#the difference between 10 doing..........this

[cherrygirlfriend]

─── YOU'VE GOT MAIL .ᐟ

...or off-brand gossip girl.

★ pairing.ᐟ frat!rafe x nerd!reader

★ summary.ᐟ rafe cameron is the golden boy of kildare university; certified frat boy, captain of the football team, relentless party animal with lines of girls to sleep with.

reader couldn't be more different; while she has the best grades in the whole school, she suffers from social anxiety disorder, and her social life is limited to her three best friends and the cat she secretly snuck into her dorm room.

both of them decide to join the anonymous chatroom for their campus, and start talking to one another, a friendship starting to form between the two; but neither of them know how different the other is.

★ author's note.ᐟ this is a day late because i was celebrating midsummer with my family yesterday <3 i hope you like it!!

YOU'VE GOT MAIL!

"i was gonna go see her, but when i went to our meeting place, she was there with another guy, and left with him. then when i asked her about it, she lied. so i'm pretty sure he's hooking up with him and i'm the biggest fucking idiot on planet earth."

the gears in vivian's head turned, until the small smile on her lips slowly vanished when she finally realized why the story was so familiar. "holy shit." she mumbled, eyes as wide as saucers, "you're him."

"what?"

"you're MalachiConstant."

"how do you know about that?" rafe asked, his breath catching in his throat, "did she... she told you?"

"wait... you know who she is? like, her real identity?" vivian asked, the moment uncomfortably sobering for rafe, the boy looking away, "why haven't you told her?"

rafe sighs, turning to look out at the scenery in front of him, "you wouldn't get it." "well, stop being melodramatic and try to explain it to me." vivian rolled her eyes, making rafe let out a quiet chuckle.

"i'm afraid she's gonna think i'm a douchebag, or something." "she probably will. she can be judgmental." rafe's brows furrowed, "said with affection." vivian rolled her eyes, "but trust me, she judges herself a lot more than she judges anyone else. and trust me, she's not hooking up with anyone. it's adorably pathetic how obsessed she is with you."

"really?"

"i don't think i've ever seen her smile as much as she has after you two started talking. she's not good with guys, or even people in general but she really seems to like you. i have no idea what she sees in you, to be honest."

"gee, thanks." "but she's been overthinking a lot since you've been ghosting her. she's been going crazy worrying that you don't care about her and she ruined… whatever you two have going on. but rafe, i want you to seriously think this through. she doesn't trust people easily, and i don't want for her to have to go through heartbreak. so if you're just gonna… dump her when you get bored of her… please, just… let her be." vivian brought her hand to his shoulder. "cause if you hurt her, i'm cutting your dick off."

rafe let out a chuckle, nodding, "can i… ask you for a favor?" "no promises." "can you just… not tell her yet? just wait a bit until i feel like i can do it." "although i am fond of gossip, it's not my secret to tell." vivian took a chug out of her bottle, "but you should tell her soon. i think she deserves to know the identity of the random guy she's talked online who she's pretty much head-over-heels for. even if it's a douchebag like you." vivian grinned, stepping towards the patio door, "good night, no-longer-mystery guy." vivian's words make the boy snort, "night." he mumbled, the girl leaving the patio, unaware of the girl listening over to the conversation.

you were wrapped up in a blanket, 10 things i hate about you, you and vivian’s shared comfort movie playing on your laptop while angel was in your arms, the little kitty purring as you stroked her soft fur. you looked down at your phone, at all the texts vivian had ignored.

YOU: i'm so sorry.

YOU: i never should've said those things.

YOU: i was hurt and i took it out on you. it wasn't okay, but i hope you know how much i regret it. i miss you.

however, your wallowing in self pity was interrupted when you got a new notification from KildareUChats. you opened the app, your heart beating against your chest when you noticed that MalachiConstant had messaged you after a day of radiosilence.

MalachiConstant: im sorry ive been a dick MalachiConstant: and i miss you MalachiConstant: im drunk but im an idiot

you couldn't help the small smile that took over your lips, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. you kicked your feet against the mattress, letting out a quiet, excited squeal that caught angel's attention, "sorry." you mumbled, pressing a kiss on top of her head, before turning back to your phone, texting MalachiConstant back.

YOU: idiot. ❤️

you woke up to the sound of someone bursting into your room, your heart nearly beating out of your chest, until you noticed the flurry of pink hair entering your room, carrying white boxes that you immediately guessed were donuts.

"jesus, vivian!" you mumbled groggily, running a hand through your messy hair, "you scared me half to death…" "sorry, man." she giggled, putting the donuts down onto your bedside table, "i'm still a bit drunk from a party i went to last night." she crashed onto your bed, turning to look at you.

"i'm sorry about the things i said to you, viv." you frowned at her, your mind still groggy with sleep. the girl smiled, taking your hand in hers. "i'm sorry, too. boys are the stupidest thing to fight about. totally not worth it."

you chuckled softly, "well, speaking of boys…" "oh, god. mystery boy news?" "sorry, we don't have to talk about him if you don't want to." you feel your cheeks getting warm, vivian grabbing the box off the nightstand and placing it between you two; when she opened, your suspicions were proven correct. donuts. "if i'm gonna have to listen to your love life without yacking, i'm gonna need some donuts in me."

RAFE: hey

UNKNOWN: who dis?

RAFE: rafe RAFE: i asked top for your number

UNKNOWN: ok

RAFE: listen, i need some advice RAFE: should i ask her to meet up again?

UNKNOWN: jesus christ UNKNOWN: you asked top for my number for advice on my best friend?

RAFE: pls viv

VIVIAN: fine. then do it loser VIVIAN: and this time don't leave before she can get there. and tell top to not give out my number again.

rafe rolls his eyes and takes in a deep breath, going to KildareUChats, his heart racing in his chest; he types the message and erases it for about a thousand times, before he was finally satisfied with it, pressing enter before he could regret it.

MalachiConstant: hi, i know we were supposed to meet and i kinda fumbled it, but i wanted to ask if you'd be willing to try it again? i get it if it's too late but you can't blame a dude for trying. anyway lmk.

rafe's message was marked 'read' within seconds of him sending it; but several minutes ticked by with no response. maybe you were trying to find a way to let him down easy, or telling him you weren't interested… but soon enough, he got a response.

AnnabelLee: let's do it. monday, at 6pm in front of the fountain?

MalachiConstant: it's a date.

rafe ran a hand through his hair as he reread your message over and over again; he finally felt like he was ready to tell you who he was. even if things change.

monday morning came, but for some reason, you didn't feel nervous at all. if anything, it was like your stomach was bustling with butterflies, and you felt... ready to meet whoever you'd been chatting to online.

your earbuds were in your ears as you made your way towards your first lecture for the day, humming along to fleetwood mac's sara. you spotted vivian and zainab almost immediately, but the two girls didn't seem to notice you, too busy hunched over and looking at something on vivian's phone, giggles echoing around the classroom.

you made your way over to them, and as soon as you pulled your chair back, the two of them looked up at you in complete alarm. you let out a soft laugh, looking between the two with furrowed brows as you sat down, "who died?" but neither of your friends laughed, you started to feel unnerved, "did... did someone actually die?"

vivian and zainab shared a look, before sliding the girl's phone over to you. you picked it up, but as soon as you saw the screen, your blood ran cold. it was a post on KildareUBlindItems, and the subject was 'MalachiConstant'.

"what..."

'overheard at friday's party: football team captain and fraternity president with the initials r.c was telling a certain pink-haired party girl that he's secretly into some chick he met online who he hasn't even met. he goes by MalachiConstant. no one seems to know who the mystery girl is.'

your eyes widened as you re-read the post, starting to put the pieces together... you turned to look to vivian with your jaw clenched in anger, unable to bite your tongue.

"rafe cameron is MalachiConstant? and you knew?"

TAGLIST: @yktayy9669 @tinythebunni @dywho @melalsworld @akobx @samwinchesterisawhore @st8rkey @jjasmiineee @ltristessedureratoujours @a-lovers-card @uselessnewt @lunaleah @letstryagaintomorrow @cinnamqnnlatte @papapoy @kay133sposts @wtfisastiles @butterfly1c @emmiesummers @melodyyybubbles @toomanywhitelies @littl3loveydovey @scne-vampire @alwaysmaybank @mysticbby2009 @luna443 @drewstarkeyswife-7 @flowerluvr @kisselxoll - cont. in com

[humanjarvis]

an off day

synopsis: zayne has an off day, so you make him take one.

tags: reverse comfort, angst, fluff, heart to heart, zayne shuts down at the hospital one day, he cries in your arms on a bench, he’s having an existential crisis, i accidentally wrote overachiever gifted kid zayne, think of him like a confused baby deer, size difference, side character death, a very infatuated siamese cat, something something zayne’s subtle attempts to reclaim dominance/dependability after being taken care of (you notice them all). takes place in autumn because i yearn for it

pairing: zayne x fem reader

word count: 3.5k

a/n: zayne brain

Akso Hospital’s parking lot is the emptiest you’ve ever seen it.

The Wednesday starlight is partly to blame. There’s not much traffic at 8 p.m. on a weekday—which makes your current predicament all the more confusing. 

It’d been a standard day at work: emails, meetings, and sneaking out 10 minutes early. But right before you’d stepped into the shower at Zayne's house, your phone had rung.

“Yvonne? Hello?” 

“Um, hello! I’m so sorry to call like this, but we really don’t know what else to do. Dr. Zayne is really…shaken? He’s not hurt, but he’s not responding to any of us, and you’re his first emergency contact. Please come down to Akso as soon as you can!”

You’d re-dressed in record time. 

As you step through the sliding doors, their glass panels reflecting the towering streetlights, you note the hallways are as empty as the parking lot. You suppose it’s a good thing—for a hospital not to be busy, and all—but the absence of friendly faces makes you quicken your steps. 

At the end of the hall, you jam the elevator button to his floor, unease prickling at the back of your mind. 

You sigh in familiarity when the doors open. A confused-looking Yvonne is speaking with the receptionist at the front desk, but she ends the conversation as soon as she spots you. 

“Thank you for coming. I didn’t know what to do! I just—this doesn’t happen to him,” she rushes out, shaking her head profusely. “I see it with the others, but never him.” 

You touch her elbow in gratitude and offer a smile. “Thank you for calling. You did the right thing. Where is he?” 

Relieved, she turns toward the end of the hallway, where the edge of a sleek wooden bench protrudes past the wall. “Just down there,” she says, pointing a finger around the corner. “Thank god we aren’t busy tonight. It’s been deserted up here since the last surgery.” 

The last surgery. 

