’t explain. He'd find himself thinking about you at the most random moments, his heart racing whenever you were near, and an insistent pull between his legs whenever you were even the slightest bit nice. And as much as he liked the feeling, he also hated it. He didn’t want you to know that he was so easily affected by you, that your kind words could turn him into a blushing mess. He wanted to be cool, to play it off, to pretend it didn’t bother him. But he just couldn’t.

Which brings him to now, in your living room, trying his best to focus on the statistics research you’ve assigned him.

“Jisung, can you check these numbers over one more time?” You ask from across the room, and he tenses at just the sound of your voice. He wants nothing more than to scream, to run into the bathroom and jerk off, to cry at the overwhelming amount of horniness you cause him.

He nods stiffly, pushing away from the small table with a gentle “mhmm” before leaning over to peer at the numbers on your laptop. His face burns hot as you lean closer to him, your shoulder brushing against his as you point out what he’s supposed to be looking for.

“Okay, so what you need to do is– oh! Good job! Thanks, Jisung!” You practically sing as you reach over to pat him on the head, and that sends him over the edge. His cock jumps in his pants, and he feels his face turn tomato red.

Your hand, still resting innocently on his head, feels like a fucking brand, searing through his hair, through his skull, straight down to the mess you’ve made of his insides. Good job. The two simplest words, uttered in your bright, infuriatingly cheerful voice, and he’s instantly, shamefully, rock hard.

He jerks back from the laptop, pulling away from your touch like it’s electrocuted him, though every nerve ending is screaming for more. His face is burning, radiating heat he’s sure you can feel even from a foot away. He can’t look at you. If he looks at you, sees that oblivious sunshine smile, he might actually combust. Or worse, grab you, shove you against the wall, and demand you say it again while he grinds his aching erection against you.

“Uh… yeah,” he manages to choke out, his voice cracking embarrassingly. He clears his throat, turning away, pretending to be intensely interested in a dust bunny near the leg of the table. Anything to avoid your gaze. Anything to hide the pathetic state you reduce him to with a casual pat on the head and a few kind words.

This is fucking pathetic. He hates this. Hates how easily you unravel him. Hates how that simple, genuine praise ignites something dark and needy deep inside him, something that feels distinctly wrong for a friendship. He shouldn’t be getting hard because you think he did a good job double-checking some stupid statistics. He shouldn’t be picturing the way your mouth would look wrapped around him while you told him how good he is, how much you need him.

But he is. Fuck, he is.

His hand instinctively drops to cover the embarrassing bulge straining against his zipper. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, trying to discreetly adjust himself, but it’s useless. He’s thick, throbbing, painfully aware of every beat of his pulse echoing between his legs. He needs release. He needs it now. Needs to lock himself in your bathroom, your scent probably clinging to the towels, and just fucking ruin himself thinking about you, whispering your praises back to himself like some kind of mantra while he pumps his fist raw.

“Jisung? You okay?” Your voice again, closer this time. Concerned. Fuck, why are you always so nice? Don’t you see what you’re doing to him? Or maybe… maybe you do? A tiny, insidious thought worms its way into his brain. Maybe this bubbly, outgoing act is just that – an act. Maybe you know exactly how much power your words hold over him. Maybe you like seeing him squirm.

The thought sends a fresh wave of heat through him, darker this time, mixed with a confusing flicker of anger. He forces himself to look up, meeting your earnest, slightly worried gaze. God, you’re so fucking pretty it hurts. Your eyes are wide, lips slightly parted, head tilted in that way that makes him want to either kiss you senseless or push you down onto the floor.

“Fine,” he bites out, the word harsher than intended. He sees you blink, taken aback by his tone. Good. Maybe if he’s an asshole, this feeling will stop. Maybe if he pushes you away, the relentless throb behind his fly will finally subside.

But then you offer him another smile, softer this time, understanding. “Okay,” you say gently. “Well, you did a really great job with this, Sungie. Seriously, I was totally stuck.” You even reach out, squeezing his arm briefly.

Sungie.

His breath catches. His cock gives another violent jump, straining against the denim, slick head weeping pre-cum he can suddenly, agonizingly feel dampening the inside of his boxers. The urge to groan, to grab your hand and press it against his hardness, to make you feel what you do to him, is overwhelming.

He stands abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. Your hand drops from his arm. He can’t stay here. Not another second.

“Gotta… uh… bathroom,” he mutters, already moving, practically fleeing towards the hallway, avoiding your confused expression.

He finds the door, shoulders his way inside, locking it behind him with trembling fingers. He leans his forehead against the cool wood, breathing hard, trying to regain control. The small space smells faintly of your cherry blossom body wash. Torture. Absolute fucking torture.

His eyes squeeze shut. Good job, Jisung. You’re the best, Sungie. Lifesaver. Your voice echoes in his head, sweet poison fueling the fire. He can almost hear you whispering other things. Filthy things. Telling him how good he feels inside you, how much you need his cock, how perfect he is while he pounds into you.

With a ragged groan, he rips his jeans open, yanking himself out. He’s dripping wet, painfully hard, veins standing out in sharp relief. He doesn’t bother with lube, doesn’t need it. He wraps his fist around his shaft, tight, punishing, and starts stroking, fast and frantic.

He needs friction. Needs pain to cut through the overwhelming pleasure-ache your praise causes. He imagines you kneeling right where he’s standing, eyes wide and adoring, chanting his praises while he fucks your pretty mouth raw. He imagines pinning you against this sink, lifting one of your legs, shoving into you while you gasp out how good he is, how perfect his cock feels splitting you open.

“Fuck… yes…” he pants, knuckles white, pumping harder, faster. He can feel the orgasm building, coiling tight and low in his gut, spurred on by the phantom echo of your voice telling him he’s good. He bites back a louder groan, thrusting his hips forward, fucking his own fist against the closed door. He pictures your face contorted in pleasure beneath him, screaming his name, telling him he’s the best you’ve ever had.

He’s close, so fucking close, vision swimming, when he hears it. A soft tapping on the door.

"Jisung? Are you… sure you’re okay? You sound kind of… strained."

Your voice. Right there. Concerned. Oblivious. Or maybe… not so oblivious?

Panic crashes through him, cold and sharp, momentarily dousing the heat. He freezes, hand clamped tight around his still-throbbing cock, slick with sweat and pre-cum. Did you hear him? Did you hear the harsh pants, the low groans, the frantic rhythm?

Fuck. He is so fucked!

A.N: This man makes me have urges i don't normally have like uhhh the things i wanna do to him! Also i have so many thoughts on how/where i want this to go from here, but m not sure! So this will stay like this until i settle on one ending. Sorry :(

[staff]

We Asked an Expert...in Herpetology!

People on Tumblr come from all walks of life and all areas of expertise to grace our dashboards with paragraphs and photographs of the things they want to share with the world. Whether it's an artist uploading their speed art, a fanfic writer posting their WIPs, a language expert expounding on the origin of a specific word, or a historian ready to lay down the secrets of Ea-nasir, the hallways of Tumblr are filled with specialists sharing their knowledge with the world. We Asked an Expert is a deep dive into those expert brains on tumblr dot com. Today, we’re talking to Dr. Mark D. Scherz (@markscherz), an expert in Herpetology. Read on for some ribbeting frog facts, including what kind of frog the viral frog bread may be based on.

Reptiles v Amphibians. You have to choose one.

In a battle for my heart, I think amphibians beat out the reptiles. There is just something incredibly good about beholding a nice plump frog.

In a battle to the death, I have to give it to the reptiles—the number of reptiles that eat amphibians far, far outstrips the number of amphibians that eat reptiles.

In terms of ecological importance, I would give it to the amphibians again, though. Okay, reptiles may keep some insects and rodents in check, but many amphibians live a dual life, starting as herbivores and graduating to carnivory after metamorphosis, and as adults they are critical for keeping mosquitos and other pest insects in check.

What is the most recent exciting fact you discovered about herps?

This doesn’t really answer your question, but did you know that tadpole arms usually develop inside the body and later burst through the body wall fully formed? I learned about this as a Master’s student many years ago, but it still blows my mind. What’s curious is that this apparently does not happen in some of the species of frogs that don’t have tadpoles—oh yeah, like a third of all frogs or something don’t have free-living tadpoles; crazy, right? They just develop forelimbs on the outside of the body like all other four-legged beasties. But this has only really been examined in a couple species, so there is just so much we don’t know about development, especially in direct-developing frogs. Like, how the hell does it just… swap from chest-burster to ‘normal’ limb development? Is that the recovery of the ancestral programming, or is it newly generated? When in frog evolution did the chest-burster mode even evolve?

How can people contribute to conservation efforts for their local herps?

You can get involved with your local herpetological societies if they exist—and they probably do, as herpetologists are everywhere. You can upload observations of animals to iNaturalist, where you can get them identified while also contributing to datasets on species distribution and annual activity used by research scientists.

You can see if there are local conservation organizations that are doing any work locally, and if you find they are not, then you can get involved to try to get them started. For example, if you notice areas of particularly frequent roadkill, talking to your local council or national or local conservation organizations can get things like rescue programs or road protectors set up. You should also make sure you travel carefully and responsibly. Carefully wash and disinfect your hiking boots, especially between locations, as you do not want to be carrying chytrid or other nasty infectious diseases across the world, where they can cause population collapses and extinctions.

Here are some recent headlines. Quick question, what the frog is going on in the frog world? 

Click through for Mark’s response to these absolutely wild headlines, more about his day-to-day job, his opinion on frog bread, and his favorite Tumblr.

✨D I S C O V E R Y✨

There are more people on Earth than ever before, with the most incredible technology that advances daily at their disposal, and they disperse that knowledge instantly. That means more eyes and ears observing, recording, and sharing than ever before. And so we are making big new discoveries all the time, and are able to document them and reach huge audiences with them.

That being said, these headlines also showcase how bad some media reporting has gotten. The frogs that scream actually scream mostly in the audible range—they just have harmonics that stretch up into ultrasound. So, we can hear them scream, we just can’t hear all of it. Because the harmonics are just multiples of the fundamental, they would anyway only add to the overall ‘quality’ of the sound, not anything different. The mushroom was sprouting from the flank of the frog, and scientists are not really worried about it because this is not how parasitic fungi work, and this is probably a very weird fluke. And finally, the Cuban tree frogs (Osteocephalus septentrionalis) are not really cannibals per se; they are just generalist predators who will just as happily eat a frog as they will a grasshopper, but the frogs they are eating are usually other species. People seem to forget that cannibalism is, by definition, within a species. The fact that they are generalist predators makes them a much bigger problem than if they were cannibals—a cannibal would actually kind of keep itself in check, which would be useful. The press just uses this to get people’s hackles up because Westerners are often equal parts disgusted and fascinated by cannibalism. 

What does an average day look like for the curator of herpetology at the Natural History Museum of Denmark?

No two days are the same, and that is one of the joys of the job. I could spend a whole day in meetings, where we might be discussing anything from which budget is going to pay for 1000 magnets to how we could attract big research funding, to what a label is going to say in our new museum exhibits (we are in the process of building a new museum). Equally, I might spend a day accompanying or facilitating a visitor dissecting a crocodile or photographing a hundred snakes. Or it might be divided into one-hour segments that cover a full spectrum: working with one of my students on a project, training volunteers in the collection, hunting down a lizard that someone wants to borrow from the museum, working on one of a dozen research projects of my own, writing funding proposals, or teaching classes. It is a job with a great deal of freedom, which really suits my work style and brain.

Oh yeah, and then every now and then, I get to go to the field and spend anywhere from a couple of weeks to several months tracking down reptiles and amphibians, usually in the rainforest. These are also work days—with work conditions you couldn’t sell to anyone: 18-hour work days, no weekends, no real rest, uncomfortable living conditions, sometimes dangerous locations or working conditions, field kitchen with limited options, and more leeches and other biting beasties than most health and welfare officers would tolerate—but the reward is the opportunity to make new discoveries and observations, collect critical data, and the privilege of getting to be in some of the most beautiful and biodiverse places left on the planet. So, I am humbled by the fact that I have the privilege and opportunity to undertake such expeditions, and grateful for the incredible teams I collaborate with that make all of this work—from the museum to the field—possible.

The Tibetan Blackbird is also known as Turdus maximus. What’s your favorite chortle-inducing scientific name in the world of herpetology?

Among reptiles and amphibians, there aren’t actually that many to choose from, but I must give great credit to my friend Oliver Hawlitschek and his team, who named the snake Lycodryas cococola, which actually means ‘Coco dweller’ in Latin, referring to its occurrence in coconut trees. When we were naming Mini mum, Mini scule, and Mini ature, I was inspired by the incredible list that Mark Isaac has compiled of punning species names, particularly by the extinct parrot Vini vidivici, and the beetles Gelae baen, Gelae belae, Gelae donut, Gelae fish, and Gelae rol. I have known about these since high school, and it has always been my ambition to get a species on this list.

If you were a frog, what frog would you be and why?

I think I would be a Phasmahyla because they’re weird and awkward, long-limbed, and look like they’re wearing glasses. As a 186 cm (6’3) glasses-wearing human with no coordination, they quite resonate with me.

Please rate this frog bread from 1/10. Can you tell us what frog it represents?

With the arms inside the body cavity like that, it can basically only be a brevicipitid rain frog. The roundness of the body fits, too. I’d say probably Breviceps macrops (or should I say Breadviceps?) based on those big eyes. 7/10, a little on the bumpy side and missing a finger and at least one toe.

Please follow Dr. Mark Scherz at @markscherz for even more incredibly educational, entertaining, and meaningful resources in the world of reptiles and amphibians.

[prinzrupprecht]

When someone else gives you gifts

Featuring: Tesla, Apollo, Qin, and Thor ( part 1 )

You can also read Part 2 and part 3 for more characters

CW: mostly fluff and jealousy. Yandere tendencies with some of them

Tesla

He came home from a long day of work expecting you to be asleep but he noticed you on the couch reading a book. “Why are you awake? You didn’t have to wait for me.” He was right, it was nearly midnight while you waited for him.

He was very into his research and his passion for science sometimes made you question your insanity as to why you fell for this man if science was more important than you— his partner.

“Oh, I did? I guess I was too into this book. Also, thanks for the flowers hun.” You walked over to him and raised your toes to kiss him on his nose. He looked at you with confusion. Flowers? He didn’t get you flowers.

“Flowers? I didn’t get you any,” he felt bad when he saw the large bouquet on the table. Did someone give these to you? An unknown feeling formed in his chest.

Quickly he walked over to it and grabbed them tossing them in the trash. “Hey! Why did you do that?!” You shouted angrily but he stopped you from taking them out of the trash.

“We’ll plant a whole garden of roses, besides…” he grabbed your waist.

“I prefer if other men didn’t give you such things when I am the only one that has that privilege,” he kept you close while your heart was racing in your chest. A whole garden? You liked the sound of that instead.

Apollo

He noticed it right away. The new necklace that you were wearing. “This is new.” He lifted the chain up with one finger, but he knew it was a stupid question. You most likely found it in the pile of jewelry he has given you over the years.

You were dumbfounded at first and looked down at the necklace. “One of your followers… he— he gave it to me as a gift,” you stuttered. There was a long pause between you two before he clipped the necklace off.

Apollo didn’t like the idea of another giving you luxury things. He was trying to keep calm but he laughed while holding the necklace in between a few of his fingers while holding it up over his head.

“A cheap thing like this? I could give you anything you want," Apollo pulled you closer to him with his arms tugging around your small body. You knew you were trapped with him and he wouldn’t let go. Was he afraid that someone would steal you away from him? Nobody could steal you away from him. More so you used to be jealous of his herd of women and used to ignore him. He took more interest in you than the other way around in the beginning.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I— I won’t accept any more gifts from your followers.” Apollo liked hearing that as a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

With you being his only beloved, he would be the only one to give you things. Was he jealous? He wouldn’t admit if he was. He believed that jealousy was a disgusting trait and nothing beautiful about it.

With you in his arms, he deeply sighed dramatically. “Now my dear, go put on something nice that was from me this time.” his lips were near your ears as his breath tickled down your spine. Without any hesitation, you nodded happily to your beloved before retreating to go back to your shared room.

Qin Shi Huang

You knew Qin as a child because of your affiliation with Chun Yan who introduced you two. You were treated like a daughter to her but she wasn’t your biological mother. You treated Ying as everyone else and not some creepy kid that everyone thought he was. Over time this made him fall for you and ask you to stay with him even after Chun Yan died.

Fast forward to the present as Qin Shi Huang— also known as Ying Zheng became king as he promised to Chun Yan. You still were by his side even when other nobles offered their daughters to him as concubines or an arranged marriage, he dismissed them all. Normally jealousy filled you and you thought there was no chance for a commoner like you could be his empress.

As you wandered the halls of his palace, you ran into one of the young maids who told you she had something for you. It was a very fine patterned robe that only nobles were granted to wear. “I can’t wear this, it’s forbidden for someone like me to—” she cut you off by telling you that it was fine and Qin said so. Qin?! Were you going to believe her? Did she have some ulterior motive? You reluctantly tried it on. It was dark red with flowers on it. The maid wasn’t around which was odd. Your former clothes were gone as well. Huh?!

You found the main hall looking for your room to possibly change, but Qin noticed you even with his blindfold on. Thank god he can’t see you with the noble robe on, right? “There you are, you had me worried for a minute.” He grabbed your arm but that was a mistake. He felt the expensive silk of the robe. The sleeves were long so of course he knew what kind of material you were wearing.

“Oh? It’s not like you to be wearing such a thing.” He chuckled before a smile appeared on his lips. He wasn’t mad?!

“Your maid told me to wear it and said that you were fine with it, but she left and took my clothes…” you frowned but Qin was more upset that someone was trying to get you in trouble. He could never get mad at you. You were too pure and kind. You had accepted him for who he is and stood by his side.

“Now tell me who it was, I’ll make sure she’ll get punished later.” You wanted to object but you can’t because he was your king. You nodded and felt bad that the maid would most likely lose her job. He still held onto you even though you were shaking a bit. He told you to wear more of those robes since they look good on you. Even just hearing him say that brought a bubbly feeling in your heart.

Thor

You were again stuck inside the Asgard palace bored again… The entire city was nearly destroyed by titans and many civilians were rebuilding their homes and businesses. You looked out of the window and spotted Forseti talking to a few of the officials. You loathed the man, he didn’t do anything during the invasion and only worried about Thor.

A knock was heard from your room, you had expected that Thor had returned but then you remembered he doesn’t knock. You grumbled a lowly come in and of course, Loki was at the door looking smug than ever. “The hell do you want?” You frowned, why would you ever be so hopeful that Thor would free his time up for you? You two weren’t even married either but acted like it. Odin had tried to forbid any relationship between you two, but Thor didn’t obey that order.

“Why so snarky? I just wanted to come to check up on my future sis-in-law,” he mocks that last part since the marriage thing was off the table. You didn’t say anything. Was he here to try to make you angry?

He quickly changed the subject and pulled out a small doll he made. “I made this, it does look like you, right? Here take it,” he put it next to you. It sort of creeped you out but you kept quiet. Were you terrified? Maybe.

“Why are you making voodoo dolls?” You detested the plushie and hoped Thor would come back sooner.

“Who said it was for that kind of sorcery? It’s just a gift! I swear!” Loki was faking his emotions while you quietly mumbled ‘whatever’ and reluctantly accepted it while holding the doll as he took his leave. What a weird guy…

Hours had passed by as you fell asleep on the couch but you had awoken to someone moving you. “You’re back?” You looked up to see Thor holding you with both of his arms. His expression wasn’t calm like usual. He seemed irritated. Did something happen?

“Mhm…” he was quiet but you saw how different his expressions were than usual.

“He came here when I was gone,” he grabbed the doll that was next to you squeezing it so hard that the head of the doll popped off. How his cousin was gifting you such things. Creepy things. Thor wanted to beat sense to him but held back his anger.

“Sorry, I didn’t know what he would do if I rejected it.” You frowned but Thor's left hand touched your cheek as you stared up at him. He genuinely smiled.

“He won’t hurt you… I’ll make sure of it.” The reassurance you wanted the most as you buried your face in his chest. You just wanted his comfort and nothing else.

Note: no eta when part 2 will come but if I do another it’ll probably be Susano’o, Buddha, Loki and Anubis. Edit: I forgot about Poseidon. So probably 5 characters for part 2.

[beomiracles]

— 𝖨𝖳 𝖶𝖠𝖲 𝖠𝖭 𝖠𝖢𝖢𝖨𝖣𝖤𝖭𝖳 𝖨 𝖲𝖶𝖤𝖠𝖱... .ᐟ

𐔌 💥 ꒱ Yeonjun didn't mean to brutally hit you with his car. It was an accident, he swears! He will do anything if it means avoiding a lawsuit — as the consequences, which is him losing his inheritance of his father's company, would be fatal. But when you struggle to make ends meet on a daily basis, the problems of a high income taker seem minimal. "Steal from the rich and give to the poor." And it seems Yeonjun is more than willing to pay the price for his mistakes.

⋮ 🎬 ⋮ 𝖲𝖳𝖠𝖱𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦: chaebol!yeonjun x poor!reader (f) 𝖥𝖤𝖠𝖳𝖴𝖱𝖤𝖨𝖭𝖦: assistant!taehyun, court judge!beomgyu lawyer!kai & lawyer!soobin

wc : 16.2k

𝖢𝖮𝖭𝖳𝖤𝖭𝖳 𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦 ⚠︎ [ car crash, descriptions of injury and blood, cursing, fake-dating, strangers to enemies to ...?, kissing, lots of tension between the mcs, crack fic ]

🎙️ yello yello, I'm slightly nervous to post this — mostly because I've never written something like this before. my writing isn't as descriptive and in depth as you're used to, the characters are also a lot more lighthearted so it might be somewhat of a switch. so please don't expect too much writing wise — the pacing might also be a little off (?),, I also haven't proofread this at all >< oh and I didn't research at all for the court scene but trust me I will be doing that for criminal conscience lolsies.. but please please comment/reblog/send asks with your thoughts and opinions afterward, that would make me so incredibly happy! I hope it's still an enjoyable fic despite it not being what I usually do, love you lots <33

note, this fic started as a joke to spite my friend cam,, so when I say it's unserious I mean it.

SOME LONESOME WEDNESDAY AT 10:25 PM

The rain bats against your naked arms as you pull them tighter around yourself, a pathetic attempt at keeping the blistering cold away. Your mascara has run down your cheeks, undoubtedly making you look even more of a mess than you felt – it wasn’t like your meek paycheck covered a water-proof one, hell it barely covered your rent. 

On top of the ungodly weather, you had been held back at work for another two hours, making it your third day of overtime this week. Not only did that mean two hours less sleep tonight, it also had you running down the wet pavement as you hoped to catch the last train home. In your haste you’d forgotten your jacket, and despite it being late april, the air was freezing.  

And it was only Wednesday. 

Your steps echo down the vacant street, rain pouring over you like that of a cold shower turned on at full force. Keeping your head bowed as you squint, you focus on your worn out sneakers as they move forward – and in spite of the rush you were in, you still carefully avoid stepping on the cracks. 

The screen of your phone quickly becomes covered in wet droplets when you pull it out, your eyes widening tenfold as you check the time. “Three minutes.. I can make that..” You deluded yourself into thinking you had a chance, your legs were already aching but you still geared up into a jog. 

Your surroundings become a blur, the buildings you pass blending into one another as the dim street lights prod at the corner of your eyes. — Suddenly your foot catches on something, causing you to stumble forward. The shout of what could only have been a most miserable homeless man rings in your ears. But you don’t stop to check on him, merely yelling out a “Sorry!” over your shoulder as you keep going. 

