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anashins · 2 months

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King of the Streets

Pairing: street racer!Jaehyun x journalist!reader

Genre: street racing au, action, drama, romance, slow burn, smut

Word Count: 28k (I just can't write short stories, I'm sorry)

Summary: The moment you find yourself hiding in the backseat of a sports car that's illegally racing through the city, you just know this story will finally catapult you to the top of your journalism career. But there are a few things you haven't reckoned: How personal this story will eventually turn - and the driver's sheer insatiable craving for lollipops. And for you.

A/N: I started this after Jaehyun admitted he would have liked to become an F1 racer if the idol-path wouldn't have worked out for him. I spiraled and this is the outcome - I hope you have fun reading it as much as I had writing it!

“It’s been three years since I’ve started working here, and-”

“Unfortunately, this doesn’t matter, miss.”

For an entire week, you had prepared yourself for this meeting with your editor-in-chief. You had written down all your achievements from when you were an intern to your current position.

And he had the nerve to tell you it all didn’t matter?

It had been three very long years with too many nights spent in the office to meet a deadline you were not responsible for, trips all across the country on your own account for stories that hadn’t even made it into the magazine, and work meetings where no one had bothered listening to your ideas and input.

After all the hard work and sleepless hours you had poured into your dedicated passion, it was unfathomable to you how he didn’t even bother bringing up the slightest interest in what you had to say, and it showed all over face in the form of widened eyes and slightly parted lips.

“Others have started prior to you and they’re in the exact same position,” your chief editor said, swaying in his chair. The city’s skyline spread behind him like a painting as the sun was setting, and more than once had you already imagined yourself in that spot. “What makes you think you’re better than any of them?”

An imaginary note popped up in your head. You got this, you were prepared for this. “I’m one of the firsts to go and one of the last to leave, I wrote the most clicked article on our website - to this day. I offer input to everyone who hasn’t got something going on, my personal and professional network that I’ve built throughout the past years is wide and strong. I’m the first one to take on suggested topics, the number of articles I publish per month is the highest out of all editors, I’m always up-to-date, I live for this job.”

The middle-aged man leaned forward and propped his elbows against the glass table, inspecting you thoroughly while you were bracing yourself to elaborate every bullet point. But he only said,

“No, I don’t think so.”

You were flabbergasted. “Pardon me?”

“I don’t think you actually live for this job,” he explained calmly. “For that, it takes more than research and cranking out as many articles as possible just because your writing is good. It is, trust me, but the stories lack emotion and graspable actions. Right now, you’re only sitting in front of the computer, writing from your imagination. You don’t live the stories, you’re not in them.”

“I take trips across the country to attend events, I participate in every press conference possible, I-”

Again, he interrupted you, “Hara got in contact with a designer and walked for his show as an amateur model. Dal went to the rooftop of the highest building in this city and took pictures that even made it into television.”

“But that is illegal,” you commented. “Hara smuggled herself in when one of the models fell sick and Dal nearly got caught by the police.”

“And we would’ve bailed for all of them.” He sighed deeply as if annoyed by repeating himself. “See, this is what I’m trying to say, miss. The writing that you’re delivering is clean and conformable to law. When I read your articles, I’m well informed, but nothing sticks in my head. We’re a magazine, not a newspaper. Nobody wants to read about the opening of a new restaurant when they can read about things they will never be able to experience themselves. You have to dive in the story, be in the story to make people believe they’re in them too when they read it.”

You were quite taken aback as you noticed he remained polite when all he wanted to say was, “So, my stories are too boring, not sensational.”

The editor-in-chief let out another long sigh and fell back into his chair. “You have a trademark, but you have to get out of your secure shell to actually go somewhere, otherwise you’re going to get stuck.”

You were a goody two-shoes was what he tried to tell you. You were on the top when it was about writing, grammar and quantity, but your stories didn’t attract anyone’s interest, and if that wasn’t the case, then you could write as many perfect articles as you wanted - you would never get a higher position.

You inhaled deeply. “So, what do you suggest I’d do?”

His answer was clear, “Look for a story that will change lives. Write a story that will leave people breathless, and you’re getting the position of a senior editor. Because miss, you’re one of the most capable journalists here, but you don’t only need to be capable, you need to be a storyteller. If you can do this, propose the topic to me next week. If it’s what I expected, it will make headlines in the next issue and secure your new position.”

If only it were so easy.

____

You were sitting in the fast food restaurant with your notebook opened in front of you. Every single page was blank even though you had been there for several hours already, the ballpen in your hand having barely moved ever since.

“Do you want to order something else?”

“I’m good, thank you.”

You could only imagine the eyeroll the waitress let out when she turned away from you after not getting another order for two hours. But you were already short of cash this month and wouldn’t get paid for another week.

Another reason why you needed the senior position: as a regular editor, you could barely get by. Why were journalists underpaid anyway when they were the source of daily news and this connected the world? You had never understood.

Many ideas had flown into your head, from working a day in a job that was notorious to interviewing an infamous inmate, but none of these were exciting or extraordinary enough like it was expected of you. The topics that you came up with didn’t immediately peak interest when you researched about what your fellow editors had ever written about. And what you found left you nearly speechless and doubting yourself.

Yes, you had always been tame, reserved, a goody two-shoes. That was why your mind was also not expanding to the way it was expected of reporters. Perhaps, you were not made for this job as you could also not quite learn how to do it right.

Should you perhaps change to newspapers after all? But the open positions were always so rare and you had wanted to start at your current magazine because it was the most famous in the country…

“Where are you going after this?”

“I’m going to watch the race, Falcon against Antelope!”

“They’re set for tonight? I didn’t know!”

“Pscht, not so loud!”

Since you already lost focus and let other people’s voices into your mind, you could also pack your things and go home. You were already so done for the day.

“Can I come with you? It’s been so long since the last time I went.”

“Sure. They’ll start at midnight, so we have to hurry.”

You zipped up your handbag and threw a few bills on the table, already with one arm up the sleeve of your jacket when you perked up your ears.

“Falcon will make a comeback, so tonight there will be a lot of cash flowing!”

“Wow!”

You cleared up your throat and walked up to the two young women on the nearby table whose conversation you had been partially involuntarily listening to for the last minute. Despite your attention only shifting to them much later, you got the gist of the entire story.

It was about illegal street racing, you had read an article about it a few months ago in which the alias Falcon had also been mentioned along with another animal that you had forgotten.

The Falcon was only stuck in your mind, because there had been an accident caused by him, and ever since then, the police were paying even more attention to these kinds of illegal activities. The fact that there would be a race tonight must be a well hidden secret.

“Excuse me, I overheard you’re also going to watch the race?” you feigned knowledge and quickly made up a story that would get them to talk. “Can you tell me where exactly they’ll start? I was going to meet my friend here who’s got all the info, but she’s not arrived yet and I’m afraid I’m gonna be late.”

They looked at you in wonder, then in amazement. One of them, apparently the better informed one, then nodded eagerly before describing the exact spot to you. “I guess it’s going to be quite full since it’s the first one with Falcon since the… incident. So everyone wants to see him. They’ll start at the industrial park at midnight.”

You nodded. “Thank you. Maybe we’ll see each other there.” You waited a bit until they had left the restaurant and then pondered whether to join or not.

There had already been many articles written about the Falcon and street racing in common, but since the most controversial racer would make a comeback, this race would be a special one, perhaps even kept secret to a point where no other media outlet knew about it. There was a slim chance that you were going to be the only reporter, so regardless of your current struggles, you had to take this opportunity.

Yes, an article about the Falcon’s comeback was good, but that was by far not enough for the story of your lifetime. It was better than nothing though, a beginning. And who knew what could come out of it.

As a journalist, you had learned that you were better off going and had something expected to write about rather than not going and missing on unexpected happenings.

So you headed to the industrial park.

____

When you arrived at the destination, you spotted a crowd that had formed in a wide, clear space between two buildings. There were about fifty spectators that had gathered, divided into different groups of various sizes, lights coming from the street lamps all around the place.

Through the gaps between the cliques that all seemed too engaged with each other to notice how lost you were, you discovered a group of men that marked themselves off everyone else.

It wasn’t particularly the way they were dressed as they all wore black leather, but rather the presence they radiated. But you couldn’t deny the fact that all of them were equally overly handsome, just in a way you wouldn’t be drawn to. You weren’t intimidated, you were scared to the bones, and you immediately wanted to turn on your heels and run right back home.

You weren’t much informed about the topic of illegal street racing aside from the few articles you had read. You only knew that it was one of the most dangerous underground activities that had cost a few lives already, of drivers and passerbyers almost equally. It was macabre that articles like these gained the most attention, clicks and sales.

Although you weren’t quite passionate about this kind of topic let alone approved of it, it was the best that you could come up with for now. You wanted to prove to your editor-in-chief that you were willing to take risks, willing to leave your comfort zone for the job - even if this wasn’t going to be the final story.

But now that you were right in the middle of this happening, you were getting cold feet. This wasn’t right. If you were caught as a spectator, would the police detain you too? And would your boss truly bail you out?

“Place your bet!”

You flinched when a young man popped up right next to you with a tablet in his hand, looking at you with expectant eyes.

“Pardon?”

“Place your bet!” he repeated. “Falcon against Antelope.”

“Oh, I only came to watch,” you waved aside. “But thank you!”

“You’re here for the first time, am I right?” The guy’s eyes narrowed. “Place. Your. Bet. This is how we’re financing this all. No money, no races.”

This wasn’t a question anymore, this was a demand, and you figured that if you were going to remain undercover, you had to play along and pretend to be like everyone else, even though you didn’t know the rules to this game. The guy was scanning you from head to toe, and it took you everything to restrain yourself from shaking when you took the tablet into your hands.

You had changed your mind entirely by now. You just wanted to be out of here as fast as possible, no matter what the editor-in-chief might say about this lost opportunity. It just wasn’t worth all this stress and fear. After all, you were quite attached to your life and a clear criminal report. It wasn’t that bad to be a goody two-shoes.

Still, you had to place a bet before you could vanish so that the guy would stop bothering you, so you scanned the display laying in your palms.

There were two columns, one belonged to the Falcon, the other to the Antelope. Each column was divided into different cells with the name and the amount of money one betted. No one had placed a single bet on the Falcon.

What was there to lose when the money would be gone from you one way or another since you were going to leave right after this anyway? You wouldn’t win a single penny.

So you placed a fake name and 70.000 Won for the Falcon, which was ironically the lowest bid for the Antelope. You noticed that most of the other people had betted much more, making you wonder about the total amount the winner could collect. But 70.000 Won was already very much for you, so you stuck with that.

“The Falcon, huh?” The guy grinned. “Risky, but I like the way you think. We only accept cash. Today it’s 20 million won so far for the winner, and ten percent of it gets split between the right betters depending on their bets. Maybe you’re lucky tonight and win ten percent of the entire amount yourself.”

You were holding yourself back letting out an audible gasp as it truly sounded tempting, and instead reached into your bag and pulled out your purse. 70.000 Won was a small price for your life, and you couldn’t wait to finally leave and never turn back. How high were the chances the Falcon was going to win anyway when nobody believed he would?

The guy grinned when he collected your money. “Interesting. It’s going to be an interesting race today. Good luck!”

He then went on to bother someone else all while you checked your surroundings for a hidden, but secure exit. Since you had used a fake name and only one person had seen your real face up close, it would be easy getting away unnoticed.

And you did.

Sliding along the buildings with your back pressed into the outer walls, nobody paid attention to you since the race was about to begin and a turmoil broke out shortly after your bet. You had been weighing yourself in safety, currently hiding in a blind, dark spot in the entrance of a different building with the street to freedom in sight when you suddenly heard male voices speaking up.

“Ready, Jaehyun?”

“More than you are.”

You froze on the spot when you saw several tall figures coming in your direction, their bodies illuminated by the street lamps, and you recognized the intimidating men dressed all in black leather who had been right in the middle of the crowd shortly before.

You couldn’t go back or forth, because either side was illuminated and would set the spotlight right on you, and flight forward would mean running directly into their arms. You could only push the door to the building behind you open and…

You found yourself standing in some kind of huge factory hall where only two cars were parked, the rest was entirely empty. Who in their right mind would rent a whole factory building for only two cars? Yes, they were expensive sports cars from what you could tell, the kind of ones that would catch everyone’s attention on the streets because of how luxurious and tuned they were… but an entire hall?

You were still processing and connecting all of this new information when the same door through which you had entered got pushed open again, and in walked all men that you had run from shortly before.

Your heart suddenly lept, and you feared that this was what a heart attack might feel like, yet you were very much still alive as you were able to desperately look for a spot to hide again while they hadn’t discovered your presence yet, but lingered by the entrance with the focus on two of them talking.

Out of reflex, as one of them turned into your direction, you fell to your knees and hid behind one of the cars - the matte black one -, suppressing a gasp the moment this exact car unlocked with a sound and flash from afar.

“I’m not afraid of you. I pity you.”

You needed a new spot to remain hidden with footsteps approaching this vehicle. Right now.

“And why would that be, Jaehyun?”

You had to think of something safe, but there was barely time anymore.

“Because you’re going to lose the race today.”

No way in hell.

There was no way in hell these were the racing cars! But of course, now everything made sense as to why those cars were being kept here, you just had been in too much of a panic to have connected the dots.

How you found yourself inside that matte, black car at this moment of realization, you couldn’t tell. Just like you couldn’t tell how you could have hoped to get out of this situation unnoticed all while hiding in a crouching position in the backseat with the only way to escape being visibly passing by these men.

If only you had stayed behind the car or under the car if you were to be discovered anyway, you could have somehow talked yourself out of this situation. But how were you going to explain you had actually sneaked into a racing vehicle? Out of all the dumb things you had ever done, this made it to the top of your list.

You flinched and threw yourself down into the small legroom between the driver’s seat and backseat, when you heard the door in front of you open and a figure seated himself behind the steering wheel.

No way this was your situation now!

Everything was better than ending up inside one of these cars, hearing it start and rolling out of the hall.

This… this situation couldn’t be real.

If you just stayed crouched in the legroom, not giving away a single tone or making a single move, maybe you still had a chance to survive this ride unnoticed. How you would handle this situation when you returned and had to reveal yourself if you didn’t want to be locked inside that car until you died of thirst… that was something you didn’t want to think about yet.

After a few feet, the car came to a stop in the clearing among the spectators, and you made yourself even smaller in case someone might want to get a look inside. By the way the crowd cheered and rejoiced, you hoped that the racer was the Antelope for god knows which reason. They were both racers with the intention to win by all means.

The noise got louder, went from muffled to clear, and you realized the driver had pulled down the window.

“Everything ready?” A male voice.