“Thanks,” you breathe, trying not to wonder what that could mean. “I’ll take care of it from here, don’t worry. You should go home and get some rest.” With a short wave, you set off down the hallway, passing vibrant anatomic murals and pediatric patient artwork. With every step, your breaths shallow and your pulse quickens. You don’t know what you’ll find at the end.

Your steps falter when you round the corner. 

In all the time you’d known him, Zayne had never wavered. He offered tireless strength and support—displayed composure you could only dream of. He was your Atlas, except he shouldered the weight of the world not out of punishment, but out of duty. 

But in that moment, he was an uprooted anchor, drifting through sloshing seas. 

His bowed head, shaky hands, and shuddering shoulders. The sheen coating his pale face. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’d seen a ghost. 

With an ache in your chest, you approach, but Zayne’s head stays low. Only when your favorite teal-and-white tennis shoes come into view do his glistening eyes snap up. 

Shock and longing color his face a rosy pink, matching the fading imprint from his surgical mask. Wordlessly, he reaches for you. 

Unsteady arms wrap around you as you move between his legs, cradling his head into the crook of your elbow. Your chin covers his hair this way, and you slant your cheek to nuzzle into him. 

“Hi,” you whisper, gently stroking his soft strands. 

“Hi.” By the rasp in his voice, it’s the first time he’s spoken in hours.

Your heart clenches. “Are you tired?”

A long exhale fans across your arm. And then, he nods.

You’re forced to blink back tears of your own when his drop onto your skin. 

This was uncharted territory. Thousands of thoughts, thousands of actions mill about in your mind, but you’re not sure which to settle on. Right now, you can only tell him what you’d want to hear. “I love you.” 

His voice trembles as his arms tighten. “I love you, too.” 

You’re not sure how long you embrace him. When his breathing evens, you lift his chin, smiling gently down at his flushed face. “Is your shift almost over?”

He nods once, solemn.

“Let’s go back to your office. I’ll sit with you.” 

You successfully coax him off the bench, guiding him through the halls to his empty office. But after a few minutes of signing paperwork, his gaze is on you. He eyes you forlornly, not saying anything—and he wouldn't have said anything had you not noticed.

Your lips quirk. “Your work is down there, silly.” 

He blinks. 

Chuckling softly, you rise from his guest chair and hang your purse on its arm. A few steps later, and he’s pulling you toward him and burying his face in your stomach. 

You let him, but raise his head soon after. Again, he greets you with glassy green eyes.

“I’ve never seen you like this before,” you murmur.

“I’ve never been like this before.”

Quiet ambient music fills the car ride home. 

Pulling into his driveway, you switch off the ignition and quickly circle around to take his hand when he steps out. 

Pretending not to notice the way his cheeks flush, you lead him to the doorway and press his thumb to the sensor, letting out a breath when it lights up green. 

Once inside, you head straight for his bedroom. In the dim lamplight, you help him out of his disheveled scrubs, smiling softly when he avoids eye contact. After undressing yourself, you tug him toward the master bathroom, where you run the shower on hot. 

Through the mist, you lather soap over his body, washing his hair of the beads of sweat that’d gathered before your arrival. 

You step out once you’re both clean. Zayne follows, reaching for one of your matching towels, but your hand intercepts his halfway. Shaking your head softly, you lift the towel from the rack and wrap it around him, catching the steam that still rises from his skin as you gently pat him dry. Through it all, he allows you, taking his nightclothes from you when you finish.  

Under normal circumstances, you’d expect a smart remark—a sideways glance as he subtly reminded you he wasn’t a child. But tonight, Zayne is pliant. Deferent. He utters not a word of protest, his trusting hazel eyes trained on you as he waits for you to move him along.

Once you dry yourself off and slip on your nightshirt, you do exactly that: taking his hand and heading back toward his room, gently pushing him down on the bed. His grip tightens when you turn to switch off the lamp, and it takes a soothing grin and touch of his cheek for him to reluctantly let you go. 

When you slide into bed next to him, his arms encircle you instantly. He tucks his head in your shoulder, and you reach up to stroke his raven hair.

“Good night” are your last words tonight.

“I love you” are his. 

It’s late morning when Zayne hurries down the stairs, the pads of his slippers smacking against the floor. When he sees you at the kitchen counter, tapping your phone next to a bowl of cereal, he stops in his tracks. “When someone’s alarm doesn’t go off, it’s generally nice to wake them up in its place,” he chides, visibly trying to suppress his irritation.

“Generally,” you repeat. “But…what if you didn’t go to work today?” you ask, tone gentle so the suggestion doesn’t send him into shock.

It’s only slightly helpful. Suddenly wary, he narrows his eyes in suspicion. “What do you mean? My rounds are scheduled as normal, and I have several reports to complete.”

You scratch your neck. “But what if I already called Yvonne about it, and she and Greyson and your whole team agree you shouldn't go to work today?” you reveal with a sheepish smile.

“You….” His eyes fall closed in an intense grimace. “And all of them agreed?”

Smile widening, you put your palms up in defense. “Yes. But you don’t have to spend the day inside! I’ve been looking for things for us to do around town. Think of it like a short vacation!” you cheer, hopping off your chair to wave his arms in excitement. 

Oversized sleeves billowing in the air, Zayne sighs in defeat. “What do you have planned?”

After a quick drive to the parking garage downtown, you walk hand-in-hand past closely packed buildings, coming to a stop outside a recently opened cat café.

Spinning around, you make a ta-da gesture. He snorts. 

“The first time we tried to come, you got called in for an emergency surgery. So I thought we could go in today! But only if you want to, of course,” you say quickly. 

The beginnings of mirth glitter in his gaze. Stepping forward, he holds the door for you like he always does—as if the way he’d let you lead him last night were but a distant memory. You study him for a moment, noting the quiet plea in his hazel eyes, before brushing a kiss on his cheek and strolling inside.

“Welcome!” the greeter calls as the strong scent of coffee hits your nose. “We’re glad to have you here! Feel free to take a look around and play with the cats, and order when you’re ready!” 

Nodding your thanks, you shift your attention to the cats’ biographies on the wall to your right. “Look, Zayne! This one was rescued from a house fire an—Zayne?” 

The man who’d walked in right behind you has disappeared. Panic fills you for just a second—until you spot him at the coffee bar, nodding along as the barista repeats his order. Him and his sweet drinks. 

Marching up to collect him, you tuck your arm in his and settle at a table on the back wall. 

Three white kittens, most likely siblings, chase balls of fuzz in the corner. To your left, an adult Persian cat lounges on a tower, its tail lashing with superiority. As you wait for your order, you and Zayne are so engrossed in your surroundings that you fail to notice the besotted Siamese in front of you. 

Until it leaps and lands right on Zayne’s lap, that is. 

Mroww, it purrs, affectionately bumping its head into his chin. Startled, he looks to you with wide eyes, hand hovering over the cat’s arched back. 

You almost fall out in laughter. Almost. But instead, you spare him and nod encouragingly, guiding his hand down to pet its sleek coat. “Well, who’s this?” you chuckle, running your fingers through its short fur. 

“That,” your server interjects, setting your drinks down and scratching the cat’s ears, “would be S’mores. She’s the oldest cat here. And very friendly.” 

“Hello, S’mores,” Zayne murmurs, and she bumps his chin again. 

S’mores doesn’t leave you—doesn’t leave him, rather—for the next hour. When he stands to throw your cups away, she meows in protest, digging her claws into his shirt. For a moment, he looks as though she’s going to eat him, but he schools his nerves quickly, this time. “Now, now,” he shushes. “We’ll be back.” 

A few shops down from the café lies a retro ice cream parlor. The shopkeeper’s bell jingles as you step inside, surveying the pink stools and checkered floors. 

“Hi!” you greet the teenage cashier. “He’ll have three scoops of green tea, and I’ll get one of taro, thanks.”

“Cups or cones?” the cashier asks, looking utterly bored with everything but the man behind you. 

You smile at her in understanding. At least she has taste. “Cups, please.” 

Hearing rustling behind you, you turn your head and see Zayne reaching into his back pocket. “Oh, I’ll get it,” you chirp, digging inside your purse for your wallet. 

He barely spares you a glance before laying a generous bill on the counter. “Can she get an extra scoop, please?” 

Taking small spoonfuls of ice cream, you follow the winding sidewalks outside the parlor in comfortable silence. Before long, a city park comes into view, its verdant grounds preceded by a shimmering pond. The ducks’ multicolored feathers are almost iridescent in the afternoon sun.

Pointing to the wooden feeder ahead, you slow your steps. “You want to?” 

Before you finish the question, Zayne is already pulling coins from his wallet, handing them to you with a soft smile. “Of course.” 

After you slide the coins in the machine, unappetizing pellets fall from the dispenser into a complimentary feeding cup. For several minutes, you take turns sprinkling them into the water, watching as the ducks paddle over to you with intrigue. The bobs of their sleek heads create turquoise ripples across the surface, while you rest your own on Zayne’s shoulder. 

After a while, he takes your empty ice cream cup and heads for the nearest trash can. 

You smile at him when he returns. “You’ve been so chivalrous today. It’s like I’ve stepped into a fairytale.” 

He cuts his eyes at you before placing a hand on the small of your back, urging you down the twisting park path. “If you don’t feel like that every day, then it seems I need to work harder.” 

“‘Work harder’ shouldn’t be in your vocabulary,” you chide. Then, your voice softens. “You always make me feel that way. Today, it’s just…extra. And I love gentleman Zayne—very much—but he’s just as cute when he’s clingy in his sleep,” you promise, nudging his thigh with your hip. 

He clears his throat. “He’ll make a note of that.” 

After a few more minutes of walking, a fork in your path prompts a moment of indecision. Go left, and you’re sure to have the conversation that he may not be ready for. Straight? An hour more of idle chatter before you head home in the setting sun. And right…well, to the right is the 4-foot-tall jungle gym, so you’re not too worried about ending up there. 

Before you can ask which way, Zayne tightens his grip on your waist and turns left, ambling over to the blue and gray swing set. 

You smile to yourself. He’s being brave.

As you settle on the sun-warmed swing, the tips of your shoes drag back and forth in the gravel below. Dust kicks up on the pristine leather, turning white to beige, but Zayne’s earnest voice interrupts your grieving. 

“I had a good day today. Thank you.” 

You’re not swinging very high—only a couple feet off the ground—but compared to him, you might as well be on Mount Everest. Chuckling softly, you reach down and join hands, pulling him with you into the air. “What was so good about it?”

He delays his answer, his startled eyes widening with each rock back and forth. Only when he gets used to the movements does he elaborate. “It was peaceful. I did things and went places I’d never had the chance to before. And I got to spend time with you.” 

You hum. “So it has everything to do with where you were, and nothing to do with where you weren’t?”