Maybe if you had been more attentive that night, if you had bothered to check your left twice, maybe things would have turned out differently. The red light blares in front of your face, signaling for you to stop, a clear warning sign. But you ignore it. Hell, it was nearing 10 pm, the street was vacant – and you had a mere two minutes to spare. 

You go for it, water splashing around you as your feet hit the road crossing. You’re halfway across, the subway sign ahead illuminating your way – filling your desperate self with hope for the first time today. Your bed was just three stops away, warm and dry, a night's sleep and a freshly brewed cup of tea awaits you. 

But then, just as you think you’ve made it, a light brighter than that of the street lamps suddenly floats into vision. It starts out small, a tiny dot in the corner of your eye. But as it grew in size you quickly came to understand that the source was heading straight toward you – and fast. You barely have time to react, but the sound of screeching tires is deafening, and it’s then you realize your mistake.

It doesn’t hurt at first, but you can clearly feel the heavy vehicle as it rams into you from the side. You hit the ground, it’s cold and the silence that follows is loud. It takes you a moment to comprehend just what had happened. Then pain flares up, and you immediately forget about the cold and the rain. Because it felt as though your entire body was on fire. 

Your breath, previously knocked from your lungs due to the sheer force of the crash, returns and you gasp for air. The once tiny dot of light is now all you see, and it makes you squint, it feels as though you were put under a spotlight, on show for everyone to look at and possibly even applaud, if they wished to. 

The sound of a car door closing echoes into the air, and soon you can make out approaching footsteps. “Holy fuck.” It’s a man’s voice, he sounds alarmed, and you fucking hope he was, seeing as he’d just hit you with his big piece of junk car. — “Shit”, he murmurs under his breath, “No… No I don’t know, she’s not moving…” Was he talking to someone on the phone, the emergency services?  

There’s a brief moment of silence, and all you can think about is how much everything hurts, you were sure you could feel your fucking bones. And even if you wanted to scream, not a single sound would make its way past your bloody lips. 

“What the fuck do I do?” The man hisses, but it’s clear that he isn’t addressing you. You can hardly make out his face, just the faint shadow of his silhouette as he stands above you. — “Oh my god”, he gasps, and you feel your stomach drop, bracing yourself for whatever doomsday news he’s about to deliver. “The paint is chipped!” The man suddenly exclaims and for a short second the consistent pain vanishes and you frown. 

What?

“My fucking car– Shit, this is my most expensive one!” He whines into the phone as he leans over you to rub at the car hood. Your mouth falls open, there is no way he was being serious right now. You quickly understand that he was not on the phone with emergency services, or anyone of importance for that matter. 

Your cough is what finally catches his attention again – blood follows and you cringe at the metallic taste on your tongue. “Oh fuck..” He murmurs as he crouches down next to you, his trembling hand placing against your forehead. Was he checking your fucking temperature? “I’m so going to court for this..” He says as he fiddles with his phone, bringing the device to his ear and emitting a shaky exhale as he waits for his next call to go through. 

This better be 911, you thought with a small grimace, wincing as another flash of pain shot through you. — He’s talking, but you can hardly make out the words, apart from an occasional “shit” or “fucking, fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

At least he knew how to curse. 

After that, everything went dark. 

10 MINUTES EARLIER 

Yeonjun’s fingers drum against the steering wheel as he waits for the light to turn green. He sighs, leaning back against the leather seat as his eyes flicker across the vacant streets. The faint buzzing of his phone, coming from the passenger seat catches his attention. He bites back a groan, leaning over and reaching for the annoying device as he swipes to accept the call coming through. 

“Yes?” He drawls as he inspects his cuticles in a bored manner. — “Where have you been all day?” Taehyun’s voice is just as strict and accusing as it always was, despite the late hour. Yeonjun rolls his eyes, his feet pressing the gas pedal with a little more force than necessary as the light finally signals green. 

“Always so happy to see me, are you?” He hums, earning himself a scoff from the other man. Taehyun mutters something unintelligible under his breath before sighing. “You’ve missed two meetings, one dinner and five important phone calls”, he lists them as though he’s reading off of a powerpoint, the monotone yet scolding edge to his tone slicing through the call. 

Yeonjun bites the inside of his cheek, his brows furrowing as his finger taps the back of his phone. “So, reschedule them?” He suggests to which his assistant snorts. “To when? – You’re fully booked all of this week, and the next, then there’s the ball on the 29th not to mention-” — “Alright! Alright! I get it”, Yeonjun cuts him off with a heavy exhale, “Tell them I was sick, or… I don’t know, make something up.” 

A moment of silence follows and Yeonjun watches the raindrops as they race down the windshield, an impassive expression on his face. “You’ve used that excuse three times this week already”, Taehyun stubbornly reminds him and Yeonjun has to fight the urge to just hang up on him. 

“You’ve got to start taking things seriously”, his assistant says, “Taking over the business when your father passes won’t be easy, and it’s…” — “Best for me to get as much experience as I can so that I’m prepared for when the day comes, I know”, Yeonjun finishes with a heavy exhale. 

“Yes, precisely”, Taehyun hums. 

Yeonjun nods, not that the other man could see it – a sense of dread settling within the pit of his stomach at the thought of overtaking such a huge role. His eyes dart from building to building, his nose scrunching at the cheap architecture of the area. Responsibilities had never been his forte, in any sense really. Neither was paperwork or mingling with important people and pretending to actually be interested in a single thing they had to say. Yeonjun often wished he hadn’t been the only child to come out of his parent’s loveless marriage. It would’ve been nice to share the burden with someone else. 

The sound of Taehyun typing away at his computer echoes through the call, the persistent noise only adding to the overwhelming feeling coursing through his chest. He sighs, trying his best to relax and focus on the road ahead, not noticing the growing acceleration of the car he was currently driving. “What’s on my agenda for tomorrow then?” He begrudgingly asks, regretting the question as soon as it passes his lips.

Taehyun quickly goes off to list his schedule for the upcoming days, but all Yeonjun can hear is his future being carved out in stone before him. Meeting this, dinner that, small talking here and chatting people up there. It was exhausting. 

He pinches the bridge of his nose, blinking once, twice to shake the sleep from his already drooping eyes. “Are you even listening?” Taehyun asks, his sharp voice clipping him across the face and making him jerk in his seat. “Hm? Yeah, meeting at 11 tomorrow?” — “10”, his assistant corrects and Yeonjun groans. 

“Are you headed home?” He then asks to which Yeonjun hums. “Yeah I’m…” But he can barely finish his sentence before the car suddenly shifts on the road. “Shit!” He curses, but it didn’t matter that his foot hit the brakes with a force that could’ve easily snapped his ankle in half, it wasn’t enough to stop the car in time, the wet road throwing the vehicle into hydroplane. — The screeching noise of the tires ring in his ears, the thud of what could only be another person hitting the hood of his car and then the ground is deafening. 

The car jerks as it comes to an abrupt halt, but it’s far too late. 

For a moment everything is silent. Only the sound of rain batting against the windows can be heard, and Yeonjun watches with his heart in his throat as the windshield wipers continue their pathway back and forth over the glass, as though nothing had happened. “Yeonjun? Are you there? What happened?” Taehyun’s voice, now lacking any sense of composure, is coming from the floor, for he’d dropped his phone in the haste of it all.

“Yeonjun! Answer me!” He demands, and only then is the older male snapped out of his trance as his hands let go of the steering wheel. “What happened?” Taehyun hisses on the other line and Yeonjun winces as he brings the device to his ear once more. 

“Fuck…” He exhales, his voice trembling as he speaks, “I think I just hit someone.” — “And… oh my god my car!” 

FOUR DAYS LATER 

It’s bright. Really fucking bright. The sharp light stings your eyes, making you squint as you peer up at the sterile ceiling. This was so not the afterlife – because if it was, you most certainly wouldn’t be hooked up to a beeping machine and laying flat on your back on a small and hard hospital bed. 

The constant chatter of nurses surround you, and it was to your greatest dismay that you realized you hadn’t even been granted the luxury of your own room. Separated only by thin, teal curtains you glance to the other patients occupying the room. — There was an older man opposite you and two beds to the right, he was staring silently ahead as a nurse tended to his plastered body, it covered both his legs and arms, making him essentially imobile. Upon glancing down at your own plastered arm you suddenly realized that you might actually have been in for more luck than you’d thought – unfortunately for you, it was your dominant hand that was out of order. 

Still, you could perfectly wiggle your toes, and you were relieved to find that your legs obeyed your every command. With a small sigh you lean back against the lonesome pillow provided by the hospital. You glance around, trying to find out where you could possibly be – hopefully not somewhere too expensive, you were already indebted in every aspect of your life, a broken arm was not going to be next on your list. 

Clearing your throat, you try to call for one of the nurses, but before you can even raise your still working hand, the curtain to your right is dramatically drawn aside. The sudden action makes you jump, your mouth falling open in a scream that never leaves your lips. 

“Fucking finally, you’re awake!” A man you did not recognize, occupies the empty bed next to your own, you weren't sure that was even allowed – he hardly looked ill… At least not physically. “I was beginning to think you would never peel those eyelids open”, he mutters as he swings his legs over the edge of the mattress before standing up and approaching you. 

He was handsome, no doubt. The jet black hair on top of his head fell across his face in even sections, framing his already sharp and prominent features. The grin that stretched across his lips displayed a set of perfectly white and straight teeth, almost uncannily so – and his eyes sparkled with what you thought to be relief as he came to a halt by your bed. 

“I’m sorry… Who are you?” The question comes off almost stingy, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t place the man into any of the awful categories of people in your life. The man’s expression falters for a moment, his grin falling as his dark brows raise on his forehead. “What?” He echoes, and he sounds almost in disbelief. “You… Do you not remember what happened?” He then inquired, and this time he came off almost excited – he was probably ready to feed you a bunch of bullshit lies.

You scoff, averting your gaze for a moment as you let yourself recall the events leading up to your unfortunate and current predicament. It was embarrassing to say the least, and you remember the pain, the air being knocked from your lungs, the blood and the bright lights. — Your silence is not well received by the man as he immediately goes on another rant. “Well if you don’t then that’s fine – it wasn’t anything serious really, you just-” His voice was awfully familiar, and the longer you listened, the more pieces fell into place. 

“You.” 

The blunt accusation cuts him short and you turn to him with narrowed eyes. “You fucking hit me.” You jab a finger to his chest, making him grimace as he scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “Ah… I see amnesia wasn’t the case then..!” He nervously chuckles to which your frown only deepens. “Excuse me?” 

The man clears his throat, straightening out his shirt before reaching a hand out to introduce himself. “Sorry, I should've probably done this from the start… I’m Yeonjun, Choi Yeonjun.” Your eyes linger on the expensive watch that wrapped around his delicate wrist, then to the perfectly ironed shirt he wore, the brand foreign to your eyes. In fact, nothing he wore was something you’d ever see at the local markets you did most of your shopping at, it was all put together and neat, down to the very detail – which could only mean one thing. 

This guy was absolutely loaded. 

You take his hand, the handshake becomes awkward as you’re forced to use your left hand, seeing as he’d completely immobilized your right one. His grip is firm, and it surprised you, because truthfully he looked like a wimp. But the action in itself feels formal, as though it was something he did on a regular basis. 

Your silence has him holding onto your hand a beat longer. “Not going to give away your own name?” He asks to which you nod toward the foot of your bed, “Says right there doesn’t it?” you mutter unenthusiastically. Yeonjun chuckles, shaking his head as he lets go of you, “She makes jokes I see.” — You send him a nasty grimace in return, but he hardly seems offended. 

He then takes a small step back, creating as much distance between you as the narrow space would allow. But when he glances over his shoulder, his demeanor suddenly switches. It takes him about half a second to have the curtains pulled around you once more, shielding you from the crowded room and leaving the two of you alone. 

“Listen”, he says as he approaches you once more, and this time there’s not a drop of charisma to his voice. In fact he looks almost like he’s about to tell you a secret that might have the both of you beheaded.  “About that night–” He begins in a hushed whisper but is abruptly cut off by the sound of the curtain he had just so meticulously closed, being yanked open. 

A small nurse appears by the opening, the white hat sitting awkwardly atop her head, as though it was too big. She flattens out her robe when she steps inside, a friendly smile plastered onto her face. “I see you’re finally awake!” She exclaims as she grabs the clipboard hanging by the foot of your bed. That was the second time someone had said that, just how long had you been knocked out? 

But you don’t get to ponder that thought any further as the woman takes place on the other side of your bed. “You can imagine it’s been a rough couple of days”, she says whilst shoving the clipboard under her arm to mess with the IV drop attached to you. “Your boyfriend’s been worried sick”, she then says without skipping a beat. — Yeonjun’s cough is almost comically loud as he brings a hand to his mouth, very obviously aware of your beyond baffled expression. 

“My what?” You question, your brows shooting high on your forehead. The nurse turns to you with a perplexed look, her face faltering for a moment, as though she had said something out of line. But before you can further object, Yeonjun has grabbed ahold of your shoulder, pulling you against him in one quick motion. 

The scent of his expensive cologne hits your nose, making you almost dizzy as you brush against his chest. “Darling”, he exhales against the side of your face, “You must’ve hit your head pretty hard.” He glances toward the nurse, sending her an apologetic smile and completely ignoring your protesting huff. “She gets a little disoriented at times.” 

“Oh– Of course”, the nurse nods before shaking her head once, as if coming back to her senses. The remainder of her stay is spent in silence as she quietly checks your vitals, not oblivious to the tension lingering in the air as your eyes practically burn holes into Yeonjun’s figure – the latter, on the other hand, seems completely at ease as he watches the nurse work with an impassive expression, his arms folded neatly across his chest. 

She leaves as soon as she’s done, quickly excusing herself and closing the curtains behind her once more. You don’t waste as much as a second, quickly pushing yourself into a sitting position as you try your hardest to yank the IV from your arm, it proved quite the challenge as your right hand was completely fucking useless. 

“Woah there”, Yeonjun suddenly springs into action as his fingers clasp around your healed arm, keeping the needle safely in place, “I don’t reckon that’s very safe.” — You scoff, brushing him off but refraining from touching the drop again. “I don’t reckon hitting me with your car was very safe either.” 

The comment has him biting the inside of his cheek as he takes a step back. “Touché”, he says as he runs a hand through his dark hair, his eyes darting across the small and makeshift room you were currently in. — “Ahem..” The clearing of your throat hardly deters him as he steps toward the IV drop, watching with great intrigue as the droplets slowly transfer through the plastic tube. 

“I reckon you’ve got some explaining to do.” 

“Hm?” 

Yeonjun cocks an eyebrow as he turns your way, his hand placed thoughtfully under his chin. “Do I? You seem to remember just fine”, he drawls to which you frown. “I’m not talking about the crash-” — “Accident.” Yeonjun firmly corrects. 

“What?” 

“It was an accident. Don’t use the word ‘crash’ it’s too vulgar”, he shudders as he lets his hands drop to his sides. “Besides”, he then says as he takes a seat on the edge of your already narrow bed, “Accident’s make for better sob stories.” 

You regard him with a look of disbelief, your brows pulled deep into a frown and your lips slightly parted. “Are you being serious right now?” You scoff, but the determined expression on Yeonjun’s face didn’t once waver – causing you to groan as you avert your gaze. “Alright, whatever. I wasn’t talking about the accident, because it was a crash – I’m talking about the whole boyfriend thing, what the fuck is up with that?” 

Yeonjun shrugs as he fiddles with the expensive looking watch on his arm. “Oh, that small detail? They wouldn’t let me stay until you woke up unless I was family – figured boyfriend was as close as I could get.” He then glances at you with a small frown, “What, are you a lesbian or something?” 

Your jaw slacked, half in disbelief and half in offense to his sheer audacity. “I… No? But why would it matter if I was!” You shake your head, blinking twice as you try to make sense of your current situation. “You’re telling me no one here knows you’re responsible for my arm being fucking encapsulated?” 

Yeonjun huffs, “Alright now you’re being dramatic. It’s just a cast, you’ll have it off in a matter of weeks.” — “Weeks?” You shriek, “I can’t even type on a computer with this, how am I supposed to work?” 

The man tilts his head to the side as he watches you with slight confusion. “So? Just take a couple of weeks off – I basically gave you a free vacation.” He then adds with a sly grin as he pats your knee. You resist the urge to quite literally kick him off the bed. “It doesn’t work like that. I can’t just take time off work, the rent won’t pay itself.” Well, his probably did, you thought with a bitter grimace. 

Yeonjun shifts on the bed with a small sigh, “Listen, I’m sorry about your arm alright – but it’ll heal. What I’m here for is to discuss something of far more importance.” He says as he turns to face you, his expression suddenly morphing into a most serious one. “What happened that night, it was an accident… And you don’t go to court over accidents.” 

You frown as you listen to his words. “What? You’re asking me not to sue your ass?” — Yeonjun rolls his eyes but you catch the flicker of hesitation behind them. “Well, yes, something along those lines.” He runs his fingers through his hair, grimacing as they catch on a strand before he continues. “How do I explain it to someone like yourself..” He murmurs thoughtfully. 

“I’m not an imbecile”, you spit. The comment has him raising a brow as his lip twitches, “Your brain scans beg to differ.” — “What?” But Yeonjun only shakes his head as he bites back a chuckle. “Alright”, he begins as he straightens his back ever so slightly,  “Supposedly, I have a reputation to uphold”, he says with a small shrug, “Nothing serious, just my future and my career depending on it.” He glances toward your injured arm, then over to the scowl plastered onto your face. “And this situation… Let’s just say it won’t look good for me to go public with it.” 

“So you’re begging me not to sue you?” 

Yeonjun frowns, “I wouldn’t use the word ‘beg’..” 

“I would.” 

He rolls his eyes, folding his arms across his chest as he throws one leg over the other. “Fine. I want to settle this without involving more people than necessary, how about that?” — You regard the expectant look on his face, from his calculating eyes to the subtle twitch of his defined jaw. Your financial situation was already bound to take a blow from this, not to mention that you might even lose your job. There was no way you were just going to let this man walk away with his pockets full and his ego still intact. 

Take from the rich and give to the poor. That was the motto you strived to achieve. 

“Alright..” You slowly begin, watching as his eyes lit up and his head jerk in your direction. There was something undeniably satisfactory in his already celebrated victory – and you have to push down a small smirk. 

“How far are you willing to go?” 

25 MINUTES LATER 

“Come on – I think I can see the top!” You excitedly exclaim as you lean forward. The late afternoon breeze caresses your face, instantly bringing a smile to your lips as you bask in the warm air. Behind you, Yeonjun pants, his heavy breath fanning across your neck. “You’ve said that these past ten minutes now”, he groans as he continues to push you forward. You roll your eyes, not caring for his unenthusiastic attitude. “Well, I mean it this time around!” 

What was probably meant to be a snort comes out as half a whine, half a whimper as Yeonjun begrudgingly pushes the wheelchair up the steep hill. “I don’t… -pant- get it… -pant- your legs are.. -pant- just fine.” His complaints were nothing but background noise to your ears – still, you glance down to your legs, swinging them back and forth to further prove his point. 

The hospital grounds were a lot more terrained than you had initially anticipated, and what had started out as a walk around facilities, had ended with Yeonjun struggling to push you up the large hill that had caught your eye. The wheels of the wheelchair caught on snares and rocks, making it quite the bumpy ride, and you had to grip the armrests tightly with your one good hand to not fall overboard. 

“Mind where you’re going! You’re transporting fragile cargo”, you snap when Yeonjun pushes the wheelchair over yet another branch, causing it to snap under the weight of it all. The man merely scoffs, the sound coming out breathy as he gathers whatever strength he had left. “Fragile my ass”, he mutters under his heaving breath, the words brushing against your neck. “That crash ought to have killed you then.” 

“You wish it did, huh?” 

Yeonjun sighs, “I’m starting to seriously reconsider.” 

Finally, the steep hill pans out into flat ground and with one final push, the wheelchair comes to a stop. Bracing himself on the handles, Yeonjun trembles as he looms over you, panting heavily as he does. “This better have been worth it”, he coughs, completely overtaken by exhaustion. — “We’re about to find out!” You state whilst stretching your legs out in front of you before jumping to your feet. 

“Oh fuck you”, Yeonjun spits as he watches you walk off to inspect the area. You ignore his crude comments, your eyes wandering across the few benches scattered around, none which were occupied. The spot was cozy enough though. With an approving nod you approach one of the larger trees, leaning against its trunk to peer out over the hospital yard. The place turned out to be quite decent after all, the food was good, and your room had been upgraded to a suite - the company however… You glance toward Yeonjun who had taken a seat on the wheelchair, his shoulders slumped in defeat. 

He would do. For now. 

His willingness had surprised you. He really must not want that lawsuit, you thought to yourself as you plucked a leaf from a low hanging branch. Oh well, you would continue to abuse your temporary power for as long as you could – if he could splurge money on a suite then he could surely treat you to a nice dinner as well. 

And who said getting run over didn’t have its benefits? 

“Hey stranger!” You wave him over with your good arm, and Yeonjun reluctantly lifts his head to see you jumping up and down by the nearby tree. With sluggish movements he drags himself from the wheelchair and over to you, his expression already painted with dismay. — “What’s with the long face?” You hum as he comes to a stop before you. 

Yeonjun quirks an unamused brow as he glances between you and the handful of leaves you had picked from the tree. “Oh nothing, just the stock market crashing and my funds losing value while I’m playing nurse”, he shrugs, “But really I’m fine – I’m having loads of fun.” He flashes you a quick smile that drops just as fast as it had appeared. 

“Really?”

“No.” 

There’s a small pause as you both glance out over the hospital facilities, your eyes lingering on the patients out and about as they try to catch the last afternoon sun. The once warm breeze was slowly turning chilly and you could see the sun setting over the horizon. — For a short moment you stopped to wonder what would become of you when you were finally discharged. The call you had to make to your boss upon returning inside would surely not be a pleasant one. How did you explain your previous absence and the one to come? The chances of you keeping your already low paying job were slim… 

“Is this why you wanted to come out here?” Yeonjun suddenly breaks the silence as he crosses his arms over his chest, a displeased look on his otherwise handsome face. “I mean, the view is nothing marvelous – plus it’s fucking freezing.” — “Hm? Oh, yeah.. It’s alright I suppose..” You murmur, your gaze dropping to the ground beneath you. The grass grew wild and untamed, peeking up in uneven sections and brushing against your ankles. 

Your sudden change in demeanor doesn’t pass him unnoticed and you can feel his eyes on your frame as he regards you quietly. “What?” He then huffs, “Don’t tell me I’ve pushed you all the way up here for nothing?” There’s a light-hearted edge to his words but you can also make out the uncertainty behind them – as though the sudden switch in your mood confused him. Accident or not – your financial situation wasn’t his fault. Everything else though… 

“No”, your lip twitches into a small, half-hearted smile, “It wasn’t for nothing.” You say as you walk past him and back to the wheelchair. “Plus”, you throw a glance over your shoulder, “Even if it was – I would’ve made you do it anyway.” 

Yeonjun’s scoff echoes over the hilltop as he jogs after you, “I don’t doubt it.” 

“Are you walking down?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” 

He sighs, “Should’ve never asked.” —  “Wow! Look at you, you’re learning!” 

Though hardly amused by your sarcastic reply, he still waits for you to take a seat. “Don’t let it get to your head”, he grumbles as he grabs the handles and turns the wheelchair around as he begins your shared journey down the hill. You huff as you lean back in the chair, “Whatever do you mean?” 

Yeonjun doesn’t reply as he steers you down the narrow pathway you had originally ascended from, this time with a lot more ease. The sky, now painted in hues of pink and orange, casts you in a warm glow and makes you squint. — Had it not been for your unfortunate situation, you would have probably found the scene quite beautiful. 

“You know..” Yeonjun begins, his voice ringing out somewhere above you, “I actually don’t know shit about the stock market – I made that up.” The admission makes you grin as you shake your head, “I know.” 