“I’m ready,” was the driver’s dry answer, a deep voice with a calming, soft undertone.

The engine was raving up, and you were tucked between the passenger’s seat and the backseat in a hole that was too tight, but because of that it was also the safest spot for the ride as there was no room to move anyway. Turning your head against the window at the opposite of you, you only saw light that flooded in and nothing else.

Dear god, you found yourself praying for the first time in your life, please let me live.

“Jaehyun, do you hear me?”

You flinched when you heard another voice.

“Clear and loud.”

“Only ten seconds left.”

“Okay.”

Was he communicating through a two-way radio with someone? You hadn’t expected this race to be so well-planned and coordinated. Was it always like this? This was an interesting and not widely known point. You only hoped your memory would keep all this information saved as you for sure wouldn’t be able to take out your notebook and write everything down now.

This was the journalist inside you taking the upper hand again. If you were already in this situation, you were going to write the hell out of it. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity you would never get again, the exact situation your editor-in-chief had talked about.

This was going to be your headline story. You only hoped what he had promised was true and your company would really bail you out if it came down to this. Or pay for hospital bills. There was no way you would be able to leave unscathed, physically and emotionally.

“Three!” the crowd yelled that you could also hear in the car as though you were standing among them.

“Two!” Your fingers gripped onto leather and something metallic, you couldn’t really tell.

“One!” You closed your eyes.

“GO!”

How equally unlucky and lucky you were to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Or right place at the right time, it depended.

____

You were absolutely not safe in your hiding spot as expected. You got tossed and flung into every direction possible, and if it weren’t for the narrow space in which you had tucked yourself in, you believed that you would have been hurled into the seat right next to the driver already.

But you were gripping hard onto the cushions like your life depended on it just to prevent this from happening as the car sped through the streets and took every curve with such a sharp edge, you were amazed the vehicle didn’t drive on one side only by then. In your location, you weren’t quite able to catch the car’s speed, but only guessed by the street lights flashing by in less than a single second, which was, in your non-existent experience, quite much.

While the driver was talking to the person at the other end of the radio who was giving him directions and tips, navigating him away from police controls and crowded locations, you started to feel a bit braver with no more sharp curve having come in miles anymore. Most likely, you were on the highway now.

So you slowly arose and got on your knees. Curiosity eventually had gotten the better of you, and you wondered what the world outside looked like. In the end, no matter how you would come out of this, you had to make sure it must have been all worth it.

You had to come to the conclusion that if you moved a bit higher to look out of the window, he might spot your head from his position if he looked in the rear window. With a muted curse, you crouched back down, but instantly got hit by another idea. Dragging the phone out of your handbag was quite an act when you barely couldn’t move, but once you had managed to do so, you inwardly hyped yourself up.

You turned on the camera and pressed the record button, then imperceptibly motioned the phone over your head and let the upper part peek out of your lair with the camera facing out of the window. If he would look, then he would barely see anything, probably mistake the black edge of your phone for a shadow or a part of the car’s interior.

When suddenly a ringing tone broke through the silence inside the car though, you nearly let your device fall with a gasp. You thought you had the ringtone silenced for the entire day already, how was it possible?!

“Hello,” the driver suddenly greeted, and only then it took a load off your mind. It wasn’t your phone that had rung.

“Jaehyun, when will you come home?” The female voice sounded playful, childish. A kid? Perhaps a teenager even?

“Why are you still awake?” The driver named Jaehyun chided with feigned sternness, of whom you still didn’t know what he looked like and whether he was the Falcon or the Antelope. “It’s past midnight and you have school tomorrow.”

“I was waiting for you to come home.”

“But I won’t be home for another hour. It’s going to be late tonight.” The driver sighed, and he sounded very regretful. “I’m sorry.”

“Jaehyun, are you currently racing?”

Silence followed, and suddenly, you felt like you were going to overhear something no one else was supposed to eavesdrop. Like an intruder - which you technically and obviously were since this was obviously a conversation between two family members.

The driver repeated, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I won’t tell mom. I’ll tell her you’re studying in the library again.”

A yawn followed on the other side, and suddenly, you heard the driver snicker. Somehow, it didn’t fit his attitude that you had gotten a glimpse at earlier. Even his responses to the person at the other side of the radio had always been short and curt. But to this young person, he was entirely different.

“I will wait for you. Mom said I shouldn’t, but I cannot sleep if I don’t know you’re home.”

“I’ll come home safe.”

“Promise?”

“Promise, sis. I will always come home safe.”

Your arm that was holding the phone quietly slipped back into your lap, and you stayed silent for a very long time after they had hung up. This was so wrong. You had signed up for an adventure, not to listen to an intimate conversation between siblings that somehow also warmed your heart.

If you had learned anything from it, then it was that the driver was indeed a kind person deep within. It didn’t matter what he did, for what he did it and who he was in the end, Antelope or Falcon. They were people with stories, and if you were the journalist you claimed to be, you needed to look at both sides of the coin and bring out everyone’s own perception.

Wasn’t this what your editor-in-chief wanted? A headline that didn’t go “Illegal street racer makes a comeback! We are the first ones to interview him” but rather “He risked it all for his little sister, and now he’s back - read here about the tragic backstory of one of Seoul’s most dangerous men!” or something along these lines.

After you had gathered yourself again, you looked at your phone while the roads started to turn bumpier now. You assumed you had reached the outskirts and were hopefully on the way back to where it had all started. Gosh, you prayed for that, even though you hadn’t come up with a plan to explain your situation at all yet.

The video on your phone showed you exactly what you had expected to see: nothing but a blur of whites and black. Great. It was useless. But what had you even expected?

“We have a problem.”

You perked up your ears as you heard the other familiar voice through the radio.

“What is it?” the driver grumbled. “Not long and we’ll…” He paused, and even with the missing eye contact, you sensed how the mood had suddenly shifted. “I haven’t seen him in a while…”

“Exactly. There is an undercover police car underway, the informants have just told us, and it’ll stop right where you have to pass through. The Antelope apparently knew about this and already took another route.”

Antelope?! You knew you didn’t want to judge, but out of all possibilities which was 50/50, of course you would have ended up in the Falcon’s aka Jaehyun’s car, the very same person you had mindlessly betted on. What were the odds?

The Falcon snorted. “Now, will you tell me he didn’t set this up himself?”

“No accusations now. Let’s think about what’s best to do. We’re currently in Gangdong-Gu, you somehow have to leave the highway.”

“There is no possibility,” he growled back. “It’s a suburb, there is no way I can pass through it on time and unnoticed for me to win the race.”

“I’ll navigate you the best I can.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. The streets are so short and narrow, it will take too long and is too complicated.”

“You can’t get caught by the police, Jaehyun. And they’re almost right in front of you. It’s better to-”

“Don’t!” he cut the person on the other end off. “I won’t give up. Not this time again. I need this win and money, you know that. It’s my comeback and reputation that I have to restore.”

“But what your family needs is you, more than money or your reputation.”

Silence. Your front teeth sank deep into your bottom lip as you were quarreling with yourself in silence. You knew what was right and what was wrong, what was legal and what was illegal, and what you were currently doing with the driver was far from being within the law as a matter of fact.

But his little sister wanted him to come home so that she could go to sleep…

“HEY!” you screamed and suddenly appeared from behind his driver’s seat.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

The car swerved to the left, hurling you out of your lair and right into the edge of the backseat with a dull pain that shot from your stomach right into every limb. You gasped for air.

“WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU AND HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE?” Despite you still not being able to face him, you got a glimpse of his face when you looked at it through the rear window. Clear anger and also shock was written all over it. You couldn’t blame him. “ANSWER TO ME NOW!”

“Don’t… have time,” you breathed and rubbed your back, getting on your knees and slowly rising from your position. “Gangdong-Gu… that’s where I grew up. I know this place inside out. I’ll navigate you.”

“Jaehyun, who is that with you in your car? That’s a rule violation!”

“I don’t fucking know who this is!” he yelled again, but not as loud as before, and before he could react to your actions, you had already crawled over the expensive interior and settled yourself in the passenger’s seat. “Who are you?!”

With a click, you fastened the seatbelt and looked out of the window. You knew exactly where you were now. “Take the second exit from here. We will pass by within the next two minutes. You will have to drive through a part of the neighborhood to change highways, but you’ll be fine at this hour. Once you have changed motorways, you’ll even reach the destination quicker. Is that a rule violation too? Taking a shortcut through the suburbs?”

You tilted your head and met his flabbergasted expression as he was staring at you with equal intensity where also curiosity was mirrored. “Uhm… usually we avoid that to not accidentally hurt any passerbyers. But…”

“It’s not a violation of the rules,” the person on the radio jumped in quickly. “It’s just unethical and something we would not like to risk.”

“Okay, thanks radio-guy.”

“Welcome, uhm… intruder-lady?”

“I did not intrude!”

“Well, how the fuck would you call this?” the Falcon interrupted.

“I don’t have time to explain now.” Your arm shot up and you pointed at a sign. “Take this exit! Right now!”

From the corner of your eyes, you clearly saw him struggling whether to trust you or not. Fair enough. You were a stranger that had hidden in his car and were now only popping up when it was about winning or losing. If anything, you could have been smuggled in by the Antelope’s team as well. No wonder he was doubting whether he could trust you.

“Screw it.”

You got thrown to the left when he suddenly swerved and left the highway according to your instruction. With your right hand, you grabbed the handle under the window for stability, once again questioning all your life choices. But you had thought long and clear about this. Having decided on helping him would result in the best outcome for your situation.

“Three rules,” he suddenly said when he drove into the neighborhood.

You shook off all your fears, speaking confidently, “I’m listening.”

“First. No word to anyone about what’s happening and what you’re doing right now. Nobody can know you’re in here.”

Why did he sound so intimidating? “Got it.”

“Second, you will lead me through this neighborhood without any incidents. Slow, steady and clear, you’ll be the navigator, the guy at the other side helps you from afar. One wrong turn, one accident or even the danger of one, and one late instruction, and I’ll kick you out of the car right there and then.”

No pressure, no pressure at all, you thought ironically to yourself. “Got it.”

“And third,” a voice on the radio chirped, “Don’t forget to have fun!”

“Shut up, Taeyong.”

“Third,” the Falcon repeated, “when we’re back at the venue, you’ll stay hidden inside here until someone comes and gets you.”

What would happen after, you didn’t dare to ask. Surely, they wouldn’t get rid of you… right? Either way, your fate had been sealed the moment you decided to come watch the race, so you gulped silently and gave a final nod.

The car came to a halt in front of a very familiar street. Everything was dark, empty and quiet. You took a deep breather and the Falcon’s head snapped in your direction. When you faced each other the next moment, you took a spare second to study his face.

If he weren’t in a racing car, you could imagine him very well sitting in a café, sipping coffee and typing something into his laptop, maybe even wearing glasses and ordinary street clothes, possibly even joggers.

He was just a normal dude under all these leather clothes that made him appear very tough, emphasized by this constant scowl on his face that was - admittedly - very handsome. After years in your field of expertise, you could read people very well and only seldomly were you wrong.

“Ready?” he asked, not breaking eye contact.

Neither did you. “Ready.”

The adrenaline flushed through your veins the moment he hit the gas pedal.

____

“Didn’t you sleep much last night?” your co-worker asked when you yawned for the nth time that morning.

What were you supposed to answer?

“I only got home at 4am last night, because I was street racing?”

So instead, you said, “I just couldn’t fall asleep, don’t worry.”

Nobody would believe you. And yet, these were the stories that everyone sought after. But only one ride was not resourceful enough and didn't contain enough substance for a decent plot. You needed the people behind it, the backgrounds and the experiences.

But after you had gotten out of the car, these people have made it very clear to you that you shouldn’t appear in a race ever again, not even as a spectator, and that your lips needed to be sealed for eternity. The fact that they had let you go without any consequences was only out of mercy because you had contributed to the victory - with a violation of rules though.

You had learned pretty quickly though that most of the time, they ignored these rules as long as nobody got hurt as physical incidents that included innocents were the highest breach of violation - just like the Antelope who had apparently cheated like the Falcon had assumed. But since nobody got proof, there hadn’t been more consequences than a few verbal attacks. As long as nobody had seen you inside the car and could prove it somehow, you were fine.

The only person that had thanked and had been nice to you was the Falcon’s navigator, Taeyong. He had even looked very sorry for what you had been through when he had opened the door to the car and you stepped out of the hideout between the backseat and passenger’s seat with shaking legs.

The Falcon hadn’t even looked at you twice when you walked out of the building - with all the money. Yes, surprisingly, they had still given you ten percent of the prize money. It was all rightfully yours since you had been the only one betting on the Falcon. Your bet had been officially registered and you had won, so it was fair and according to the rules that you would get what you earned, Taeyong had explained.

Deep down, you sensed that he only didn’t want to admit they wouldn’t have won without you, and this was them paying off their debt. After all, you hadn’t given out your real name, so they could have just said the betting person vanished. But you didn’t push the topic and saw it as hush money that you luckily needed anyway, and accepted it. Racers had a very high sense of ethics, you had learned by now. A thank you from the Falcon wouldn’t have hurt though. But instead, he had said you should never appear in front of his eyes ever again. What a rude man.

“Okay,” your co-worker said, “shall we go through the index for the next issue and compare the page numbers? Two pairs of eyes work better than just one.”

“Sure! Let me get the notes about what the editor-in-chief said. There were some important points he mentioned that had changed…”

You reached into your handbag to look for your notebook when at that moment, the telephone on your desk rang and showed the lobby’s shortcut number.

“There is someone waiting here for you, miss.”

“Alright, I’ll come downstairs.”

You wondered whether you had actually missed a meeting or an interview that you had set up for a story, but nothing actually came into your mind when you took the elevator and rode downstairs to the lobby.

At the front desk, you asked the lady where your visitor was waiting since you hadn’t spotted a familiar face as you passed by the waiting area. When she pointed at a figure sitting on the couch, slumped on the cushion, you needed to blink twice to match the face with your memories.

“You?!” you then called out when you stood in front of the young man.

He wore a snapback, glasses, joggers and a loose long sleeve. Between his lips, he carried a white stick, and you already wanted to call him out that smoking was not allowed in here when you realized that the stick was too thin to be a cigarette. It turned out to actually be a lollipop. When your gaze fell to his feet, you were able to count every single naked toe as he wore slippers. You were right. He normally didn’t look like this nighttime-self at all. During the daytime, he was just a normal guy who appeared to have just gotten out of bed.

When the Falcon arose from his seat, he didn’t even greet you. Instead, he took the lollipop out of his mouth, round and red, and just thrusted a notebook into your hands. Your notebook - the one you had wanted to fetch from your handbag earlier and which you needed for the meeting with your editor-in-chief later. You had been so sure that it was in your handbag this entire time!