He’s silent for a moment. Trees rustle in the quiet, their scarlet leaves dancing on wavering limbs before succumbing to the gentle autumn breeze. 

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don't want to.”

“It’s alright,” he murmurs. “It’s only fair I tell the one who came to rescue me why she had to.”

“It might be fair,” you nod, turning to meet his emerald gaze. “But do you want to?”

His lips twitch. “I want to.”

Digging your heels into the gravel below, you halt his and your momentum, giving him your undivided attention. 

“A teenage patient received an emergency surgery yesterday. Complications with congenital heart disease,” he begins. “I’d spoken with him a few times prior, and we got along quite well. Aspiring physician, set to graduate at the top of his class. The only thing was, he’d often worry about���missed experiences. He didn’t attend school dances or athletic events. His older sister gave birth last spring, but he missed it due to a college entrance exam.” 

“That sounds lonely,” you offer, rubbing your thumb across the back of his hand. 

“Yes. He was very lonely,” Zayne agrees. “He was lonely up until the moment he flatlined on the operating table.” His hand flexes in yours, and you tighten your grip. 

Blowing out a breath, you ask what you already know the answer to. “And he…?”

“Did not respond to resuscitation attempts.”

Your chest hollows at the words. To lose someone so young…to lose anyone at all…. “I’m so sorry, Zayne. If I had known—”

“Oddly enough, his passing wasn’t the main cause of what happened yesterday. It only exacerbated the issue at hand.” 

Knitting your eyebrows, you wait for him to continue. 

“Yesterday,” he pauses, “was a lesson learned. Because I realized I also lack those experiences. And I thought, if someone a decade younger than me left his life with so much regret, then….” He swallows thickly. “If I were to die today, I’d have dedicated my life to this pursuit. But what would I have done outside of that? What stories would be told of me, other than those that took place in a classroom or a hospital?” 

A mix of emotions renews the ache in your chest. Pity, fear, surprise, understanding. “You saw yourself in him.” 

Watching a group of boys climb on the jungle gym, he interlaces your fingers. “I did. For a second, it was me on the operating table. Is that selfish of me?”

Humming, you draw swirling patterns in the gravel. “I don't think so. I'd hope no one would,” you muse. “Zayne, you…are the smartest, most hardworking person I know. But sometimes, I wonder how much that took from you.” At the admission, you expect his eyes to widen, his lips to tug into a frown. But all he does is eye you expectantly, with all the trust in the world. And you know it’s okay to continue. 

“You always knew what you wanted to do growing up—you wanted to help people. You wanted to save lives. You wanted to practice medicine. There was always a goal, right? And you were always sprinting toward it. I mean, you were in algebra when your agemates were still stuck on multiplication tables,” you recall, playfully wiggling his hand in the air. “But maybe in choosing what you wanted to do…you overlooked who you wanted to be?” 

The question floats like the leaves in the wind, and for a moment, you think he’s just like them. Beautiful, vital, but just a little lost. He purses his lips, a contemplative pout forming on his face, but says nothing. 

“Forget about medicine for a second, Zaynie. Don’t look at me like that—I know it’ll be hard, but try. Now, what sort of things do you like? What are you passionate about? When you look back on your life, what kind of experiences will you want to have had? A few minutes ago, you asked how others would describe you. But how would you describe yourself? Who is Zayne when he’s not striving for something?” 

“I….” He pauses, voice dwindling into a whisper. Last night’s expression creeps back onto his face. “I’m not sure.” 

“That’s okay.” Nodding your encouragement, you rise from your swing and stand just in front of his, slotting your legs between his knees and cupping his cheek. You’re just a bit taller than him like this. “To me, Zayne is a gentleman who likes sweets and animals and is adorably afraid to swing too high. He helps people, not because he’s a doctor, but because he’s kind and compassionate—even when he doesn’t show it. And he’s still figuring some things out about himself, but that’s okay because I'm proud of him.” You beam. “Your turn.” 

Sometime during your speech, his face had softened. He chuckles lightly before obliging. “To me, Zayne is…a pragmatist. And he’s cautious, not afraid,” he adds, narrowing his eyes when you shrug. “He can be cold when he doesn’t mean to be. He’s curious, but often too timid to satisfy those curiosities without someone by his side. And he wants to be someone…who doesn’t live with regret for his missed experiences,” he finishes, hazel eyes twinkling up at you. “Perhaps that’s why I felt so happy today. You give me new experiences, every time we’re together. Which is why, if you’re willing, I’d like to make up for lost time and make more memories with you. What do you say?” 

“I say,” you drawl, flitting your eyes to the structure behind him, “have you ever been on a carousel?” 

His brows furrow as he turns his head, catching your hand in his when it slips off his cheek. “I can’t say that I have.” 

“Then let’s go!” you giggle, hauling him up with all your strength. “The sun won’t set for another 30 minutes. And while we’re at it, I’ll race you there!” 

[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.”

taglist ✎.. @liaatiny @izzyy-stuff @1-800-jewon @hyunelixbun @lunesdesire @n0-thisispatrick @lickingan0rchid @tyunderella @fancypeacepersona @hyunj00 @hwang-choon @soohashits @xylatox @lilbrorufr @blossommi @beestvng @minji-willstay @sunoolver @heesmiles @hyukascampfire @biteyoubiteme @buttercreamerie @bangtanuniversa @sooberryworld @tyongyuta @boba-beom @beomgyusluver @billiondollarworth @jellyyjn @hyukaaa @beomgyus11 @soobabby @bbykaixx @i-am-not-dal @estrnrea @heejamas @whoisgami @97z-jk @lovesickchoi @neobeomjii

(if your tag is not working please check your settings to make sure that your blog is not hidden!)

→ want to get notified whenever a new dream is published? join my TAGLIST ᰔ © all rights reserved ─ @beomiracles 2024

[celestiaras]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ huntrix idol spotted having a romantic lunch date?! ]❜

━━━ .°˖✧ requested by ✨ anon ˚₊ ⊹

ft. rumi, zoey, mira (separate) x f! reader — kpop demon hunters

╰₊✧ you’re just trying to go on a peaceful date with your girlfriend, but nosy reporters have the tendency to get in the way┊1.3k words

contains: secret established relationship, paparazzi, reader isn't an idol

➤ author's note: my writing is really rambly and i kinda went off prompt, i’m sorry feel free to send in something else T-T

trying to juggle the busy life of a worldwide sensation kpop idol while also secretly dating someone outside of that atmosphere isn’t for the weak, but your girlfriend promises that all the struggles that come with it are worth the reward of being with you and having an ounce of privacy. most of your dates are restricted to the privacy of her dorm, usually consisting of much-needed cuddling on the couch time with snacks and an action movie after a long day of practice or a make-shift candle-lit dinner where you’re probably eating delicious take out (none of these girls can cook for the life of them, except for rumi, but she can’t make anything more complex than spaghetti). while always content with your simple romance life, when the special day of your anniversary arrives, your girlfriend is insistent on doing something different, even if it requires planning a stealth mission to reach your destination unseen. 

since she has one of the most recognizable face and hair in the nation as well as having huntrix posters plastered everywhere, dressing up in a baggy jacket, medical mask, and sunglasses are a must to cover up as much as possible (it looks suspicious as first, but once she actually leaves the house, it’s surprising how no one cares enough to spare a second glance). once you arrive at the restaurant she made the reservation at, she reluctantly takes off the oversized clothing to reveal a more appropriate outfit to be granted entry and is escorted inside, but it’s difficult to ignore the shocked looks the other guests are giving her with you following closely behind. 

as you settle in and enjoy your meals, the sudden sound and sight of a camera flash interrupts your peace. it appears one of the other customers has tipped off some of the major celebrity news outlets as reporters and their cameras press against the glass windows trying to get a shot of what’s going on, knowing that the rose in the center and loving looks exchanged meant more than a lunch between friends…

━━━ .°˖✧ rumi!! ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ the best out of the three at not drawing any attention to herself on the way there. she minds her own business, knowing the best way to go unbothered is to remain hidden and to blend in with people around her. she plans out the route to get to the restaurant, point “a” to point “b,” holding your hand the entire time. 10/10, you successfully managed to go completely undetected! 

╰₊✧ when she notices the reporters, the first thing she does is sigh and think of the best way to get rid of them. although she doesn’t acknowledge their presence, the strained look on her face tells all that there needs to be said. rumi would likely make a deal with them, they could come inside and take a few good photos (with your permission, obviously) then they need to beat it.

“i feel awful,” she muttered, playing with her food using her chopsticks while deep in thought. “this was my idea to come out here, but now we've been found out and everyone knows when we’ve been working so hard to keep it a secret…”

“hey! don’t worry about it, it’s not that big of a deal,” you assured, reaching out to hold her hand in yours, “they’re gone now, so let’s just enjoy the rest of the night, okay?”

╰₊✧ even though the cat is out of the bag, rumi still can’t help but be a little skittish about it. her privacy is something she values a lot, and having one of her secrets exposed to the public makes her nervous about her other secret being revealed as well. not much in the relationship will change, except she might be even more tense than usual about going out together, so give it some time before she relaxes and is willing to loosen up about it.

━━━ .°˖✧ zoey!! ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ the worst out of the three at not drawing any attention to herself on the way there. it’s not a normal outing, it’s a date with her girlfriend! the stress gets to her, and she might not be as subtle as she thinks she’s being, her behavior being comparable to a ninja student on their first day of class. 5/10, attracted a lot of attention, but at least no one recognized her and you got a big laugh out of it!

╰₊✧ when the cameras start flashing and reporters start asking questions, she struggles to ignore them because she’s nothing if not a people pleaser and doesn’t want to hurt any of their feelings by ignoring them. of course, you come first, and if you’re uncomfortable with it, she will dismiss them immediately (to the best of her ability, she feels so guilty), but if you give her the go-ahead, then she’ll probably host an impromptu interview right then and there.

“we met during one of our shows! she was my make-up artist, and i swear, it was love at first sight when she did my eyeshadow— like, wow, fireworks! she’s so gorgeous, i have to ask for her number, right now!”

you couldn’t help but smile at her words, heat rushing to your face as you laughed, “the fireworks are probably an overexaggeration—”

“nuh uh! it was like the fourth of july back in the us!

her passionate rambling about how much she adored you won the hearts of the people as they gushed about how adorable your relationship was. idols typically keep their dating lives private for good reason, but zoey’s openness was refreshing, and her pride to call you her girlfriend was evident to everyone. 

╰₊✧ once the news articles go viral and everyone knows, it’s like she broke free from her shackles. she loves you so much that she’s always wanted to shout it from the rooftops, and now she finally can! if you’re alright with it, she’ll post photos of the two of you together on her social media, run to kiss you after performances, and dedicate some of her songs to you, effectively winning the title of the cutest couple alive. 