“Alright, fuck off.” 

THAT SAME EVENING 

The sound of footsteps echo down the hall as Yeonjun paces the empty corridor. Surrounded by white sterile walls and flickering bright lights, he battles the headache that had been so persistently following him around these past four days. — And Taehyun’s nagging voice certainly didn’t help one bit. 

“Your father is asking for you”, his assistant says in a curt voice. “Did you tell him to check under my bed?” Yeonjun counters, earning himself a disapproving tsk from the other man. “Do you realize how serious this is? You injured someone- If she died you could’ve been charged with manslaughter!” 

“But she didn’t die.”

“That’s not the point”, Taehyun cuts back and Yeonjun swore he could hear the gray hairs forming on his assistants head. “You’ve got to start seeing the consequences of your actions and… Where are you even?” 

Yeonjun purses his lips as he glances down the hallway, “The hospital.” — “The hospital..” Taehyun sighs, “No, of course, Jesus, where else would you be?” He pauses, “Did she wake up yet?” 

“Mhm”, Yeonjun hums as his gaze fixates on the door opposite him. It was only a matter of seconds before you called for him again, no doubt having him perform yet another task that a nurse easily could’ve done in his place. — “And?” Taehyun presses, the sound of his fingers tapping against what Yeonjun assumed to be the table of his office, echoes over the line. 

“And… I’m handling it.” 

“Handling it how? – The last thing you need is a lawsuit after you. If your father finds out about…” His assistant doesn’t even dare finish the sentence as he instead falls silent. Biting the inside of his cheek, Yeonjun leans against the wall behind him, his free hand reaching deep into his pocket as he exhales. He knew all too well what was at stake – Hell, he’d been lucky enough that you didn’t seem to have a single relative to come look for you, leaving him your only visitor these past days. When he thinks about it, the reality of it all was quite sad. But he couldn’t afford to waste his energy on such trivial matters.  

“She won’t press charges”, Yeonjun finally states. The confidence in his voice is unwavering, but it does little to impress Taehyun who scoffs. “You ran her over.” — “Correction”, Yeonjun says with a frown, “My car hydroplaned and she was walking toward red.” 

“You were speeding.” 

“Was not.” 

Silence. 

“Alright”, Taehyun sighs but it was clear that he thought the conversation far from finished. “Did you offer her compensation?” — The frown on Yeonjun’s face deepens, “Compensation?” 

“Money, Yeonjun. – You’ve got enough to waste, and especially if it means keeping her quiet.” 

“Right.” He throws another glance toward the door which you reside behind, the suite had cost him half a fortune, but then, it was a lot more comfortable to discuss private affairs behind closed doors, especially when said affairs regarded his possible career. “I have compensated her, somewhat.” 

Taehyun tsks, “What does that mean?” — “Oh wouldn’t you like to know?” Yeonjun drawls as he flattens out his shirt. The memory of pushing you up that god forsaken hill was still fresh in his mind and his arms ached just thinking about it. A small grimace passes his face as he imagines what you could possibly ask of him next. 

As if on cue, your irritable voice calls for him. For someone currently hospitalized you still seemed to have loads of energy. “Ooooh Yeonjun~” His name coming from your lips alone was enough to send shivers down his spine. 

“Was that her?” Taehyun wonders and Yeonjun suppresses a shudder as he swallows. “Don’t worry about it”, he says. His assistant makes a noise of disapproval, “I’m serious, you have to be careful with-” 

“I’m handling it, alright? – You just focus on keeping my father away.” With that he ends the call and shoves his phone back in his pocket before pushing himself off the wall and approaching the door. He stops with his hand on the handle, gathering the last of his strength as he prepares to step inside. 

The room in itself was grand, with its own bathroom and shower, a Tv and a fat stack of books. It was accompanied by windows that ran from floor to roof, giving the room as much natural light as possible during daytime. Your bed here was a lot bigger too, with a variety of both blankets and pillows. But despite being bathed in luxury, you seemed intent on using Yeonjun as your primary source of entertainment. 

Propped on said big bed, you lean comfortably against the fluffy pillows, a shit-eating grin plastered on your face. “Took you long enough”, you say as your narrowed eyes search his figure. “Where’s my coffee?” — Shit, Yeonjun had completely forgotten about that the moment he’d stepped outside and Taehyun called. 

“Machine was broken”, he shrugs as he approaches the chair not far from your bed. He brushes past the look of disbelief you send him. “Did you even go down and check?” — Yeonjun shakes his head, “No. But they never work in places like these, besides the coffee tastes cheap.” He really was unable to grasp the fascination for such a beverage if it wasn’t brewed to perfection in the comforts of his own home. 

“Cheap?” You retort as you twist on the bed, “What, do you get the beans grinded in your backyard?” Yeonjun shakes his head, “No. I have that done in the kitchen.” — You stick your tongue out in response. He couldn’t quite understand your frustration over such a mundane matter, but he watches as you then flop back down against the mattress with an exasperated sigh. 

There’s a brief silence that follows your short conversation. Yeonjun had realized long before you even woke up that the two of you were very different. He’d spent the majority of these past four days studying you intently. — Your brows grew frantically, like they’d never seen a pair of tweezers, and your lips were chapped. Your nails were short and bitten, the lines on your forehead damn near permanent, as if stuck forever in a slight frown. 

Still, you intrigued him greatly – for reasons still unbeknownst to himself. There was something raw in the way you acted, your words blurting out unfiltered and without a second thought – much like himself, in a way. The only difference was you had the freedom to express yourself without the constant worry of people’s approval. It must be nice, being that uncaring. 

“The fuck are you staring at?” 

Your sharp voice startles him from his thoughts and Yeonjun nearly jumps out of his seat. “Christ, do you intend to wake the dead?” He huffs in an attempt to downplay the fact that his soul just left his body and was on its way up the tenth and final floor. 

You roll your eyes as you regard him with amusement. “Caught you lackin’” — “You- What? No, I..” He shakes his head, tsking as he dismisses you and instead turns his attention toward the black Tv screen. Just as he was about to suggest putting something on, do you interrupt him. — “I’m kinda hungry.” 

“So?” 

“Feed me.” 

Yeonjun’s jaw slacks, his brows shooting high on his otherwise smooth forehead. “What?” He echoes to which you groan. “You heard me”, you point to the large fruit bowl by the Tv bench, “Fetch me those grapes.” 

“You can’t be serious”, Yeonjun grumbles as his eyes flicker between you and the fruit, staring back at him with menace. The smirk on your lips only grows and he feels his heart sink as the reality of his situation dawns on him. — “Come on”, you drawl in a sing-songy voice, “Think about the lawsuit~” 

Those words alone are enough to have him shooting up from the comforts of his chair and walking across the room in order to access the fruit bowl. It’s heavier than he’d anticipated and he almost stumbles over his own feet before reaching your bed. — “Jesus, I bet you weren't picked first in gym class?” You tsk as he places the bowl on your bedside table. 

Yeonjun’s brows twitch in anger as his narrowed eyes find yours, “Alright fuck off.” Though he makes sure not to mention that he was in fact always picked last for football practice – or any other matter that involved some kind of physique. His nine-year old self still lived with a bruised ego, and he would be damned if his 25 year-old self had to live through the same torment, no less by you. 

A flicker of confusion passes his face when you wordlessly part your lips, glancing up at him expectantly. His eyes drop to your round cheeks, the skin soft and smooth – just waiting for him to pinch it and make you squeal. Then his attention shifts to your lips, despite being slightly chapped they were still oddly enticing to look at and Yeonjun catches his tongue darting out to wet his own. 

“Fuckass. Feed me the grapes.” 

The quick and sharp snap of your voice breaks his trance and Yeonjun blinks twice as he shakes his head, “Huh?” You scoff, folding your good arm across your chest as you send him an impatient grimace. “The grapes. What the fuck are you thinking of?” 

Right. Yeonjun coughs as he picks a handful of grapes from the bowl. “Nothing your mediocre mind could wrap itself around”, he spits before shoving a perfectly round and green grape into your mouth. It’s with great satisfaction that he watches you slightly choke on the fruit before angrily chewing it, your teeth grinding together as you shoot him a glare. 

You swallow, “We’ll see how mediocre my lawyer is then.” 

“Funny.” 

“You think so?” 

“Shut up and have another grape.” 

You don’t protest when he shoves the fruit in your mouth, in fact Yeonjun thinks he might’ve even caught a subtle smirk playing on your lips. Whatever. You’ll be back on your feet soon, then he’ll offer you compensation, the case will be sealed off and forgotten about – and his life would go back to being what it had always been. 

“Can you use that fan over there on me?” 

“No.” 

THE FOLLOWING MORNING 

Turns out hospital curtains were shit. Your eyes have barely peeled open and the sun is already stinging them. With a frustrated groan you squeeze them shut once more, intent on getting another hour of sleep. What time was it even, 5am? The bed was comfortable at least, far better than the petty excuse of a mattress you had been sleeping on last night. 

You smack your lips together, cringing at how dry your mouth felt as you swallowed. The pillow felt wet against your cheek and with slight horror you realized that you had probably been drooling. “Ew..” Your attempt at sitting up proved futile as there was something warm and heavy occupying your left leg and greater portion of your right. — Confused, you finally tear your eyes open, squinting against the harsh light as your gaze falls on Yeonjun. 

The frown on your face deepens, your face twisting into a small grimace as you scoff. “Fucking idiot”, you mutter when pushing yourself onto your elbows. Yeonjun, once slouched on a chair, now had his whole torso draped across your legs, his cheek squished against your knee as he snored lightly. 

His once put together hair now lay a mess, a few strands falling across his forehead. The sleeves of the expensive shirt he wore had been pushed up to his elbows, his coat discarded on the backrest of the uncomfortable chair. The warm glow of the sun cast him in bright hues that highlighted the natural flush of his cheeks — his long lashes fluttering slightly as he frowned in his sleep. 

What was he thinking? He should’ve gone home, changed and slept in an actual bed. Did he seriously think you were still suing him? God, you had too much on your plate to worry about arguing with his petty ass in court. — You purse your lips as your eyes linger on his unconscious figure. He looked funny. Slightly… cute, you suppose – he would’ve been a decent 8/10 had he not hit you with his car and immobilized your left arm. 

Torn between wanting to kick him off the bed or watch him sleep just a moment longer, you’re suddenly pulled from your thoughts when the door to your room clicks open. A nurse enters, her robe wrinkled in places and her hair spilling out of the bun she wore, you imagined she’d worked the night shift for she looked absolutely beat. — Her eyes flicker between your unenthusiastic expression and over to Yeonjun’s slumped self. 

A small smile tugs at her lips when she approaches your bed and you resist scrunching your nose in disgust when she says, “Why, aren’t you two the cutest?” — That was highly debatable and you don’t reply, instead settling back against the pillow as she begins checking your condition. You were still in disbelief over the ridiculous lie he’d told. Boyfriend? He could’ve went for distant relative, fuck you would’ve even taken cousin. 

“You’re very lucky..” The nurse begins as she fiddles with the bandage wrapped around your arm. Her voice was filled with adoration and you held back the objection waiting on your tongue. You wanted to argue that you were anything but lucky. From losing four days of consciousness to the possibility of losing your job as well.. All thanks to the jackass shamelessly sleeping on your legs at this very moment.

But the nurse seems oblivious to your silent disagreement, and continues with a lighthearted tone. “He’s never left your side, you know? Barely slept either.” — You give her a tight-lipped smile, nodding quietly as your gaze travels down to Yeonjun by the end of the bed. He’s yet to wake up despite the conversation around him. Pushing the wheelchair must’ve really taken him out, you thought with a small huff. 

“Lucky me”, you mutter. Your un-enthusiasm however, doesn’t seem to disturb your diligent nurse, who despite her rough exterior, works quietly on readjust your bandage. “How much longer until I’m out of here?” You wonder as you try to conceal the desperation laced curiosity of your voice. 

The nurse pauses, her fingers having just fastened the bandage around your arm. “Well, my guess is sometime this afternoon, we need to run another brain scan since you’ve woken up from your coma. If your results come out clean you should have nothing to worry about.” 

Right. Nothing to worry about. You lean back against the pillows with a deflated sigh, must be nice, having nothing to worry about. Your wandering gaze returns to Yeonjun’s sleeping figure, his chest heaving slowly as he takes long and steady breaths. “Bastard”, you mouth with a not-so-subtle sneer, though you quickly mask the grimace with a smile as your nurse gives your shoulder a small pat. 

“I’ll be back to check in on you by lunch time.” She says before heading back out through the door she had emerged from not even ten minutes ago. Once the thick silence of your hospital suite returns, you find that you can’t take it anymore. — “Hey jackass”, your knee twitches under his cheek, making Yeonjun grimace as he mutters a string of unintelligible curses under his breath. 

You groan, yanking the blanket from your legs and kicking him off in the process. Yeonjun wakes with a startle, his eyes wide and alarmed as his hands grip the armrests of his chair. The giggle bubbling in your throat makes its way past your lips without second thought. “At ease soldier, the enemy is still far”, you drawl as you throw him the blanket. 

Yeonjun frowns as he blinks, slowly taking in his surroundings as he realises where he’d fallen asleep. “Fuck”, he grunts as he stretches out on the small chair, “My back is killing me.” His gaze snaps over to you, “Why didn’t you wake me?” 

Giving him a small shrug as you pick at your already chipped cuticles, you say, “I tried — But holy shit you weigh like three tons when you sleep.” You survey his displeased expression with narrowed eyes before adding, “Plus you drool.” 

“I don’t.” 

“Yes you do.” 

“No, I don’t.” 

“Yes. You. Do.” 

Yeonjun sits up a little straighter, the chair creaking under his weight as if to testify to your previous statement. “Who are you to police me anyway? Last I remembered you couldn’t even eat your own grapes.” 

“And whose fault is that?” You counter to which Yeonjun obliviously glances the other way. You scoff, rolling your eyes as you swing your legs over the side of the bed. “Nurse came, she said I’ll be out of here before dinner time.” With a small exhale you let your fingers dance across the soft pillows, remembering your own stale one at home with slight distaste. 

“That’s good news”, Yeonjun mutters as he shifts in his chair, his dark eyes lingering on your hand for a moment. “Yes,” you hum in agreement, yet for some reason the thought of returning to your cramped apartment didn’t seem so appealing anymore. You were hardly getting any more days off of work, which would mean back to business within the day… Which would make today your last one of freedom. 

Your gaze flickers over to Yeonjun who was currently flattening out his expensive shirt and running a tired hand through his tousled hair. “Soldier”, you say, easily garnering his attention and a small glare. But you merely brush past his lack of enthusiasm. With an exhausted grunt you slide off the comforts of your bed, stretching your sore muscles for a moment. “I think we should go explore the vending machine.” 

Yeonjun raises a brow as he, too, rises to his feet. — You snort, “Oh come on, don’t act like you don’t have a few pennies to splurge on poor o’le me.” But he only shakes head, “I don’t keep small change like that.” 

With your hands on your hips you tsk: 

“Alright. Then we’ll beg the elderly lady next door for some.” 

THAT AFTERNOON 

“What? You mean all of it?” 

Your voice is unsteady as you hold your phone close to your ear. Your legs felt like jelly, your knees buckling under your own weight as you flop back down onto your bed. A distressed frown tugs at your brows and you chew your bottom lip anxiously. “How long will it take for them to get it back in order?” 

With a small nod you hum along to whatever the plumber was reciting on the phone. Bunch of difficult terms, but none of them good, that much you knew. “Alright… Does insurance cover it?” 

“Oh.” 

“I see.”

When the line finally cuts the silence of your hospital suite was louder than ever before. You purse your lips, blankly staring ahead as you ponder your next move. Check into a hotel? Expensive. A motel? You grimace. — Scrolling through your pathetically short contacts list only serves as a reminder of how alone you really were. No place to crash, no place to go, no shoulder to lean on when your own was bandaged. 

Before you can completely spiral, the door opens and Yeonjun stumbles inside. He’s clutching a paper in his hand, presumably your discharge one. “Ready to head out?” He asks as he approaches you, though his steps quickly falter upon noting the distant look on your otherwise expression filled face. — “You okay?” 

Are you okay? No one had asked you that question in what felt like forever. It was always do this, get this done before the deadline, don’t forget that.. And when you weren’t being persistently nagged by your boss, there was nothing. Just silence. His expected question shouldn’t feel so… You give a small shrug, but the second you open your mouth to explain, everything just comes tumbling out all at once. 

“My apartment’s fucking flooded”, you sob as your hands come up to wipe away the tears that forced their way down your cheeks. “Fucking stupid water leakage and– everything’s ruined!” Your words are interrupted by hiccups and small gurgling noises coming from deep within your throat. “C-Can’t go there and I… It’s going to be so expensive”, you whine as you shake your head. 

Your chest heaves in tune with your pathetic sobbing as you aggressively wipe at your face. “Fucking– worst week ever! – Can never even.. Catch a fucking break…” You hated yourself for breaking down like this, for not being able to stop the tears that streamed down your face, your voice refusing to obey as you tried to reign in the helplessness to it. 

Yeonjun’s fingers curling around your wrists as he pries your hands from your face is what finally breaks your trance. Granted you should’ve probably had a little more shame than you did, but nothing mattered in that moment and you immediately buried your face against his chest, sobbing your heart out against the smooth fabric of his shirt. 

His arms are stiff and awkward as they wrap around your trembling frame, his hand patting your back in what was probably supposed to be soothing, but it more felt like he was beating a drum. — “You uh…” He clears his throat, his voice low and uncertain. “Gonna stain my shirt…” He murmurs as you snivel against the fabric. 

“Shut up or I’m gonna use it as a tissue”, you huff between sobs. Yeonjun gives a short laugh, like he wasn’t sure if you were being serious or not. Good. He shouldn’t be. 

It takes you a couple of minutes, but soon the tears subside, leaving behind ugly and wet streaks on your face as you pull away. Yeonjun’s arms release their hold on you, though his hands slide down to rest on your hips, the movement probably subconscious, but you were too beat up to even ponder on it, or slap him off for that matter. 

“It’s fine”, you finally say with a shaky exhale as you meet his gaze for the first time since he stepped through the door. Yeonjun slowly nods as he watches you wipe off the remnants of your tears, blinking twice to clear them from your lashes. — “Yeah”, you then say with a firm nod, straightening back up as you glance over at him. 

Immediately recognizing the mischievous glint in your eye, Yeonjun takes a step back as his hands fall from your hips. “What?” He says as his eyes narrow. You shrug, “Oh nothing… It’s just that, since I don’t have anywhere to go for the time being…” 

“No.” 

“It would be very considerate of my boyfriend to offer his couch for a couple of days.” 

You can practically see the gears turning in his head as he slowly realizes that he’s effectively backed himself up into a corner. “Besides”, you add as you present your still bandaged arm, “I reckon I could use some assistance around the house.” 

Yeonjun’s eyes widen tenfold, “I’m not–” 

“You’ll be wiping my shit, bitch.” 

HALF AN HOUR LATER 

Yeonjun contemplated driving you both off the road approximately seven times on your fifteen minute drive home. This was a terrible idea, one you had decided on without consulting him about for as much as a second. Part of him thinks he deserves it — he did hit you after all… No. He shakes his head, fingers flexing around the steering wheel. You were crossing a red light, actively breaking the damn law. And Yeonjun was only going 10 miles above the speed limit. 

He holds back a fifth sigh when your voice breaks the silence for the nth time. “How much longer?” You chirp, your legs moving restlessly in front of you as you gaze out the window. That was the third time you asked said question, and he knew his answer would be of little satisfaction. 

“Almost there.” 

“You said that last time.” 

“You asked two minutes ago.” 

Silence falls over the flashy vehicle. Yeonjun briefly worried that you might stain his expensive leather seats. But he held back any comments about the way your fingers wandered across the dashboard, you seemed intent on leaving your prints everywhere. “Are you trying to pin a crime on me?” He asks as he glances your way. — “Wouldn’t be pinning it on you if you actually committed it”, you snort.

“I didn't.” 

“The law disagrees.” 

God would you just shut up. It feels like pure bliss when he finally pulls into the familiar driveway of his house. The three floors were a most ordinary and mundane sight for him, as were the big and shiny windows covering the side of the building. But your impressed whistle still makes his ears burn. 

“This is neat”, you say as the car comes to a halt, already halfway out before he even has the chance to turn the engine off. “And you’re telling me you live here all by yourself?” You wonder as you go to scour the cars lined up on the driveway, eyeing them each like a potential buyer would. 

Yeonjun hums as he follows you with hasty steps, much like a parent anxiously waiting for their toddler to break yet another vase. Once you notice his lingering presence you turn around, your hands raised in surrender. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep my paws off your shiny toys.” — He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, that hasn't aged well thus far. 

Bringing you inside was an undoubtedly even more frightening experience. Yeonjun had never considered just how much stuff he actually treasured within the four walls of his home until you stepped foot on his marble floors. “Shoes off”, he snaps as you mindlessly saunter down the long hallway. You pause, glancing over your shoulder before your eyes drift to the worn out sneakers you wore. With a small shrug you pull them off, a grin Yeonjun knew all too well playing on your lips. 

“Catch!” 

The dirty shoe comes flying before he can as much as blink and he thanked god for his fast reflexes as he manages to catch it. “Fuck”, he huffs as his nose wrinkles in disgust, “Your feet stink.” Your second shoe strikes him across the face before the insult leaving your lips even has the chance to. 

“I’ve been in a coma for four days, thanks to you.” You spit as you fold your good arm across your chest. 

Yeonjun heaves a sigh as he realizes the devastating truth to your words. With a begrudging grimace he motions down the hall, “Bathroom’s to your right.” You send him a quick smile before disappearing from sight. Left alone with one shoe in his hand he contemplates just how long he would have to keep you here until he could finally get you off his back. Then there was the money too… You had yet to ask but he felt it was only right he offered some kind of compensation. Anything to settle it outside of court he reminds himself as he places your dirty shoes next to his freshly polished ones on the shoe rack. 

The sound of the shower echoes throughout the flat, going through all the vacant rooms, following him around wherever he goes. Your presence is unfamiliar, the sign of life beside himself in this house an unusual phenomenon. — Yeonjun busies himself by preparing one of the guest bedrooms for you. He figured you’d want the biggest one. 

He irons the sheets to perfection, gives each pillow a slap across the middle as he organizes them neatly by the headboard. Should he tell Taehyun that you were staying here — or was that better to be kept secret? He drags a hand across his face, groaning into his palm as he thinks back to a time where he wouldn’t have to deal with this. 

In fact — Yeonjun is so busy with setting up the room for you and mulling over if he should make you dinner or not that he doesn’t even register the sound of the shower turning off. Nor does he pick up on your light footsteps as you descend down the hall. The uncharacteristically quiet knock you deliver to the door, despite it being ajar, is what pulls him out of his trance. 

“Yes-” 

But his words get lodged in his throat as he sees you lingering in the doorframe. Your skin is still wet and glistening as you hug the towel tighter around yourself, your bandaged arm hanging awkwardly by your side. Swaying back and forth on your feet, you release your bottom lip with a quiet exhale. “I uhm… Don’t have any clothes with me.”  

“I can see that.” 

God Yeonjun wanted to slap himself across the face. He quickly shakes his head, “I mean– I probably have something you can borrow…” You give him a small nod, and had it not been for your lack of clothes, and the fact that he was actively struggling not to stare like a kid in fifth grade, he would’ve probably relished in your shyness. 

“Just uh, give me a minute”, he excuses himself as he squeezes past you in the doorway, wincing when your arms brush against each other. “When did you become such a prude?” He mutters to himself as he descends down the hall and to his own room. 

Turns out picking clothes for a woman was a lot harder than he’d ever imagined. Yeonjun finds himself in front of his closet for a good ten minutes, wavering between green and blue like it was his finals. Perhaps he was reading into it too much, you weren’t going to care what he offered. He emits a defeated sigh as he glances over his options once more. 