“This was still in the backseat of my car. Take better care of your belongings. And don’t put your business cards everywhere. It’s not everyone’s business where you work or what your contact information is.” He then shrugged, made the lollipop disappear between his lips again and turned aside to walk past you, but you held him back by his arm.

“Wait!”

Slowly, he shifted his head back to you and asked lazily, but clearly despite the sweet in his mouth, “What is it now?”

He shook your grip off, but you just bluntly asked the question that had been on your mind this entire morning, “Let me ride with you one more time, please?”

He drew his brows together as if you had just asked the dumbest thing a woman your age could ask a man. And apparently, judging by his answer, you had done exactly that.

“Are you nuts?”

“You see, I’m a journa-”

“You people really think you’re superior,” he scowled, and you were taken aback. “Making money off of people’s personal stories, aren’t you guys embarrassed? I shouldn’t have returned your notebook at all. You’re all just selfish bastards.”

With a lowly look at you, the Falcon put more distance between you two, and although you were frozen on the spot and dumbfounded at first, you didn’t want to let him leave like this. Clearly, he had a prejudice about you journalists that you had to resolve.

“I’m not one of those journalists that make money off other people!” you told him when you had caught up with him, but by then you were already outside on the streets. “I tell real, verified stories, and only what people allow me to write! Only the truth!” He didn’t reply, but just continued walking, and you decided to follow him. “I’ve never lied or done anything without consent to write my stories. And that is what my editor-in-chief is always criticizing since this apparently holds me back from getting a promotion. In his eyes, I’m a goody two-shoes who doesn’t take any risks. But the truth is… I can’t do that, I’m fine that way! I want to tell the stories with people, I don’t want to tell stories against people! And I think you guys’ story is one very worth telling!”

Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks and you nearly ran into him from behind. One a few inches separated you from each other when he turned around to you and dropped his head to lock gazes with you. “I don’t think what happened yesterday with you breaking into my car was something a goody two-shoes would actually do, but a ruthless journalist.”

You let out a desperate cry. “I told you over and over again, I just wanted to watch the race, then changed my mind and wanted to go home when you guys appeared, and then I panicked! That wasn’t planned, and regarding how close I was to dying, I would choose to not do that again. Which is why I’m asking you formally for permission.”

The Falcon remained silent and inwardly, you raised your hopes up. If you could tell a great story in cooperation with him under an alias and his other friends, that would definitely secure your promotion.

“No.”

Then, he continued his way.

“But why?” You quickly caught up to him again. “I wouldn’t tell you guys’ real names and only write what you want to have written.”

“I don’t have a story to tell except that we like racing.”

“But there must already be a story to that, right?” you tried again, keeping up with his steps this time. “Why did you start? How did you start? How did you learn all this, how do you feel when you’re in the car, how does this whole teamwork function, do your other friends and family know and what do they think about it… I have so many questions!”

“No word about my family,” he interrupted you, the candy now in his hand to speak more insistently, and it didn’t sound like a warning at this point, it sounded more like a threat. “Whatever you heard in the car, you better forget about it.”

A soft spot - you had already discovered that. It was none of your business if he didn’t want to let you in as a stranger, but you also couldn’t stop wondering. “I already got that memo yesterday. But-”

Again, he cut you off. “Great. And if I still catch you publishing an article on what happened yesterday or what you eavesdropped… well, I know where you work and live thanks to your negligence. Goodbye.”

He put the lollipop back into his mouth and disappeared in the crowd. You were tired of chasing after him again, and truth to be told, you could understand his point. Taking a deep breath in, you settled with the fact that you had to change your topic, the promotion gone from your sight again.

Of course you could have written the article without any additional info or the reveal that you were in the car yourself, but then it would only be that, an article. But you wanted a story.

_____

You were scrolling through the internet, looking for new jobs.

You figured that if you were to stick with your old position, you could as well try your luck somewhere else. Perhaps, there were open positions on the same level as your missed promotion for which you could prove that you were qualified or that didn’t require you to do illegal and unethical things.

There were only two days left until you had to hand in your proposal for the story that would cover the next issue, and you still hadn’t come up with something else.

By now, you could also pack your things and leave the city since living in the countryside didn’t sound so bad after all. Sitting by the window all day, watching nature? A dream. But you had chosen to return and to stay in the capital on purpose, a quiet, secluded life didn’t suit your current ideals. You were a writer after all, always seeking for new stories to tell, and you believed Seoul told endless ones.

The ringing doorbell had you spin around on your chair. Your room was small, but it offered enough space for all necessities that only one person needed, which was why you rarely had visitors. And as far as you remembered, you hadn’t invited anyone over.

“Who is there?” you asked carefully as you approached the door.

“It’s me.”

You furrowed. “Who?”

“Me.” Pause. “Jaehyun.”

The Falcon. Lollipop-dude. What could he possibly want after your last argument?

You opened the door, and there he stood in front of you, hair slicked back and donned all in black leather - a stark contrast to a few days ago, safe from the lollipop spinning in his mouth.

He peeked through the halfway opened door. “It’s tiny in here.”

You snapped, “Well, nobody asked you to come.”

“Can I come in anyway? We need to talk.”

“I didn’t write anything!”

He rolled his eyes as you opened the door. “I know, that’s not why I came here.”

You closed the entrance door behind you and watched him standing in your room, a bit too big for your furniture, and also a bit lost in this environment. You struggled biting down a snicker, because this picture was just so surreal.

“What is it?” he grumbled.

You folded your arms in front of your chest and shrugged. “Nothing. So tell me, what do you want from me that even made you come to my home?”

The Falcon turned around to your desk and stretched out his arm, taking something into his hand that must be your notebook he had returned to you. Holding it up, he showed it to you with his back still facing you and asked, “You still want to write this story of yours?”

Perplexed, you could only nod, but as you realized he couldn’t witness your confirmation, you quickly agreed vocally, “Yes! Yes, of course!”

“Three rules,” he then started before slowly shifting back into your sight, the lollipop still in his mouth, and you noted that everything for him came with terms and conditions. How exhausting, three rules again. “You won’t use anyone’s real names. You will only write what I allow you to write. You won’t mention my family or my background. I am allowed to read the entire thing before you publish it.”

“Those are four rules tho,” you remarked, and his eyes narrowed.

The lollipop stopped spinning in his mouth. “I’m outta here.”

“I agree, I agree!” you corrected yourself. “I agree with all the rules!”

“Fine.” He handed you over your notebook. “Now get dressed, we’re going racing. I hope you have black clothes and a leather jacket, because this…” He pointed at your light pink pajamas in which you had changed into as soon as you came home, “is not it.”

Your eyes widened. “Now?”

“Now,” he repeated.

You hesitated.

“Your last chance,” he pushed.

“I’ll get changed.”

____

“I thought I was going to be in the car.”

“Didn’t Jaehyun tell you?” Taeyong asked with a cocked brow.

“Tell me what?”

“That guy…” He touched his forehead and pointed at the seat next to him, urging you to sit down in front of the three monitors standing on the desk. “We need you to navigate.”

“Navigate what?”

“What did you two talk about on your ride here?”

You heaved up your shoulders and let them down again. “Actually nothing.”

The ride in the Falcon’s car to this suburb had been quiet with him focusing on driving and you concentrating on what you could make this story revolve around. No, you had barely talked and had each lived in their own mind.

“You’re going to navigate the race. Basically be his co-driver, but from here, not from inside the car like last time,” Taeyong explained thoughtfully with a smile. “Basically, you’ll do my job, I’ll only be your co-navigator and the team’s manager fully again.”

“Navigator? Eh? I thought I was only going to stay here, writing. Maybe even get the chance to be inside the car again, but since it’s against the official rules, I didn’t even think of that.”

“Wait, he really didn’t tell you anything?” You were both equally confused.

“So I’m not just… observing?”

“Absolutely not.” Taeyong determinedly shook his head. “To be part of the team means to contribute something, and for you to write this story about us, you will also have to do your part. Actually, no outsider is allowed to be with the team during the race, because the risk of cheating and manipulation is too high, so this was the only option. Jaehyun has already fallen out of grace, we cannot allow something negative to be associated with him again when his reputation is just getting repaired.”

You wanted to know why the Falcon had fallen out of grace in the first place, but you came to the conclusion that it was not your time to ask just yet.

“And why me then? Aren’t you guys enough?” You tried to conceal your rising panic. “I can just sit here and write if I’m not allowed inside the car. Maybe do some cleaning of the vehicle before you start or do some promotion work. Something I can actually do. Nobody will notice I don’t have a fixed role in the team. Besides, I don’t even know how to navigate.”

Taeyong tilted his head, his smile growing wider. “But you’ve done an exceptionally good job last time. It doesn’t matter who navigates, the person just has to be good.”

You felt your cheeks getting warm by this compliment. “I barely did anything…”

“And yet, it was enough for him to win after such a long time and have people start betting on him again. He really needs the money, so you better help him win as many races as possible in return for getting a good story.”

Why did it sound like a threat despite his sweet smile?

You sighed. “What do I have to do?”

“Take this.”

Taeyong handed you a headset and instructed you to wear it which would connect your voice to the radio in Jaehyun’s car. Through the first monitor, you had the dashcam’s point of view, which gave you the feeling of being directly in the passenger’s seat, that was not bad. The second monitor showed the car’s location in the city with all streets and buildings through a GPS while the third showed another map but with different red dots spread across the screen.

“Those are police stations and control points.” Taeyong let the tip of his index finger glide over the screen. “... of the ones we know. Spotting cars following Jaehyun as well as unplanned control points popping up will be another challenge. And these devices are police scanners. As you can guess from the name alone…”

At first, you had been excited, but as you got everything explained and shown, it dawned on you how close the driver and the navigator actually had to work, and that the driver had to trust the navigator literally with his life. You didn’t feel very comfortable with that much responsibility weighing on your shoulders. What if something went wrong and he got caught by the police? Would you land in jail then too?

“Today, it’s going to be a cannonball run with two others, meaning Jaehyun will start here, but finish at the other side of the city where most of the spectators are waiting. That’s why there is barely anyone here right now. Of course they want to see the winner. As opposed to last time’s run, this is about time rather than bringing as much distance between the cars as possible. And you know how much the sum is that you can win?” Taeyong’s sweet smile got replaced by a wicked grin. “40 million won.”

“I can’t do this, I’m sorry!”

You jumped out of your seat and ran towards the door, opening it up. The starting point was somewhere in the suburbs where you had never been before, but you didn’t care as you pulled out your phone once you inhaled fresh air that filled your heated lungs, ready to call a taxi.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”

A huge figure blocked your way, and it only took you one look to first smell his lollipop, then recognize him. Damn, did he ever finish that sweet or did he have an entire stash in his pockets?

“I’m going home!”

“And why would you do that?”

“Because you lied to me! I can’t do this!”

Instead of talking you out of it, the Falcon raised his brows, then laughed, revealing his teeth between the red lollipop. “I knew it. Once a chickenshit, always a chickenshit.”

“A what?!” Your mouth stood agape, wondering whether you had heard right. “How can you say that?”

“I’m only speaking the truth. The first time, you also wanted to escape had it not been for us coming in your direction and forcing you to get into the car, right?”

You faltered. “Hm… okay, yes… but…”

He tilted his head and shrugged. “You dream about big stories, but this is what they will always stay for you: a dream. And you know why?” The Falcon leaned in, and you felt the sudden urge to withdraw, but you were completely petrified. “Because you don’t have the courage and the will to actually make your dreams come true. You're a big talker, a dreamer to put it nicely, but you’re not a doer, someone who gets shit done. I, in comparison, get shit done. And this is why I'm doing what I’m doing and you’re only watching from the sidelines, not being able to type down this story of yours like the goody two-shoes you are. Ever thought about the fact that you won’t get this promotion because you don’t deserve it?”

You weren’t aware that you had been holding your breath the entire time. Only when he approached you further and whispered in your ear, “Now go home, we don’t need someone like you here, we can do it without you”, you were able to exhale again, blood irregularly pumping through your veins while you clenched your fists.

With a fierce gaze thrown at him, you spun around on your heel, opened the door to the hall and yelled, “Taeyong, give me the headset and tell me what to do. For this round, I feel more comfortable with you next to me.” You threw one last look behind you at Jaehyun before you continued, “And next time, I’ll do it all myself.”

The door fell shut behind you, but you could have sworn that you saw the Falcon smiling.

This time though, genuinely. And perhaps partly relieved.

____

You were still shaking when you found yourself sitting in the Falcon’s car again, heading home in the middle of the night after your first race as a co-navigator. The other team members had brought you to the finish line in their car with them to celebrate, but there was not much reason for you to do so as of now. The shock was still sitting deeply with you.

“Everything okay?” the Falcon asked, but it still sounded like coming from another planet as your ears were ringing. “What are you even upset about? We won.”

“What I’m upset about?” you called out. “There could have been so many instances that could have gone totally wrong!”

“But nothing went wrong. Why are you always such a scaredy cat?” You didn’t look at him but straight out of the window. His eye roll was very visible in front of you though. “Just calm down, it’s irritating me.”

“I know everything ended well, but just imagine if a police car had suddenly pulled up. Or if someone had crossed the streets. Inside the car, it was exciting, but as an official navigator, you have so much responsibility…”

“Just enjoy the victory and the amount of money we’re going to share with you. Isn’t that what you wanted?” He murmured something about goody two-shoes again, but by now you were good at ignoring that. “Geez, did you ever have one single day in your life that you could freely enjoy without having a stick so far up your ass? Your poor boyfriend.”

It was the most nonchalant way in which you had ever witnessed the Falcon talk, even though he had mostly said nonsense.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Yeah, I wonder why.”

You gasped. “Excu-”

The next moment, you tasted something sweet on your tongue. “Close your mouth and suck.”

Instinctively, you did as you had been told as you didn’t know how else to react. The Falcon kept driving the car through the city with his eyes fixated on the road in front of him as though he hadn’t just pulled the lollipop out of his mouth and nearly shoved it straight down your throat.

“Sugar helps me calm down and the motions I need to make distract me from unwanted thoughts,” he admitted, and his voice suddenly sounded so vulnerable that you didn’t dare to respond. “I think you need that now too.”

You slumped back into your seat, suddenly very quiet. You tried not to think much about the fact that his saliva was now in your mouth too, and that you didn’t feel repulsed at the thought at all. He had been right after all. Your hands were not shaking anymore.