━━━ .°˖✧ mira!! ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ not too bad at not drawing any attention to herself on the way there, but her downfall is her overprotectiveness. if anyone’s gaze lingers on you for even a moment too long, her head snaps around and glares at them until they scurry off. 7/10, she might have scared a couple of people, but no one knew it was her!

╰₊✧ her intense stare also helps scare off the paparazzi. you would think they would know by now not to mess with her, but apparently, the big scoop of her being in a relationship was too tempting to pass up. was it really that big of a deal? it pisses her off to the point that she has to put her foot down before the night is ruined any further. 

“hey! do you guys mind? i’m trying to have a date with my girlfriend over here!” she yells out, smacking the table and scowling out of frustration. she doesn’t like being mean or raising her voice, but she thinks it’s warranted when she’s only asking to be left alone and to be mira the girlfriend rather than mira the idol.

you held your breath, worried that she might have just ruined her reputation with a simple statement, but the reporters seemed to love her attitude. that’s the bad girl of the group alright! she’s so brave for speaking out and setting a new standard for idols by standing up for herself! they took one last picture and left the premises, finally giving the two of you some peace and quiet. 

“so, anyway, where were we?”

╰₊✧ truthfully, mira doesn’t mind people knowing about her relationship with you, she just worries that they will bother you over it. she takes the happy medium of being confidential about it yet not worrying about hiding it. whatever your preferences are, she’ll adjust to it since she has no strong feelings about it, and will make certain that your wishes are respected. 

request:

Could I get a request with Rumi (plus anyone else from Huntr/x if you want but specifically Rumi) with a female reader and them trying to go on dates without being recognized please? (reader can be just a regular person or another idol, whatever is good to get the writing juices flowing!) Thank you if you can! 

[hoon4lia]

synopsis: you were doing the “Kissing My Best Friend” prank on TikTok — the viral trend where people surprise their best friends with a kiss to capture their genuine reaction. Only thing is… it wasn’t just a prank for you. You actually do like your best friend.

📝: fluff, kissing, sfw, establishing relationship (?), afab!reader x bsf!enhypen, jake uses princess…. that’s it, i think || wc: 1.4k

𓏲⋆.˚

Lee Heeseung:

You prop the camera on his desk beside his monitor, he doesn’t even notice until he hears you laughing. He looks to the phone noticing the camera set up. “What are you doing now” he says, looking back to his computer. “Nothing, just showing everyone how such a try hard you are at league.”

He chuckles. “Sure, get my good side.”

You sit beside him as he’s focused, headset on, fingers flying over his keyboard. Right as he yells “CRACKED!” in his mic, you turn his face toward you and kiss him

His hands freeze mid-click. Probably dead in the game now, but that didn’t matter anymore.

He slowly turns to look at you, wide-eyed, mouth open. Then he glances at the camera. Back at you.

“W-what? Wait what?” He says, face kinda red.

Then it all falls into place. And he smirks,”So that’s what this was about?” he says looking at you then to his camera.

You start laughing nervously. Heeseung removes his headset. “Let’s try that again, but without the camera, yeah?”

Park Jongseong:

Jay invited you to join him in the studio. And the whole time you were just watching him play and do his work. So you decided to do a little prank.

You prop up your camera, and hit record. Jay noticed right away, “what are you doing?” he murmured, still focused on playing his guitar. “Just making a little video of you playing,” he looked at you then the camera… he felt something was off but he just continued to play his guitar.

He starts strumming some slow chords. You nod along like you’re focused on the vibe… but then, as he’s in the middle of singing softly, you lean in and kiss him.

His finger stop playing instantly.

Speechless.

“…Did you just?” he says slowly, eyes darting between you and the camera.

You nod, lips twitching into a nervous grin.

He stares at you a beat longer, “your always up to something… but this is different.”

He grabs you chin and pecks your lips.

“So can I finally take you on a date?”

You giggle while nodding your head fast.

Sim Jake:

You came over to hangout with your best friend, Jake. But it less hangout.. you two were just scrolling on your phones side by side on his bed.

You set your up so it would stand up straight against your purse and hit record.

You look at Jake, he’s too busy laughing at his phone. “Jakey” he looks at you, head tilted “hmm?” He hums back, his hair getting in the way of his eyes. “I have to tell you a serious secret” you say, smiling “okay, tell me” he says, phone down now. “promise you won’t tell anyone!”

“I won’t, princess” you always blushed at that nickname. “okay, come closer,” and he did “closer” he laughed and came closer, his ear in your face now. just when you were “gonna” whisper in his ear, you grab his chin and turn his head to face you, and you kiss him.

It was a bit longer then you expected. but then Jake breaks it “y/n—“ his face was so red.

You just giggle nervously. “What!” you say back. “So the secret was you kissing me?” his voice softened.. “maybe..!” you replied

“Well I think I like that secret..” he said, then he covers the camera, making it fall to the ground.

“Can I?” He says before kissing you. “Mhm..” you hummed.

Park Sunghoon:

You and Sunghoon were sitting on the floor of your room, bunch of snacks spread out in front of you. You’ve got your phone set up on a stand, recording for a “trying new snacks with my best friend” TikTok. He thought it would be just a cute little video, but no…

“Next one! This is peach rings candies” He pops a candy in his mouth, and you do too.

“Mm very good!!” you say, still chewing it.

“Okay this one’s like… a 7 out of 10. Texture’s weird but the flavor’s good.”

You nod, even though you disagree.

“Okay okay, now close your eyes for the next one. I want to surprise you.” you say, smiling

Sunghoon narrows his eyes suspiciously.

“You’re not gonna give me something bad, right? Like that wasabi candy or something?”

You smile innocently. “Nooo, I swear. Just close your eyes.”

He sighs, wipes his hands on a napkin, then closes his eyes. You lean in slowly, heart racing, and instead of feeding him a snack… you kiss him.

He flinches back instantly, eyes snapping open. “You-“

He stares at you, frozen. Then his gaze slowly shifts to the camera.

Your phone still up. Still recording.

His jaw drops slightly.

“Is this a prank?”

You try to hold back your laughter.

His face is full of disbelief, but then he smirked

“So your the snack?”

You ears turn red “n-no!” you say, barely above a whisper.

“how bout’ you close your eyes this time?”

Kim Sunoo:

You slept over with Sunoo at his place, because you guys had a sleepover.

You and Sunoo were getting ready to get breakfast. You tell him you’re filming a “GRWM featuring my best friend” and prop your phone up while he washes his face, glancing at you occasionally. “Your not posting this if i don’t look good” he says, drying his face.

“Whatever” you say while laughing.

He was putting cream on his face, and right before he finished you kissed him, with no warnings whatsoever.

His hands freeze on his face. He turns to you slowly, jaw slightly dropped.

“You did not just do that…”

“Well I kinda did!” You say, giggling softly

“Was that just for the video?” he breaths out “If you want me to be your boyfriend, you can just say that”

“W-what” you say, face all red now.

He kisses you again, a little peck.

“Let me take you out for breakfast, as a date.”

The TikTok forgotten.

Yang jungwon:

The camera was unnoticeable.

You and Jungwon are sitting on the floor in your living room, books and notebooks spread out around you. He’s helping you review for a quiz you barely studied for, looking way too serious with a pencil tucked behind his ear.

“Okay,” he says, flipping to a page. “Define this term without looking.”

“That’s too hard!” you whined

“No it’s not, just try it!” He replied back

You stare at him instead.

And he stares back.

He looked too good with glasses on.

So you get it over with, looking at the camera them to him.

“Huh?” he says, confused.

And then you kiss him.

He freezes. Fully. His mind blurred. He doesn’t even blink for a solid five seconds.

“You can’t just do that–“

And you kiss him again.

He finally notices the camera on the table.

“Was this all just for a joke?”

“Maybe!”

“Then let me make this real, yeah?”

This time he kisses you.

Nishimura Riki:

Riki was always good at dancing, but when it came to TikTok dances… he just can’t get it right.

You begged him to do this dance with you, until a prank you saw on the app a couple days ago came to your mind. So you decided to do that instead.

Riki was always good at pranking you too, and whenever you tried to get back at him… he always knew somehow.

So you thought… maybe this will catch him off guard.

You guys were messing around in your room, learning choreo from a random TikTok.

You tell him you’re gonna record him to help him see how he’s doing. “Just dance naturally,” you say. “I won’t post it.”

He rolls his eyes but agrees.

“Okay, fine. But don’t make fun of me.”

He starts to dance one part of the song, trying to get it right.

“Riki, it’s like this.”

At the perfect moment, when he’s about finish the dance, you move in front of him and tippy-toe up to reach his lips.

Your lips meet his.

A fast quick peck.

He stumbles back, totally caught off guard.

“What?” the only thing that he could spit out

His hands are still half in choreo mode, arms stuck mid-air. He stares at you like you just unplugged his whole brain.

“So that’s why you were recording?” he stares at you.

You just nod, giggling to yourself.

“So friends kiss each other now? Or is that apart of the dance?”

You shake your head

Your face red, blushing so hard.

“Good. Because now I’m gonna be the one who catches you off guard.”

he grabs your hand, pulling you into him

His lips finding yours.

——————————————————

reblogs, and likes are appreciated <3 .ᐟ

[hedgeiii]

To nitpick a bit the problem and the poem don't say the problem is boss makes a dollar when you make a dime. Problem is boss makes a dollar you make a penny. A 10x multiplier is probably correctish from the lowest paid employee to the highest. Currently, it is more like you make a penny boss makes like 10 dollars or 100 dollars in the biggest companies.

Still like f capitalism and all but I do think the nuance kind of matters as this is the difference between a system that can function (regulated, mostly equitable, as long there are with controls, of which we have few and they are being lost even more within a generally capitalist economic setup) and just trying a brand new system from scratch, which I don't actually think anyone is pushing for. Like, I get the "I'm a communist, we're all communists" thing, but it's intensely difficult to execute at scale.

I think I'm just too much of a pragmatist to abandon a system that could work relatively easily. Greed is the killer. And, maybe, that's why it can't work, but I do believe a functioning government could absolutely make housing, power, water, food cheap/ free, and let a longer leash for "non-necessity goods" while maintaining strict environmental, health, and ethical standards for everything.

So... socialism with a capitalist kicker, heavily regulated.

I work retail, and have for many years now. I'm not an easily fazed person and have a Talk No Shit, Take No Shit mentality. However, I also have a pretty intense anxiety disorder on top of other mental health issues and when I started 6+ years ago there were some customers who got to me.

So, to all the workers facing Karens and Kens out in the wild, here's my advice - cry.

If you have the type of relationships with your coworkers and managers that will support you, don't try to hold it in. Cry like the overworked, underpaid peon you are.