“Pushing her up a fucking hill, feeding her grapes and picking her damn clothes. Could’ve just hired a nanny”, he grumbles with a frown deep enough to touch the floor. He chews on the inside of his cheek, close to just giving up all together and letting you go naked. That would be a sight. No, ew, it wouldn’t. — “Girls like pink don’t they?” He finally huffs as he folds his arms across his chest. Well Yeonjun certainly didn’t own anything pink. 

Red was close enough right? 

“Fucking red?” You echo as he holds out the hoodie to you. Disgust is written across your face and Yeonjun resists the urge to tell you that the piece of fucking red garment was actually worth more than your months paycheck. Instead he scoffs, “You’re in no position to make demands.” Except you were. With a small tilt of your head you send him a look that could be best described as “Oh really?” 

“Fine. Is green better?” 

“... Red will do.” 

You catch the hoodie with a glare that could slice through flesh. Were women always so angry? Yeonjun never lingered long enough to find out. He watches intently as you twist the fabric in your hands, then down to the naked skin of your thighs. 

“Stop staring you perv.” 

“Your kneecaps look weird.” 

“How would you like them squashing your balls?” 

Yeonjun suppresses a shudder at the mere thought, his hands flexing by his sides as he shakes his head. “I brought you some shorts too, not sure they’ll fit though.” He hands you the pair he should’ve gotten rid of five years ago, not that you had to know that of course. — You eye them skeptically, your lips pursed, another comment waiting behind them. 

“Alright.” 

Huh? Yeonjun blinks, his jaw slacking. 

“No buts?” He frowns. 

“No buts.” 

Before he has the chance to speak, you reach for the towel wrapped around your body, undoing the small knot. It takes him about a fraction of a second to realize what you’re about to do. “Jesus woman! Let me flee the scene first”, he says as he scrambles for the door. — Your giggle echoes in his ears long after he’s slammed the wood shut, leaning against it as he screws his eyes together. 

His hand clutches his chest, the erratic pounding of his heart thrumming against his knuckles. “The fuck…” He mutters as he tries to calm himself down. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen women before, or brought them home for that matter. Usually he wouldn’t offer his clothes, they were far too valuable for that. But you left him no choice — which was becoming somewhat of a pattern. 

With slow and heavy steps he makes his way over to the kitchen. The marble countertops feel smooth under his fingers as he drags a lazy hand over the clean surface. Yeonjun never felt like he took the comforts of his home for granted, but with the way your eyes had followed every single line of furniture like it was made out of gold made him reconsider. 

He should probably make you something to eat. That would be the least he could do, right? Only problem was Yeonjun had never cooked as much as a single meal in his kitchen. It stood brand new, just like it had for the past two years. 

“Where are the pans at?” He murmurs as he pulls cabinet doors open. He’d made sure to stock up on appliances, not that he was planning on using them, but they felt like a part of the house decor. 

Once he’s got his hands on a decent pan he tackles his next obstacle. Turning on the stove. He tsks as he reprimands himself for choosing such extravagant and high-tech luxuries. Scratching the back of his head with a small frown he searches fervently for any button, but there were none. 

“It’s a stove not a fucking ipad”, he grunts as he begins tapping the cool surface — flincing when it makes a beeping sound. 

“Can’t believe it didn’t come with an instruction manual.” 

20 MINUTES LATER 

Yeonjun’s clothes felt light on you. The fabric was smooth against your skin and the garment wasn’t heavy. Admittedly you looked like a kid on the soccer team, but that was the least of your problems — not like there was anyone to dress up for around here anyway. 

Having disappeared off to god knows where, Yeonjun had left you to roam his gigantic house. And you did exactly that. The hallways seemed never ending, sparsely decorated with a few plants here and there, who you all noticed to be made out of plastic when you passed them. “Must not have green fingers”, you hum as you twirl the artificial leaf between your fingers. Your eyes flicker down to the expensive-looking vase, “But a mind for money at least.” 

Upon passing an ajar door, you stop in your tracks. Hesitating for only a moment, you push the door further open as you dare a peek inside. The room you find is nothing short of extravagant. With a king sized bed, clad in silk sheets and a carpet lining its perimeter. Windows lined the opposite wall, going from floor to roof, showing off the setting sun as it basked the room in a warm glow. 

It hit you then that he would get to sleep in here every single night, in the comforts and luxury of such a nice home without a single worry about next week's budget. Your eyes flicker over to the dresser opposite the bed, your fingers twitching by your sides. No, you were no thief. Besides, you doubted there was anything worth selling aside from his plastic plants. 

“Asshole”, you mutter as you step back out into the hallway. 

Just then, a familiar scent hits your nose. It smelled just like a house fire. Joyous. — Yeonjun’s curses echo down the hall, the sound of cutlery clinking together making for a terrible beat to back up his vocals. Your bare feet pad toward the source of his chaos, and the scene you arrive at is far from disappointing. 

Yeonjun stands bent over the stove, the culprit of the burnt smell being the eggs he’d attempted to scramble in the pan. Now all that was left was a crisp mess that had lost all its yellow — which he poked at with a spatula. Sweat pearls on his forehead, his expression stuck in a permanent frown as he pours his full attention onto the failed meal he was preparing.

“Need help?” 

He startles at the sound of your voice, having clearly not expected your sudden arrival. Throwing a glance over his shoulder, he finds you watching him with an amused expression. It was impossible to bite back the grin currently splayed across your lips. 

“No.” He quickly retorts, sounding somewhat defensive. 

“You sure?” 

“Yes.” 

You round the marble countertop, stopping beside him as you peer down into the pan. “Smells…lovely”, you murmur, your nose betraying you as it scrunches in disgust. Yeonjun rolls his eyes, his tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth as he turns to you. Spatula gripped in one hand like a weapon, he folds his arms across his chest. 

“What?” He snaps, clearly unamused by your silent critique. 

Motioning toward the eggs still sizzling in the pan, “You do know how to cook right?” 

“Of course I do”, he grumbles as he readjusts the grip on the spatula, “I cooked… In college.” 

Your gaze flickers between him and the food, your brows rising on your forehead. “I can tell.” 

You take a step forward, attempting to grab the spatula from his hand, only for him to immediately recoil, holding the utensil out of reach as he shakes his head. — “I’ll do it”, you scoff as you take another step forward, caging him against the counter. “No”, Yeonjun protests with another shake of his head, “You’ll burn the kitchen down.” 

“I reckon that’s where you’re headed.” 

He huffs, opening his mouth to bark out another remark — but all that he manages is a yelp when his free hand comes in contact with the scorching hot stove. The spatula slips from his grasp, hitting the floor with a clattering sound as Yeonjun grips his injured hand. You almost laugh, but the pain striking his face made you waver. Why did you feel bad? 

“Fucking idiot”, you snort as you shake the thought away, grabbing ahold of his wrist and yanking him toward the sink. Yeonjun stumbles after you, muttering curses under his breath as you turn on the faucet. “Ow!” He hisses when you bring his now bright red hand under the lukewarm water. 

“Get over yourself”, you mutter. 

“It hurts?” 

You give him a look of disbelief and Yeonjun’s eyes drift toward your bandaged arm, “Fine.” 

He remains silent after that, letting you run his fingers under the water without complaints. His hands were oddly soft and you tried not to think about it too much, that and the fact that you were still holding on to him when he could’ve easily kept his hand there himself. — The silence seems to stretch on forever, making it the most awkward one yet, and that was saying a lot considering what the two of you had endured. 

You avoid his gaze, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you focus your attention to his hand, your thumb smoothing over his palm absentmindedly. You should say something — but for once you can’t find the words. Not a single remark came to mind. 

Yeonjun clears his throat awkwardly, shifting his weight from one leg to the other as his eyes flit between your face and his hand. “I can–” 

“Shut up.” 

He presses his lips into a thin line, likely biting back another protest as he sighs. 

“Do you ever cook?” You ask without looking at him. Yeonjun shakes his head, murmuring out a quiet, “Not really.” 

Glancing at him through the corner of your eye, you find his brows pulled into a small frown, his lips pursed into an almost cute pout. “Then what?” You wonder as you turn his hand under the water. Yeonjun shrugs, sounding almost defeated as he says, “Usually just eat out.” Right. He could afford restaurant worthy meals seven days a week, must be nice. 

“Does it still hurt?” 

“Just a little.” 

The silence returns, it seemed unavoidable at this point — and for some reason it bugged you. He doesn’t say anything when you turn the faucet off, nor does he comment on the fact that you had yet to let his hand go. 

Jesus. 

Yeonjun throws a glance over his shoulder, his failed attempt at scrambled eggs staring back at him from the pan. He turns back to you, his mouth open in a sentence he never gets to finish. 

“I can make–” 

Your lips against his swallows his next words. 

It’s weird. Nothing like the kisses you were used to, it was awkward. His lips were stiff against yours, in fact you don’t think it could’ve even counted as a kiss. It was more a ‘our lips are touching and that’s kinda weird but none of us are gonna pull back’ type of thing. He blinks once, then his eyes flutter shut, his long dark lashes caressing the top of his cheekbone. 

You do the same. 

The moment might’ve lasted two seconds or two years for all you knew. Yeonjun’s hand went lax in your own, his fingers twitching slightly. His lips felt soft, and they tasted almost sweet — like the candy your parents only allowed on special occasions. 

When you finally pull back his jaw hangs slack, his eyes slowly opening as his gaze finds yours. Neither of you speak, and you couldn’t tell if he was embarrassed, weirded out or strangely enough, turned on — or all three. You didn’t even know what you were. 

Finally he speaks, “What was–” 

“For letting me crash here”, you quickly say, your voice coming out a lot shakier than you’d anticipated. 

“And for attempting to cook.” 

He clamps his mouth shut once more, his expression unreadable for a moment before it softens. “Yeah?” He echoes, a small grin tugging at his lips. 

“Yeah.” 

“You kinda–” 

“Don’t mention it again.” 

“...” 

You let go of his hand, pulling back like it had stung you. Yeonjun doesn’t comment on it, but you catch the flicker of disappointment striking his features before he covers it with a sly smirk. “Takeout?” He offers, already fishing his phone out of his pocket. 

“Preferably.” 

THE NEXT MORNING 

The rich slept real fucking comfortable — and as you stretch your limbs out on the mattress, the expensive silk sheets tangled between your legs, you could’ve sworn that at least 23 years of back pain had been cured. Despite it being early morning the sun was already piercing through the thin curtains of the guest bedroom, making you squint against its bright rays. 

Thankfully Yeonjun had gone back to being a self centered and arrogant prick shortly after dinner last night. The kiss was still fresh in your mind, and every reminder was like a harsh slap across your face, more specifically your lips. Luckily he hadn’t mentioned it, and neither had you. It was better to just forget it all together — your situation was messy enough as is. 

With a tired groan, you swing your legs over the edge of the bed, gingerly getting up as you trudge toward the door, nature calling you urgently. 

The house is still silent as you step out into the hallway and you glance both left and right to secure the area before making a move toward the bathroom. Every sound becomes intensified in the quiet morning air and you wince when you accidentally knock one of the vases on your descent down the hall. 

Breathing out a sigh of relief only when the bathroom door closes behind you, you go about your business quickly. Yeonjun lingers in the back of your mind — but not for the reasons he had these past two days. Catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror above the sink, you frown at the state of your face. 

“Jesus, I look like shit.” 

He’s probably disgusted with the kiss — well, all the more reason not to bring it up at least. You would talk to him about finding another living situation for the time being. He was practically a stranger after all. It would be weird for you to keep staying here, right? With those exact thoughts in mind you push the bathroom door open, only for it to slam against something — or rather, someone. 

Startled, you let out a shriek as you come face to face with an actual stranger. 

“What the fuck?” You bark as you take a quick step back, your injured arm hitting the wall and sending a spark of pain through your body. — “Who the fuck are you?” 

“I ought to ask you the same thing.” 

The man, who looked to be your age, says as he peers over at you, the glasses on his nose sitting crooked. Then his eyes flicker down the hall. “Yeonjun! What did I say about warning me when you have hookers over?” He shouts, the irritation in his voice palpable. You were almost too stunned to catch the term he’d used to describe you with. But only almost. 

“Excuse me?” 

He gives you a quick one-over, “You’re excused.” 

Your jaw slacks and you’re quick to raise your good fist. 

“Listen here you little shi–” 

Milliseconds away from getting your swing at the man, you freeze when someone grabs ahold of your wrist. Snapping your head to your left, you find Yeonjun next to you with a conflicted look on his face. “Taehyun”, he says through gritted teeth, his grip on your wrist unwavering, “I see you’ve met my guest.” 

The man, Taehyun, gives you another glass, his dark eyes peering at you through his glasses. His lips part once his gaze lands on your bandaged arm — had this been a cartoon, a small light bulb would have probably been lit above his head right about now. 

“Oh.” 

He immediately clears his throat, reaching a hand out for you to take. Snatching your arm back from Yeonjun’s grasp, you awkwardly extend your left hand, making Taehyun mumble out a quiet apology as he, too, switches hand. The handshake is somewhat awkward, as you both exchange names, and you learn that Taehyun is Yeonjun’s assistant. Figures. He looked like a nerd. 

An awful silence settles over you after that as your unfortunate trio shifts in the hallway. Yeonjun is the first to speak, his brows tugged into a frown as he regards his assistant. “Why are you here? Did my father–” 

“No.” 

Taehyun cuts him off with a shake of his head, “Worse.” 

Yeonjun’s frown deepens, “What could possibly be worse than–” 

“The CCTV footage from six days ago.” 

“Oh.” 

Confused, you glance between the two of them. “Footage of what?” You ask. Yeonjun avoids your gaze like it might blind him, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his sweats as he studies the floorboards beneath him. You turn to Taehyun, an expectant look on your face. 

“The crash.” 

“Accident”, Yeonjun quickly chimes in, though quickly quieting down when both you and his assistant send him a sharp glare. 

Stunned, you blink twice. “Wait, you mean to tell me there was footage of him hitting me?” All this time you had thought it would’ve been your word against his, should you ever bring it to court. And who would trust someone unable to afford their own lawyer? But a video of what had happened that night… It would change everything. 

“Shit”, you say as you turn to Yeonjun who looked like someone had drained the blood from his face. 

“You’re fucked”, you scoff as you give his shoulder a shove. 

Yeonjun shoots you a glare, “Should’ve reversed up on you.” 

You roll your eyes, dismissing him as you turn back to Taehyun with your good hand on your hip. “So, when are we going?” 

“In thirty minutes.” 

“Oh.” 

“I would’ve been here an hour ago if Yeonjun picked up his phone.” 

“Asshole.” 

30 MINUTES LATER 

Court was fucking lit. A little less excessive wigs of course, but the judges were still dressed in robes and one of them had one of those funky little hammers made out of tree, a gavel, your lawyer had said it was called. — Oh right, you’d gotten lawyers as well, epic. Knowing that there was an actual video with hard proof evidence of what had happened that night made you feel strangely at ease. 

“What was your name again?” 

“Kai.” 

Your lawyer did not seem as relaxed — you couldn’t fathom why. 

“Rough day at work?” 

He quirks a brow in your direction, “Something like that.” 

You scoff, “I can imagine. I mean, having to combat that thing.” You motion toward the opposite side of the courtroom where Yeonjun was currently sitting. His arms were folded across his chest, his dark hair neatly styled. He was dressed in a suit, which was a lot more convincing than the simple dress pants and blouse you wore. You had stopped by your apartment on the way, and it was only a miracle that some of your clothes were still intact. 

Yeonjun’s lawyer sits beside him, you think his name might be something on S. He’s talking to him, but Yeonjun hardly looks to be listening, his dark eyes are stuck on you, a damn near permanent scowl on his face. 

You mouth the words ‘Good luck!’ to him. 

‘Fuck you.’ 

You grimace, whatever. He was going down, one way or another. A part of you almost felt a little bad for him. He’d actually been quite helpful these past two days — even though it had all been to avoid your current predicament. Oh well, beggars can’t be choosers. You would take your chances today. 

A loud bang sounds through the room, efficiently quieting down the previous murmur. Your head automatically turns to your right where you find that the bangning noise had come from the peculiar little hammer thing. The judge holding it didn’t look credible in the slightest, with an almost boyish grin on his face and eyes that glimmered with mischief. 

“Ahem”, the man clears his throat, coughing into his closed fists as his eyes gaze out over the crowd. You follow his line of sight, noting Taehyun posted up by the very front row, an anxious look on his face. But when the judge starts speaking, your attention returns to him. — “Good day”, he begins in an overly cheery voice, “My name’s Choi Beomgyu and I’ll be leading today’s trial. Let us commence.” 

The sound of the gavel slamming against the mahogany desk rings in your ears, and the air inside the courtroom suddenly shifts. Kai had given you a brief rundown of your rights and how things worked. He’d informed you what you could say and what you should say. That meant bringing up how you’d exploited Yeonjun for two days probably wasn’t a fantastic addition. 

“Alright, we’ll begin with both sides testifying their side of the story, blah blah— uh, and then we’ll play the provided evidence, mhm, and then… some more questions blah blah..” Beomgyu slams the file before him shut as he leans back in his chair. His sharp gaze flickers between you and Yeonjun, his eyes, despite their mischief, oddly calculating. 

“Listen here, the faster you lot solve whatever happened – the faster we can all skedaddle out of here, and I don’t know about you– but I’ve got someone very special waiting for me at home. And yes, she’s a real woman, not a cat.” — The other judges shift uncomfortably in their seats but none of them comment on the head judge’s oversharing segment. 

“You,” 

Beomgyu’s voice is sharp as he directs it your way and you nearly jump out of your seat upon being so suddenly addressed. 

“Let’s hear it”, he says as he stretches his arms out behind his head. 

You glance over at Kai who gives you a small nod of approval and a look that says, ‘Don’t say anything stupid now’. With a small cough you lean forward, adjusting the small microphone placed on the table in front of you. 

“Uh… So I was walking and–” 

Beomgyu’s yawn pierces the air, somehow overpowering your voice on the mic. He gives you a quick wave with his hand, signaling for you to continue. With a small frown you straighten up slightly. “Well, I was making my way to the subway… It was dark, raining too– and my mascara was running. Do you know how much it stings when you get mascara in your eye?” 

Beomgyu shakes his head, “Can’t say I do.” 

“Oh. Well, that made my sight lessen significantly, and did I mention it was dark too? Yeah so I’m making my way down the street, and I run into this homeless man — completely unprovoked he starts yelling at me, and you can imagine I’ve already had a bad day working overtime, and not to mention my mascara smudging too. Anyway then I–” 

“Objection.” 

You frown when Yeonjun suddenly speaks up, it was the first time he had since you’d arrived here. Beomgyu raises a brow but nods for Yeonjun to continue. 

“This has nothing to do with the accident.” 

Beomgyu purses his lips, as if considering Yeonjun’s words for a moment. 

“You’re right.” 

“But I’m intrigued, and I don’t even wear mascara.”

Beomgyu turns back to you, “Continue.” 

Yeonjun’s sigh is theatrical as he slumps back in his seat and you bite back a smirk as you pull the mic closer to your mouth. 

“So as I was saying, whilst I was hurrying down the street, I came to a road crossing. Now me being a role model civilian and all, I check my left and my right before proceeding. But then–” You pause, glancing around the room as the suspension rose, even Kai is looking up from his papers, his eyes filled with both dread and curiosity. 

“There was light, I’m talking real big flashy ones — and they’re coming fast. There was no way for me to jump out of the way, and before I knew it, something, well more like someone, rammed straight into me.” 

Hushed murmurs erupt amongst the crowd, the judges conversing quietly with each other as their gazes flicker between you and Yeonjun, who was currently adjusting his tie nervously. Beomgyu on the other hand stifled a yawn as he blinked slowly. — You lean back in your seat, giving Kai a small thumbs up which was responded to with a subtle nod from your lawyer. 

“Impressive story telling”, Beomgyu hums as he flips the papers before him, fingers tapping against his desk idly, “You should start a podcast.” Then he promptly shifts in his seat, redirecting his attention to Yeonjun. 

“Alright, take the stage.” 

Not late to bite at the opportunity, Yeonjun practically jumps in his seat as he grabs ahold of his own mic. “Your honor, that is not what happened.” He clears his throat, sending you a quick glare before turning back to Beomgyu. “I as a role model civilian was on my way home after a long day of tiring work. I run a business, so you can imagine that I’m exhausted after a long day.” 

Beomgyu’s brow twitches as he leans forward, “You run a business, what kind? Is it like an ice cream shop?” 

Yeonjuns lips part, “I– No, it’s–” 

“Oh, oh, a children’s store?” 

“No.” 

“Hm. Alright, continue.” 

Yeonjun mutters something unintelligible under his breath, and you watch as his lawyer leans over to whisper something in his ear. He responds with a small nod, his fingers flexing around the mic stand. 

“I was driving home, the roads were practically vacant and I was going comfortably at the speed limit.” 

“Objection!” 

Your yell echoes out in the courtroom, making everyone turn your way. Beomgyu nods, motioning for you to proceed. 

“He was speeding, he had to have been. There was no way he wouldn’t have been able to stop if he wasn’t!” 

“Your honor that is the furthest thing from the truth”, Yeonjun fires back as he glares you down. 

“Then how do you explain it huh?” 

“If you would so kindly allow me to get to the part where my car hydroplaned because of the rain, you would know.” 

“That’s a load of–” 

“Alright!” Beomgyu slams the little hammer against his desk, making you both fall silent as you reluctantly turn to face him. “I reckon we watch the evidence sent in by the state, which would be the CCTV footage from the night at uh… 10:27 pm.”

There’s a slight rustle coming from somewhere to your right as one of the staff workers fiddles with a computer, finally managing to connect it to a projector. Beomgyu leans back in his seat as the footage becomes presented on screen, meanwhile both you and Yeonjun lean forward, eyes glued to the projector. 

With a small bruising noise the video begins to roll. It’s showing the road crossing from a far different angle than you had been witnessing it all. Placed about 10 ft tall on one of the corner buildings, it captures the scene with a fishbowl format. — The whole courtroom is silent, everyone watching intently as quite literally nothing happens. 

Beomgyu’s groan is the first to pierce the still air. “Is there a way to speed it up?” 

The staff member mumbles a quick apology before tapping a few buttons, upping the pace of the footage until a figure makes an entrance. You quickly recognize yourself, drenched head to toe in rain, your arms wrapped snugly around yourself as you dart down the street. Ew, why did you run like that? Whatever. 

You watch your past self run toward the road crossing, barely slowing down to glance left and right before proceeding over the white markings on the ground. You’ve barely made it halfway when the familiar sight of Yeonjun’s car cuts through the screen. It’s coming in at an awkward angle, its wheels locked to the left, testifying that it had actually been hydroplaning. 

The collision echoes on the tape, and the whole courtroom lets out a unified noise of distress, everyone but Yeonjun. It almost hurt even more to watch than it had when he’d actually hit you. 

Beomgyu’s whistle is low and dramatic as he motions for the footage to be rewinded. “Ouch”, he says as he parts his hair with the help of his pinky, “That’s rough.” 

“How the fuck did you walk away with just a broken arm?” He then asks as he glances over at your bandaged arm. You give him a small shrug, “Call it luck.” 

“Well, I think that settles it. — You were speeding, otherwise your car wouldn’t have gone into hydroplane.” 

Beomgyu had already grabbed a hold of the gavel, raising it high as he prepared to slam it against the table when Yeonjun suddenly shot up from his chair. 

“You honor! She was walking toward red!” 

The head judge pauses, arm raised mid air. 

“She actively broke the law!” Yeonjun motions between you and him fervently. 

“Oh fuck off, so were you!” You snap as you, too, leap out of your chair. 