“The fact that I participate in those races is because I need the money,” he continued and you somehow sensed that he was currently glad that you weren’t able to look him straight in the face in case you caught his true emotions mirrored there. “And I wanted you to be my navigator, because you had done a very good job the first time around. During the races, you appear to be panicked and disheveled, but you are actually calm and collected, always knowing what you’re doing and never doubting yourself. From the first moment on, I saw much potential in you, and I needed someone like that to strengthen my team.”

“... to win the races,” you finished what he probably thought to himself in silence.

“Exactly.”

“So to you, it’s all about winning?” Your mouth tasted sweet with each syllable, and only now you recognized which flavor that was: cherry. “You wanted me in your team, because you assumed I could contribute to your series of wins?”

“That’s my only life goal. Winning as many games as possible for the money.”

You didn’t know why his answer bothered you. Weren’t you also only on board because you needed to write about this experience to ensure you climb the ladder of success which would eventually also result in money and fame? You weren’t much different from each other. He probably was only a bit more reckless in money making than you.

“I understand,” you agreed when it eventually clicked. He was trying to fool you again, so you corrected yourself, “No, I don’t understand. The way you spoke to your sister… it’s not only about money for you.”

The Falcon scoffed. “Why do you feel the need to peg me as some kind of deep character? Because I don’t fit the narrative of your story?”

This stung. Most likely because he was right. People wanted to read about deep characters, if not about a hero, then about an antagonist who told them how he had become an antagonist. But nobody wanted to read about a greedy, selfish person.

“So the main character of my story is only after money,” you concluded dryly.

“Yes, this is something you can mention in your story. The person you write about is a selfish jerk who only thinks about money.” He let out a laugh, but it rather sounded rather bitter than genuine. “I know it’s not that very deep of a story, but never told you that what you would get was interesting.”

The lollipop clicked against your teeth as you replied, “No worries. I’m a professional.”

He wanted to make himself fit his very own narrative, and you needed him to fit your own narrative. Right now, there was no character to your story.

At home, despite the ungodly hour and your clash of interests, you typed down a summary of your story and handed it in the very next day, even before the deadline. This would be your story, one way or another. You were going to make the best out of it, with the Falcon’s cooperation or without.

____

“He is very popular,” you remarked.

“Oh, he sure is.” Taeyong thrusted a drink into your hand. “He just doesn’t like this attention at all.”

You watched the Falcon getting approached by both men and women who were desperate to talk to him while you watched with your new team from the sidelines. After another race together that the Falcon had won, Taeyong had invited you to something like an after party in some other team member’s big house. You had to work the next morning and didn’t want to stay long, but you supposed you had to do it for the experience and more substance for your article. The more you had to write about, the better.

“Can you imagine that only a few months ago, it was entirely different? Everybody hated him.”

“Hm?” You snapped your head to Taeyong. “Because of the accident he was involved in?”

The look in his eyes was impenetrable, but it softened when he watched his friend. “Yes, but the details to that… I’m sure he’ll tell you himself when he feels the time is right.”

Admittedly, you knew quite a bit already by just going around and talking to people, you were just keeping it a secret since you didn’t want to come off to the team as too nosy or pushy. But none of the spectators you had come to have a short conversation with knew exactly what kind of accident that had been. You had tried really hard to gather all the information, but they just differed too much from each other.

When one assumed the Falcon had hit someone with his car and drove away, the second guessed he had run into someone, but brought them to the hospital. And the third option, and that was the worst, those people believed he had killed someone in that accident. The newspapers that had reported on this case hadn’t mentioned anything more. Just the fact that the Falcon had caused an accident in a suburb that involved an innocent passerby. And that was still enough to fall out of grace in this community, that was how high their ethical standards were.

You wondered why, with such an incident happening that involved all kinds of trope that would make people drawn to it, there hadn’t been any follow-up reports by newspapers and magazines.

Taeyong had once let slip that Jaehyun had only been able to make a comeback after this incident because he had challenged the Cheetah. Apparently, nobody ever did that. And now you were even more curious about the Cheetah, the Falcon’s biggest opponent.

From what you had heard, officially and unofficially, he won all the races and was nearly untouchable. He only challenged someone just to show off how remarkable he was, but nobody ever challenged him. That was an unspoken rule - except for when you wanted to set yourself up for humiliation. And the Falcon had done exactly that.

You looked at your team which was already top notch with a driver who was nearly impeccable. You couldn’t imagine a team that was better. Apart from the one you worked the closest with, Taeyong, there was Johnny, the mechanic, and the one which they call the investigator, though you just believed that he was a hacker in reality - Yuta.

You had seen and worked with them before all the time, but getting to know them privately in peace made you realize one thing: These were all just normal guys who knew each other from university with a not so legal side hustle. They were splitting the winner’s entire sum equally among all of them, and even if they didn’t want that much as the Falcon was the one driving and inheriting the most dangerous part, the latter always insisted on it, claiming they weren’t a work environment, but friends.

The fact that you were now a part of this close knit group, made you feel a bit awkward as you didn’t know them that well yet, but the other fact that they had welcomed you with open arms, safe from the Falcon so far though, and already saw you as one of them, warmed your heart.

Even though the money had sounded very tempting as well and you surely always got your fair share of the work that paid more than a few bills, you were surprised how little it meant to you in the end. You couldn’t really pinpoint it. The races with the team… the preparation, the process, the talks in between, the shared laughter, the banter… you enjoyed this way much more than holding the money in your hands by the next day. It meant so less when everything else hoarded a much bigger feeling that was still so unfamiliar to you, but very overwhelming.

“Ah, there he is,” Johnny whispered to you and pointed at a tall guy, surrounded by other young men and a woman. “The Cheetah and his team.”

“That’s the Cheetah?” you asked. “The one he’s challenged?”

“The best racer out there and someone Jaehyun could never beat, someone no one usually challenges and beats.” There it was. Now, you didn’t need to feign lack of knowledge anymore. “Hopefully, until now. It’s about a lot of money and the people are already anticipating it. It’s gonna be the race of the year. Maybe, Jaehyun will take his crown.”

You hadn’t known it was going to be this big and anticipated. Now, you also understood why people had welcomed the Falcon back despite whatever everyone imagined the accident to have involved. The best and most popular racer against the underdog who had fallen deep, wanting to rise again? That surely made a headline.

“The woman in that team, is she also a navigator?”

“Yes.” Taeyong nodded. “Women are mostly navigators, there rarely are female racers. As of today, I only know of two who are still active. But it’s really hard to recruit women for your team, no matter which position.”

“Because the job is illegal and hard?”

He nodded again. “Women usually don’t want to be involved in illegal activities.”

“... I can relate.”

All eyes now landed on you and you shrugged. “I just really need this promotion, you know that, guys. Just once in life, I want to be fortunate and successful.”

You were glad you could be totally open with them and not get judged, because you all were here for the same reason. This illegal sport benefitted all of you in some way.

“Just like I need money to finance my studies,” Taeyong said.

And Yuta added, “I really want to found my own company in the future.”

“And one day, I really want to move back to the US,” Johnny finished.

You were only people with dreams and ambitions. If you did things like these with all the precautions and didn’t hurt anyone, no matter how selfish or selfless, then was it really wrong to chase after your longings? You still gave the Falcon the benefit of doubt over the incident. Your team was fair and good, you wanted to believe so hard in every single one of them.

Knowing his friends and what they did for each other, you now were a hundred percent sure that there was a deep reason the Falcon always put his life on line too, and that he wasn’t as reckless and as money-hungry as he had first made himself out to be. None of them were.

Taeyong studied to help out his family, because his father couldn’t work anymore. Yuta wanted to open up a company, because his family got robbed of theirs. Johnny wanted to go back to the US to take care of his mom.

“I first thought it all boiled down to money, that glued you together,” you thought out loud. “But I was so wrong.”

It was way more than about money. It was about friendship, family and dreams. Of some things, you had only ever heard of and never experienced yourself - and most likely never would. And as this thought settled, you realized that you were the one doing all this solely for fame. You were the selfish, money-fixated person in this group. You were the one wrong here.

“It all comes down to trust in the end,” Johnny complemented. “Without a tight-knit team that doesn’t trust each other, you cannot make it.”

“But why me?” You frowned. “I didn’t do anything to earn your trust. I’m just here, because you caught me.”

“Oh, but you did win our trust!” Taeyong then objected and Johnny and Yuta nodded along. “With the way you helped Jaehyun when you were stuck in his car, that was the first race he had won after a long while and which has restored his reputation. You didn’t help him because of the money, I heard the entire thing.”

They trusted you? Why was your chest grabbed by a feeling so overwhelming like it was going to explode at any moment? Perhaps, at this point, you could imagine being friends with them too eventually… if they wanted to still have someone as selfish as you around.

“I didn’t want to see him lose,” you reluctantly answered. “At that moment, I didn’t think about a story. I just cared for his sister… and for him.”

Because you never had had the experience of being in a real family, you wanted to protect everyone that still had one. You remembered the phone call the Falcon had made, that he had promised to always come back to her. Basically, you still knew nothing about him, but what you knew was that he was way more than he made himself out to be.

You didn’t need to invent a story about him to fit your narrative. He had fitted it all along. You saw it clearly now.

“Okay, enough with the long faces, guys!”

Johnny threw his arms around all of you and huddled you all together.

“You’re suffocating me,” Yuta complained, though the playfulness clearly stood out in his voice.

“People are looking,” Taeyong worried, but you couldn’t help but to chuckle.

“So what?” Johnny let you all go again and shrugged. “How about a round of drinks for us? I think we all need it now.”

“I’ll get the drinks.”

You all shifted your head in unison and saw the Falcon having moved to your group, no sign of other people anymore, although you could have sworn he was swarmed by them only a few minutes ago.

“What about your fans?” you wanted to know from him and joked, “They all got an autograph already?”

His reply was dry with a gaze just as similar, “I told them to leave me alone.”

“Jeez, Jaehyun,” Taeyong complained, “with a behavior like this, no one is going to bet on you in the future.”

“They shouldn’t bet on who’s the nicest anyway.”

Yes, the Falcon wouldn’t be the winner of a be-nice-award. But when he volunteered to get the drinks and naturally included you, you figured that he didn’t need to voice his kindness. He rather showed it.

____

“Why will you drive me home? Didn’t you drink?”

“Because it’s late and dark, and I need to go home too. And of course I didn’t drink alcoholic beverages this entire time, are you nuts? Now, get in.”

You looked out of the passenger’s seat’s window when the car started rolling, lights flashing by in a blur as you drove through the streets at a normal speed, and yawned. “The party was just getting to be fun, you didn’t have to leave with me.”

“Just take this free ride, will you?”

“Okay.”

You listened to the Falcon’s lollipop clicking against his teeth when he moved it in his mouth and you yawned again.

“I spotted the Cheetah earlier tonight,” you said. “What’s the deal with this big race that’s coming up?”

“So the guys told you, hm.” The movements of the lollipop stick stopped. “Our history runs deep. To sum it up quickly: I can win against anyone, but never against him. I need to break this curse.”

“I get it,” you declared and leaned back in your seat. “You never beat him, so the rage waves just get stacked on top of each other, and the more races you lose, the more you want to win. Just like we journalists fight to have our stories be headliners every month and there is always this one person who snatches them the majority of the time.”

The Falcon sighed. “A weird and out of place comparison, but I guess you’re not entirely wrong.”

You seamlessly continued, “When was your first race against him?”

“I guess when I turned 21. That’s when I started racing.”

“Wow, so many years and no win against him? It must be frustrating.”

“Yeah, just rub more salt into the wound,” he muttered, a bit offended, “but as I said, this is going to end in a few weeks. He won’t be Kind of the Streets anymore. It will be me who will take the crown.”

“King of the Streets?” You asked. “Is that the official title?”

“Just a label we throw around in the community every now and then, but nobody gets literally crowned, if you know what I mean. He’s just been inheriting this title forever, and I’m sick of it.”

“Did you only start because you wanted to win the title?”

“What? Of course not! I started because my fa-” He stopped. “Hey, I know what you’re doing!”

You giggled. “Don’t worry. I didn’t ask you as a journalist, I ask you as your teammate, your navigator. We have made rules and I will stick to them. Is it too much to ask for, getting to know you? We spend so much time with each other, we trust each other, don’t we?”

He became silent. You got him. “I guess so.”

This reply surprised you very much as you hadn’t expected it. But you regained your composure very quickly despite the feeling still lingering in your chest. “How many siblings do you have... Jaehyun?”

It was the first time that you vocally said and thought about his real name. You had been avoiding it, but you couldn’t keep calling him the Falcon. He was human too, although he would remain anonymous in your story.

Jeahyun paused, but eventually replied, “You already know of my younger sister. She’s the only one. I live with her and my mom.”

“How old is your sister?”

“She’s fourteen.”

“So, in middle school.”

“Exactly.”

Where was his father that he had nearly mentioned? You wanted to ask this and much more, but the way his voice had changed by the end, you knew that this was it for today. And it was okay. He should only share what he felt like sharing. Instead, you decided to tell him more about yourself.

“I live alone. My parents divorced when I was a little child, and since my mom moved abroad with a new man directly after, I stayed with my dad. But he was addicted to booze. I had to grow up fast, because whatever role a parent usually played, he wasn’t in the position to take over it. One day, when I was the same age as your sister, he didn’t come home.”

Jaehyun breathed in deeply, and you sensed that he was about to drop a comment, but held himself back from doing so at the last second. You were unsure whether this was a sign to continue or not, but you did anyway.

“He got caught in a hit and run accident. He was the driver. Despite me telling him every day to cut out on the booze or at least never get into the car with alcohol in his system, he always did. And on that fateful day, he took an entire family with him.”

Having this story sealed in your heart for such a long time, you didn’t expect the syllables to fall from your lips so smoothly as though you were retelling someone else’s past and not your personal one. After all these years, you felt nothing anymore.

“Your question from before we got into the car…” Jaehyun started, but refrained himself from ending the sentence.

“If you had drunk something, I wouldn’t have gotten in the car with you. And If you had drunk something during a race, I would have quit right away.” You smiled mildly. “I’m relieved your addiction is lollipops.”

“Why had you agreed on being my navigator?” was Jaehyun’s next question. “You should resent people like me.”

“I can’t resent the world just because I resent my father. I want you to always come home to your sister like you promised her.”

He fell into silence. Perhaps, you had crossed a line, perhaps not. But you wanted him to know that you cared. You collected stories every day from different people and they all affected you, every single fate, more or less. But for him, you didn't care like a journalist for a subject. You cared like a friend.

“I want that too,” Jaehyun eventually responded. “Always coming back home to her.”

You smiled. “Then let’s work together well.”

____

With every race, you got calmer and more professional, and even though you had lost two races so far - as constant wins were an exception anyway except for when you were called the Cheetah - Jaehyun won with you, his team, almost all races, and he rose to the top again, shining as the Falcon in all his glory.