Nothing terrifies an asshole Karen like the indisputable proof that their actions/words are affecting you as a real live person. They feel perfectly entitled to cuss out a cashier over a wrong order/no cash policy/ face mask mandate but when that person starts to cry and asks them why they'd say such mean things? A whole other story, my friend.

There's no way to make that situation look good to the manager they demanded to speak with, either. My manager literally got a security guard fired for being so verbally abusive he made one of her employees cry.

This strategy has multiple benefits -

1. You're not standing there trying to pen up your emotions, crying is a great physical release for negative emotions and you may very well feel somewhat better afterwards.

2. The person who precipitated the situation is forced to not only see you as a person with feelings, but also has to confront the fact that their abuse has consequences beyond themselves.

3. It can actually give your higher-ups leverage to address these situations. 'They yelled at my employee' is one thing, but 'They yelled at my employee until they were in tears' is a waaaaay worse offense. A good manager can use that. Hell, it can get a security guard fired!

tl;dr: We live in a capitalist hell but we can work the system and cry at work to shame awful customers

[luminalunii97]

I'm back after 4 days of almost no internet connection. The islamic republic first impulse during any crisis is to limit iranians access to internet, since they are afraid people are going to organize a riot against them. This is what happens when you make an enemy of your own people. For the past 4 decades, the regime of iran has oppressed and brutalized our people to the point that during war they feel the necessity to put anti riot forces in every main square around the city and disrupt people's connections and flow of information to prevent people from taking the opportunity to overthrow them. In case you don't know how much I hate the IR regime, I'm almost ok with this war because it means they suffer!

I live in tehran but my family and I were away from the city for a few days to wait out the worst of it. But I'm back now. Many people left last week but are coming back in small numbers. You can't really leave your house, job and life for too long after all, not in this economy. Israel airforce is still targeting different sites all over iran. Mostly military bases and ammunition storages. They've also targeted governmental facilities, in tehran especially. It's all very concerning since these bases and institutions are mostly inside city perimiters and the neighboring houses get affected. Iran is also hitting israel but unlike the Israeli government, they don't even pretend that they care about civilian casualties!

To be fully honest here, most people in iran are torn between fear of war and celebration of regime loss. That very first night when israel killed some of the high rank IRGC commanders, most tehrani residents woke up with fear, felt sad that innocent neighbors were killed but happy that those prominent faces were hit. Salami, IRGC commander in chief, and Hajizadeh, commander of aerospace force, were directly responsible for striking the Iran-Ukrain flight 752 around 6 years ago, killing 176 innocent people, but instead of taking accountability they cracked down on the aggrieved families to keep them quite. Tehranchi was the rector of Islamic Azad University branches in tehran and a few years ago when 10 students died in a bus accident inside the university campus due to neglect, he said "accident happens!"

These people have been responsible for all the murders and violent crackdown during woman,life,freedom uprising and 2020 protests and more. Imagine the glee people felt at their deaths. When Israel hit the IRIB building (islamic republic broadcasting), my friend called me to give me "the good news". Iran's regime television is so full of lies and vile bs that people congratulate each other every time their broadcasting building gets hit.

As I said, amidst war, the IR regime is focused on people's movements. They are arresting people left and right for doing so much as tweeting "Khamenei is incompetent!" They have already executed two opposing civilians as israeli spies. They really want us to believe that two regular citizens who shit tweeted the government a few times somehow had access to regime's confidential military information and sold them to israel! While isreal has stated repeatedly that they have spies among high ranking IRGC officials which makes more sense.

Last but not least, USA involvement is very scary to a lot of us. We know our regime is no match to US military power and right now the US president is an unpredictable mad man, considering khamenei is also crazy, god knows what happens if direct war escalate between iran and USA. The three nuclear sites US already hit didn't cause a chemical leak thankfully, iran was smart enough to evacuate them. But there's a nuclear facility in Bushehr with working nuclear reactors that produce electricity. It would cause a humanitarian crisis if bombed, not just inside iran, but in the region. So we're praying mad men in power won't bomb it.

We all know that Netanyahu and Trump are no philanthropists, but they've been singing iranian's praises and making promises of freedom and better future from the start of the war. Rumors are that they are backing Reza Pahlavi, son of overthrown king of iran, to replace the current regime. I'm not a monarchist and I don't like to replace one dictatorship with reinstallation of an overthrown one, to go from russian unofficial colony to USA milking cow (because that's what US is after, oil and other resources benefits). Pahlavi certainly have some fans in iran, specially among the upper class families. I don't think that's ideal and I'm not happy foreign governments are meddling in iran inner affairs once again but I have to admit that I'd take anything over the islamic republic. Even though Trump saying "make iran great again" makes my skin crawl (we all saw what maga did to USA), I'm not heartbroken over the possibility of overthrowing the current regime.

I think I've said everything I wanted to say. I wasn't around for days and wanted to drop a quick update before going back to tapping up the windows in case of blast nearby.

[bloodlineslut]

Imagine Jey being your vampire! boyfriend & begging for a taste of you...

gif cred @81gb

A/N: yea...so i did it

“Baby, please? I can hear it pumpin’ in your veins.” Jey had been begging you for the past 10 minutes to have just one little taste of your blood. His super-sensitive hearing could pick up on every beat of your heart that continuously pumped it through your body, as his ear was placed right over your heart. You both were on your bed, his body between your legs that were wrapped around his waist.

“Jey…do you remember what happened last time? You almost didn’t stop.” You twirled a strand of his curly hair through your fingers.

“I know babygirl. I said I was sorry, but you just tasted so damn good I coul-”

“Couldn’t stop yourself?” You finished his sentence, laughing at Jey while he smacked his teeth. “I told you to slap me to get me to stop, but you ain’t listen baby.”

“Oh so it’s my fault.”

Jey groaned and buried his face into your chest, but soon after, he began planting soft kisses onto your cleavage.

“Please?” The desperation and urgency in his voice was different than what you usually heard him sound like. You could sense that sliver of restraint that he was trying so hard not to break through. He was usually always so confident, so sure of himself, but that bloodthirst could drag him around like he was a ragdoll.

He trailed his kisses up to your neck, your heartbeat now being deafening in his ears, distorting his focus and senses.

He brought his hand to cradle your head away from his, exposing that vulnerable area of your neck. His mouth lingered closer and closer to your neck, his warm breath tickling against it as he was fighting between his desire and his discipline.

“Okay, fine…but Jey be careful?” You whispered to him, knowing that at this point, he wasn’t going to be able to pull away from you and snap out of it.

“Okay baby, I promise. Forreal this time.” Those were his last words before you felt his sharp fangs scrape against the delicate skin of your neck, making you flinch a little and grip harder onto his shoulders.

“I’m sorry mama…” He lowly apologized before sinking his teeth into the flesh of your neck, the red liquid slowly pooling out and onto his tongue. He didn’t bite as far deeply as last time, as it caused too much to pour out and he lost control a little bit.

Your fingers tightly sunk into his shoulders and biceps, and as much as you wanted to hate the feeling, it ignited a fire deep in your soul in knowing that he needed you like the air he breathed.

taglist!: @chrissyxcxox @christinabae @trippinsorrows @nayys-world @4milly @punksyeet @uceyliyahh @levissslutt @m00nlitnight @luuvprincess @sheaabuttaababyy @prettypink-princesss @fearlesschimera @romanreignsbae @amandairene88 @pittieprincess22 @moxley99 @princess-saki1 @sharmelasworld @marababyyyy @shanthefemalerapper @theusotwinzcom @bettybelle @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account

[twola]

Firewater - Chapter 10

PAIRING: low to mid honor Arthur Morgan x Fem!reader. explicit.

The camp moves, and you start counting days.

taglist: @v3lv3tf0x, @stottlemorgan, @mrsarthurmorgan7, @appalachiancowboy99, @pinescent-and-gingerbread, @blueskies664, @arthurstinmug, @ultraporcelainpig, @emerald-ranch @thedilfdiaries, @heron-feathers,@nalitali, @whiskeyskin, @globetrotter28

➵ AO3 Link ➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ Previous | ➵ Next

JUST SOUTH OF RATHSKELLER FORK, NEW AUSTIN, SEPTEMBER 1897

-

You knew it was coming before Dutch said a word.

The tension had been building for days—quiet conversations behind closed wagons, hushed arguments between Dutch and Hosea, the way Javier kept glancing south like he was waiting to see torches or lawmen on the horizon.

And then finally, Dutch stood before the fire one morning, coat dusted with red earth, brim low over his eyes, and said, “We ride east. Today.”

No one asked why. Not aloud.

But everyone knew.

Phoenix had gone bad. So they packed up.

You helped Bill strap down the last crate, your fingers raw from folding canvas and tying ropes. Arthur was somewhere near the horses, checking saddles, chewing the inside of his cheek the way he always did when Dutch got twitchy.

You glanced back only once as the wagons rolled out—toward the distant haze where Phoenix had once meant opportunity.

All it meant now was trouble.

-

The crossing into New Austin was brutal.

Long days of blistering sun, cracked lips, and endless dust. Every night, the wind howled and filled your blankets with grit. The horses were spooked by snakes more than once. The wagons creaked like they were begging to give out. Even Dutch seemed quieter, less grand, more bone-tired.

You watched Jack whimper in his sleep one night, overheated and miserable. Abigail wiped sweat from his forehead with a trembling hand and didn’t say a word.

But then—just when the silence felt like it might swallow everyone whole—the dust began to change. The earth took on a lighter red. The canyons opened up. You saw hawks circling overhead and could smell scrub pine in the wind.

And then came the low roofs and crooked fences of Rathskeller Fork on the horizon, like the last teeth in a broken jaw.

Dutch raised his hand and called for a stop just short of the outskirts. A little patch of land tucked against a rock face, shielded from the road and blessedly flat.

“This’ll do,” he said.

And just like that, the gang began to settle.

-

The new camp rose with practiced hands and a kind of bone-deep weariness no one wanted to speak aloud. You helped pitch the tents again and found a new rhythm. Charles built a makeshift corral. Pearson set up his supplies. Even Reverend Swanson managed to find a shady place to pass out most afternoons.

At night, the air was cooler, and the stars looked different—sharper, brighter somehow.

The desert stretched out around you like it had secrets. Like it had room.

Maybe it did.

You weren’t sure if this place would hold long. Nothing ever did for Dutch. But for now, Rathskeller Fork was quiet. No law breathing down your neck. No smoke trailing you like a curse.

Just red dirt, dry wind, and the long road still ahead.

-

You spotted Jack first—his little feet kicking up dust as he toddled after a moth, unsteady but determined, arms flailing like wings. His shirt was too big for him again, sleeves dragging past his wrists. His hair stuck out in all directions like it hadn’t seen a brush all week.