“Well I wouldn’t have hit you if you hadn’t walked toward red.” 

“Well you would have actually seen me if you weren’t speeding.” 

“Ladies–” Beomgyu begins as he raises his hands in surrender, a conflicted look on his face. 

“Don’t you think exploiting me like that for two days was a little too far when you were the first to break the law?” 

“You’re talking nonsense.” 

“Your honor, she made me push her in a wheelchair up a hill!” — “Her legs are perfectly fine!” 

“Oh my god are you still stuck on that?” 

“Yes. Yes I am. My arms ached for days.” 

“So you’re calling me heavy?” 

“In a sense I guess I am.” 

“Your honor, are you hearing this?” 

You turn to Beomgyu, your chest heaving with suppressed anger and injustice as you point an accusing finger Yeonjun’s way. But the head judge is merely yawning, his head tiredly propped up on one hand as he watches the two of you battle it out. 

Kai’s hand tugs at your wrist as he urges you to sit back down. But you merely shake him off, snatching your arm back to wave your hand in front of you dramatically. “No! Don’t silence me!” 

Yeonjun snorts, “I reckon it’d take a lot more than that to shut you up.” 

“You know I’m starting to get real sick of you.” 

“It took you that long to come to the realization?” 

“Can you just shut the fuck–” 

The loud and final bang of the little tree hammer rings out into the room, breaking off yours and Yeonjun’s argument as your heads snap in Beomgyu’s direction. The head judge heaves a tired sigh as he leans back in his chair. 

“This is going nowhere – you both are idiots and off the hook. Now get the fuck out of my courtroom.” 

You blink once, then twice, your gaze darting from Yeonjun, whose reflection was a mirror of your own and over to Kai who looked more relieved than anything. “Wait what?” You dumbfoundedly say as you turn back to Beomgyu. “What does that even mea–”

“It means scram. Go!” 

“God”, he mutters as he slumps against his chair, “I need a margarita.” 

APPROXIMATELY 15 MINUTES LATER 

You stand quietly outside the shut doors of the courtroom you’d just spent an hour in. Your back leaning against the wall and your hands clasped together in front of you, you gaze ahead. The hallway was silent enough to where you could hear a pin drop. 

“Well, this is awkward.” 

“No fucking shit”, Yeonjun scoffs somewhere to your right. He was also leaning against the wall, an equally impassive expression on his face. 

“I can’t believe he kicked us out”, you mutter somewhat petulant as your gaze drops to your feet. 

Yeonjun doesn’t reply as he sighs next to you. For a moment you think he might just pack up and leave, you wouldn’t put it past him anyway. But he doesn’t, instead he clears his throat. 

“So, are we going to address the elephant in the room or?” 

“I swear to god if you’re referring to me I’ll–” 

“You kissed me.” 

Oh. Right. That was hardly an elephant, more like a blue whale on land. You cough into your closed fist, avoiding his gaze like the plague as you debate on how much longer you could prolong your reply. 

“Why?” He turns to you, his shoulder leaning against the wall as he peers at you through his dark lashes. 

“Do I need a reason? Jesus.” 

“Yes, you do.” 

You bite the inside of your cheek before shrugging, “Felt like it I guess.” 

“You felt like it?” 

“Yeah, what else do you want me to say?” 

Yeonjun huffs, burying his hands into the pockets of his suit as he glances over his shoulder. The tension between you two was worse than inside the courtroom itself and in that moment you just wanted the ground to swallow you whole. 

“Listen, I’m not gonna stand here and explain myself to you so you can either–” 

Your words are cut off by his lips on yours. A small strangled noise wriggles its way from your throat at the sudden proximity he displayed, your eyes going wide and your shoulders stiff. Yeonjun doesn’t seem to care as his hand comes up to caress the side of your face, the touch so oddly gentle and tender that you would’ve probably thought you were dreaming if it weren’t for the uncomfortable way your bra was digging into your chest. 

He doesn’t pull away for a long moment, the seconds dragging on far what seemed like forever, but for some reason you find that you don’t want it to end. And when he finally does part from you, his lips hover just a centimeter above your own. 

“Why?” 

You feel him smirk, his breath hot against your own, “Felt like it.” 

“Asshole.” 

“Does that mean I can do it again?” 

“Yeah.”

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[screaminglygay]

It´s nothing

pairing: yelena belova x fem!reader

summary: yelena is dragged into the medbay with a bullet wound in her hand and a bad mood to match. you’re the avenger´s medic. what starts as a simple check-up turns into something more as you slowly find your way into her heart.

word count: 2.7k

warnings: emotional vulnerability, minor injury, mentions of medical care and treatment, slight swearing

an: there are NOT ENOUGH YELENA FICS. why is it that I go to the tag and see every character but her?? this fic is my contribution to fix that injustice. also shoutout to the medics out there, i tried to do some research, but not sure if it´s correct:D

part one | part two

The doors to the med wing burst open. You glance up from your desk, pen pausing mid-note. It’s never good when someone enters like that.

"(Y/N)!" Kate Bishop’s voice rings out before you even spot her. She’s grinning, breathless, and flanked by Natasha Romanoff on one side and between them, a very scowly blonde with a bleeding hand.

"Please," the blonde mutters, "I can walk. I am not a potato sack."

"Could’ve fooled me," Natasha deadpans, barely breaking stride as she drags her by the arm, "you’re leaking all over the hallway."

"I’m fine."

Kate gestures toward the nearest exam table. "She’s not fine."

You raise an eyebrow and stand, already pulling on gloves, "what can I help you with?"

Before Romanoff can answer, the blonde, who you now recognize as Yelena, her sister, new Avenger and walking embodiment of resistance to medical care, answers flatly.

"Nothing. Thank you."

You blink once. Then glance at her arm, soaked glove, torn fabric, blood trailing down to her wrist. Then back at her unimpressed stare.

"…Right."

"Sit down," Natasha orders, giving Yelena a little shove toward the exam table.

"I said I’m-"

"Injured," you finish for her, calmly setting out antiseptic and bandages, "which is sort of my whole thing."

"I do not need your-"

"Sit," Natasha says again, this time with the terrifying big sister voice. Even you straighten a little.

Yelena reluctantly hops onto the table, muttering something in Russian under her breath. You’re ninety percent sure it translates to some swear words.

Kate leans against the counter beside you, arms crossed. "Mission in Riga went sideways. Some idiot with a rooftop sniper popped off early. We got the civilians out, but someone," she tilts her head toward Yelena, "decided catching a bullet was a solid tactic."

"I was covering your blind spot," Yelena snaps.

"And we love you for it," Kate sings sweetly, patting her knee.

You try not to laugh, biting the inside of your cheek as you clean around the wound. Yelena stiffens like you’re threatening to amputate. "I’m just cleaning it," you assure her.

"You’re poking at it."

"That’s how cleaning works," you say dryly.

She scowls harder.

You glance at the entry wound and sigh. "Few inches to the left and we’d be having a very different conversation, miss Belova."

That earns you an annoyed look. But she quiets. Not from pain, you sense, but from guilt. Silence spreads around, everyone just looking at Yelena´s arm and you stitching her up. But there is some tension you can´t really shake away. You can tell, especially from Yelena herself since her muscles are very tight.

"I ruined the mission," she mumbles.

"Yelena," Natasha says, exasperated. "You saved a kid from getting shot. The only thing you ruined was your suit."

Kate leans closer to you, whispering behind her hand. "She’s been dramatic about this for like twenty minutes. It’s kinda cute."

You smile, just a little, "like a dog before the vet?"

"Exactly!" Kate says, that makes you smile once again.

"I can hear you," Yelena grumbles.

You pat her wrist gently, "you were lucky. But let’s not make it a habit."

She doesn’t respond, but her eyes linger on your face a beat longer than necessary. You feel your heart flicker. Uh-oh. What- no.

You secure the last piece of bandage over Yelena’s palm with practiced ease. "There," you say softly, smoothing the edge with your thumb. "No nerve damage, just a clean graze. It’ll need a check-up in two days to make sure there’s no infection."

Yelena rolls her eyes, "I’ll live."

"That’s the idea," you reply with a faint smile. "Two days, miss Belova. Don’t make me hunt you down."

"She will," Kate chimes in, arms crossed again like she's giving a ted talk in the corner of your medbay. "I’ve been hunted."

You glance at her, amused, "you tripped on your own bowstring and fell from a second floor."

"It was one time!"

"Twice," you and Natasha say at the same time.

Kate scowls. "Betrayal. Anyway-" she turns back to Yelena, "You heard the medic. Been there, done that. If you don’t show up, Fury’s gonna kick your ass and make you file incident paperwork for the next six weeks."

Yelena frowns, "I do not do paperwork."

"Then let (Y/N) help you. She's very good at lying for us in the report," Kate grins. "Right, doc?"

You shrug, mock-innocent, "I don’t recall anything unusual. Miss Belova bravely sustained a minor injury in the course of protecting civilians."

Yelena’s eyes flick toward you again, slightly less stormy now. "You’re good at this."

You glance up, "patching people up?"

She holds your gaze, "making it not feel so horrible."

…Oh. You weren’t expecting that.

Kate, apparently catching the subtle shift in tone, chooses that moment to stretch. "Well! My work here is done. Nat, you owe me ten bucks, she didn’t bite anyone."

"I never agreed to that bet," Natasha says as she heads for the door.

Kate waves a hand, "details."

You follow them to the door, letting Yelena slide off the exam table behind you. She still holds her hand a little awkwardly, like it feels unfamiliar now.

"Two days," you remind her gently, "same time."

Yelena stops beside you, "okay."

...

You glance at the clock. She’s fifty minutes late. Not that you’re watching the clock or anything. Not that you’ve already replayed the conversation in your head once. Or twice. Maybe three times.

You’re starting to wonder if she bailed when the door finally swings open, just a little too hard, like it lost an argument on the way in.

Yelena steps inside, hoodie half-zipped, blonde hair slightly slicked back. Not dramatically injured. Just… tired.

You look up from your desk, "I was afraid you wouldn’t show up," you say lightly. "I almost started hunting you down."

She shrugs, gaze flicking to the floor and back again, "had to deal with something."

You nod, not pushing. But even if she hadn’t said it, you’d know. Something's off. Her whole posture is different, less sharp-edged and more… slouched in on itself.

"Come on," you say gently, and motion to the same exam table.

She sits without protest this time, but she doesn’t meet your eyes.

You unwrap the bandage and examine the healing wound. It’s clean, no signs of infection, the scab smooth and pink.

"Looks good," you murmur, carefully rotating her hand. "Healing fast. No swelling. I’ll rewrap it, but you should let it breathe a little at night."

Yelena nods, but doesn’t say anything.

You glance up again. Still that silence. Still that weight in her shoulders, like she’s wearing something too heavy for one person.

You clear your throat softly. "There’s some scar cream I can recommend. Stuff Nat probably never used, but it helps. I’ll print out a sheet with tips for minimizing scarring, heat, pressure, massage, all that."

Another nod.

You start to wrap her hand again, slower this time. More deliberate. Then you stop. "One more thing," you say gently, looking up at her. "Are you okay?"

That finally gets her attention. She lifts her eyes to meet yours. And something in them flickers, confusion, hesitation, like she’s not sure how to lie to you and not sure how to tell the truth, either.

Yelena exhales, sharp and shallow.

"The mission was stupid," she mutters. "And now I have pain in my ass from the people upstairs asking why I didn’t save three buildings while juggling a bunch of agents on my own. So. Just a total failure. Very exciting. Five stars."

You smile, but it’s a sad one, "sounds exhausting."

"They sit on their asses and yell about tactics from ten floors above ground," she mutters. "Like.... like it is chess. But it is not chess. It is people bleeding. People panicking. And I’m out there trying not to get everyone killed."

You don’t say anything right away. You just take her hand in yours again and finish wrapping the bandage, not rushed, not clinical. Careful. Gentle. Like someone seeing the person beneath the bruises.

"I’m sorry," you say quietly. "You don’t deserve that."

Yelena stares at you. Just for a second. Like no one’s ever said that to her before. Or like no one’s ever meant it. Yelena’s voice is quiet, barely more than breath, "thank you."

You glance up from her hand, surprised by the softness in her tone. But her eyes aren’t on the bandage. They’re on you. You nod once. A small smile tugs at the corner of your mouth, "anytime."

...

You’re sorting inventory when the door to the medbay opens. You don’t even turn around at first. "You’re early for your check-up," you call over your shoulder. "It’s not for another-"

You pause as you turn and see her. Her stance is stiff, and there’s something off in the way she’s holding her shoulder, slightly hunched, as if she's trying to pretend it doesn’t hurt while also not being able to stop it from hurting.

Your tone softens, "oh."

She doesn’t say anything. Just steps inside, closes the door quietly behind her, and stands there like she’s not sure if this was a good idea.

"What happened?" you ask gently, already reaching for gloves.

She shakes her head once, "It´s nothing bad."

You raise an eyebrow, "right. Paper cut is nothing bad,” you motion to the table. "Suit off. Let me see."

Yelena hesitates for just a second, then wordlessly begins peeling back the upper half of her tactical suit. You do your best not to watch too closely as the fabric shifts down her arm, revealing the bruising already blooming over her shoulder and upper bicep, deep, violet-pink, painful just to look at.

No gash this time. No blood. Just impact. Bone-deep and messy. You step closer and gently brush your fingers just above the bruise, testing the reaction without pressing.

"Not dislocated. That’s something. It’ll be sore for a few days. I’ll tape it for compression." Yelena nods, staying quiet.

You glance up at her as you begin preparing the wrap, raising a brow. "Are you getting hurt just to see me?"

That makes her head snap toward you.

Caught.

There’s a flash of something in her eyes... surprise, maybe. Embarrassment? It's hard to tell. But her cheeks color just slightly, like she wasn’t expecting you to say it out loud.

You give her a playful smirk, still wrapping her shoulder. "Because I doubt hero like you is this clumsy."

She stares at you for a beat, then mutters under her breath, "I’m not a hero."

You glance up again, meeting her eyes with calm certainty. "You’re jumping in front of civilians. Protecting your team. Saving the world. That sounds like the definition of a hero to me."

She scoffs softly, "well… says the medic."

You chuckle under your breath as you finish taping the wrap, "guess we’re both doing what we can."

There’s a quiet moment between you then. Not uncomfortable. Just… full of something unspoken.

You smile at her gently, "you can come by, you know. Even when you’re not bleeding."

Yelena tilts her head. "And do what? Let you lecture me about scar cream?"

You grin, "if that’s what it takes."

She huffs a laugh. And even though she doesn’t say anything more, she doesn’t leave right away either.

...

Once again Yelena slides into the medbay five minutes late for her check-up, hoodie pulled over her usual black tank top, hands stuffed in her pockets.

You glance up from your tablet and smile, "look who decided to show up."

She shrugs with her good shoulder, "told you I’d come."

You set the tablet down and gesture to the exam table, "hop up, Belova. Let’s see how that shoulder’s doing."

She climbs up without complaint, though she winces slightly as she rolls the hoodie off her injured side. The bruise has changed color, less angry, more faded, but still deep enough to make your brow furrow.

"How’s the pain?" you ask, fingers gentle as you palpate the joint.

She shrugs again, "it’s fine. Just a little sore."

"Mhm," you hum. Then you press just below the clavicle and watch her flinch. "Still sore?"

"It’s nothing. I’ve been resting."

You pause. Look her in the eye, "have you?"

"Yeah, yeah," she waves you off, looking away a little too quickly. "Totally."

You narrow your eyes, "Yelena." Her eyes flick back to yours. Innocent. Too innocent.

You sigh, stepping back, arms crossing, "you’ve been training, haven’t you?"

"... no"

You raise one eyebrow slowly.

" … lightly."

"Yelena, your shoulder still has inflammation around the supraspinatus. If you keep pushing it, you’re risking a rotator cuff tear."

She blinks, "that sounds bad."

"It is bad. And painful. And you’ll be benched for months, which, knowing you, would drive you completely insane."

"I don’t do benches."

"Exactly. So let it heal properly."

She grumbles something in Russian under her breath, and you hand her a gel pack.

"Use this tonight. No push-ups. No sparring. No throwing knives with that arm."

"Only with the other one," she mutters with a faint smirk.

You sigh, but there’s a ghost of a smile on your lips too. She hops off the table, wincing slightly again.

"You’re free to go," you say, trying to sound casual. "As long as you rest."

Just as she reaches the door, the calm voice of F.R.I.D.A.Y. fills the room.

"Miss Belova, you are required at the quinjet bay in fifteen minutes. New mission briefing in progress."

You freeze, "wait, what?"

Yelena pauses, like she hoped you didn’t hear that.

Your eyes widen, "oh, absolutely not."

Yelena turns slowly, "it’s just-"

"You’re injured."

"I’m fine."

You walk toward her, voice firm now. "You’ve got limited rotation in your dominant shoulder, you’re still bruising internally, and you just said it hurts. That’s not ‘fine.’ That’s ignoring medical advice."

You snatch your tablet from the counter, fingers flying over the screen. A few swipes and taps later, you enter a temporary hold on Yelena’s deployment clearance, medical evaluation pending. You barely finish typing the last line when your comms device buzzes.

You glance at the caller ID and sigh. Of course.

"Medbay, (Y/L/N) speaking," you answer, putting the call on speaker out of pure principle.

"Miss (Y/L/N)," comes the clipped voice of someone two floors up and far too high on the food chain to care about bruised shoulders, "I see you’ve just submitted an availability block on agent Belova?"

"She just finished her check-up with me five minutes ago," you reply, calmly but with steel under it. "Her shoulder is still compromised. She’s not ready for a mission... any type."

A pause on the other end. "That information should’ve been input prior to deployment call. You’ve now created a discrepancy in the field team manifest."

"I’m sorry," you say flatly, unapologetically. "But my priority is my patient’s well-being, not your paperwork."

Another pause. Slightly longer. Then, with clipped resignation, "fine. We’ll pull another name. But we will talk."

"Looking forward to it," you say sweetly, and hang up.

The moment the comm cuts, you realize how quiet it’s gotten. Yelena leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyebrows raised, impressed.

"Wow…" she says after a beat, voice half amusement, half awe. "Didn’t know you could order them around like that."

You glance over, shrugging with forced nonchalance. "I usually don’t have to. But I also usually don’t have Avengers trying to sneak into the field with half-functioning shoulders."

Yelena gives a low chuckle, then winces, "okay. Maybe quarter-functioning."

You tilt your head at her, not smiling, not scolding. Just looking.

"Why do you do that?" you ask softly. "Always willing to tear yourself apart for them?"

She shrugs, "that’s the job."

"No. That’s you." You soften. "But just for today, maybe let someone else carry the weight?"

Yelena studies you for a moment, "you always talk to your patients like this?"

You grin, "only the stubborn ones."

She lets out a breath that’s almost a laugh, eyes flicking to the floor, then back to you. You roll your eyes, but the smile lingers, "go rest, Belova. That’s a medical order."

She salutes playfully, smirk reappearing, "yes, doctor."

Thank you for reading:)

[cosmiclily]

hii - jst wanted to say girl Ur writing is *chef's kiss* okok so i saw requests were open and im a SUCKER for actors au arcane soooo could u write a actor vi x co star!fem reader?? could it be a lil not like enemies but at first their energies don't match, but they soon learn to like eachother. on the premiere they were seen together and get asked questions abt eachother. vi keeps her hand on co star's waist whispering in her ear. idkkk jst some fluff plsss

- btw i was the anon who asked for the domestic vi teehee 🤭

love your work, xx

play pretend

✰ vi x f!reader

wc: 6.2k

notes: (snoopy pfp twins!!!) first of all, thank you !!!!!! and also your requests are so good i always have fun writing them😭😭 second, kinda got a little too excited about the request lol

If anyone watched Complex without doing any prior research, they would undoubtedly say that you and Vi had undeniable chemistry. The tension, the longing glances, the way you played off each other—it was electric. So electric that after the movie was released, the audience wanted more and more from the two of you.

But off-screen? Things weren’t nearly as perfect.

At first, Vi had been thrilled to work with you. She had been a fan for years, and when her manager called her about the role—and, more importantly, who she’d be working with—she couldn’t say yes fast enough. She had pictured smooth sailing, late-night script reads, inside jokes, maybe even the start of a great friendship.

What she hadn’t pictured was the absolute nightmare that was your first meeting.

You were thirty minutes late to the chemistry read, walking in with a sour expression and barely sparing her a glance. No pleasantries, no introductions—you simply read your lines (flawlessly, of course), nodded at the director, and walked right back out. Vi had sat there, script still in hand, completely thrown.

Things did not get better from there.

The two of you bickered about everything. Blocking, line delivery, even what music should play between takes. It was like you had been designed to push each other’s buttons.

And then there was the first kiss rehearsal.

Vi, in all her brilliance, had eaten a tuna sandwich right before the scene.

The second you leaned in and caught the scent, you recoiled so fast you nearly toppled over. "Are you serious?!" you had shouted, fanning your face as if that would somehow make the stench disappear.

Vi? She had lost it.

She laughed so hard she had to physically hold onto the set piece to keep herself upright. It took a full ten minutes and an entire pack of breath mints for you to even consider going through with the scene.

But as much as you bickered, there was no denying it—the chemistry was off the charts. The moment the cameras started rolling and you weren’t Y/N and Vi anymore, something clicked. Suddenly, you were two best friends hopelessly in love, bound by circumstances that would never allow them to be together. It was raw, it was emotional, and it was so frustrating for the director.

"Cut!" Frank shouted, exasperation dripping from his voice. As soon as the word left his mouth, you immediately stepped away from Vi, your longing expression vanishing like it had never been there.

"You delivered your last line too late," you huffed, flipping through your script. "The silence was awkward."

Vi rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "It’s called dramatic tension. Like my character is hesitating before saying it. You don’t know art."

You scoffed. "That’s bullshit."

"Oh my god," Frank groaned, rubbing his temples. "Can’t the two of you just stop?"

Both of you turned to face him, blinking as if you hadn’t just spent the last five minutes arguing.

"If I hadn’t sunk so much goddamn money into this movie," he continued, his face red with frustration, "and if your chemistry on screen wasn’t so damn perfect, I would’ve fired you both by now! This is insane! You can’t go three seconds without fighting!"

You and Vi exchanged a glance—one that probably lasted all of two seconds before she smirked and you scoffed again.

This was going to be a long shoot.

Later, after finally wrapping for the day, you were in your dressing room, peeling off your character’s persona and replacing it with your own. You had just finished touching up your lipstick in the bright vanity mirror when your manager, Mel, stormed in—her expression immediately telling you she did not bring good news.

"Frank is fuming," she announced, crossing her arms. "Livid. He says you're a brat who thinks she runs the set, and that Vi has the humor of a twelve-year-old boy."

You let out a small snort, not even bothering to look at her. "Well, he’s not wrong about Vi."

Mel shot you a glare. "What the hell are you two doing? How are you supposed to promote this movie when you can’t even be in the same room for five minutes without arguing?"

You sighed dramatically, turning back to the mirror as you fixed a stray hair. "Well, if she wasn’t so damn stubborn and stupid, I wouldn’t have a problem with her."

Mel groaned, rubbing her temples as if you were single-handedly giving her a migraine. "You know what? That’s it. I was talking to Vander, and he agreed—the two of you need figure this thing out, go out together or something."

That caught your attention. You turned to her, brows furrowing. "Go out together? Like what? A forced bonding exercise?"

"Yes, exactly," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Then she pointed a perfectly manicured finger at you. "And don’t look at me like that. I wanted to lock you two in a room for the entire weekend, but Vander thought “hanging out” was a better option."

Your lips parted slightly in disbelief. "That was your suggestion?"

Mel shrugged. "It would've worked."

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. "What exactly are we supposed to do together?"