You still weren’t able to shake off your nervousness and slight panic entirely, but you got better in managing those feelings and most importantly, you didn't let it seep through the headset for Jaehyun to feel.

Through the next races, your connection only got stronger as you figured out a way to work silently and peacefully with each other. You even bonded over unfunny jokes and small conversations you held in the car when he drove you home, which he always insisted on - most likely because you were a woman and it was usually the middle of the night.

Jaehyun’s car was his safe space, because he knew whatever you talked about, even though most of the time it wasn’t even something important, it would never leave his vehicle without his permission.

“I never drink alcohol,” he suddenly told you on one of these rides home when you both got out of the car as you had decided to make a short stopover. “I never know when my sister or mom will need me since my father is not here anymore.”

It was the first time in a long while you talked about something other than the races, teams, your job and other trivial things. You had rarely talked about his personal topics ever since that one time. You were happy to hear that you finally reached this point again, and the conversation was even opened up by him.

Jaehyun seated himself on the car’s hood and you carefully crawled up to him. He made space for you and reached out his hand when you teetered, securing you while you settled right next to him. After having taken your place, you followed his gaze and encountered a view that you hadn’t seen before.

He had wanted to drive out of the city after this race just to clear his head, and you had complied despite this late hour. Now, you were watching the sunrise from the top of a hill on an early summer morning, wondering how a moment like this, that you had never dreamed of before, was suddenly making you so happy.

“Where is your father?” you finally dared to ask, because the moment felt right.

“In prison for fraud,” Jaehyun deadpanned. “He committed a huge tax evasion crime with his own company, not only taking the business down, but all of our savings as well along with the family’s reputation.”

You were shocked. “I don’t know what to say… I’m so sorry, that’s horrible.”

“He consciously did that, knowing exactly the outcome of his actions, what it’d cause us, what it would make of us.” His blood was boiling, it was palpable. “And now, my mother is working two jobs just to make the ends meet and pay off the debt because of this selfish, money-hungry bastard.”

Jaehyun… was he racing to support his family too, just like his friends? Because a son who described his father as a selfish, money-hungry bastard couldn’t be one himself.

“I guess we both grew up with father figures we couldn’t really rely on.”

On top of the car were sitting two people with inner children that had been abandoned by their parents at some point. But you both had learned to make it through life without them. Screw them, you were going to make it better than your parents.

“I don’t want my sister to grow up thinking all men are like our father. I’m not the perfect example for an older brother, but I would do everything to give her the life she wants, such as illegal car racing just to open up the possibility to her of enrolling into her preferred university.”

So that was why and always, it was about winning races for him. Even though he had claimed otherwise in the beginning, he was not someone superficial who only cared about fame, you had always known. He cared about his family, and friends. And, as someone who hadn’t grown up with the first, it was pretty touching that a brother would do that for his sister. Nobody had ever done that for you and you didn’t have someone who would even consider doing this for you, too.

“You sister must be really proud of you.” You smiled. “You’re a good person, Jaehyun.”

Suddenly, he turned cold. “Easy for you to say, knowing only this side of me.”

These words hurt you after spending quite a lot of time with each other.

You had gotten to know his friends and now some of his backstory. You knew you were in no position to feel this way considering that he didn’t see you as his friend yet apparently. Still, it stung somehow.

“When I was your sister’s age, I would have loved to have an older brother by my side who cares so much about me. I was all alone, but your sister has you. Whether you see yourself as a good person or not, Jaehyun, it doesn’t matter to your sister at all. You’re good in her book, that’s enough.”

“I appreciate you saying that.” He was being sincere, judging by his voice. “My sister doesn’t endorse my… side hustle. But she accepts it without a complaint, because she knows that’s what gets us through. My mom on the other hand… You know how moms are. So we keep it a secret from .”

No, you actually didn’t. And Jaehyun only realized that when he saw how your face fell. “I shouldn’t h-”

Yet, you tried to overplay it with a shrug and a wave. “It’s okay. It slips off most people’s mind, because having a family is something we suggest everyone has. I don’t blame anyone for thinking the same about me.”

“It’s not okay, I’m sorry for speaking so nonchalantly,” Jaehyun replied determinedly, taking you aback. “I will pay more attention to what I’m saying from now on.”

Nobody had ever reacted that way to such a sand trap. You were really surprised how understanding he actually was. “It’s not like I grew up not knowing what a family should be like,” you continued. “I saw it in the foster family that took me in until I left high school. I saw it in my friend’s family who I spent most days with. I saw it walking through the mall passing by parents with their happy children. I know exactly what it should be like having a family, I just never had one of my own.” You dropped your head, tilting the corners of your lips slightly upwards. “But one day, I dream of having one and do it all better.”

The silence that followed made you realize how bright outside it had already gotten, and also that you had just confessed your deepest wish to someone who didn’t even consider you his friend. It had something slightly embarrassing, but also comforting, because you knew he would understand you nonetheless.

But Jaehyun didn’t say anything back directly, and you felt a bit lost. It wasn’t like you didn’t feel validated or overlooked, the gaze in his eyes reflected nothing but understanding after all. Perhaps, he just wasn’t as good at expressing his thoughts as you. And that was fine as you were a writer after all. As long as you could comprehend what seemed to go on his head, you were fine with the way you communicated. It was this fine bond between the racer and the navigator.

“Get up, we’re getting breakfast,” Jaehyun eventually prompted.

It sounded great after a good race so you didn’t complain. “Okay!”

Jaehyun was already back on the ground while you still struggled getting off the hood without slipping. That was until you felt two strong hands gripping onto your sides and heaving you up as though you were as light as a feather. You could have sworn when you got inside the car, his hand lingered on your waist a bit longer than it needed to. But it could all have been in your tired mind as well.

____

You hadn’t known breakfast would be taken in Jaehyun’s house.

“Please come in and eat, dear, we have enough!”

His mother was a cordial person whose smile brightened up the entire home upon entering. You instantly felt welcomed by her cheerful personality.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” you greeted her back and kind of awkwardly followed her into the kitchen where she had already set up the entire breakfast table for four people after Jaehyun had called her from the car to inform them they would have a guest over.

Different main and side dishes were presented, and you didn’t know where to look let alone what to eat first. You could tell Jaehyun’s mother had gone beyond and above to prepare this breakfast as he had given you a heads up that she usually left very early and came home late just to sleep the little time she had remaining. Yet, she never failed to eat breakfast with her children or at least make food for them every single day. That was motherly love.

You suddenly felt a wave of warmth spreading through your body. She wasn’t your own mother, but right now, you felt very much like part of a family you had never gotten to experience yourself. And Jaehyun had wanted to show you.

Tears welled up behind your eyes as you took a seat at the opposite of him, and you tried to hide your sentiment, yet still sneaked a look at him. His soft gaze, he hid behind his long fringe. His caring demeanor, he hid behind his rough words. His apparent worries, he hid behind a long scowl. But this was all a facade for what he truly was: a loving son and brother and so much more than a money-hungry, selfish racer.

“Did you guys study hard for the exams the entire night?” Jaehyun’s mom asked and you tilted your head in confusion.

“Yes, mom,” Jaehyun replied. “But she’s not a student anymore, I just picked her up on her way to work.”

She turned to you. “Really? What occupation do you inherit, dear?”

You looked into Jaehyun’s direction for approval, but he remained silent and nodded, so you told the truth, “I’m a journalist.”

“Really?” She clapped into her hands and laughed. “Jiyeong wants to become a journalist too!”

Before you could ask who Jiyeong was, a female voice already asked, “What’s with me?”

She didn’t look much like her brother. In fact, from the moment you saw her, you thought she was the spitting image of her mother, both very beautiful.

“Jaehyun’s friend here is a journalist, Jiyeong. Isn’t that amazing?”

“Really?” Jiyeong’s eyes started to sparkle and she approached you, seating herself right next to you. “I’m editor-in-chief at our school’s newspaper! Where do you work? I read almost all newspapers and magazines on a daily basis.”

While you were explaining to Jiyoung what articles were written by you of which she indeed remembered one or two, their mother placed rice in each of your bowls along with Jaehyun’s help.

You now knew why he had wanted specifically you and came back to recruit you not only once, but twice. The first time, he had most likely not thought about involving you yet. With his sister being into journalism, he knew how important your notebook was to you and genuinely only wanted to return it. The second time, he actually came around and wondered why not combine your talent for navigation with your occupation and get at least something out of your deal, not only for you, but for him - and his little sister - too.

“My dream is to attend Ehwa Woman’s university,” Jiyoung told you when you all started eating. “Where did you study?”

You smiled. It had been your dream to go to Ehwa too. But you didn't have money or relatives who could have supported you, so you attended a university far away from Seoul that was cheap in comparison. “I went to Chonnam University in Gwangju.”

“And you came back here and made it so far! I really look up to you!”

You flushed as you had always felt inferior to your colleagues who had attended the big and popular universities in Seoul, but Jaehyun’s sister not judging you by that but complimenting your actual skills touched you very much.

“Now, let her eat, Jiyeong! She hasn’t even come to touch her food yet! Please dig in, dear before it gets cold!”

It was your first breakfast together with loving people in many, many years.

When you stood outside with Jaehyun, waiting for his sister to get her backpack for school so that he could drive her there, you told him, “Thank you for introducing me to your mom and sister. I know why you did that.”

Because he wanted to show you what it felt like to have an actual, loving family. Because he wanted to show you that your work was never for vain. He had eventually become your friend, and you his. Yes, friend. But you didn’t speak it out.

“When I found out that you were a journalist, I immediately thought great, I need to introduce you to my sister!... But journalists also destroyed my life by writing articles not only about my dad’s crimes, but also about me,” Jaehyun explained, and you nodded, knowing it was about the mystery incident he had yet to tell you. “My sister never lost focus of her dream though. She told me she wanted to be one of the good ones, no defamation, always after the truth. So when you told me you were one of these people too, I thought that maybe, I can trust you after all, even with my life.”

“And you can!” You touched his arm in a gesture of comfort, and although his eyes widened, he didn’t pull away. “I stand by what we’ve promised to each other. I won’t publish anything without your consent. And if there is anything in the past that I have to clear up for you and your family, I will do so too.”

“Mhmm.” You saw him struggling through his mien, but he didn’t respond, apparently still needing to make his mind up. If so, you let him.

“So, what do you study? You never told me.”

“Nothing.” He heaved his shoulders and slowly dropped them again.

You frowned. “But didn’t you-”

“I dropped out last semester right after the incident.”

“But your mo-”

“- doesn’t know. Neither does my sister.”

You didn’t want to judge, that was not your job, as a journalist and as a friend. So you asked, “Why?” although you could most likely already make out the answer.

“We can’t afford it as of right now, so I’m postponing my graduation. I definitely want to return, but as always, it boils down to money,” Jaehyun clarified. “I want to do it better than my father. I want to found my own company too and provide to my family the life they deserve. Even if the path to this aim might not be all legal, I promised to myself to leave this part of me behind once I’m there.”

“...And I will do everything in my might to win every race for as long as we’re working together, Jaehyun.”

“For my sister? Or for your story?”

“Not only for me, but also for your sister,” you repeated, “for your mom and for y-”

You swallowed the last part, but the way his features softened suddenly, he might have understood nonetheless, and it made your heart flutter. Perhaps, in his eyes, you were now friends as well.

____

“There is nothing personal in this story.”

You felt defeated. You had hoped, with handing in your first draft, your editor-in-chief would be totally invested in the story as well, encouraging you to continue and maybe even compliment you on the premise. Instead, while reading through all the pages with you sitting anxiously in front of him, his facial expression had fallen more and more.

“What do you mean?”

“The beginning is very intriguing with you sitting in the car, racing with him. It’s perfect, the reader gets thrown right into the story. But after that?” He shrugged and threw the papers back on his desk. “Nothing. No feelings, no emotions, just scenery description and a lot of theoretical stuff. Nobody cares about how the navigation system works or how the cars are tuned.”

“Oh, I thought it might be interesting to read how the team stays connected and what makes the cars so special.”

“Nobody cares,” he retorted dryly. “That’s not the stories people like to read. They can google all that stuff.”

Although it hurt your feelings, you had to silently admit that he was right. You hadn't given much away in the article about how Yuta worked behind the scenes or what the navigation system was really capable of according to Taeyong, but had to google a lot of things yourself too. You had wanted to give as little personal details away as possible, but apparently, it was too less. Your article was just boring.

“There is no common thread,” he criticized sharply. “Do you want to write about yourself being involved, about the sports in common or about the Falcon? Because right now, it’s all of this and nothing at the same time. If you’re that involved, write about what you do, how you learned it, about your feelings during the races. If you write about the sports, interview other teams, the spectators, dive into the history. If you center the plot around the Falcon, what’s his background, what does he race for, what’s his aim?”

You exactly sensed which direction he wanted to push you. “I’ll write abo-”

“I think,” he cut you off, “if you want to make it a headliner, you have to focus on the Falcon.” There it was. “Why did the Falcon really pause for so long? Is it true that he had caused an accident during a race? What really happened back then? How did he regain his fame? What made people change their minds? And most importantly, is he going to win and what will he do with the prize money? These are the questions that intrigues the reader. They want emotions, passion, they need to feel something while reason. Right now, everything I’m feeling is my hunger since it’s almost lunchtime.”

You purposely overheard his subtle taunt. “Those are very personal questions that he doesn’t want to talk about.”

“Well, then make him.”

You kept it to yourself that you already knew most answers. “As journalists, we also have to respect the people’s privacy and opinions.”

“Then make the entire story anonymous with all the personal information gathered,” he proposed. “It’s not less personal, but no names are given away.”

“I already plan on doing that.”

“So what’s the problem?”

”People will still know, that’s how known he is. I cannot reveal things he doesn’t want me to reveal.”

Either way, anonymous, with his alias or even real name written in the article - it would hurt him all the same. It was his personal story, his family, his friends. It made him beautifully human, but also painfully fragile. It was his story to tell when the time was right, when he decided to do so, not you.

“Very well.” Your boss got up from his seat and took his jacket. “You can publish it like this if you want. I guess for a nice closing story at the end of the magazine, it's enough.”

For the first time in your life, you were having a clash of interest. There it was in front of you, your dream job position, so close if you were only selfish enough. And behind you stood the man whose trust you had just gained, begging you to respect his past wounds. What would you do?

____

It wasn’t easy, balancing racing by night and working by day. Oftentimes, you didn’t get more than four hours of sleep, spending time at home after work just to shower, change and then leave for a race again. You didn’t complain. You never did, because you enjoyed it very much. The newly formed friendship between you and Jaehyun’s team was something that brightened up your day as you had never experienced this kind of bond before. But you also didn’t leave your aim out of sight.