You smiled without meaning to.

He was talking to himself, or maybe to the moth, or maybe to nothing at all. Just little murmurs and hiccuping giggles. He fell once—sat hard in the dirt and blinked, surprised—but got back up without a sound, brushing at his pants like he’d seen the men do.

You kept still where you stood near the laundry line, pretending to adjust a damp shirt as you watched him. That was the thing about kids—you could never look too long or they’d notice. And Jack was the sort who'd come running over just to show you a rock shaped like a potato or a stick shaped like a gun.

But then you heard the voices.

Abigail’s first—sharp and low.

“John, he needs you around. You can’t just ride off whenever Dutch waves his damn hand.”

And John’s reply—frustrated, tired, like he’d already run out of patience before she’d finished her sentence.

“I ain't runnin' off! I'm doin' what Dutch asks so we all eat! That includes Jack!”

The boy kept wandering, oblivious to the storm behind him, chasing his little adventure through the camp's dust.

You tried not to listen, but it was hard not to.

“He asked where you was this morning,” Abigail snapped. “And yesterday. And the day before. I had to lie again, say you were off fishin’. He’s three, John. He’s startin’ to notice.”

There was a pause, and then John’s voice, quieter.

“I don’t know how to be that kind of father, Abigail.”

Your chest tightened.

Jack plopped down in the dirt again, this time just to poke at a beetle crawling across a stick. His little shoes, too big for him, kicked idly. He hummed tunelessly to himself.

“I ain’t askin’ you to be perfect,” Abigail said, voice worn thin now. “Just show up.”

You caught her face for half a second as she turned away from John—tight, jaw set, eyes a little too bright. She stormed past the tents and disappeared toward the wagon.

Jack didn’t look up.

John stood there a while longer, hands on his hips, watching the boy. Maybe thinking. Maybe regretting. Hard to say with Marston.

You looked away then, folding the wet shirt and hanging it up properly this time.

When you glanced back, Jack had gotten distracted by something new—a tumbleweed, maybe—and John had walked away.

And for a moment, the camp was quiet again, like it hadn’t heard a thing.

–

It started with a vague unease.

The sun had risen hard and hot over the desert again, casting its blinding white light across the ridge where you sat beside your horse, pretending to study the horizon. But your mind wasn’t on the job.

You were counting days.

You’d been counting them since the night Arthur finished inside you—accidentally, desperately, completely. You’d told yourself not to panic. But now… the days weren’t adding up right.

You hadn’t bled.

You sat there in the heat, watching a dust devil twist in the distance, your heart thudding a little too fast.

Arthur was somewhere nearby, checking the trail for signs of movement. You could hear his horse’s hooves, the familiar creak of leather and quiet hum of him talking to himself as he worked. Comforting sounds. Steady sounds.

He didn’t know. You hadn’t told him.

You couldn’t.

Not yet.

-

That night, you snuck out of camp, as you and he were oft to do. His hands wandered, warm and familiar, and yours did too. His lips were on your neck, his breath hot, voice low as he murmured your name like it was the only one he knew.

You let him.

You let him touch you like nothing had changed. Let him kiss you slow and hard, roll you beneath him and lose himself in you like he always did.

Because when he was inside you, when your mouths met and his hands curled against your skin like he couldn’t get close enough— you didn’t feel afraid.

You felt alive.

You didn’t think about missed blood or what-ifs or what next.

You only thought about him. About this.

The way he held your face as you gasped beneath him. The way he whispered, “There she is,” like he’d been waiting all day just to see you unravel.

You kissed him like your life depended on it.

Maybe it did.

-

In the morning, he brought you coffee and smirked when he saw the bruises blooming on your hips. “Gonna be sore after last night.”

You scoffed, sipping from the tin cup. “Ain’t my first time on top of a wild animal.”

Arthur raised a brow. “You talkin’ about me or your horse?”

“Guess you’ll never know.”

But the smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. And Arthur noticed, even if he didn’t press.

-

Days passed. You kept waiting.

But nothing came.

At camp, you laughed with the others, stole kisses with Arthur in the shadows, snuck off behind rocks and trees and the half-burned ruins of a Spanish Mission. He kept pulling you in like he was starving for you. Like you were the only thing tethering him to the ground.

And you let him.

You’d lean back against the wagon, legs still trembling, his breath hot against your neck, and pretend the tension in your chest was just leftover heat—not fear.

He didn’t know.

He didn’t know you were late. Didn’t know every time he held you, a little voice in your head screamed what if, what if, what if.

-

Sometimes, late at night, you found that you couldn’t sleep.

And you’d lie there, one hand resting low on your stomach, wondering what the hell you were going to do if it turned out what you feared was true.

What would he say?

What would you do?

You didn’t know.

So you didn’t say anything at all.

-

You kept pretending.

You kissed him hard in the back of the stable at Rathskeller one day when the two of you went to reshoe your horses, your shirt halfway open and your hands already unbuckling his belt.

“You’re insatiable,” he groaned, breathless against your mouth.

You smirked. “What can I say? You’re pretty.”

-

And still, nothing came.

No blood. No sign. Just nausea some mornings and fear curling tighter in your gut with every passing hour.

You were running out of time.

You could feel it.

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

So I’m re-reading #19 and Cassie, when musing over whether or not to kill Karen, states that both Marco and Rachel would advocate for killing her, and that Jake would agree but feel bad about it. I thought it was interesting that she was willing to give Jake the grace that she wouldn’t give to Marco or Rachel - I think it says a lot more about her perception of them, since tbh I don’t think they were at the “kill the innocent child along with her yeerk” point that Cassie seems to think they were.

My question for you is, if either Rachel or Marco found themselves in Cassie’s situation, how would they react?

I think Cassie's right about Jake, at least pre-#50 Jake. He'd agonize over it and — no matter how it turned out — conclude he'd made the wrong decision. But I think he'd draw the line at killing Karen. She's just a kid. She's helpless. She's not that different from Tom. Jake has been where she is. He'd try everything short of sacrificing his team to keep her alive.

Marco would kill Karen. He'd hate himself, he'd apologize to her, he'd cry himself to sleep that night. But if it comes down to a choice between the people he loves and the people he doesn't, he will not hesitate. This is the kid who calmly states his mom is "already lost," 5 pages before Jake brings up "a chance to save Tom" (#10). People die, Marco knows better than anyone, and sometimes all you can do is minimize the number of deaths.

Rachel would, I think, try to talk Aftran around. She'd have none of Cassie's canny subtlety about it, and her version of "talking" would involve a lot more threats. But Rachel's whole MO is defending those who cannot defend themselves. She gets into the war to protect Tobias and Melissa. She jumps into crocodile pits for unfamiliar kids, knowing she'll probably die in the attempt. She stops fighting the instant her enemy is rendered helpless. It goes against everything Rachel stands for to kill Karen.

But if her attempts at diplomacy all failed, then yeah. She'd do it.

[dcdreamblog]

is there any actual evidence of the animosity between the Bats and the Arrows that people online like to claim exists? Or is it just people creating drama?

Like, institutional animosity between the two groups? No that's not a thing.

The "Batman Family" and the "Arrow Family" are two large pillars within the American superhero space. Made up of heroes who have some personal tie to either Batman or Green Arrow. Sidekicks, partners, lovers, friends, former enemies, the whole 9 yards. Both groups consist of at LEAST a dozen people, if not closer to two and they are the main heroic anchors for two large metropolitan areas Gotham City in New Jersey and Star City in Washington State.

If there was some kind of familial feud going on between the two groups, we would ALL feel it as that rivalry caused a mass clashing of gears within the American hero community and the League in specific. People would end up dead if the two groups couldn't work together, that's WHY institutional rivalry in the superhero community is so rare. The largest example I can think of is the animosity between the Justice League of China and the traditional Chinese heroes in the Great Ten but even in that very prominent case the two groups will always put aside their differences to work together in cause of saving lives.

There is no rivalry between the Batfamily and the Arrow Family...

Between the two MEN how-fucking-ever.

(An image of Batman and Green Arrow taken from the team's final press conference at their original Mount Justice headquarters)

Batman and Green Arrow are an unstoppable team when they work together. The most potent human specimens on the League and perhaps in the world. When it comes to physical ability, technological acuity and investigative technique they rank among the best human beings alive and perhaps beyond. In battle the two of them cut a swath throw villains 10 times their size and 15 times their power.

They just, by all accounts, DO NOT get along.

If there's a personal or historical basis for that, I obviously don't know it. It has been several years since Green Arrow was ultimately revealed as former Star City billionaire Oliver Queen but the Batman's identity of course remains in shadows for the time being and its neither my desire nor my place to speculate as to the relationship between the two men behind closed doors.

Their colleagues, when commenting upon it, put it down to a simple clash of personality. Queen is, famously, boisterous, opinionated and truly incapable of shutting his mouth for any extended length of time. The Batman, by all accounts, is the opposite. Stern, emotionless, withdrawn. Any disagreement between the two men would naturally escalate due to the differences in their styles of communication.

Even if they're not on the same bowling team, their rivalry is a personal grating. They're not going to be throwing down in the middle of a case and the most we get to see of it is a dirty glance thrown across a press conference, the last embers of a private argument that has undoubtedly already burned itself out.

If there is juicier drama here, a historian is the wrong person to ask.

[manifestingitgurlll]

be careful with obsession

it's interesting how the ego can still have a chokehold on you, even when you think you've detached from it. make sure not to fall into this trap.

so ever since yesterday, when i felt my ego was nice and quiet, i've been feeling...obsessive. but why? theres no fight or doubting thoughts. im literally just repeating my affirmations into nothingness. so why am i feeling like this?

i realized the obsessiveness was coming from me, still feeling like i needed to DO something (my last post was aimed at me lol). like if i don't control every single thought, then i might end up identifying with bad thoughts again.

now tell me, does that sound like someone who knows? NO. thats the control freak ego talking. and i'm, once again, identifying with it.

see how you don't even realize?? it's so sneaky sometimes. and this is where i think people get stuck. it feels like you're doing everything right, but still you don't see any change (ofc i mean the ego recognizing the change, not consciousness). this is why it's so important to self reflect and ask yourself these questions.

someone who truly knows wouldn't be micromanaging every single thought associated with what they have to make sure their mind doesn't switch. do you affirm that the sky is blue 10 million times a day, just in case, so you don't accidentally identify with the fact that the sky is purple? no, you just know.

it's the same thing here. you have to let go. and letting go doesn't mean forgetting. it just means completely knowing. not 50% or 95%, no, 100% knowing. a lot of times we see it happen when we forget, only bcs we've finally stopped being obsessive over it. you don't contradict, but you don't affirm...you just know.

and i'm not saying you can't think about it period. theres a difference between thinking the thoughts as a reminder, bcs you know, and thinking it because you feel like you have to DO to GET. so just be mindful of yourself and where you're standing.