Mel smirked. "That’s for you and Vi to figure out."

Mel had given you Vi’s number—which you didn’t have after working with her for more than a month—and told you to text her. She even threatened to call your mom if you didn’t, which, honestly, was a low blow.

Naturally, you did not text Vi.

By the time you got home, showered, and settled into bed with a book you’d been dying to read, you were so ready to ignore the outside world for the next three hours. But, of course, your phone pinged with a notification from an unknown number.

(Unknown Number)

hey

(it’s vi by the way)

vander said i have to text you and we have to go out together ?

You sighed, rolling onto your back before lazily typing out a response.

You:

yeah, mel said the exact same thing to me. not that i’m too excited about it.

Violet Lane:

i know you hate me and stuff, but if we could just get this over with it would be better lol

You frowned.

You:

?

i don’t hate you?

Violet Lane:

you don’t like me either

anyway, we can just go to a restaurant or something, talk this over and “bond” (or whatever)

You stared at your screen for a moment, chewing on your lip. Did Vi really think you hated her? Sure, you bickered—a lot—but that was just how you two were. You pushed, she pushed back. It was an endless back and forth, but hate? That was a strong word.

You hesitated before typing.

You:

fine. tomorrow at 7?

Violet Lane:

cool. see you then.

You sighed, tossing your phone onto your nightstand and staring at the ceiling.

Yeah. This was either going to be a complete disaster or the longest two hours of your life.

──────────────────────

At 6:35 p.m., you were already ready—probably too ready. You had checked and rechecked your outfit, adjusted your hair at least five times, and debated whether your makeup was too casual or too much.

Your stomach was tight with nerves, anxiety creeping up for no reason at all. It was just dinner. Just a casual outing with a coworker who thought you hated her (and who, admittedly, got on your nerves more often than not). You were only doing this because Mel and Vander had threatened you into it.

Still, you found yourself sitting on the couch, staring at the time on your phone like it would magically change.

Should I text her?

Would that be weird?

Would it be even weirder if I just showed up at the restaurant early?

Before you could second-guess yourself, you opened your messages.

You:

i know i said 7, but i finished the things i had to do earlier, so i’m ready. do you wanna meet there or go together?

(Lie. You had absolutely nothing to do today—but Vi didn’t need to know that.)

A response came quickly.

Violet Lane:

i can pick you up, if you want. i’m ready as well.

You blinked. That was… unexpectedly nice of her.

You:

k

[your address]

As soon as you sent it, you tossed your phone onto the couch and exhaled, running a hand through your hair.

Okay. No big deal. You were just getting dinner.

Then why the hell did it feel like you were about to go on a date?

──────────────────────

Vi picked you up, and the drive to the restaurant was… painfully awkward. You slid into the passenger seat, muttered a quiet hey, and she responded with a nod and a simple hey back. And then… nothing.

No music. No conversation. Just the sound of the road beneath the tires and the occasional glance exchanged between you two.

At the restaurant, things weren’t much better. You placed your orders, handed the menus back to the waitress, and then sat there—staring at each other like you were both waiting for the other person to break the silence.

You cleared your throat, shifting slightly in your seat. This is ridiculous.

“Soo…” you started, grasping for anything remotely close to small talk. “Anything good happening these days?”

Vi shrugged, leaning back against her chair. “Nah. Just working, you know.”

Riveting.

“Right. Of course.” You nodded “Me too.”

Another pause.

You took a sip of your drink. Vi did the same.

This was painful.

You were supposed to be bonding, fixing the weird tension between you, but so far, it felt like the two of you were just tolerating each other's presence.

Vi exhaled through her nose, drumming her fingers against the table. “Okay, this is weird, right?”

You let out a breathy laugh. “Oh, so weird.”

Vi cracked a small grin, shaking her head. “Alright, let’s just—be normal. For once.”

You raised an eyebrow. “For once?”

“You did spend the first two weeks acting like I personally offended your ancestors.”

Your mouth dropped open. “I did not!”

Vi shot you a knowing look.

“…Okay, maybe I wasn’t the most welcoming.” You rolled your eyes. “But you were annoying as hell.”

Vi smirked. “Still am.”

“Unfortunately.”

And from then on, you actually talked.

Your food arrived, and for the first time since you started working together, the conversation flowed easily. You talked about why you got into acting, your dream roles, the best and worst people you’d worked with, the projects you would never do, and the actors you’d always wanted to work with.

“Well, I always wanted to work with you.” Vi’s voice was softer now, a little hesitant, as she cut into her steak.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Really?”

“Yeah.” She shrugged, avoiding your eyes as if embarrassed to admit it. “One of the reasons I took this role was because your name was already on it.”

That was… surprising. Vi, who you were sure couldn’t stand you, had actually wanted to work with you?

“I always admired your work,” she added, still not quite meeting your gaze. “Your performances always felt so real—like you weren’t just acting, you were that person. I thought, ‘damn, if I ever get the chance to work with her, I have to take it.’”

For a moment, you just stared at her, unsure how to respond. This was the same Vi who had laughed for ten minutes over a tuna sandwich before your first kiss rehearsal. The same Vi who had argued with you over every minor detail on set. The same Vi who, up until an hour ago, you were convinced didn’t even like you.

And yet, here she was, admitting that she’d taken this role, in part, because of you.

You swallowed, setting your fork down. “I—wow. I didn’t know that.”

Vi finally glanced up, offering a small, almost sheepish smile. “Well… now you do.”

And maybe—just maybe—you could actually make this work.

──────────────────────

After that dinner, work became bearable.

Frank no longer looked like he was on the verge of a mental breakdown every time you and Vi were in the same room. You still bickered, but now it was more playful than anything—teasing quips, exaggerated eye rolls, and smirks exchanged between takes.

And, to your absolute horror, you actually laughed at one of her jokes.

“I can’t believe my eyes!” Vi exclaimed dramatically, pointing at you like you were a rare species on display. “She’s actually laughing at my joke! Somebody get a camera, this is a historic moment!”

“Shut up!” you said between chuckles, trying (and failing) to regain your composure.

After that, things just… shifted.

Vi started bringing you coffee in the mornings—because apparently, she noticed that your usual sour mood could be fixed with a large caramel macchiato. She never said anything about it, just handed you the cup with a smirk like it was no big deal.

And maybe it wasn’t a big deal.

Maybe it also wasn’t a big deal that you’d started looking forward to seeing her face every morning. Or that you caught yourself glancing at her between takes, watching the way she effortlessly charmed the crew with her stupid jokes and easygoing attitude.

It was not a big deal.

Until one of your last scenes together.

Vi’s character was leaving. It was an emotional scene—there were tears, there was rain, there was heartbreak. The two of you stood on a dimly lit train platform, the cold air thick with tension, with unsaid words.

And then you ran to her, your shoes splashing against the wet pavement as you grabbed her arm, desperation spilling from your lips.

“You can’t leave me in this town,” you pleaded, breathless, water dripping from your soaked hair. “It’s not fair. They can’t make you do this!”

Vi turned to you, her face half-lit by the flickering station lights, raindrops clinging to her lashes. “It’s not their choice,” she said, voice unsteady, tears mixing with the artificial rain. “I want to leave.” Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. “I can’t keep living this lie. I can’t be myself here.”

Your breath hitched. You shook your head, your hands trembling as they clutched the fabric of her soaked jacket. “Please,” you sobbed, the cold making you shake, but not nearly as much as the emotions clawing their way out of you. “I—I love you.”

The words came out like a confession, like a wound torn open.

And for a moment—just a moment—you weren’t sure if the silence between you was scripted or not.

Vi’s eyes locked onto yours, her breath shallow, her lips parted slightly. You could hear the rain hitting the pavement, the distant sound of a train horn echoing through the empty station.

Then, she kissed you.

You had kissed before. Countless times, in countless takes. But this? This was different.

Her hands found your waist, pulling you in, grounding you in the middle of the storm. One of them trailed up, fingertips ghosting along your skin before settling at the back of your neck, holding you like you were something fragile.

You melted into her, fingers curling into the damp fabric of her shirt, letting yourself sink into the warmth of her despite the freezing rain.

And then, just as suddenly, she pulled away—her breath ragged, forehead resting against yours.

“I love you too,” she said, softer than she should have. “But not enough to stay.”

And just like that, she was gone.

She turned, stepping onto the train, leaving you standing on that rain-soaked platform, crumbling from the inside out.

When Frank called cut, the entire set fell into stunned silence.

No one moved. No one spoke. The only sound was the steady patter of artificial rain against the pavement, mixing with the remnants of your ragged breathing.

Then, as if snapping out of a trance, crew members rushed forward, wrapping warm towels around your trembling frame, fussing over you, making sure you weren’t too cold.

But none of it registered.

Because your eyes were still on her.

Vi stood a few feet away, drenched, her chest still rising and falling from the weight of the scene. Strands of wet hair clung to her forehead, rain trailing down the curve of her jaw, but she didn’t move to wipe it away. She just looked at you.

It was a silent conversation, one you weren’t sure you understood.

And then, just like that, someone called her name, and the moment was gone.

──────────────────────

After wrapping up filming and sending the movie into post-production, you and Vi barely kept in contact.

It wasn’t intentional—at least, that’s what you told yourself.

Life simply got busy. You had new projects to consider, meetings to attend, scripts to read. You were thrown back into the chaotic whirlwind of the industry, and Vi… well, Vi had her own life.

But that didn’t stop the weird feeling in your chest. The absence of her was something you noticed, in ways you didn’t expect.

Her face wasn’t the first thing you saw when you walked on set every morning, You no longer groggily accept the caramel macchiato she always brought you with that smug little smirk. You didn’t hear her humming on set, or listen to her dumb jokes between takes.

The worst part? You caught yourself missing it.

You missed the way she’d argue with you over the most insignificant things, how her eyes would light up whenever she got you to crack a smile, how easy it had become to just be around her.

And maybe that was why, after a month of telling yourself you were too busy to reach out, you found yourself sitting in Mel’s office, trying—and failing—to make it sound like you weren’t fishing for an excuse.

“Have you heard from Frank?” you asked, leaning casually against her desk, as if this were just a passing thought.

Mel didn’t even look up from the magazine she was reading—the one that featured an interview you had given a few weeks ago. “About?”

“Post-production for Complex,” you said, picking at the edge of a business card on her desk. “We must be starting promotions soon, right?”

That finally made her glance up, one perfectly arched brow raising as she studied you. The sharp gold liner on her eyelids made her green eyes look even more piercing.

“You know you don’t need an excuse to talk to her, right?”

Your hand froze mid-pick.

You let out a nervous laugh. “What do you mean by that? I’m asking about the movie.”

“Uh-huh.” Mel’s lips curled into a knowing smirk as she lazily flipped another page. “Everything’s on track. Frank said you should hear about it soon. The movie trailer should be out in a week or two.”

You nodded, trying to keep your expression neutral. That was good. That meant press tours, interviews, red carpets—things that would inevitably bring you and Vi back into each other’s orbit.

You should have been focusing on that.

But all you could think about was your phone, sitting in your pocket. And the fact that nothing was stopping you from pulling it out, scrolling to her name, and just—

You swallowed, pushing the thought away.

You weren’t sure if you were ready for that yet.

──────────────────────

After the movie trailer was released, you filmed a couple of interviews, and suddenly, it felt like you were whole again.

Vi’s presence was there—her lazy smirk, the sarcasm wrapped in dry humor, the way she’d nudge you under the table just to see if she could get a reaction.

It was like nothing had changed.

Like you hadn’t spent weeks pretending you weren’t waiting for a message from her. Like you hadn’t caught yourself missing her laugh in the middle of a quiet afternoon. Like there wasn’t something undeniably different lingering between you, hidden beneath the playful banter and easy rhythm you fell back into so effortlessly.

But it was different.

Because now, every stolen glance lasted a second too long. Every brush of her fingers against yours felt intentional. And every time she looked at you—really looked at you—you swore you could still feel the ghost of that last kiss, the way her hands had held you like she was afraid to let go.

And you didn’t know if you were imagining it, if you were just hoping for something more than what it really was, if you were being downright delusional.

But if it meant she would be around you for longer, you would be the most delusional person in the world.

“Earth to Y/N.” Vi’s voice cut through your thoughts, and you blinked rapidly, turning to face her. She was looking at you with a knowing smirk, her elbow propped on the armrest between you. “You good over there? Looked like you were having a moment or something.”

You scoffed, leaning back in your chair. “Just thinking about how much I regret agreeing to this interview with you.”

Vi gasped, placing a hand over her heart in mock offense. “And here I was, so excited to see you again.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that.”

The interviewer, who had been watching your interaction with amusement, cleared her throat. “It’s clear you two have amazing chemistry, both on-screen and off. Was it always like this during filming?”

Vi grinned, glancing at you. “Oh, absolutely not. Y/N hated me at first.”

You groaned. “I did not hate you!”

“She totally did.” Vi turned back to the interviewer, ignoring your protests. “She was all serious and broody, barely talked to me for the first couple of weeks. But then I broke her.” She smirked, tilting her head toward you. “Didn’t I?”

You gave her a flat look, but you couldn’t stop the warmth spreading through your chest. “You wish.”

The interviewer laughed. “Well, whatever the process was, it clearly worked, because your performances in Complex are incredible.”

Vi nodded. “What can I say? We’re just that good.”

And maybe she was right. Maybe this—whatever this was—was just the natural result of spending so much time together. Of playing two people desperately in love.

But then Vi glanced at you again, her expression softer this time, her arm brushing against yours on the armrest.

And suddenly, you weren’t so sure.

The next interviews were all like that—her lingering touches, the way her fingers would find the small of your back when she guided you through a crowd, the way she’d stare at you like you were the only person in the room.

It was weird. Even for Vi.

Sure, you were both actors, but she couldn’t be acting all of it. Not when her hand rested on your waist a second longer than necessary. Not when she looked at you like she was memorizing your face.

And yet, you kept telling yourself you were imagining things.

Until one particular interview made it impossible to ignore.

“So, we heard rumors about your interactions on set,” the interviewer, a short blonde girl with an overly cheerful tone, began, her eyes locked onto Vi. “How you bickered all the time and made the director go nuts. What do you have to say about that, Vi?”

She acted like you didn’t even exist.

Almost all the questions were directed at Vi, and even when you did answer something, she barely spared you a glance, her attention fixed entirely on Vi, nodding eagerly at every word she said.

You tried not to let it bother you, but with every passing minute, you felt yourself shrinking in your chair.

By the time you left the studio, you were fuming.

Vi, however, was thoroughly entertained.

She gave you a ride home, and the moment you got into the car, you turned to her with an exaggerated voice.

“What do you have to say about that, Vi?” you mocked the interviewer’s tone. “Oh, I think you’re so hot, and I’m going to ignore Y/N while I talk to you!”

Vi chuckled, shaking her head as she started the engine. “Damn, that’s pretty good. You should do impressions more often.”

You crossed your arms, glaring at her.

“What?” She smirked, sparing you a glance. “Are you jealous?”

Your cheeks burned instantly.

“Of course I am! She ignored me the whole time!”

Vi snorted, her grip tightening around the steering wheel. “Yeah, because she was too busy flirting with me.”

You huffed, looking out the window. “Could’ve at least redirected a question or two…”

Vi was quiet for a moment before she said, voice laced with amusement, “Didn’t know you cared so much about my attention, princess.”

You turned to glare at her again, but she was grinning, eyes still on the road.

“Shut up.”

Vi only laughed, shaking her head.

And when her hand dropped from the gear shift, resting just close enough to your thigh, you didn’t move away.

The rest of the ride passed in comfortable silence. The night air was crisp, the windows rolled down just enough for the wind to kiss your face, ruffling your hair as the city lights blurred past.

For a moment, it almost felt like old times—like the months apart hadn’t left a hollow space in your chest, like you hadn’t spent too many nights staring at your phone, hesitating over an unsent message.

And then, just before Vi pulled up in front of your place, she spoke.

“Why didn’t you text me?” Her voice was casual, like she was asking about the weather, like it didn’t really matter. She kept her eyes on the road, fingers tapping lightly against the steering wheel. “Or call?”

Your breath hitched, caught off guard by the question—by the way it hung between you, heavier than it should be.

You turned to look at her, studying her profile, the soft glow of the streetlights casting shadows across her face.

“Why didn’t you?”

Vi finally glanced at you, just for a second, but there was something in her expression—something unreadable, something that made your chest tighten.

She let out a soft scoff, shaking her head as she pulled the car into park.

“Touché” she muttered.

Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke.

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was charged—like a question waiting to be answered, like a decision waiting to be made.

Then you opened the door.

Pausing for just a second, you glanced back at her. Vi was watching you now, her fingers still drumming against the steering wheel, jaw tense like she had something to say but wasn’t sure if she should.

You offered a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“See you on the premiere.”

And with that, you stepped out, closing the door behind you.

──────────────────────

On the day of the premiere, a driver picked you and Mel up. She spent the entire drive coaching you—how to answer questions, how to walk, how to carry yourself—but none of it stuck. Her voice was just background noise, drowned out by the only thought looping in your mind.

Vi.

How would she act? Would she pretend like nothing was going on? Would she ignore you? Would the two of you just be professional—smiling for the cameras, standing side by side like coworkers instead of... whatever it was you had become?

The knot in your stomach tightened with every mile closer to the venue. Your palms were damp, your heart hammering against your ribs.

“Are you even listening to me?” Mel’s voice finally broke through your daze.

You blinked, turning to her. “Huh?”

She sighed, exasperated but amused. “That’s what I thought.” Then, with a knowing smirk, she added, “She’s probably thinking about you just as much as you’re thinking about her.”

You scoffed, looking away. It was like Mel had a sixth sense.

She just chuckled, shaking her head. “Hopeless.”

The car slowed to a stop, and suddenly, it was time.

Blinding flashes erupted from every direction, a chorus of voices calling your name. You moved with practiced ease—smiling, posing, keeping your posture pristine as you stepped onto the red carpet.

But your mind was elsewhere.

Your eyes scanned the crowd, searching. Looking for her.

If Vi had arrived, you couldn’t see her. And that realization made the knot in your stomach twist just a little tighter.

You spotted Frank mid-interview and took the opportunity to approach him.

“Hii!” You waved, making your presence known.

“Oh, there she is! One of our stars of the night!” Frank beamed, his entire demeanor much warmer than the no-nonsense director you were used to seeing on set. “She’s one of the reasons we’re standing here tonight!”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Don’t flatter yourself, Frankie. Without you, this project never would’ve happened.”

The interviewer smiled at your exchange, clearly entertained. “The chemistry in Complex felt so real—especially between you and Vi. What was it like working so closely together?”

At the mention of her name, you hesitated for just a second—just long enough for Frankie to notice.

“Ah,” he teased, nudging you lightly, “now that’s a question.”

You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to focus. “Vi is... incredible. She’s the kind of actress that makes you better just by being in the scene with you.”

The interviewer nodded eagerly. “And off-camera?”

Your lips parted, but before you could say anything—

“Why don’t you ask me that?”

Your breath caught.

Because there she was.

Vi strolled up beside you, effortlessly charming, effortlessly her—a lazy smirk playing at her lips, the sharp cut of her suit fitting her entirely too well.

And just like that, the entire world shrank down to her.

She stopped beside you, her hand instinctively finding your waist—like it belonged there. A gentle squeeze, warm and grounding, as she turned to answer the question.

“I’m wonderful to work with. Ask anyone, they’ll tell you.” She smirked, her tone playful, but you barely registered her words.

Because damn.

She looked stunning.

The open-back suit she wore left little to the imagination, her toned muscles on full display beneath the flashing lights. It wasn’t fair—nothing about her was fair.

Your focus shattered, your train of thought completely derailed.

The interviewer laughed, oblivious to the way your eyes shamelessly roamed over Vi. “And what about her?” she asked, motioning to you. “What was she like to work with?”

Vi tilted her head slightly, considering. Then, as if she hadn’t just ruined your ability to form a coherent sentence, she murmured

“She makes it easy.”

Your breath hitched.

She wasn’t looking at the interviewer. She was looking at you.

And you felt it—like a spark catching fire, like something you couldn’t ignore anymore.

After countless photos, interviews, and polite smiles, the entire cast finally made their way inside the theater for the screening. But Vi was still glued to you—her hand finding your waist, her fingers brushing against yours, her presence a constant, undeniable force.

So you did the only thing that made sense.

You grabbed her wrist and dragged her toward the nearest bathroom.

“Whoa, where’s the fire?” Vi chuckled, but followed you without hesitation.

You pushed open the door, stepped inside, and locked it behind you.

Then you turned to her, frustration boiling over. “Okay,” you started, jabbing a finger into her chest, “I need you to be sohonest with me right now.”

Vi raised an amused brow but said nothing, letting you continue.

“Are you being serious or is this just for the movie?” You demanded, your heart racing. “Because I swear to God, Vi, you’re giving me serious mixed signals, and I don’t know if I’m being down-right delusional or—”

And she had the audacity to smirk at you.

That damn smirk. The one that made your stomach flip. The one made impossibly more infuriating by the bold red of her lipstick.

Vi took a step closer, slow and deliberate, her voice dropping into something almost dangerous.

“What if I am being serious?”

Your pulse skyrocketed. The air between you felt thick, charged with something that had been simmering for too long.

“Then we need to do something about it,” you said, inhaling sharply—your lungs burned like you had been holding your breath for weeks. “Because I’m tired of you joking around and then holding me like you want me, looking at me like that…”

Vi tilted her head slightly, her smirk softening into something real. Something that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Like what?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. “Like you feel something,” you admitted, forcing yourself to meet her gaze. “Like you want this as much as I do.”

She exhaled, long and slow, her fingers twitching at her sides—like she was holding herself back.

Then, so quietly it almost got lost in the space between you, she said, “I do.”

You barely had time to process it before her hands were on you, pulling you in, closing the distance in a way that left no room for uncertainty.

Her lips crashed into yours, and this time, there was nothing to hide behind. No cameras, no script, no excuses. Just her. Just you. And the way she kissed you like she had been waiting for this moment just as desperately as you had.

Your hands went straight to the opening of her suit, fingertips dragging down the exposed skin of her back, desperate, needing to hold her—to make sure she was real and not just another scene you’d have to pretend didn’t mean anything.

Your back hit the door you had locked only moments ago, the cool surface a stark contrast to the heat pooling between you. Vi’s hands were everywhere—on your neck, slipping under the fabric of your dress, gripping the back of your thigh as she lifted it around her waist. The only sound in the bathroom was your breathless kisses, the rustling of clothes, the quiet hum of a moment neither of you wanted to end.

Until your phone started ringing.

You groaned against her lips, fumbling for the device in your purse without pulling away completely. Vi kissed down your neck, her lips never leaving your skin as you glanced down at the screen.

Mel’s name flashed on the display.

“Fuck,” you exhaled.

Vi huffed out a breath, her thumb brushing over your hip, her smirk returning. “You gonna get that?”

You hesitated. No, you really didn’t want to.

But Mel was persistent, and if you didn’t pick up, she’d probably barge into the bathroom herself.

With a groan, you answered, trying—and failing—to steady your breathing. “Mel—”

“Where the hell are you?” she hissed. “The movie is about to start! I swear to God, if you and Vi are off somewhere being unprofessional—”

You locked eyes with Vi, her smirk only growing.

“We’re coming” you said quickly, voice slightly breathless.

“You better.” And with that, Mel hung up.

Vi chuckled, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Guess we should go be professional, huh?”

You sighed, reluctantly letting her step back, already missing the warmth of her. But as you looked at her—lipstick smudged, pupils blown, her suit out of place from where your hands had been—you knew there was no more pretending.

Something had changed.

And this time, neither of you wanted to run from it.