With Jaehyun’s rising popularity though also came people who voiced out their doubts about him even louder. You had just finished this night’s race and were waiting for Jaehyun to take you home, already looking forward to a bit of alone time with him, when you overheard a group of young men passing by.

“I don’t care what others think or whether he’s popular,” one of them said. “As long as he’s staying silent, he’s guilty in my book.”

“In mine too,” the second chimed in. “Why has he never said anything on that topic? And now, only because he’s winning so often and challenged the Cheetah, everybody seems to have forgotten about it? Bullshit.”

Your fingers clenched by the time the third one commented, “Don’t worry guys, he’ll fall out of grace as far as he has fallen. It’s always like this.”

“Hey!” Now, you couldn’t listen to this conversation any longer and stepped out of your dark corner. “Do you feel proud, talking like this about a person you don’t know?”

They stopped in their tracks and turned around to you. “And who are you?”

“Oh, I think she’s their navigator!”

One of them stepped in front of you and grinned. “Then, you must know the truth if you’re in the team and fight for him so desperately, right?”

The other two followed suit and laughed in unison. “Or are you in love with him and would defend him even though he’s guilty?”

You realized that you actually didn’t care about the truth anymore. You didn’t care when or whether Jaehyun would tell you one day at all. But that didn’t withhold you from defending him like your life depended on it. Someone who loved his family and friends so dearly, who always paid much attention to the street and passerbyers, who had to talk you into taking a detour just because there was a crowd of people he had to race by… you would always defend your racer.

“The truth is none of your business,” you said confidently. “Do I ask about what mistakes you’ve made? A person I do not know personally? What has this got anything to do with his performance anyway? Either you bet on him or you don’t, but nobody forces you. He doesn’t need your dumbass opinions to win, he doesn’t even know who you are.”

“Hey…”

You couldn’t tell who had spoken up, but you didn’t care much as you just hit your stride. “How about you get in the car and try to do the things these racers do? I bet you wouldn’t even last a few minutes on these streets. It must be so peaceful, watching from the sidelines with your big mouths as long as you’re not the ones in action, am I right?”

“Hey!”

Little did you know that the voice had come from behind you. Only when you felt an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close to a chest whose scent smelled very familiar, it dawned on you that no one in the group had tried to speak up, but it had been Jaehyun who was standing behind you, most likely all this time already.

But he wasn’t mad, even though your cheeks were burning. “Listen to my girl. If you dare to raise your voice against her again, you’ll be the ones the newspapers will be writing about the next day. Understood? Now, good riddance.” One opened their mouth to retort, but Jaehyun didn’t let him. “I SAID GOOD RIDDANCE!”

They were out of your sight quicker than you could process, and Jaehyun let go of your shoulder the same moment.

“Come,” he urged you, and you silently followed him to the car. “I have to show you something.”

After you were driving for a little while all in awkward silence, you finally dared to ask, “Where are we going?”

“I’ll show you the truth.”

From the way his lollipop clicked against his teeth, you could only sense Jaehyun’s anxiety, and you wondered what got him so worked up even though he had won the race. You could only think of one reason. Perhaps, today was the day.

“Does it have something to do with what happened back then?”

“Yes.”

“Did I say something wrong earlier?”

Immediately, the clicking noises stopped, but he gripped the steering wheel even tighter. “You’ve gotten everything wrong.”

Your stomach dropped and you suddenly felt so nauseous. “Jaehyun… what was wrong about it?”

He was visibly upset now. “How can you say all these things about me?”

“These.. things? What did I say that was wrong? I don’t understand. I meant every word and I don’t care whether you heard them or not, because they are the truth.”

“You don’t know the truth.” He added, “Yet.”

“Even if�� There was nothing wrong with what I said. You don’t need them to win, you don’t need spectators and betters. You only need yourself and your team. Everything else doesn’t matter.”

He didn’t reply, but kept his eyes fixated on the street in front of him. Not much talking, but many kilometers later, you suddenly came to a halt in a narrow street under a light post in a quiet neighborhood in the suburbs. To your left and right were single family houses and nobody was in your field of vision at this ungodly hour.

“Is this…?”

He took the lollipop out of his mouth and inhaled deeply. “This is where it happened.”

“Oh. Jaehyun…” You had been prepared to be taken here, but now that you were actually at the location, you didn’t know what to say.

“This is the spot where I collided with a pedestrian.” Even though he didn’t stutter or pause, you still realized how much mental strength it had taken him to not only bring you here, but to also speak about the incident - probably for the first time ever since it had happened. “He didn’t die on the spot. He survived, actually. That much, I know after I asked around in the hospital. I don’t know who he was, where he was going, whether he had family or other people who cared. I just called for an ambulance, drove my car away and remained hidden until they arrived. Then, I fled. This is the truth.”

You couldn’t deny that you were relieved he didn’t do a hit and run. You were also relieved that nobody had died and that the truth behind the accident was something that wouldn’t shake your friendship to the core. Of course it was bad, and he knew it himself. He’d always known and deeply regretted it, every single day. You saw it clearly now.

“I believe you.”

In moments of panic, humans were indeed most likely to do things they were not proud of, things totally wrong they wished to change later if only they could travel back in time. Things, they would have handled differently if they hadn’t panicked or were too scared. Jaehyun wasn’t an exception, although the baggage he had to carry was heavier than most else’s.

Humans were not perfect. For him, it all started with his not so perfect father and the not so perfect life he was living, leading him to do not so perfect things to save what was still salvageable.

“For one hot minute,” Jaehyun continued, “I really thought about leaving him there and fleeing as fast as possible. I couldn’t go to jail like my father and leave my mom and sister all to themselves, dropping them entirely too. I couldn’t get caught, so I did my best to prevent this.” He laughed, bitterly. “After all, I am what people think of me. So your words mean nothing.”

“My words mean nothing?” It hurt. “It’s easy to tell someone how to behave when the incident has already taken place. But at the end of the day, we can never be sure how we, ourselves, would have reacted or what we would have thought at that moment. You thought about your mom and sister, but you thought about the accident victim too. You wanted to do the best for both. So you reacted accordingly to what was best in your mind.”

“Still, I’m not the person you painted me to be. I nearly killed someone in a race. And you know why? Because I thought taking a shortcut through a neighborhood would make me win the race back then. It’s not forbidden, but this is the reason we racers usually never do that.”

That was why he had been so reluctant to go through your neighborhood at your very first accidental race together. And he still wouldn’t, no matter how much he trusted you. What had happened back then was still sitting deep within him - justifiably.

“I am running illegal races with you,” you started. “I have always known that you wouldn’t work with the law. And I am neither! So what does that make us?”

He sank his head and placed his hands on his lap. “You speak so highly of me, but in reality, I am a very bad person.”

“You’ve introduced me to your sister and mother, Jaehyun. If this is where a bad person grows up, then the entire world is rotten and beyond the point of saving. But people like you give me hope.”

“Why would a person like me give you hope?”

“Because, despite your situation, you still have so much love inside of you that expresses itself in so many forms. That’s why you’re loved too, by many people.”

Silence engulfed you, and you thought that Jaehyun would drive away after sometime again, but he didn’t, so you accompanied him in this quietness as long as it helped him process the past.

“You know why I wanted to take this shortcut?” he eventually spoke up quietly, and you shook your head. “Because I wanted to end the race abruptly and rush home… That night, my sister got very sick and my mom wasn’t home. I already announced that I would drop out before it happened.”

That was something the newspapers and no one else had ever mentioned. Of course, people always focus on sensational facts. It was easier to tell a story and transfer emotions when the main feeling an article would lure out was hate against someone.

It still had been a crime, this was a fact. And he could still go to jail for that. But you believed that the man who cared about his family so much and who was able to care about strangers too, was still very much haunted by his past, far more than he wanted to let slip through his facade.

If he hadn’t had a family to take care of, things would be entirely different. But he trusted you enough now to tell you all this and not fear that you would go behind his back.

My girl… you remembered. Had he truly meant it? Had you proven to him your undeniable loyalty just earlier?

“Jaehyun…”

Slowly, your hand wandered to his lap on top of his. Against your expectations, he grabbed yours and squeezed it tightly.

____

When Jaehyun wanted to drop you off at your building much later, the tension between you was still palpable, and you didn’t know how to make it vanish.

Perhaps, only time was needed - for him to believe that nothing had changed between you, and for you to settle with the fact that the guy who caused your heart to jump, just only a little bit, had done something grave in the past that you had to work through as well. After all, it still had been a crime.

“Jaehyun…” You wanted to end the night on a positive note, but he didn’t let you finish the sentence.

“Our ways will part here and now.”

You thought you had misheard. “Pardon?”

“I can’t demand a goody two-shoes like you to help a criminal like me,” he said coldly and stiffened in his seat. “And I surely won’t help a goody two-shoes like you write about my criminal record anymore now that the truth was inevitable to come forward with. So it ends here. Now.”

You knew where this rooted from: doubt and guilt. But during your entire career path, you had dealt with a lot of people who suddenly changed their minds on a topic or got cold feet.

“That won’t happen, Jaehyun,” you claimed. “You don’t have another navigator as good as me, no one and nothing can come close to the connection that you and I have.”

“It’ll be fine,” he obliged. “Now, go.”

“No,” you refused. “I will stay.”

“I SAID GO!”

“AND I SAID I WILL STAY!”

“Gosh!” he yelled. “Why can’t you be obedient for once towards me and leave before I hurt you too?!”

You both froze when it dawned on you what he had just said. You almost didn’t dare, yet you had to make sure that what he had said was indeed real.

“You’re afraid to hurt me?”

“I deceive my mom when it comes down to my activities and my studies. If she ever finds out, she’ll be hurt. I hurt my sister by not always being there for her whenever she needs me. I hurt my team for expecting them to be there for me although they have their own struggles. And I hurt you, because I cannot be the person you expect me to be. I only hurt the people I love.”

You took a deep breather and waited a few heartbeats in case Jaehyun wanted to chase you away again. But he didn’t. He just sat there in the driver’s seat, shoulders slumped, bangs messily falling into his eyes and the lollipop stick not moving a bit.

“You want to protect your overworked mom from more worries, you want to provide a good future for your sister, and you split the win evenly among the team for them to help their families too. If I don’t expect a friend to be exactly like this, then what else?” you confessed.

But Jaehyun didn’t like this answer, it was written all over his face. You were scared that you had said something wrong.

“Friends?” he suddenly croaked.

“Yeah, friends,” you repeated slowly. “Aren’t we… friends?”

You had seen him as your friend all along, though one who made your cheeks warm when he called you “my girl” and your heart swell when he touched you. But now, it hurt you that he had never felt even the slightest of the same connection. Fair enough, everyone needed their own space, and with Jaehyun’s past, it was his own right to decide whether to ever make friends again.

You had just hoped…

Cherry.

That was the taste of Jaehyun’s lollipop, he never chose another flavor.

Though, it tasted different from his own lips than from the candy directly.

You were asking yourself how this sweet taste could calm him down when all it did to you at this moment was making your heart race and nearly jump out of your chest. Perhaps, because this time, you tasted the lollipop’s sweetness on his tongue rather than in your own mouth, and he made sure that you experienced every taste bud this flavor had to offer.

Lollipops were very sweet already, and although Jaehyun was a fast and restless street racer, his kisses were much sweeter than candy. Admittedly, you hadn’t expected him to possess this side, but now that you thought about it, the signs had already been there whenever you observed him eating the candy.

Jaehyun’s fingers curled on your back when you motioned forward, away from your seat and more into his welcoming hug. The dashboard between you hindered you from embracing fully, causing you both to giggle at some point, but you continued kissing with your arms slung around his neck, for very long even after the cherry taste had vanished.

You weren’t hurt anymore over the fact that Jaehyun didn’t see you as his friend. You had never been friends. You had always been more than that.

____

Jaehyun’s victim had been a 45-year-old party chairman - that much you had found out through your connection to different journalists and a few demanding calls. The fact that after the incident, only silence followed and no details were revealed, not even about the gender and the age of the victim, had gotten your alarm bells ringing. And now you knew why.

A famous politician involved in a street racing accident, but no one had mentioned his name? Something was not right with this story, you didn’t need to be a professional to recognize this.

“I need his record,” you then said at the hospital’s reception.

Your editor-in-chief had given you this employee’s contact, assuring you she was more lenient in data protection when she saw the right amount of money. And your boss had been very happy to pay her the requested amount the moment you told him what you were after.

“This is exactly the kind of story I was looking for,” he had complimented you. “Good job. Now, go after it.”

You had left the building right away, making your way to the hospital the chairman had been admitted to after the accident.

“Here is a copy of his record,” the woman at the reception whispered to you. “All is well, he got out after two weeks. There is one interesting thing though… but look for yourself.”

“Thank you.”

You took the papers, and too excited to drive all the way back to the office, you looked through them right then and there after having found a quiet spot in the waiting room.

There was nothing abnormal at first for a car accident. It had left him with deep grazes, a dislocated arm, two broken ribs and a concussion. It sounded quite bad, but very mild for the fact that a car had hit him, and not at all life-threatening. So the accident had not been that severe as Jaehyun had made out to be in his panic.

Perhaps, that was the reason the party chairman had never been named in the news. But on the other hand… newspapers got to write articles about important politicians all the time, and just this once, his name had been left out? This didn’t sound like something a newspaper would do under these circumstances.

The more important the name, the more clicks and sales the news generated. They must have been bribed to keep his name entirely out of all news revolving around this incident. You were wondering yourself why. Given all facts, no matter how macabre it sounded, this kind of accident would even play into the party’s hands.

A very important politician who got hit by a street racer and admitted to the hospital with fractures? It would even be a headliner with the conclusion to go harder after such illegal activities.

Everything just doesn’t sound right. Something was being kept buried that no one should know about and could possibly threaten the party’s reputation. That much, you were already sure of.

… but what could it be?

You gasped when your eyes passed the passage that gave you a single answer to all your questions.

Patient was heavily intoxicated.

Whether it were drugs or alcohol, you didn’t know. But you were going to find out soon as you returned back to the office and made a call to the police.

____

“How high is the possibility that this program is actually a virus?” you asked and looked over Yuta’s shoulder who was currently typing something into his laptop.

“Very low, but it’s still new, so we never know what will happen anyway,” Taeyong answered on his friend’s behalf and stretched out on Yuta’s bed in whose home you had all gathered today. “Can’t you detect it if it’s one?”

“What do you think I’m currently trying to do here?” Yuta rolled his eyes. “I’m a programming student, not a wizard.”