[blasphemousclaw]

Good news: you've been selected to write/direct/produce (whatever) an Elden Ring movie. Which story do you choose to tell?

OK first of all im setting aside the question of what part of elden ring makes the most sense to adapt and what parts of the story would be better left vague etc etc because this is MY adaptation and its what my heart wants <3

personally I’d want an adaptation about the demigod characters the most because they’re so complex and morally grey and I think their family drama would be SO compelling played out onscreen. instead of a movie I’d want a limited TV series thats like less than 10 episodes so there’s more space to flesh out the different characters and their relationships. the show would be about the Night of the Black Knives with Ranni as the central character… it would follow the background, planning, and execution of the plot with the actual Night of the Black Knives being the climax of the show. the episode-to-episode plot would consist of Ranni bringing together all the different elements of her plan like recruiting the black knife assassins, getting Rykard involved, stealing a shard of Destined Death, and forging the black knives, while at the same time she’s navigating the politics of being an empyrean and heir to Caria and having to interact with both sides of her family, keeping her plan a secret and deciding who she can trust.

the central theme of the show would be Ranni’s fear of becoming a pawn of higher powers and her struggle for autonomy amidst the destinies thrust upon her… maybe the very first scene could be a young Ranni’s first meeting with the Two Fingers and learning of her empyreanhood but its shot in a way that emphasizes the Fingers’ dark and twisted appearance in a way that makes the announcement feel like a death sentence and you can see the horror on Ranni’s face!! and the rest of her storyline would really dig into why she’s so afraid of being controlled while also getting into her being caught between two family lineages and their fraught history… the family drama between Radagon leaving Rennala and how it’s affected Ranni and her brothers and the resentment they feel, and how these tensions build up towards the Night of the Black Knives and Godwyn’s murder!!!

some other various moments I’ve already designed written directed and shot in my mind palace:

- Ranni revealing her plans to her Carian vassals and them standing behind her and pledging their loyalty to her as her mother’s heir… Blaidd and Iji of course but also the Carian knights and nobles like the ghost waiting for Ranni to return at Caria Manor and the ghost in the Study Hall who begs the tower to “obscure the transgressions of the princess” and Preceptor Miriam who now guards her discarded flesh

- specific scene with Blaidd pledging his loyalty to Ranni and it’s beautiful and endearing but also uncertain because Ranni and Iji know the Two Fingers could use him against her

- Ranni visiting Volcano Manor and bringing Rykard into the plot, trusting that he would understand her and wouldn’t rat her out… him telling her he’s been waiting for a chance to strike back at the Golden Order for years

- Ranni visiting Rennala and telling her everything and saying goodbye but Rennala not even being lucid enough to fully understand what she’s saying… :(

- Ranni and Rykard stealing a shard of the Rune of Death by descending into Maliketh’s room suspended from the ceiling mission impossible style ok this one is a joke but imagine

- Ranni and Marika having a conversation about what it means to be a god where Marika bitterly laments the loss of her free will, making Ranni abandon all doubt that what she’s doing is absolutely necessary. oh yeah I’m not subscribing to the theory that Marika was in on the plot I think its more interesting if she’s not in on it but she and Ranni still sympathize with each other despite everything

and maybe cliche but the last scene of the show could be Ranni’s doll eye opening. end-credit scene where Godwyn’s dead eye also opens like in the story trailer. ok that’s it where’s my TV deal

[deshima]

Years ago, I had the immense luck of finding a genuine seagreen japanese haori in a vintage shop for a ridiculously low price. I did not hesitate to snag it, and it has kept me comfortable through many chilly autumn and early winter evenings.

As far as I can determine it is made of genuine silk and it was constructed in the traditional way aka loosely sewn together with big running stitches so that it can be easily deconstructed, to be washed in pieces instead of as a whole.

Those stitches had been steadily letting go throughout the years and despite the fact I never wore it outside or next to my skin it was starting to smell a bit funky... time to wash it... the traditional way...

First step... unpicking all those seams

From top to bottom, the two sleeves with their lining ( note the bits of facing on the lining near the "cuffs"), the collar,plus the cotton interlining ( the only non silk piece I think), the two small side strips with their lining and then the central body plus its lining.

One of the things that I quickly noticed while unpicking is that how little cutting must have been involved while making this haori.

Haori and kimono are traditionally made out of tanmono, bolts of fabric that are usually 12 m long and between 35 to 40cm wide ( enough for one kimono or two haori). The bolt my haori was made of must have been 35 cm wide.

The fabric is sewn together at the back for width and there has been some cutting done for the neck, collar and side pieces but other wise the only place where the edges are not the selvedges are at the bottoms where the fabric has been cut to make the individual panels for the body and the sleeves

That said, the previous owner of this haori wasn't very tall nor very wide. The back is only 71 cm long and 54 cm wide. On me ( and I am not very tall either) it means it only barely comes to mid- butt while most haori come to mid-thigh and while loose enough this hoari doesn't have the drama of my other haori ( probably a man's) which has a 63cm broad back.

So how did the seamstress manage to reduce a double width of 35 cm to a 54 cm back without cutting off the selvedge and reduce a length of 2m to 71cm front and back ( so only 142cm total)? Well, by having a center seam of 3cm,side seams of 5 cm and doing some clever pleating at the bottoms.

So why all the effort of keeping the selvedges?

One of the reason obviously is that the edges wouldn't fray. The other I think is that this garment was meant to be passed along, and if the new owner was taller and wider than the previous one, the seams could be let out at the sides and at the bottom and you'd only need a new lining.

Another funny thing I noticed when unpicking is that while the outer fabric is the same everywhere, the lining is not. While the whole lining is white at first sight, there were subtle white on white brocade patterns at a closer look, and there were three different motifs.

An abstract swirl pattern at the sleeves, a floral pattern at the top part of the body, and a bishamon kikko pattern at the bottom of the body. Maybe the previous owner was not the first either, and the owner before that was even smaller!

So after unpicking this baby it was time to wash it. Because what edges that had been cut were never finished in any way beyond a bit of pinking I did not dare to put it in the laundry machine even on the gentlest delicate cycle I had for fear of fraying. So hand-wash it was. I used 1 sheet of Cosmeau's wool and silk laundry detergent in a 10 l bucket of luke warm water and set to gentle stir the whole...

whooo boy am I happy I decided to wash this baby because even if I could not really see it, it turned out my haori was one dirty,dirty boy... the smell that came off after even a couple of stirs was pretty disgusting and the water quickly turned a grotty grey. The rinse cycle after also turned fairly grey so I decided that a second wash was necessary

The second wash.

The second wash was only a tiny bit grey and the rinse actually ran clear after that so I squeezed as much water out as I could without wringing and laid out the pieces to dry on towels or on my laundry rack

So now it's a matter of letting it all dry, and hopefully soon, I will have another post detailing the process of (hand)sewing this baby back together

[ywpd-translations]

Ride 824: The assist's smile

Pag 1

1: The two guys from Hakogaku are passing the puddle!!

3: There's a gap between them and the three people ahead

It's 2, 3 seconds!!

They're already 1km away from the finish line

A distance of three seconds right before the finish line.....

Pag 2

1: We caught them

2: it's a desperate distance!!

Pag 3

1: Hakone Academy!!

Pag 4

2: Three people in the lead!! Gunma, Kyoto! And now Chiba's Sohoku too, they're taking the curve!!

Gooo

Kyofushi!!

The second curve.... this is the last curve!!

3: Once they pass that, it's basically just a straight road to the finish line!!

4: Pedal, Sohokuu!!

The guy from Gunma is so cool!

Pag 5

1: Once we pass....

2: this curve....!!

3: This is the final curve!!

7: I see it!!

Pag 6

1: The goal gate!!

Pag 8

1: 600m left until the finish line!!

2: Woah!! That's the road racing's Inter High's goal gate!! It's my first time seeing it!!

3: Vic...tory!!

Pag 9

1: I'll deliver the jersey that was entrusted to me!!

2: I'll definitely do it!!

3: -tory!!

4: Yon!!

8: This gate....

Pag 10

1: will prove if what I've learned during this past year was correct

Pag 11

1: It's the gate of judgment!!

2: The three people in the lead entered the straight road and are accelerating!!

They're so fast!!

Gooo!

Pedaaal!!

3: Calm down, my heart!!

4: I'll take it!!

I will!!

5: This is a road race's finish line!!

I can't help this burning feeling!!

Pag 12

1: Finally Hakogaku has also entered the final curve!!

2: A three seconds difference in the final curve, it's impossible!!

Something happened and they got a late start at 1km left? What a careless mistake!!

3: The race for the finish line is narrowed down to the three people ahead!!

Hakogaku can't make it anymore!!

Pag 13

1: They're saying horrible things about us, Jou-san

Let the outsiders say whatever they want

2: From a safe place protected from wind and rain, it's impossible to understand the subtle tactics of the battlefield

The verbal spears of a person who doesn't fight every day are rusty and rotten

3: Ah but I told you before

In road racing

4: “Those who have a larger number of people have an overwhelming advantage”

Look

5: All the other team have only one person, but Hakone Academy, in front of the finish line, has...

Pag 14

1: Two people?

2: I've told you this already, but when a body moves faster than 25 km/h, it will definitely feel the air resistance

And bikes move at 40/50 km/h are constantly pushing away air particles while moving

3: The theory that “riding behind a bicycle is easier”

4: is because the air particles pushed aside won't hit the person in the back

5: It's the same thing as hiding from the wind in a pillar's shadow during windy days

6: So of course the person in the back has to endure less fatigue

“There are two people”, means....

Pag 15

2: it means that we will send a less fatigued ace in the pack in front of the finish line!!

3: The reason we didn't follow the other three at the curve at 1km left was

4: to be able to take the technical curve safely and accurately without being hindered!!

The seconds of difference.... it's easy

Pag 16

1: I'll just pull and close it!!

3: Alright, Yuuto!! Here it comes!!

Pag 17

1: We can go into zone 5!!

2: Yes!!

3: Move ahead once I give you the signal!!

4: What

Hakogaku is accelerating!!

The assist is pulling up!!

5: Hiaaaa

6: Go, Yuuto...

Pag 18

1: Be proud!! Of the bib number 1 you're wearing

Pag 19

1: Go and take the finish line!!

Pag 20

1: Yes!!

Pag 21

4: He's here!! Hakogaku!! In an instant!!

6: 500m left!!

[hestzhyen]

Chapter 83 (Belated) Father's Day Posting

Yes I know it was last week but this chapter was intended to release that day, so... let's get into it, dear void.