──────────────────────

You fixed yourself as best as you could, smoothing out your dress, running your fingers through your hair, and dabbing at your lips to make sure they weren’t too swollen. But Vi—Vi was a mess. Her lipstick was completely gone, her eyeliner smudged just slightly at the edges, and the faint red marks on her back, stark against her skin, were impossible to ignore.

“Why did you wear this stupid suit?” you muttered under your breath, practically dragging her toward the theater.

Vi chuckled, completely unbothered. “You liked it, didn’t you?”

You shot her a glare, but the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you.

By the time you slipped inside, the room was dim, the screen displaying the production company logos as the final guests settled in their seats. You spotted Mel near the middle row and made a beeline for her, thanking God that Vander was still across the room, too deep in conversation with Frank to pay you or Vi any mind.

Mel barely spared you a glance as you slid into the seat beside her, Vi dropping into the one next to you. Then, without missing a beat, she leaned in and whisper-yelled, “Where were you? Actually—” she held up a hand before you could answer, “don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

You pressed your lips together, fighting back a smirk.

“Just sit down,” she sighed, adjusting in her seat. “You’re lucky Frank decided to give a speech before it started.”

Vi leaned in, just enough that only you could hear. “See? We are professionals.”

You rolled your eyes, but when her hand held yours on the armrest, when she shot you that look, like this was your little secret, you knew—tonight wasn’t just about the movie.

It was about you and her.

──────────────────────

masterlist

[cyberrose2001]

HUMAN PET AU <3

Ratchet finally comes home from working all day at the med bay, the poor medic is tired as hell and just wants to relax in the comfort of his own berth. Fortunately enough, ratchet owns an exotic pet. A human he has grown fond of. They are fully trained and even have their own collar (with the message “Please return to Ratchet if lost” written on it), they have also learned how to help Ratchet de-stress by letting him use their hole as his personal flesh light <3 His happy little human loves becoming his cum dump to help him get his frustrations out, such a helpful little pet <33

any continuity of ratchet is fine (pick ur fav!), afab but gender neutral reader please and thank you moni 🙏❤️‍🩹

A Sight For Sore Optics - Human Pet AU

IDW/MTMTE Ratchet x human! afab! gn!Reader

Hi Gem! Thank you so much for your request, I was literally foaming at the mouth ready to write this. To make this more anatomically possible, Ratchet's spike transforms to a more "safer" size. So I hope this is good please be good (I haven't finished reading mtmte yet so forgive me). Also if I have missed any tags please let me know!

Warnings: Xenophilia, Size Kink, Collaring, Oral (both receiving and giving), Masturbation, Praise Kink, Cum Dumping, Mild Dubious Consent (?)

Word Count: 2.3k

18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

Another day, another few thousand miles of endless space, another few sickly bots. Additionally, a few unkempt humans requiring attention due to poor conditions from their previous owners. With the new organic additions to the Lost Light at the captain's approval, Ratchet had found himself biting off more than he could chew, looking after bots and humans. Oh, how he wished he took up an organic health course or something other than primarily relying on Brainstorm's fervent research on the tiny creatures. Between juggling it all, Ratchet was unsure how much more his threadbare servos could take. Still, there was one thing the old medic was unmistakable about. He was tired.

One good thing, he must admit, is that he gets to return to you. His own human pet, a personal 'Thank you' gift on behalf of the entire crew for his selflessness and hard work, provided with you a basket with fundamental necessities. But the basket had long since been used up, and he had transformed it into a makeshift cot for you. It'll do for now, he had thought.

He was initially still trying to figure out what to think of you. Apart from very rudimentary health checkups and nutritional foods, there wasn't much that Ratchet could provide for you. There's not many enriching activities for such a tiny human like yourself. Until that is, he discovered something quite unusual that had been exhibited in almost every human adopted by the crew so far.

You have an insatiable libido.

Ratchet was unsure, if not downright nervous if other owners were to discover how incredibly beneficial humans could be. Whether or not they had already learned was an entirely different story. It wouldn't surprise Ratchet if that was the very reason why human pets were approved, though it seems shocking. It all seemed so innocent enough, adopting humans for the cuteness factor for the mechs on board. But as with most things, there's always more than just the surface level of what the optic sees. And Ratchet was already way too far below the surface.

Punching in the code for his hab suite, Ratchet waits eagerly for the door to open with twitching digits. He steps inside, tossing whatever work essentials he has on hand on the first bench he sees. He'll worry about reorganising later. Right now, he needs some pet therapy and a well-overdue overload. The dull ache behind his panels only gets stronger as his pedes carry him to his berthroom to you, curled up on his berth. It looked as if you neglected your rudimentary cot, choosing to sleep on his berth instead. The medic can't help the softened expression as he melts at the sight. Of all the things he didn't think he deserved, he never once expected it to be such an adorable little thing like you.

He lets his pedes wander over to you, like countless times before, careful and delicate. He always told himself that this 'fling' he had with you was only temporary and that it was purely for his curiosity, but he tends to find himself aching for you repeatedly. He can't help how his racing neurocircuits seem to fizzle out and calm down when he lies with you.

A roughened servo brushes over your hair to slowly stir you. It looked like you had been napping for some time now, which he believes is a good thing. Brainstorm did say that humans tend to sleep better in environments they consider comfortable. The gentle brushing causes you to stir and lift your head to greet him, though in a language yet to be deciphered. It's a pleasant greeting, and Ratchet can tell they're happy to see him. Something along the lines of 'I missed you,' he'd like to think.

"Hey, squishy. I missed you too," Ratchet smiles warmly. He brushes the hair away from your neck to reveal a collar, "You haven't ripped it off yet. Seems like you like it, hm?"

A slight, sleepy nod in confirmation, you've grasped at what he said. Ratchets' digits trail down to the collar, a small silver plate that reads 'Please Return to Ratchet If Lost - HabSuite ###" engraved in Cybertronian. Not that you tend to wander off, but more or less a just in case. Plus, he gets a thrill seeing his name attached to you. He thumbs it gently, admiring his handy work.

"I'm glad you do. It took me quite some time to make," Ratchet tugs at it softly, beckoning you to come closer. He watches you climb onto his lap, "Such tiny adornments are complex to create, 'specially with hands like mine." A servo cups your back, his thumb moving to play with your soft chest. He shivers when he hears a tiny whimper from you, and you seem eager to play with him already.

"I've had a busy day," A mechanical noise of shifting gears as his spike slides out of its housing, "I think you know what I need." It's well and truly bigger than you, much bigger than your tiny body could ever take. But the way your eyes light up in excitement assures Ratchet that you are more than pleased, already desperately taking off your quirky frame coverings. He eyes off your cute organic valve, notices how dripping wet it is, and staves off a moan.

"C'mere for a second," Ratchet scoops you into his servo to bring you closer to his face. He gets a whiff of your arousal, so earthy and addicting. The more you spread your thighs for him, the more he can smell. He brings you to his intake and licks one hearty stripe up your folds.

Oh yes, he thinks. Better than energon. Better than any high grade to ever pass his dermas, like a warm drink that soothes and revitalises his senses. It thickens on his glossa, groaning at the taste as he swirls it around your little node. He watches intently as you squeal in delight, your thighs trembling around his cheeks and how your little face contorts into one of pleasure. Well, he had always presumed it was in pleasure; you've never exactly shied away from his glossa. He hums when you feel him grinding, desperate little ruts chasing the vibrations.

Ratchet licks one last time at your slick, pulling away to observe. Oral lubricants coat your valve thickly, the sensitive area reddened from his torment. His optics wander up; your soft skin is already flushed and glistening with sweat. He wonders how close you were to overloading; it wouldn't have taken much longer if he had kept going. But his spike grows restless, throbbing against his abdominal plating, begging to be touched by much softer palms than his own.

"Do you want my spike? Hm?" Ratchet teases, "My big spike?" He knows you can't fully understand him, but he can't help but vocalise his salacious fantasy. Holding onto you carefully, he lounges back onto the berth. He bites his bottom derma and lowers you to his lap, showing you his engorged spike, "Go on then, have at it. I'll frag your little brains out soon."

With an encouraging nudge from Ratchet, you straddle the shaft. To anyone else, it looks ridiculous. A tiny human desperately attempting to wrap their arms around a spike that's two times taller than they are. But to any depraved fleshy fragger, it's a sight to behold. Ratchet once thought of snapping a picture to potentially maybe sell it to the highest bidder for those who crave the feeling of such a soft body grinding on them, for he is sure there's a market out there somewhere, probably more than half of the crew onboard. Still, the shame of it all prevents him. There's an image to uphold being the resident medic.

Besides, he'd much prefer to keep you and that curious tongue all for himself.

He feels your little licks along him, a tiny tongue wiggling through the grooves and smooth surface, reaching crevices with hidden nodes that cause his pedes to curl. Soft ruts of your hips press your soaked valve right up against him. He knows what you want. The medic brings a servo to grip around his spike with you squished between, only tight enough to keep you in place as he begins self-servicing himself. He hears you letting out a surprised gasp, then a muffled moan, feeling your grip tighten around him.

"Yeah? You like that, squishy?" Ratchet moans, moving his servo slightly faster, "I bet you-nghh do. You look so cute like that. So tiny pressed against my spike."

Only a taste of your warmth is given through your body, like the little tease you are. Ratchet feels the perspiration dripping off you, likely due to the rise of his internal temperature and the energon being solely diverted to his array. It makes for a mediocre yet acceptable lubrication. He could spike you with it alone, but Ratchet prefers to use alternate practices in the interest of your health. Primus knows how careless other Cybertronians can be with their pets.

The medic is becoming increasingly aware of his overload and yours by the looks of things, your little optics squeezed shut, and your limbs clamped tight around his girth. He consciously decides to stop before you reach it. The idea of you squirming on his spike played on his processor a bit too well. He hears your soft whine at the loss of friction, which Ratchet can't help but chuckle at.

"I know, I know. I'm so mean, aren't I? Hold on, squishy." Ratchet lets you rest against his palm while his weeping spike whirs and clunks inwards to a much more manageable size for a human. His spike may be smaller, but there's not much difference in sensation. Thank Primus for the minicon-compatability modes, "You alright?"

A small squeak from you, yes. The medic watches intently as you waste no time climbing on, guided by his careful servo. You press your little valve against the tip, hissing as it barely slips through. Ratchet digs his pedes into the berth at the intense sensation, gritting his dentae as you bottom out. The feeling is incomparable to anything else; it's uniquely organic, warm, and so, so much softer than mesh.

He then wraps his entire servo around you, effectively turning you into one perfect spike sleeve only for him. Perfectly snug inside you, his grip clenches and unclenches around your torso before gently unsheathing himself from you again.

Ratchet is always careful when he uses you in this manner, ensuring his grip isn't too tight. He pushes you back down again, and he feels you melt into his servo. He hears your little whimpers and cries for him, to go faster, he believes. He learned a long ago that he doesn't need to understand your verbal mumbles when your fleshy hips try to hastefully force yourself down onto him, only halted by his own hand. His grip ever so tightens and gives in to your desperation, or more or less his own.

"You're so good for me, squishy. Hah- Lettin' me use your little valve like a toy." Ratchet mewls, his helm lolling off to the side as his optics flick between your face and the way his spike disappears inside you, "Such a helpful little pet you are."

He feels your velvet walls clamp down on him with each and every praise he gives, your little arms draped over the top of his thumb, clinging on for dear life. Every now and then, he massages your breasts pressed up against it, eliciting more dirty moans from you. Such softness that he can't help but take advantage of.

"So- ngh- tight," Ratchet vents heavily, "Primus, you've ruined me for my own race."

He felt a twinge of shame hearing himself; it was as if he had entirely let himself go. But he knows he can no longer turn back, not when you're the best little creature to ever stumble into his life. Despite him having you wrapped around his digits, it is indeed him wrapped around yours. The relief you bring to him after every gruelling shift, after every stressful day upon this damned ship, had him truly addicted.

And with an internal affirmation of decadence and with your soft little valve clenching and pulsing around his spike, he's sent right over the edge.

"Frag yes, sweetspark!-" He glitches out, pressing you down on his thick shaft as far as your soft little body can tolerate. His energon pulses deeply and shocks his entire body with an overload, shooting gush after gush of transfluids into you. His frame lurches forward, his hips driving into the berth as he milks his throbbing spike, his servo driving it deeper into you in a lust-filled daze. Your whines and cries only spur him on more, and he doesn't stop until you're shaking like a leaf in his hold.

It takes only a few more moments for a spent Ratchet to collapse back with you still in his grip, albeit slumped against his thumb. You're panting hard, and he can only just feel your tiny heart pounding against him. You must have had your own overload by the looks of it if the bliss-filled smile on your soft lips is anything to go by. His optics linger down to your soft, distended stomach and the dripping mess that splatters across your thighs and onto his pelvic plating. Now that truly is a sight for sore optics, he thinks to himself.

Ratchet huffs, bringing his other servo to pat the top of your head, "Now there's my happy little human, huh?" He smiles warmly when he feels you leaning into his touch, "How 'bout I fill you up some more?"

If this was what it took for the old medic to de-stress and relax, then so be it. If he were to be exposed to the rest of the crew, then may he join the rest of them. In secret, for now, he will proudly declare himself a lover of organic flesh.

[blaircmorgan]

Numbers in ACOTAR

This is the first time I'm sharing a theory of mine... I had posted this before on tiktok and Instagram (November 24th, 2023) I am reposting it bc I wasn't satisfied with the layout and it wasn't as detailed as this one. Oh and also English isn't my first language so pls don't mind if theres anything wrong in the grammar or if im bad at explaining xx

There will be SPOILERS for the entirety of ACOTAR series and House of Sky and Breath aka HOSAB!

SJM is known for using numbers like 3, 7, & 13 as symbolic constants in her worldbuilding. They’re familiar, but they’re also intentional. She uses these numbers like most fantasy authors.

However, there are some additional numbers that she has used, which are unusual of her to use and that make them stand out. Let’s take a look at these numbers:

21 & 5

In ACOSF chapter 56 (I will get back to this number later on) Gwyn gifts both Nesta & Emerie a book at Solstice. She tells them both to look at chapter 21 and page 5 (will come back to this number too).

She then tells us that this chapter is about the Valkyries death & Rebirth (aka herself, Nesta and Emerie).

“At the top of the first page, it merely said, Chapter Twenty-One.”

Notice how Twenty-One is written in cursive? Coincidence? I think not. SJM wanted us to notice this.

I noticed the unusual use of number 21 & 5. This was the first time SJM had used these numbers, so I did as Gwyn said. I checked chapter 21 and page 5 of each ACOTAR books to see what the key points of each chapter and page were. Then I also did some research on the number (21) itself as well.

Symbolism of 21

The number 21 in literature isn’t just a number. The number has been found in various works like art, mythology and literature. The number has been used to serve as a symbol of “completion, transition, or personal growth.”  More so the number has also been used to portray “characters’ coming-of-age, spiritual evolution, or a turning point in the narrative.”

As we hear from Gwyn, she made Merill add the Valkyries in a book, in chapter 21. We see that there is a turning point in the narrative with the Rebirth of the Valkyries.

The number is also used in the Bible. It is associated with resurrection. Death and Rebirth.

Now let’s ask ourselves this: Which two characters are associated with Death & Rebirth in ACOTAR?

Answer: Azriel & Elain

“I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection … that knife.” - A Court of Wings and Ruin

(Fawn symbolizes Rebirth)

CHAPTER 21

ACOSF

In ACOSF chapter 21 we see Nesta having a conversation with Elain. The conversation is about wether or not Elain should be scrying for the Dread Troves.

Elain wants to do it, but Nesta doesn’t want Elain to do it. With this they have an argument and Nesta says:

“Look at who decided to grow claws after all (...) Maybe you’ll become interesting at last, Elain.”

“Find me when you wish to begin.”

We see that Elain doesn’t want to just sit and be quiet anymore, she wants to do more, be more involved with helping. There is a turning point in the narrative here and perhaps even a hint at who the next book is about

Let’s also not forget the Feysand bonus chapter is right after chapter 21 so it could count as 21.5 & Feysand talked about Elain: “Let’s focus on helping one sister before we start on the other.” A hint to say  we will first read about Nesta, then Elain.

“I think she’s kind, and I’ll take kindness over nastiness any day. But I also think we haven’t yet seen all she has to offer (…) Don’t forget that gardening often results in something pretty, but it involves getting one’s hand dirty along the way.” “And thorn up by thorns” - Feysand Bonus

Feysand are talking about how there is more to Elain than we know.

ACOTAR

In ACOTAR chapter 21 we see Feyre at Calanmai.

“Everything about the stranger radiated sensual grace and ease. High Fae, no doubt. His short black hair gleamed like a raven’s feathers, offsetting his pale skin and blue eyes so deep they were violet, even in the firelight. They twinkled with amusement as he beheld me.”

This is the moment Feyre meets Rhys. This is the moment where we the readers get introduced to him as well. With Feyre meeting Rhys, there becomes a turning point in the story and as readers we knew Rhysand was going to have a bigger impact on Feyre’s story.

ACOMAF

In ACOMAF chapter 21 we see Feyre at the Weaver’s cottage.

“I froze, the ring now in my pocket of my jacket.”

Feyre gets the ring Rhysand’s mother had given to the Weaver. Rhys’s mother had said only his bride would be able to retrieve it from the Weaver (Which Feyre ofc did) and this ring ends up being Feyre’s engagement ring. Rhys had told Feyre about the ring after she had retrieved it. When they got engaged this ring was important (It’s even on the cover of ACOMAF). Feyre become the first High Lady wearing this ring. A turning point in the narrative; High Lady of Night Court.

ACOWAR

In ACOMAF chapter 21 we see Nesta is starting to train her powers (after being Made) with Amren. Not only that, but we also find out that Feyre is going to the Prison.

“To find my sister and Amren. To see which of them was still standing after their first lesson” “The fewer people who knew about my trip tomorrow to see the Carver, the safer it was”

Nesta training with Amren becomes important for Nesta’s character arc in ACOWAR, but it also becomes important for ACOSF. It also can be seen as a hint given by SJM about Nesta potentially getting her own book (Which she eventually got and again her training her powers were important.

And with Feyre going to the Prison, we get a climpse of Feyre’s future. The Bone Carver shows himself as her son to Feyre.

ACOFAS

In ACOFAS chapter 21 we get into Cassian’s POV for the first time (If we don’t count Wings and Embers). We see that there is something going on between Cassian and Nesta (hinting on the next book is theirs as SJM said; She put breadcrumbs in ACOFAS for the upcoming spin-off books in this book)

“He remained staring after her, that present in his hands. Cassian’s fingertips dug into the soft wood of the small box. He was grateful the streets were empty when he hurled that box into the Sidra.”

Cassian throws away the gift he had gotten for Nesta as she rejects it. This gift was important enough for Cassian to give to Nesta, but when she rejects it, he gets rid of it (seems familiar to another moment right?) The gift gets brought up once again in ACOSF.

(Added: Oh, I just remembered this; let’s not forget Feyre’s birthday is on the 21st of December! And she is 21 when she gives birth to Nyx! Again, Feyre’s birthday was a turning point in the world itself, if Feyre hadn’t been born that day, Prythian could still have been under Amarantha’s rule. with Nyx’s birth, we get a turning point in Feyre’s story, she’s having her own family with her husband/mate and the kid is the heir of Night Court —> Next High Lord)

PAGE 5

Cassian throws away the gift he had gotten for Nesta as she rejects it. This gift was important enough for Cassian to give to Nesta, but when she rejects it, he gets rid of it (seems familiar to another moment right?) The gift gets brought up once again in ACOSF.

ACOTAR & ACOMAF

In ACOTAR, page 5 is where Feyre shoots the wolf (Andras) with her ash arrow. This becomes the beginning of the turning point in Feyre’s story. She shoots a Fae, which leads to her ending up in the Spring Court.

In ACOMAF, page 5 we see Feyre struggling and dealing after everything she had endured Under The Mountain. This also becomes a turning point in Feyre’s story, it’s important for us readers to see, to understand and feel with her. We see that she isn’t doing well mentally.

ACOWAR & ACOFAS & ACOSF

In ACOWAR, there isn’t any pages with the number 5 and that is because Part 1 of the book is there. The Part is called “Princess of Carrion” which is a title given to Feyre.

In ACOFAS, page 5 the twins Naula & Cerridwen get’s mentioned several times. (Who are they friends with? Elain. And who do they get trained by and work for? Azriel.)

And last but not least, ACOSF, page 5 does not exist once again. The fifth page is Part 1 of the book and the Part is called: “Novice”

Novice means: a person who has just started learning or doing something.

This is an indication to Nesta’s journey, her being a Novice in the beginning of her book.

NUMBER 56

(HOSAB SPOILER!)

Now let’s get back to this number before we conclude this whole theory.

Did SJM also give us a hint from HOSAB?

In HOSAB there is someone called BansheeFan56. Now look at the username/address once again... Number 56!

Again, this isn’t a number SJM typically uses and for some reason this number stood out and then I noticed something...

In what chapter did Gwyn give the Solstice gift of Chapter 21 to Nesta & Emerie? (and basically us)

Answer: Chapter 56.

I guess SJM do love to use numbers as a hinting tool

CONCLUSION

Now with everything we know about Chapter 21 & page 5, we can come to the conclusion of who the next book is going to be focusing on.

In ACOSF chapter 21, Nesta notices that Elain is growing. In the bonus chapter 21.5, Feysand talks about how they will focus on helping Elain, after helping Nesta. Nesta’s self healing journey has been written, but her journey may not be over yet. I do think we will see more of her, but I don’t think there will be huge focus on her again like in ACOSF.

It’s time for us to focus on Elain now and there is a lot to discover about Elain.

SJM did say each book in the spin off will focus on a couple and Nessian has had their book now, so I’m certain that Nesta won’t get another book or trilogy.

Numbers has become a pattern in the ACOTAR series.

3 brothers, 3 sisters, 3 stars, 3 peaks, 3 mountains, 7 courts, 7 High Lords etc, but now we can also add 21 & 5 into this.

Chapter 21 gives us a hint for something important that is happening or going to happen

page 5 shows us some turning points as well.

The 21st chapter becomes key to the book and the upcoming one. And the 21st chapter of ACOSF hints for the upcoming book to be Elain's and most likely have Azriel as the love interest since he got a bonus chapter in ACOSF, like Cassian got a bonus chapter in ACOMAF.

Plus both Bonus chapters are focused on Elain as well.

With all that said, I want to say thank you to my friends who has helped and supported me with this theory. And also thank you (reader) for taking your time to read about my theory about SJM’s use of numbers. I hope it makes sense for you guys as it does for me and I hope you enjoyed reading this <33

I also like to thank our Gwynie for giving us the hint that the next book is focusing on Elain <3

[sqgeism]

If I may make a request?

I saw your vampire reader x Anaxa fic and absolutely loved it! Would you be willing to do it the other way around? (with Anaxa being the vampire) lowkey obsessed with the idea of vampire Anaxa. I can just imagine him doing another wild experiment on himself again and accidentally turning himself into a vampire. So now his S/O takes care of him by letting him feed off them.

Also happy birthday!! Hope your day is wonderful!