“Okay, sorry? Jeez.”

“Doyoung said that with this program, you will also get the coordinates of all cars in your ten kilometer radius that use a GPS, so you can plan the route and the car’s speed even more predictively,” Yuta explained instead. “I’m still trying to figure out how.”

“The race is in two weeks. You should hurry.”

“I know, Taeyong. You think these last weeks I’ve only been sitting around?” Yuta gave his friend a scowl. “If it’s a new program, even used before its beta phase, it’s not so easy.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Okay, enough guys!” you interrupted their bickering. “Taeyong let Yuta work and peace and rather go through the city's plan for next week with me to mark all new construction sites, okay?”

In unison, they both said, “Fine.”

Taeyong turned to you while you started your own laptop to leave Yuta alone, and Jaehyun and Johnny were currently outside to maintain his car. You felt so included like never before in your life.

You’ve always said you didn’t grow up with a family. But sometimes, a family wasn’t something that you necessarily grew up with. Family also didn’t need to be bonded by blood. Sometimes, you lost family along the way, sometimes you gained one. And everyone would always welcome you into their family.

In your case, you gained a family in the form of a strong friendship that you had never experienced before in your life. Sitting here, analyzing maps with Taeyong while Yuta was silently typing away and Johnny and Jaehyun would soon come upstairs to talk about the next race after which you would all order food and then watch a movie together…

This was your own definition of family. This feeling of being cared for, trusted and loved without expecting anything in return, so much that it almost felt like your heart was going to burst. Your team was your family.

“I want to show you a place,” Jaehyun said when you were sitting in his car when all the work was done later that evening.

“Don’t you need to go home as usual?”

“My sister is having a sleepover at a friend’s house.” He smiled. “So I think my mom will enjoy a little more alone time to rest better.”

“Okay, then let’s go!”

Jaehyun stopped the car only much later after you had driven up a mound with a path so narrow, you feared the vehicle wouldn’t make it despite all its tuning. But against your expectations, you arrived at the top in that very same car, and the view over the entire city was splendid.

“I didn’t know such a place existed!” you called out and ran around the viewing place. “Jaehyun, I can see the entire city, and we’re not even on a mountain!”

“Do you like it?” he asked, following suit.

“I love it!”

“And I-”

“Hm?” You turned around to him with the biggest smile on your face. “What is it?”

He shook his head with a soft look on his face. “Nothing.” Then, he stepped close to you and hugged you from behind. “I’m happy you love it. It’s my favorite place. After the incident with my father happened, my sister and I came here a lot, because it made us forget reality for quite a while.”

“Thank you for sharing this special place with me.” You felt him kissing the nape of your neck and you shuddered pleasantly. “It really means a lot.”

The true meaning of it was revealed to you by him right after, “I spent most of the time here before my comeback. I wanted to give up on racing entirely. One night, I didn’t come home and my sister went to look for me which took her all night. I lost track of time, and I probably felt so ashamed returning to my family. When My sister found me here at the early hours of dawn, looking like a ghost and having cried all the way to this place, I knew that I had to do everything to protect my family. That’s when I dropped out of university and decided to race again. One day, I don’t want to do this anymore. One day, I’ll be free.”

You loosened yourself from his hug, shifted around and embraced him now from the front, body to body. “You’ll be one day, Jaehyun.” He gently brushed his fingers through your hair. “One day, you can provide your family the life they deserve and can finally live the one you have dreamed about as well.”

“But do I deserve it after everything that I’ve done?” He sounded full of doubts. “I’m not sure.”

You responded, quite confidently, “You do.”

“Actually,” Jaehyun changed the topic, “This car was my dad’s. He owned two, a big, elegant one to show off at work, and this one for his free time. It’s the only thing that was left, because it was registered to my mom’s name before I changed it to mine.”

You were curious about one topic. “Why did you never sell it? You only started racing after his arrest, right? Why have you never exchanged it for money?”

“I thought about it, a lot, in fact,” he clarified. “Maintaining a car is a very expensive hobby, after all. Apart from the fact that races became my source of income as it makes money fast and much, I think a part of me can’t also fully let go of my father.” He chuckled, but rather bitter and full of regret. “Isn’t it ironic? I think of it like my father repaying the debts he caused. It's satisfying.”

A wicked thought, but you liked the way he thought about it.

“Hey,” you then said, grinning, “do you want to get back at him once more?”

____

“Close your mouth and suck.”

This time, Jaehyun didn’t mean the lollipop he had put into your mouth, but something entirely else.

Luckily, the front seats of his car were able to be raised back all the way, so he was now lying almost flat on his back, his hands gently but determinedly having guided your head to his loin while you were sitting between his angled legs. You did as you had been told and sucked him off like a lollipop.

Your arms were propped up against the edges of the seat with your head bobbing up and down in a regular rhythm, but your tongue did the most work whenever you paused your neck movements just to indulge him with your proficiency.

“Jesus Christ,” Jaehyun cursed and put his forearm over his face so that his facial expressions would be hidden from you. It was like he didn’t want you to know how much control you had over him, but this was for no avail anyway as his swearing gave it all away, “No fucking way…”

It was certainly not your first time sucking him off, so it wasn’t like you didn’t know what he looked like enjoying this kind of pleasure. You found it rather cute how he still thought he could hide this side of him from you.

Your tongue rolled over the tip of his dick, leaving a trace of saliva where it passed. Making sure you covered every angle with your motions, you halted them when you opened your mouth entirely and slowly took in the majority of his length until you felt like you couldn’t do more.

Jaehyun let out a groan that made you smile inwardly, and it only got louder when you let him pass by your lips, but didn’t let him slip out entirely. Instead, you sucked on the tip like the cherry lollipop he often offered you.

You made sure to alternate between sucking and taking him into your mouth almost entirely, and when your left hand wandered to his warm thigh, you felt how tense he had become due to the arousal you made him feel. Instead of letting your hand go back though, Jaehyun stretched out his own to grab your fingers and intertwined them.

His nails dug into your skin and his thighs became very tense, closing around the sides of your face when his release was near. He came in a long spur directly into your mouth, and you swallowed it all down, including cleaning him up - with your tongue of course.

Jaehyun reached out to your face while you were licking over your lips, and you smiled at each other before his own gradually grew more wicked.

“You know what?”

“What?” You wiped with the back of your hand over your lips.

“I also never had sex in this car. Wanna change that?”

He didn’t need to ask twice.

Although it was still very narrow in the vehicle, Jaehyun had swiftly managed to change your positions so that you were now lying underneath him and he was kneeling in front of you in a crouched position. You giggled amusedly when you watched him taking off his shirt as he tried to do so without bumping into anything, but this had been an impossible task from the very beginning. Luckily, you had undressed yourself before already, so that he didn’t need to take care of that part too.

You assumed Jaehyun still needed a bit of time until he could go in fully again, but what would come before that, you had never expected. Your fingers were desperately gripping onto the door handle while your other hand was holding onto the seat belt that slowly dug into your flesh. But this slight pain passed by you almost unnoticeably when another feeling had taken control over your entire body and mind already.

You had already experienced how skillful Jaehyun was with his tongue whenever you kissed, which was long before indicated by the way he played with lollipops in his mouth. Of course he would put this skill into use elsewhere too.

But that he would be this good… You shuddered again when you came the second time in the span of a few minutes after Jaehyun had draped his hot, wet tongue all along your folds, causing your back to lift off from the seat and moaning his name over and over again.

And even then, he didn’t stop. He came to face you after cleaning off his mouth, and kissed you for a long time until you had entirely calmed down before he crawled back to his original position and squeezed his fingers into your bum again to bring it closer to his face.

With the tip of his tongue, he searched for the sensitive bundle of nerves, and you indicated that he had found it when you let out a light squeal. His lips enclosed the bud and you felt all your blood vanishing from your face when he started sucking on it. Oh god, you thought to yourself, you were surely going to pass out.

But he didn’t let you cum this time. Before you released, Jaehyun stopped and flipped you onto your stomach as swiftly as the narrow space allowed him to. Instinctively, you had already brought your bum up to give him better access, and you bit down into the flesh of your arm on which you had your chin rested when you felt him sliding into you from behind in one long motion.

The sound of his groin slapping against your cheeks mixed with your moans filled the car, and luckily, you had been the only ones on this view point at such a later hour. You had only had sex with Jaehyun once in your home, and you had never defined what that was between you. Maybe, you were too dense to speak it out and too naive to actually believe it, but you loved him.

Ironically, you only realized that when you decided to change positions and Jaehyun was constantly bumping his head on the ceiling and you got on top. You were settled on his hips, his length buried deep inside you, but you didn’t move yet.

You let your fingertips wander over his chest, taking your time, and he suddenly grabbed them, led them to his mouth and kissed the tips. When you gazes locked, you were sure.

Yes, you loved him. With all his flaws, his burdens and his past. Perhaps, you had never experienced this kind of love, which was why you had always been reluctant and unsure, but if this wasn’t love, you didn’t know what was. You just hoped that at one point, he would come to feel this way about you too.

“What is it?” he asked with worry when you made no intention of continuing. “Is something wrong? You want to stop?”

But you shook your head. “It’s just… I don’t want this moment to pass.”

Even in the semi-darkness, you encountered Jaehyun’s smile. “I feel the same way.”

Slowly, you raised your hips and slowly came back down to his groin. Jaehyun tried very hard to remain in eye contact with you, but when you did that several times more, he lost his composure again. You propped your hands up against his hard chest and picked up your pace, slamming onto him over and over again in a fast pace.

When you ran out of breath, you alternated the fast motions with sitting on his lap and just letting your hips rotate in different directions and forms, which very much pleased Jaehyun as well by the way he didn’t stop moaning at this part as well.

With time though, your stamina gave in, you slumped over him, eventually let yourself fall onto his chest, because you were too exhausted to go on anymore.

“Want me to finish?” he asked and stroked your shoulder to which you could only give a slight nod.

He kept you locked to his hips with his hands holding onto your sides very tightly and started thrusting upwards. You felt like he had knocked all the air out of your lungs, that was much much power he still possessed. Luckily, for you, you didn’t need to do anything anymore.

He was holding you as you laid on top of him, biting into his shoulder as he thrusted in and out of you with much force, which you really liked. Your thighs tensed around his sides and you whimpered gibberish into his ear, so close to cumming again.

Jaehyun let you release yourself first with a suppressed scream that partly still found a way to escape your lips, and your entire body shook as you felt your high flooding to every fiber of your body. He himself didn’t take much longer and you held him while he experienced his own orgasm, pressing you so close to him as though he was afraid of being parted from you ever again.

When you were getting dressed, he suddenly dropped, “I could get used to it.”

“Doing nasty things in your dad’s old car?” you joked.

But his expression remained serious. “No.”

You didn’t know what he meant.

____

You had written two different versions of Jaehyun’s story.

The first was the one he had read himself and approved of. There were only a few details and personal information sprinkled in here and there about the Falcon while you were trying to fill the emotional gaps with anecdotes and quotes from the other team members under an alias that they were willing to share. You were even successful in interviewing a few spectators and it would include the outcome of the race.

Overall, the less personal and official version gave a good overview over this illegal sport, and you were truly satisfied with this tame version. It was sufficient enough, intriguing enough and informative as well as emotional enough. At other magazines, the story would have made the headlines, you were sure of that. But for the magazine you worked for, enough was only good enough. You had to be better than enough, you had to exceed.

With this version of the Falcon’s story, you certainly weren’t. It wasn’t headline-material like your editor-in-chief expected after all the work you had put into it.

So you had written another version of this story.

One in which you talked about the Falcon’s past, his family, what had really happened back then before his career arose again and the relationships between you all. Yes, even between the two of you. And you had even come forward with the truth about the politician after hard research. This version of the story was personal and vulnerable, and it was the truth.

Jaehyun had gotten to read it as the first and only one.

“It wasn’t.. entirely my fault?” he had asked in disbelief when you gave him the story to read.

You had wanted to wait until you had gotten your facts straight, had enough proof, and then came over to his house to lay it out all in front of him. First, you were unsure whether he would like it, to have had you dig deep into his past.

But if he came to hate you and started to hate himself less instead, then it would have been worth it nonetheless. From one moment to the other though, you clearly saw in his eyes how much of a burden got lifted off his shoulder. Sure, the fact that the politician had been intoxicated didn’t change the fact that Jaehyun was way over the tempo limit, but he hadn’t been the only one at fault.

The politician had been intoxicated with drugs to the point of not being able to walk properly and had remained in the middle of the street, too far gone to think and speak straightly when Jaehyun had passed by.

“No, it wasn’t entirely your fault,” you assured him.

And with that certainty, you both decided to move past this as this case - to both parties luck, fortunately - had long been decided to be buried under the rug anyway.

Jaehyun didn’t come to hate you, you felt it in the way he hugged you close and never seemed to let you go after this revelation. He was, in fact, utterly grateful that you had never let go of this topic.

It was a step closer to him being free. From the very beginning, you knew which version you would publish after the race against the Cheetah. You had begged your boss to postpone the release for another month for you to include this race, and he had happily agreed - even to hold off the senior editor position.

____

“Are you nervous?”

You looked at Taeyong who took the seat next to you. Somehow, you weren’t nervous at all, even though tonight was Jaehyun’s big race against the Cheetah with so much money involved unlike ever before.

Later, you would also finish up the story with the outcome of the race and send it over still this night for the entire country to read. Perhaps, you were more nervous about this than the competition itself since you fully trusted your gained skills and Jaehyun himself. You wouldn’t treat this other than all the races before.

“I’m cool so far,” you said. “I just don’t know if it’s good or bad.”

“I hope it’s good. Jaehyun is probably more nervous than he lets slip.”

“I can hear you.” It was Jaehyun’s voice through your headsets.

“Good!” Taeyong exclaimed. “This wasn’t supposed to be a secret.”

You giggled just in the moment Yuta came over to you and put a usb on your desk. Just a few days before, you both had figured out how the new navigation system worked.

“Just plug it in and do as I told you.”

You nodded and reached for the stick. There were only ten minutes remaining. You had never seen this many people wanting to watch a race before and the tension was sizzling, not only between the teams, but between the spectators too. As far as you had heard, the bets were almost equally split as though no one could decide who would win in their eyes. The Cheetah’s team was in another building, and you wondered whether they were still nervous with the amount of times they had already won so war.

“Hey,” you suddenly heard Jaehyun through the headphones.

“Yes?”

Apparently, he had muted himself for Taeyong since he didn’t respond, but typed something into the computer and then turned around to talk to Johnny and Yuta.

“If something happens,” Jaehyun spoke, “no matter what, will you be with me until the end?”

“Of course.”

“No, I mean it.”