Editor's notes: First Page: 座村に斬られ一度死んだチヒロが目を覚まし... [Samura ni kira re ichido shinda Chihiro ga me wo samashi...] "Chihiro wakes up after being killed by Samura..." Last Page: 明かされる7本目の宿命その力を示す刻が来た- [akasa reru 7-pon-me no shukumei sono chikara wo shimesu toki ga kita-] "The destiny of the 7th blade has been revealed. Now is the time to show it's power..."

Kunishige's Intentions and IRL Effects

Tell, don't show is actually okay in some situations like this!

And so we get... Enten's backstory! Awesome! I gotta say, Chihiro literally sinking into his memories of forging Enten with his father was gorgeous. Absolute 10/10 imagery and a huge reason I love reading this manga.

So once again we see another through-line from the past to the future. And another contrast between Kunishige and Samura. Both of them had massive regrets about the war haunting them, both of them looked towards the future through their children- then Samura faltered and was manipulated into retreating into his own head. He abandoned Iori and adopted an extremely myopic view of what needed to be done. Meanwhile Kunishige never lost sight of the light Chihiro cast for him to follow. Therefore Samura's ready to destroy himself to amend the past while Chihiro was given the power to reshape the future that the previous generation directed the younger one towards. Once again, I love this manga. I love it so, so much when we're focusing on the core themes.

It's the difference between two viewpoints: atoning for the past and improving the future. Both of them can look extremely similar from the outside since they're rooted in prior events. But atonement doesn't always guarantee a better future while looking forward at least opens up the possibility.

I mean, think about it. Saying "sorry we did that, let me fall on my sword as penance" doesn't do anything to help the future really. Samura's hellbent on killing the other Bearers to set them free from the contract before killing himself alongside the Sword Master. But what will that accomplish? Even if Samura succeeds, all he'll accomplish is dying and eliminating one potential source of another Malediction. It does nothing to solve the Kamunabi's corruption and propaganda issue, the lingering resentments of those who didn't believe that propaganda, nor do a damn thing to stop the Hishaku. The societal issues will still be completely unaffected. The nukes will still be around and available to be used by anyone who gets their hands on them. The only "positive" outcome is that Samura will get the death he feels he deserves.

Meanwhile, Kunishige tried to save the future by creating a sword that can undo all his other works. He made the ultimate nuclear disarmament tool by working with Chihiro! Sounds a hell of a lot better, doesn't it?

The implications of this are so, so clear: Samura, as the older generation who refused to involve the younger one, is doing what he thinks is best and telling the kids to sit down and shut up. He's going to do things his way and they can pick up the pieces once he's done. But Kunishige wanted to show Chihiro how to manage everything from the start. They worked together: Kunishige teaching Chihiro, Chihiro inspiring and guiding Kunishige. They made Enten together in order to secure a safer future. And doesn't that second scenario sound like a much better foundation than the prior one?

I feel like this is the author's voice coming through loud and clear: hey, adults, let us help you. Involve us. You don't have to carry that burden of what you did alone to try and spare us. We can handle it. And we need to know so we can actually make things better.

Remember, Hokazono's only 24 years old. And Japan's got some really touchy discussions over what and how much to teach the kids about what the country did during WWII going on. Even if it's not a direct or fully conscious thematic inclusion, it's still very much present this arc through Samura and Kunishige. And the author seems to be on the side of "stop only telling us what to do and involve us in the process". Very admirable and reasonable.

Disarmament is the way!

At any rate, all signs are now pointing towards Chihiro's mission being to break the blades. That's what he inherited from Kunishige; even if the sword wasn't especially forged for him to use, it's in his hands now and he's committed to taking it on. He'll pick up where his dad left off and see his vision through. The only necessary deaths are those of the blades... and the Hishaku.

The wrinkle of the Hishaku's exact role in all of this will probably complicate things for Chihiro's vengeance journey. Well, not "probably", but "definitely". It doesn't really affect what he's going to do with the blades though. It's clear that the best course for the future is to disarm the nukes and make sure they can't fall into the wrong hands again like what happened with Sojo. I'm incredibly glad that this is where the narrative went! I feel like the theme of undoing the wrongs of the past by directly addressing the root cause/issues instead of performative actions is the best possible way to look at this situation, both in fiction and IRL.

The nukes/swords aren't beings with agency that can act on their own for a particular cause. They can theoretically be stored away in safekeeping as some kind of implied threat to prevent another large-scale conflict. But as Kagurabachi makes clear -as the author is arguing- their mere presence is also an incentive for people to attain that power for their own ends. The "good guy with a gun to stop a bad guy with a gun" mindset breaks down when we're talking about weaponry that can cause mass deaths with ease. You don't stop nukes with more nukes. You can only get rid of them entirely.

I love it when Chihiro looks like the kid he really is.

Then why the hell are we cheering for Chihiro? Isn't he just a "good guy with a gun"? Yeah. But he's kind of the only true good guy with good reason to act in this situation. It's his own dad's legacy that he's trying to deal with AND he's trying to get rid of them, not just manage them. If he was trying to do the same thing Kunishige did at the start -only give them to skilled people he trusted- then it wouldn't be very clear if he was the right person for the job. But ever since the Sojo fight it's been obvious that Chihiro's got to be the one to do it. He was given the tool to dismantle the otherwise indestructible weapons, has the moral and familial imperative to do it, and clearly believes in carrying on his dad's wish to destroy them.

This will undoubtedly set him at odds with the Kamunabi down the path. Like any government, some of the the Kamunabi higher-ups will most likely want to keep them on-hand as that unspoken deterrent. Why destroy something that saved the nation once? That power could be needed again! Can't wait to see what happens with them after this arc... it also heavily depends on what Hakuri manages to do with the Shinuchi and what happens to him after. There's so much to look forward to once we're done with this fight!

The Fight, Though?

Okay that was a lot of yap. But what will happen to Samura? Poor misguided and insanely stubborn Samura, who just wants to do what he thinks is best for everyone?

Chancla to the face for not respecting one's elders.

For one, it's obvious by now that Chihiro won't be killing him. He's not some evil guy that needs to be put down like Sojo or Kyora. So what will happen? Well, the good outcome will probably be along the lines of Chihiro breaking Tobimune -proving his will is stronger than Samura's grief- then Iori talking to Samura and getting him to stand down.

After that, though... well, the pinky ring to signify the pact made between Samura and Yura was shown to us in chapter 59 for a reason. I have no doubt that if Samura must die then that will be what does him in. It would also be great motivation to keep Iori around and involved with Chihiro's quest. I don't know if I can handle Chihiro having to watch someone else get orphaned in almost the same way he was though.

Past vs. Future

As for the immediate circumstances, I'm pretty sure this fight with Samura won't go on too much longer. Chihiro's resolve is set and Samura's hand is starting to shake; he's feeling it now, Mr. Krabs. All those stunts he pulled off earlier are probably catching up with him- not looking so great for Mr. I Must Die Alone For Someone Else's Sins. Sorry Samura, but you ain't Jesus. You're just a mentally tortured war veteran, father, and widower.

First stop: breaking Tobimune, probably.

I also want to say something about Chihiro's resolve here. Again the official TL isn't bad by any means, but the formal tone of it didn't carry over very well.

この淵天を以って…俺 が真打を折る [kono enten wo motte... ore ga shinuchi wo oru] "I vow... to break the Shinuchi with the Enten." or something along those lines. Chihiro's not just making a statement here- he's making something of a solemn vow.

What About the Other Blades?

*Depending on where it is and who has it after this fight

Well, we can probably assume that Chihiro will try to break them as well since Kunishige explicitly wanted to destroy all of them after the war. How Chihiro manages to do that will be what keeps the story moving forward though.

As we know, the Hishaku are in possession of the two unknown blades still- and Kuguri's definitely got his eyes set on the Sushi bearer's. Meanwhile Hiruhiko's bonded to Kumeyuri but it's currently with Ro, who is allied to Samura and the Kamunabi. So Chihiro can ignore the other swords and make a beeline for the Sword Master once he's done with his business here at the hotel. It won't be so simple though- it never is when there's a set number of objects to seek out and destroy.

I have a feeling that there won't be much of a victory for Team Goldfish here.

Ch. 72

Chihiro's probably not going to want to kill the two Bearers still bound to the blade, so they will have to have their Eternal Contracts broken somehow before the Sword Master is dealt with. That means seeking them out and killing them or "killing" them with Tobimune's Suzaku ability. But if Tobimune breaks or Samura is killed, then that ability vanishes. Remember, Suzaku is Samura's True Realm ability- that's Tobimune responding to his strong desires. It won't necessarily work the same for someone else. So even if Iori or someone else is able to bond to the blade, they may not be able to use Suzaku.

Then there's the tidbit that the Eternal Contract itself needs the Sword Master to be alive, else the other bearers will die. This may well apply to Chihiro too.

Also ch. 72

Either Kunishige spent 15 years making a blade with a life-death contract independent of the Shinuchi, or he used the same binding technique and took his time on intentionally imbuing the blade with the ability to break the others. Maybe both, depends on Kunishige's idea about who would wield it and other intentions while he and Chihiro were making it. But for now, it's fair to assume that Chihiro could also be affected by the bond to the Shinuchi- and that's one of the big reasons why Samura went out of his way to kill him.

So the goal now must be to break the Shinuchi first. There's no other easy option to go for: killing and reviving the other Bearers is much less practical, especially when the Hishaku are waiting for exactly that to happen so they can have their own members bond to the other blades in their possession. That's a terrible outcome (and another very good reason to stop Samura). If Chihiro breaks Tobimune in this fight -which seems incredibly likely- then they really will have no other option.

This means that Hakuri and Uruha's situation is absolutely vital and likely won't result in something good for our protagonists. Hakuri's on his way to isolate the Shinuchi by putting it in his Storehouse... but whether he succeeds or fails will still be fine for the Hishaku. If he succeeds, he's now a primary capture/torture target that Chihiro will likely have to rescue. If he fails, then the Hishaku have the blade and will either kill The Sword Master or hand it to him- both very good ways of triggering another Malediction.

Basically, all signs are pointing towards Magatsumi remaining out of Chihiro's reach for the forseeable future. It's his goal to chase while dealing with other issues along the way in service of it.

As for Kumeyuri, I don't think it's getting broken here. Instead I think it will somehow end up back in the Hishaku's hands so Hiruhiko can train with it properly once he picks himself up. Hopefully without the Masumi making an exit from the story... please, let them live. It along with the other two blades will still have more time to shine before they're taken out and collected by Chihiro like Kuregumo was.

Okay. Sit tight and don't get too impatient. Try not to, at least. We're definitely coming up on the climax of this arc! See you next week, dear void.