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵 𐙚 l - i - licky - c - k - licky - y ! | anaxagoras x gender neutral reader

love mail — 🍒 ⨾ hiiii thank u for the bday wishes!! cw suggestive.. 🧘‍♀️ thank u anaxacannibalau for helping me w this when i asked lol ❤️‍🩹 more vamp stuff coming eventually when i lock in.. also this was supposed to be short but i got carried away (*´▽｀)

coming home to your husband as a vampire should have been one of the things you had expected from the young genius, but you didn't. so now you've walked in on him draining a dead dove in the living room, how.. symbolic.

but he seemed to be relatively the same, just sharper teeth, red eyes, and far too much strength for him to need. oh, also the blood issue, that was always a concern.

you began unintentionally studying anaxa's behavior ever since he turned, taking down notes on things that may be helpful for research or understanding his new.. form. something of note was his reaction to his 'diet'.

animals and alike were working but anaxa never seemed to like them, not so big on their flavor and he always needed some sort of drink to 'wash away' the flavor, since he seemed much more relaxed after a glass of water. human blood bags were better, but he always grumbled that they were cold. never quite comparable to the real thing.

however something of note, was that the one and only time he fed on fresh blood, yours, was probably the best he had ever been. he was stronger, not at all crabby about it, and seemed to really like biting you. he got pretty into it until he could feel your pulse almost weakening, and immediately pulled away to care for you.

though since then, it seems he's trying to punish himself for almost 'killing' you. his vampiric urges won over his humanity, which almost scared him, he knew he still held great control compared to his bloodsucking kin. it still doesn't erase the fact he almost lost it, though, and has refused to drink from you ever since.

except you've always been a stubborn little thing, wouldn't be you without constantly worrying for his well-being, insisting he take the bite—to drain you, as if he's the victim. as if he didn't do this to himself and is just a helpless fledgling.

no, he was an intelligent man—with heightened senses and means of reading someone.

so yes, he could see right through your concern.

and yes, that means he knew your real intentions.

you wanted him to bite you, you were into it.

and by the titans he couldn't agree more.

even so, he still held some sort of restraint. whereas you began to wear much.. looser clothing around the house, exposing skin that was just soft to the bite, he stayed together.

till he didn't.

"titan forbid a man wants a little restraint around you." he huffed, pushing you down onto the bed firmly but not quite forcefully. "i want you safe," he says, making sure your head is comfortably rested on the pillows. "protected," one of your legs is lifted onto his adjacent shoulder to it. "but here you are. testing me like i'm some kind of hypothesis to study, do you really value yourself so little?"

breathless, you reply. "it isn't endangering myself if i know you wont hurt me."

seeing him looming over you, his eyes softly glow in the darkness of the room and there is nothing stopping him between the major vein behind your knee, and his teeth.

he then whispers quietly. "are you sure you trust me?"

"with my life, anaxa. with everything i am."

the chuckle he lets out shouldn't be attractive, but it very much is. especially with the fact he's leaning down to your thigh to bite.

"just tell me when it starts to hurt."

he presses a delicate kiss to your thigh, and you listen to the quiet hiss he lets out before biting.

while he could undoubtedly rip off the flesh from your bones, anaxa loves you too much to let his urges do so. and so he almost nibbles, and sucks on your thigh so gently you could mistake it for a kitten.

"mmgh." he grumbles, his brows furrowing as his eyes close shut—lost in the flavor of your blood, in you. but when is he not?

how is he supposed to ignore how pretty you are when you're forcing yourself to keep quiet, biting your bottom lip and making the prettiest noises. all while you still reach for his hand, for his comfort, which he's happy to give through reaching out to you and gently caressing your leg. "doing so well, dove. so well."

"an— anaxa— it hurts.."

then he's off just as quick as he bit, licking the mark and softly applying pressure to it. "good dove. now let your mind and body rest, i'll take care of you."

the most tender kiss is placed on the bite, slowly lowering your leg as his kisses trail upwards, all the way to your lips. "thank you, my sweet dove. sleep well."

© sqgeism or wtv (^_^;)

[citricacidprince]

doodle request on relativity falls - id love 2 see ur vers of fiddleford and where he stands in the story!! :DD

Of course!!!

Oh Fiddleford, my dearly beloved Fiddleford, he’s just a little guy who makes machines that hurt people and I love him for that <3

In my Relativity Falls AU Fidds is a kid from Tennessee who moved to Gravity Falls pretty recently, like in the past year.

He’s still really handy with mechanics, like a genuine prodigy, but he’s so riddled with anxiety that it’s a battle to get him to share any of his projects outside of his robots he makes to get revenge on those who wrong him!

He really does like hanging out with the twins, he thinks their both fun and is very happy they actually wanna be his friend, however their constant ‘Getting into weird and magical trouble’ is so stress inducing to him he’s going to get gray hairs by the time he’s 20 (Dipper can relate-)

I don’t have a lot of things solidified for him yet, other than I want him to be EXTREMELY tempted to use the Memory Gun on himself, to forget a lot of the horrifying things he’s seen over the summer, but is stopped by Candy (The inventor of the gun) at the last second. You see, Candy didn’t spiral like Fiddleford did in the show, she only ever used the memory gun on herself once. However, she used it to erase every bit of knowledge she ever learned about the weirdness of Gravity Falls, and Candy had spent YEARS of her life dedicated to it, she was arguably more curious about the weirdness of Gravity Falls than Dipper was. He was only curious out of morbid curiosity, she saw the whimsy and wonder in it all. So when Candy used the Memory Gun on herself and erased such a huge chunk of her memory it cracked her psyche, not leaving her a rambling and insane kook like Fiddleford, but more oblivious and unaware to everything around her while also being a liiiiittle ‘not all there’.

Between the two of them Candy definitely got the better end of the stick. Fiddleford was deemed insane and used the memory gun over and over again until he couldn’t even remember who he was anyone, his life falling apart. Candy used it once to make sure no one could ever use her research to hurt anyone after she learned her lab partner was literally working with an otherworldly being who could go into peoples heads and it cracked her mind because her research WAS her entire life, leaving her oblivious and dazed. However, Candy managed to find people who cared about her and were willing to care for her despite this. Sure she lives in the dump, but whenever a storm comes through or she gets hungry she can always go up to her friends Grenda, Mabel Mason, or even Pacifica at some point to help her out. Fiddleford had no one.

I want Candy to give Fidds a little pep talk, convincing him that despite those memories being scary and uncomfortable he’s going to need all of them because they’re what will help him grow as a person. He can’t just pick and choose which ones he wants because one day he’ll realize he doesn’t have any memories left to burn.

Maybe there could even be a moment where Fidds tries to use the memory gun on Candy because he convinces himself he NEEDS it and doesn’t want to deal with the consequences of hating choice, but freezes up when he realizes it does work on her anymore. The realizes what he just did because of how badly he wanted that memory gun seconds after he did it and starts to tremble, dropping the memory gun as he begins uncontrollably crying that he ‘didn’t mean it’ and he’s sorry. Candy wouldn’t hold it against him, just seeing a scared kid who was so desperate to make the mind numbing anxiety that he would do anything, and she’d hug him and tell him it’s okay before leading him back to the rest of the group.

Fiddleford makes me soooo ill I love him <3

[rocknrollbabe14]

Protector

Johnny Storm x reader

Rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. 

Warnings: slight self-doubt, p in v sex, breeding kink?, cream pie—If I forgot anything, let me know. 

Author's Note: I researched some about Johnny Storm and FF before writing this but don't hate me if it's not 100% accurate. 

**Also special thanks to @josephs-quinns for my amazing header!**

It had been days since Johnny had been knocked back to earth by the Silver Surfer. It didn’t matter that he was a superhero, part of him was still a human and he was hurt. He needed a few days to recover, and regroup with Sue, Reed, and Ben about how to handle things, and how to protect the world they’re living in. The public was beginning to lose trust in the Fantastic Four. 

They could no longer guarantee the public’s safety. He hadn’t been very talkative, staying mostly in the bedroom you both shared. He wasn’t eating or drinking. You were worried about him. 

Against your better judgment, you knocked on the door lightly. You waited for a response, giving you permission to enter. 

“Come in.”, Johnny’s soft deadpanned voice responded.

Feeling more hopeful than before, you gently pushed the door open to the bedroom. Johnny was lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He wasn’t his usual upbeat self. It hurt you to see him like this. But you didn’t quite understand what he was going through. You were human after all. 

“How are you doing babe?”, you smiled softly, sitting down on the bed beside him. 

He felt the weight of you, causing him to close his eyes for a moment before letting out a deep sigh. 

“Not good.”

You gave him a sad smile, placing your hand on his shoulder. “Johnny, you can’t be so hard on yourself. This isn’t just up to you.”

Johnny eyed you sadly, disappointment all over his face. “It’s my fault.”

You crinkled your face in confusion. “How? How is it your fault?”

You were trying to get to the root of why he was blaming himself so easily. This was not the Johnny you were used to. 

“Johnny.”

He eyed you. “We promised to keep this planet safe—that means keep you safe. And I’m failing you. Well, I just couldn’t imagine—if something were to happen to you.”

You stopped him immediately, sliding your hand down his arm, and taking hold of his hand. His fingers instinctively intertwined with yours. 

“Nothing is going to happen to me—or anyone else on this planet. I know you all can save us. I believe in you, Johnny Storm.”

Johnny looked up at you, his expression easing some. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He quickly sat up, letting go of your hand before taking you in his arms and kissing your head. You smiled softly, embracing Johnny back. He pulled back just a little, his hand resting on the back of your head, fingers laced between your hair. A soft smile spread across his lips, a sight you had missed the past few days. Your heart soared just seeing him smile. 

“What have I done to deserve you?”

You smiled, laughing lightly. “I don’t know—you just saved me that day.”

He remembered the day you were referring to. It started out as a normal day, one like any other. You were on your way to work, barely paying attention to your surroundings. Which was kind of stupid on your part, however, Johnny was nearby and trying to keep a low profile. That was hard since he and his family were launched into space, an experiment by his brother-in-law, Reed Richards. Somehow, the group was exposed to cosmic rays.

He noticed that disaster was about to strike, a pretty girl like you was about to get hurt badly He had to stop that. A car was barreling down the street, going way too fast. Johnny swooped in and saved you. From then on, you both had been inseparable. 

“Best decision I ever made.”

“Oh stop it.”, you giggled, causing Johnny to smile once he noticed you were blushing. 

“Never.”, Johnny laughed before he leaned in, beginning to kiss you. 

His kisses started soft but progressed quickly, becoming deepened. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what was going to happen next. You were receptive to his moves, kissing him back with just as much excitement and lust. He may have been really attractive, but Johnny was a good guy. He was the best thing that had ever happened to you. 

“Can I have you?”, Johnny asked breathlessly through kisses.

“Yes.”, you breathed back, eagerness laced in your voice.

Johnny had done a 360 from what his mood was earlier. He easily pushed you back on the bed, beginning to pull at your shirt. He brought it up and over your head while continuing to kiss you. He only broke the kiss when he had to. You could only imagine why all the women in the city thought Johnny was hot. Johnny wasted no time in moving his hands down your stomach, across your hips and thighs before finding the hem of your pants, and quickly pulling them down around your ankles.

He broke the kiss long enough to pull them off and toss them on the floor, keeping eye contact with you the entire time. It made your heart skip a beat and your stomach twist into knots. It had been a couple of weeks since you both had sex. Johnny was distracted with the Silver Surfer and Galacticus business. It had been eating at him but maybe this was just the distraction he needed. 

Wasting no time, you reached for his t-shirt, pulling on it. He chuckled through the kiss, knowing exactly what you wanted. 

“Want to take my shirt off?”

“Yes.”, you responded, almost breathless already and this had just begun. 

Johnny broke the kiss completely to lean up slightly, allowing you to pull his t-shirt up and off of him. All you could do was admire his chest and muscles. You had really won the lottery in all ways. Johnny smirked, noticing you taking the time to admire him. It made him want you that much more. He had definitely been distracted and had lost sight of some of the most important things in his life: you and his family. 

He was quick to pull his pants off, leaving him in his boxers. He chuckled lightly, noticing how hard he already was for you. You noticed too, beginning to smile. 

“Hm already hard for me, huh?”, you teased, smiling. 

“I am.”, Johnny responded confidently. “It’s been weeks since I’ve had you.”

Johnny continued listening as he threw off his last article of clothing, letting his cock spring free, finally feeling some relief. He was aching for you, he needed you. 

“I’m aware. But you’ve been busy and distracted with all of this chaos.”

He nodded lightly, positioning himself back on top of you. “I know. I’ve lost sight of the things that really matter.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. It’s been stressful. But tonight, I don’t want you to think about anything but us.”, you breathed before kissing him.

“I won’t.”, he promised. 

You smiled lightly before he went back to kissing you softly, feeling his cock brush again your entrance. It was like he was teasing you and you were already reaching the point where you felt like you couldn’t endure much more. He noticed, watching your eyes bat shut while you swallowed hard. He loved it when you were vulnerable like this. You trusted him.

“Ready for me?”, his voice asked deeply between feverish kisses.

“Yes, Johnny. Please.”, you squeaked.

He chuckled seductively before pulling away from you slightly, fixing himself at your entrance. You were already soaked for him. That only boosted his ego, knowing how much you loved him and desired him. Sure, the women loved him but he only loved you. Without you, he didn’t know what he would do. That’s what worried him so much with the Silver Surfer and Galacticus. 

“Say no more.”, Johnny smirked, thrusting his hips and inserting his full length inside you causing your eyes to go wide and a long, drawn-out moan to escape your pretty mouth. 

It was like music to his ears. He gave you a moment to adjust to his length, watching your eyes roll back in your head. The feeling of him inside you was pure euphoria. There was no other way to describe it. Your hands gripped the sheet, your knuckles turning white. And he hadn’t even started moving yet. He watched you for a moment, taking in this moment in case this was one of the last times. Johnny, stop thinking like that. 

Your eyes opened, and you sighed lightly. At that moment, he knew you were ready for him. He began thrusting deep inside you, soft and slow to start. You’d tell him if you wanted it harder. A series of small moans escaped your mouth as Johnny began to hit the spot that was just right. Your hands left the sheets, finding Johnny’s forearms before moving up to his biceps.

He had been working out lately, trying to make himself stronger. He let out a small groan as he felt your nails dig into his skin. 

“Feeling okay?”, he asked softly. 

You nodded, breathless. 

“Good, that’s so good. Fuck, you feel so good.”, he moaned as he closed his blue eyes, letting himself go. 

It was time to focus on the here and now, on you. 

“Do I?”, you managed to tease in a seductive voice.

“Fuck yes, baby. You’re so fucking sexy.”

You giggled lightly, relaxing under him. It felt good to hear Johnny say those things to you. It made your stomach twist and turn in ways you didn’t even think was possible. He was good at that—hell, Johnny was good at everything. 

“Whatever.”, you smirked at him, rolling your eyes playfully.

“It’s true,”, he groaned as he pulled himself almost all the way out before pushing his cock back deep inside you, causing you to moan and your eyes to roll back. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

He knew the moves that would drive you crazy and that’s just what he wanted tonight. 

“I kn—ow.”

“Do you?”, Johnny challenged playfully. “Seems like I’m just gonna have to show you.”

Johnny slowed his rhythm down, leaning down and kissing your neck gently. 

“And how do you plan—to do that?”

“Like this.”, he smirked, beginning to thrust faster. He managed to go deeper, hitting your g-spot and causing your eyes to roll back in your head.

You were too stunned to speak, only a small trickle of moans escaping your lips. He chuckled, feeling proud of himself. He leaned down, bringing himself flush with your body before kissing your neck. It felt good to forget the worries of the world, only focusing on you both. Nothing else mattered at this moment. 

“Fu—ck Johnny, feels so good.”, you managed to get out, voice slightly hoarse. 

“I’m glad, baby. It’s supposed to.”, he smirked. “You know we could be like Reed and Sue—have a little baby of our own.”

Your eyes widened. “You’re kidding, right?”

Johnny’s smile faded slightly, his confidence going with it. “No?”

“And why would you wanna do that?”

“Because seeing Reed and Sue with Frankie—well, it’s made me think that we could have that too.”

You began smiling, giggling lightly. Johnny was slightly, confused trying to figure out what was going on. 

“I just never pinned you for that.”, you finally said. “You’d really want a baby with me?”

Johnny smiled, somehow finding his rhythm again. “Yes, I would—I do.”, he stammered, correctly himself.

You giggled lightly, not used to seeing Johnny so flustered. It was cute, something else you loved about him. 

“You wanna put one in me right now?”, you asked.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”, you confirmed with a smile on your face. 

“I’d love to.”, Johnny responded, gaining his confidence back just as quickly as it had left. 

He had no expectations that this conversation would go in this direction but he was glad it did. It confirmed that you really wanted a life with him. You really wanted him. It was cute that he was so excited about this. You heard Johnny could be a player, but he just hadn’t found the right girl he wanted to settle down with. 

“You’re gonna be so cute pregnant.”, he groaned, his head falling back slightly. 

“Uh-huh.”, you teased back.

“I mean it—cute little round belly. And knowing it’s mine—it’s going to be perfect.”, he smiled.

You began feeling that familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach. The one where you knew you were close—very close to a release. All that tension was building up and it was almost time to let it go. Johnny could tell you were close too—he knew you so well. Your eyes fluttered shut, fingertips sinking into his biceps. 

“Johnny, I’m so—close.”, you swallowed hard. 

“Cum for me, baby. I’m so close to cumming so hard inside of you.”, he breathed, voice shaky.

That was it. He felt your body tense up, your cunt tightening around his cock. You let out a string of moans and he tried to thrust but once you tightened around him, it was game over. He watched your orgasm overtake you, something he never got tired of watching. It was the small things. 

“Fuck, I’m cumming too.”, he groaned as his cock began pulsing deep inside of you, the sweat evident on his forehead. 

You felt his warm seed flowing deep inside you, causing you both to smile at each other even if you were breathless. This was it—you were really trying to have a baby. Johnny stayed there, making sure every last drop went inside you, brushing your hair to the side. He was caring, making sure you were taken care of every step of the way. 

“Ready for me to pull out?”, he smirked, chuckling lightly.

“Yeah.”, you smiled.

Johnny pulled out, causing you to sigh at the loss of contact. He fell beside you, causing the bed to rock before he pulled you into his broad, thick arms. 

“Now you just need cuddles.”, you felt his breath before he kissed your forehead.

“Yeah, that was amazing. I love you Johnny—so much.”

“I love you too. You’re everything to me. That’s why I want to protect you and this world. It’s my job to be your protector.”

His words made your stomach twist, causing you to pull back from him slightly so that you were staring into his blue eyes. “You are, Johnny. I know you’ll always protect me.”

“I will. I’ll die trying to protect you—and hopefully soon, our little one.”, he smiled, moving his hand down to your flat stomach.

The thoughts of Johnny being a dad drove you crazy, making your stomach ache worse. He was already so good with Frankie. 

“You’ll always be our protector.”, your hand wrapped around the back of his neck, the other on his cheek. 

“Always.”, he responded, you both sharing a deep kiss. 

[illusioncanthurtme--art]

im curious, why do you like fiddlestan?

i like them in theory (all the pain potential, jeez!) but i feel like i'm missing something very obvious

Oh boy, you’re about to open pandoras box with this one -

I’ve liked fiddlestan for a LONG time, almost a decade now, (EXHIBIT A!!!), and honestly, I’ll admit that the ship is mostly based on speculation. So maybe you’re not missing something obvious, maybe I’m just delusional. I can’t speak for everyone, all I can do is explain why I like it: because it’s deeply rooted in several layers of irony. 

It’s ironic because fiddleford spent the better part of a YEAR dealing with fords nonsense. (And I KNOW, it’s not all bad, but really, especially if you read journal 3, that poor man was put through a LOT. He was definitely taken advantage of, at LEAST a little.) And after grappling with the acceptance that your longtime friend and unrequited love will never return your feelings, having lost the man to some crazy otherworldly nightmare machine, who shows up?? But his TWIN BROTHER who’s HUMBLE and KIND and TEN TIMES MORE DOWN TO EARTH?? It’s ironic, because they don’t know each other, yet they both have years of history with the same person who’s wronged them, and, they can make out about it!! THEY CAN FUCK TO SPITE HIM!! Stan stole his brothers name (and committed multiple crimes under said name), stole his house, and stole his research partner!! And… it's ironic because it’s Grunkle Stan and old man Mcgucket. That needs no elaboration.

(these are all my personal takes/headcanons! Like I said, this ship is based solely on interpretation, so I’m sure a lot of fiddlestanners like fiddauthor too. There’s like a billion different ways to interpret this ship.)

Also -

Their personalities are surprisingly similar when you stop and think about it!! You put those two in the same room, and they’d come up with some highly devilish scams together. They both have moral codes that are a little… ambiguous. And… I can’t believe I’m gonna pull this out as *canon fiddlestan documentation* but these are the kind of crumbs we’re working with here: MABELS DREAM IN THE SOCK OPERA CREDITS!!!! Although it’s not something that actually happened, and it’s just a reference to statler and waldorf, they are IN CHARACTER!! I think this is how they would actually act together if they were friends!! Just two old dudes, hanging out together watching tv, making fun of whatever they’re watching. If you’re in the room, you might get roasted too. Just a couple of old farts. It makes me so happy to think about. 

No fiddlestan rundown post would be complete without the fandoms EXTREME STRAW GRASP at Old Goldie and the Flame Retardant Raccoon. Soos calls mcgucket a “prospector guy,” amongst the other obvious comparisons you can make between fiddleford and goldie. Goldie is something stan used to like a long time ago, but he’s all old and fucked up now, best to throw him away and forget about it. BUT, as it turns out, there’s still good in that old thing after all. SO LETS GET MARRIED IN VEGAS!!!! It’s an extreme stretch, but… It’s a fiddlestan trope that they, at some point, have a crazy night of fun+romance in vegas together.  And I personally like to think that they return when they’re older+happy and tie the knot for reals. The raccoon speaks for itself - it’s one of the ways you can compare stan to a raccoon. And of course, mcgucket's raccoon wife. 

This is where it starts to get a little angsty, and if you “get all the pain potential” then you may have already given this some thought - but why does stan treat fiddleford the way he does if they used to love each other? The whole “UGH, this guy” comment in land before swine, looking all uncomfortable around him in fight fighters, choosing the spot furthest from where mcgucket lotions himself at the pool, and the “possum breath” comment in the last episode (and fiddleford actually has the mental clarity to look perturbed after he says it). Stan is hurt!!! He’s upset!! If they used to be a Thing after the portal incident, something must have happened between them for fiddlefords mental illness to get the better of him, and for him to choose to erase both stan and ford from his memories. I, personally, think that it was deep rooted internal homophobia (being raised in the south, that runs deep), and being scared for getting too close to stan. They were getting too comfortable, and that scared him. What about his family? And tate? His son can never meet stan. He can never let his wife know. And all the paranormal fuckery incidents leading up to this that already weakened his mental state, the portal incident, already having zapped his brain a few times, would have sent him over the edge. So I’m thinking they would have gotten into a fight of some kind, and fiddleford would have stormed off. Thus leaving stan having to live in a town with the person he USED to love, who doesn’t remember him at all!!! What!!!!! That sucks!!!! Only upside to fiddlefords memory erasure is that it makes it easier for stan to pretend nothing ever happened. But it’s still not easy. Also, if word ever got out that old man mcgucket used to be his boyfriend, he would never be able to live it down. So he compensates by being an ass towards him. Fuck. 

But then!! If fiddleford has the chance to heal!!! (say… maybe… when the twins are on the stan o war II) then stan would come back to gravity falls and see fiddleford looking like the person he knew thirty years ago!!!! WHAT!?!?! CAN’T RUN FROM YOUR PAST FOREVER, CAN YOU!?!?! And you KNOW fiddleford would remember what happened with stan. How long can stan keep himself in denial?? And now we’re opening up the can of worms: how the FUCK does this information reach ford?? That your brother used to canoodle with your research partner and might STILL BE?? That has so much potential too. 

Ok I wasn’t expecting to write those last two paragraphs but it’s A BIG PART OF WHY I LOVE FIDDLESTAN!!! It’s a crazy fucking rollercoaster ride!!! This thing has so many angles!!! And that’s just MY fiddlestan interpretation - I’ve seen a lot of different takes on the sort of story that would transpire between these two. But no matter what you’re cooking, It’s always a LOT. 

There’s probably so so much I didn’t touch on here. If anyone else wants to throw in their two cents as to why they like fiddlestan, please, add something!!!