You frowned. “Mean what?”

He sighed deeply as if he was struggling inwardly trying to find the right words. “Will you be with me… until the end?”

“Of course!” you replied happily.

“No! I mean... shit.”

What did he want? “I don’t get it.”

“I love you.”

You were stunned.

It was the first time he had said this to you. The first time someone had said this to you. For how long had he been feeling this way already? Was there a chance he’d been in love with you for as long as you loved him too? You were long lost for words and before you could even inhale to say something back, Taeyong was by your side again.

“You guys ready?”

“Yes,” Jaehyun answered quickly as though nothing had ever happened.

“Then get ready.”

____

The moment the race started, you got to witness with your own eyes why the Cheetah was called the Cheetah. Jaehyun was already a remarkable racer, but his rival was immaculate.

You wouldn’t be Jaehyun’s navigator though if you hadn’t grown together throughout the past weeks. You were his additional eyes, ears and mind. Whatever he lacked or hadn't perfected, you carried out together, making him even stronger so that as of right now, he could easily take it on the Cheetah. You were going to win, that was how much trust you had in you both.

Midway through the race though, which was a real head-to-head contest that had eventually shaken off a part of your tranquility and replaced it with a bit of nervousness because of a few instances from which you quickly recovered nonetheless, Jaehyun started to panic.

“Shit, we didn’t see this coming!”

He complained about a construction site that had not been on your screen, but only popped up now. As of this instance, he was in advance, being in front of the Cheetah. Now, it was on you for how long he could hold that position.

“Don’t worry,” you tried to calm Jaehyun down while your heart raced almost as fast as the car itself right now. “I got you.”

“Why didn’t the new navigation system that Yuta gave you see it coming?” It sounded almost like an accusation and Taeyong shot a meaningful look at you from the side. “There are construction vehicles all around it!”

“Hey.” You didn’t raise your voice, you just wanted Jaehyun to snap out of his mental deadlock since he was too into it. “Stay calm.”

Sometimes, this happened. And if he was too panicked, he’d lose focus and make mistakes. That was why you were here. By now, you knew how to handle them and not let him irritate you or vice versa.

“I’m sorry.” Jaehyun had instant regrets. “I just want to win, I need to win.”

“I know. But to win, you have to trust me.”

You could only imagine his fingers gripping onto the steering wheel like his life depended on it, the knuckles first turning red, then white.

“I can’t lose,” he breathed and repeated like a mantra, “I can’t lose.”

On the screen, you perceived that he wasn’t as fast and sharp with his driving anymore, the Cheetah drawing closer to erase the remaining meters between the two cars. The vehicles appeared on the screen as dots on a map, the two that represented the racing cars now almost melting into one. Your entire team had gathered around you and were listening to you speak, only you and Taeyong knowing the details of your driver’s panic so far.

“You won’t lose, because I’m here with you, Jaehyun,” you assured him slowly, aware that in such kind of situations, you had to pretend to be calm to keep the driver at peace, even though you were tense as hell too. “It’s me, okay? I love you too, and I will be with you until the end. I know the meaning of this now, and of course I will.”

Silence - not only on the other side of the headset, but also in the hall among your team.

“Please say something,” you addressed to Jaehyun while ignoring all the other members’ grins. “This is kind of really embarrassing now.”

“I-I… I can’t,” he stuttered. “I’m… too happy.”

You smiled. Even though you were only connected via voice and there were other people standing behind you, you felt more connected to Jaehyun like never before.

“Are you ready to win this game with me now?” you asked him.

You felt his confident grin in every fiber of your body, it had given him the boost he needed. "Absolutely."

“Hey, we’re here too!” Johnny interrupted you. “What about us?”

“Get lost.” Jaehyun returned back to his grumble, but everyone knew that he didn’t mean it this way.

When you all broke out into a laughter together that lifted off the tension, even just a little bit, you finally felt like you had long reached the finish line. Not in terms of the race, but in terms of other things.

Trust, friendship and even love.

Because even if you had been among them only for a few weeks, you couldn’t imagine a better feeling than the warmth they caused you to experience right now with Johnny putting his hand on your shoulder in a comforting gesture, Taeyong smiling at you as he pointed at something on the screen, and Yuta rolling his eyes, seemingly not minding, but silently enjoying the entire situation.

This was it. This was your family. There was no deeper connection than you had with your team. You were going to win.

____

And you did.

Jaehyun crossed the finish line first.

Jaehyun won against the Cheetah.

Jaehyun was crowned King of the Streets.

…

But he didn’t last on the throne for long.

Only eight hours.

____

“King of the Streets”

… was the headline of your story that you finished late at night and sent over to your editor-in-chief so that it could still be printed for next month’s issue with the intention to be published the morning after.

____

“Congratulations.”

“Pardon?”

You were sitting in your boss’ office, the same chair, the same desk, the same window and the same view in sight. A few weeks ago, this had meant everything to you. You had wanted this, so badly, and you would have done everything for it. Now, it meant nothing anymore.

You hadn’t seen the new issue yet, that was not why you had come here. In your hands, you were holding a notice, but it had got nothing to do with what you had handed in the night before.

“‘King of the Streets’? I couldn’t have thought of a better title.” Your boss the issue in front of your eyes, but you rarely paid attention to it. “It’s great that you went with the way of leaving out the guy’s real name and even the politician’s name. Honestly, if I didn’t know who it was myself, I wouldn’t be able to guess. Now, people will get invested and do some digging. Congratulations on your promotion to senior editor!”

“Pardon?” you repeated.

You hadn’t written about the politician as agreed on. In fact, you had left out the entire storyline about the incident. That was why you had been so sure the story wouldn’t make headlines, and in your hands you were actually holding your resignation notice. You didn’t want to become senior editor. You wanted to quit.

With trembling hands, you reached out to the newest issue and looked at the headline. Indeed, this was your title “King of the Streets” with a stock photo that showed cars by night in front of a skyline. Your breath shortened when you searched for the right page and you felt like the air was being cut in your lungs when you stumbled over the story and started reading.

This was not your article. At least not the one that had been supposed to get published. It was the one only Jaehyun had gotten to read earlier, his very own, personal version. You felt sick in your stomach. How was this possible? Had you been hacked? Had someone secretly gotten access to your laptop?

“I… I sent you this?” Your voice shook with each syllable.

The editor-in-chief nodded. “Only a few minutes before the boring, second one. Of course I went with the first one. Who wouldn’t?”

“I didn’t send you this!” you nearly screamed. “How could you have published this?!”’

“Please calm down, Miss. This was sent from your very own email.”

“Show me,” you demanded and smacked the issue back on the desk. “Show me the mail!”

He sighed deeply and murmured something about short term memory, but you didn’t care much about his shenanigans anymore. Either way, today was the last day you’d ever interact. You’d just leave, what could he possibly do about it?

When your ex-boss shifted the desktop into your direction, you directly noticed, “This is not my work mail.”

It was your usual mailing name from a random provider, but neither your work mail address or your private one. Everything was similar except for the domain, indicating that someone had made this up on purpose.

“Yes, but I figured you might be using another mail, because you weren’t at home or didn’t have access. It was the big competition, so it was possible, right? Aside from that, this is your topic and writing style, even signed with your name. How could I have doubted it? I mean… this is your story after all, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

There was nothing you could say to defend yourself in front of him. You had written this all yourself, and the fact that it had gotten leaked wasn’t his problem. But someone else’s…

“I have to go,” you said.

“Well, when will you come back? We have to talk about your new position’s details.”

You laughed bitterly and didn’t forget to drop the letter on his desk. “I won’t come back.”

You didn’t care about your belongings. You just grabbed your bag, jacket and laptop and left the office without saying goodbye to anyone. The only thing on your mind right now was that you had to talk to Jaehyun and explain everything to him.

The more surprised you were to find him already sitting in the lobby. You were stunned, but as you continued your movements towards him, Jaehyun looked up, and your blood froze. He wore the biggest scowl on his face, and hidden behind it was the one emotion that hurt you the most: disappointment.

“Jaeh-”

“How could you?!” he yelled and arose from the coach, but he didn’t approach you. “I trusted you!”

You were assured it wasn’t because he was afraid he'd lose himself. He just couldn’t look you in the eyes as disappointment came forward more and more, revealing his true feelings. He couldn’t keep the angry facade up for much longer upon meeting you, the person he loved. But you still saw. Jaehyun was utterly hurt, and it was caused by this very same person.

You didn’t need to explain yourself, it wouldn’t change anything. You had betrayed and disappointed him like his father had, and there was no excuse for it. His entire past and deepest conflits had just been revealed to the country, and even though it wasn’t you who had published the story, you were the one who had written it.

Telling Jaehyun that it hadn’t been sent in by you wouldn’t change a single thing. The deed had already been done and there was no going back. You were just another person he had entirely lost faith and trust in, and there was no way for it to be restored. At least not right now, not immediately.

Jaehyun clenched his fists and pressed through gritted teeth, “You promised to me, I trusted you.”

Every syllable he directed at you pierced directly through your heart. You shouldn’t have written anything in the first place, it should have just stayed between the two of you. What had you thought while writing all of this? That you were doing him a favor? For what? No, it wouldn’t change anything, and it wouldn’t make him less sad and disappointed if he knew that you weren’t the person who had published it.

So you simply said, “I’m sorry, I should have never written this story.”

“I’ve always known you journalists were selfish bastards after all,” he hissed.

No heartbreak that you had ever experienced before came close to what you were feeling right now. At this point, you thought that you had been left by so many people in your life that you would need to entirely shut down.

Jaehyun didn’t speak it out, but you certainly sensed that he was going to leave you now, too. This was what you got for always being so nosy, for wanting so much and giving everything for it. In the end, when you reached your aim, everything didn’t matter when you lost every person that meant the world to you along the way.

“Get lost! Keep out of my sight and don’t ever dare talking to me again!”

When Jaehyun turned around without looking at you one more time, it felt like you were dying. So many people had walked out of your life already, and the man you loved the most being one of them hadn’t been in your book before. But now, it was very much real. It felt hurtfully real.

“Miss, are you okay?” the receptionist asked when she was approaching you.

You hadn’t noticed how your notebook had fallen on the floor, paper flying around everywhere. You were still looking after Jaehyun, petrified, while the young woman started to collect the sheets by your feet, but you barely noticed her. How was one to function, when they had lost what they loved the most?

Not much later, the receptionist was holding your arm after you had broken down crying in the middle of all your belongings. There was no one else anymore who could have emotionally supported you anyway, so who did it now was irrelevant to you.It didn’t help one bit though.

____

“Jiyeong?”

“Can I come in?”

It had been two weeks since Jaehyun had walked out of your life and you quit your job. Every minute of the day, you were hoping that he would come by to talk it all out. Not once had you hoped that his sister would do so instead of him.

“Sure.”

When she took off her shoes, walked past your small entrance and into your room, her eyes widened. “Why the many moving boxes? Are you…”

“I’ll be going away.”

“Where to?”

You smiled, but remained quiet, and Jiyeong immediately understood.

You didn’t want her to know and no one else either. Not because you were afraid that she or someone else would tell anyone, but because telling anyone at all would open the possibility of getting haunted by your past again. And this time, you just really wanted a clean cut.

“When are you leaving?” she asked instead, not even mildly offended to your relief.

“Next week.”

“I wish you all the best.”

“Thank you, Jiyeong. I really appreciate that.”

“Please don’t say this so easily.” Her expression changed into a pained one. “You’ll hate me from now on.”

“Why would I possibly hate you?”

She didn’t reply immediately, but nervously stepped from one foot on the other. She barely dared to look into your eyes, kneading her fingers nervously. “Because it was me.”

You were confused. “What?”

Even a bit quieter, she confessed, “It was me who sent the story to your boss.”

You were lost for words and still in hope you had heard wrong. “You sent the published story to my magazine that night?”

Slowly, Jiyeong nodded. “Yes. I found the story still open on my brother’s laptop when I went into his room to look for a charger. I couldn’t look past it, I really needed to read it. And it was so beautiful. My brother is just so deeply misunderstood, I was so relieved someone else saw it. So I wanted the entire country to know too.”

It was a lot for you to take in, and you still couldn’t believe this was real. “Did you create a fake mail account in my name and send it to my boss this way?”

“Yes. The mail from you with the article was still open, so it was easy to secure a similar address. I just acted on my personal intentions and disregarded your and my family’s feelings. I didn’t know what I would cause by doing that. I didn’t know I would not only get our mother worried, but hurt my brother and you too. I deeply apologize.”

“Jiyeong…”

“I thought,” she interrupted you, “I thought everyone would finally see my brother the way my mom, I, his friends and you see him. That he’s more than all that people paint him to be, and that the incident back then was different from everyone’s make up story. Never have I thought that I would not only ruin the lives of the people involved too, the least his or yours. I tried to change it up and make it as anonymous as possible, but I’m only writing in school, I don't have any real life experience, I’m still a child. I didn’t want all that, that was not supposed to happen! What was I thinking?!”

Her voice gradually grew louder and more upset, and when she hit the last sentence, she was close to tears.

You remembered the time when you were a teenager. There had been some grave mistakes you had made and many words you had said that you would want to have taken back immediately, but the deed had already been done and feelings had been hurt, including yours. Sometimes, the guilt gnawed on you like a parasite that never stopped being hungry.

You had never wanted to become a person who made someone else live with that feeling forever. In front of you just stood a teenage girl who had wanted to do the right thing and who just didn’t know what the right thing was. So you stretched out your arms and pulled her into an embrace. Jiyeon begged you over and over again to not hate her or her brother. You loved both of them dearly, how could you?

When she left after sharing a bottle of ice cream with you to soothe your both shaken up feelings, you also learned that Jaehyun had been informed about Jiyeong’s misconduct directly after he had come home the day the story was published - so two weeks ago.

This entire time, he knew. He had known all along and he never contacted you.

You hoped so badly that Jaehyun would still come. You were even still holding onto the slightest sliver of hope the day you moved away from Seoul, until the moment you closed your empty apartment door behind you.

But he never came.

It was just as you thought: It didn’t change anything, whether you or anyone else had sent in the story. The outcome would have always been the same.

So, if Jaehyun had decided to move on, then you would too.

Even though you had lived one of the best times of your life in that city, now it bearded nothing but a sorrowful past and broken dreams.

You wanted to move on, too.

____

2 years later

Moving out of a city didn’t simultaneously mean continuing on.

You had first needed to learn how to start life all over again.

It hadn’t been easy to begin again in Daejeon. It had taken quite a bit of time to find an affordable apartment, although the city was much less populated than the capital. It had even taken you much longer to find a job that fitted you more than the last one, and only recently had you settled with a new friend group.

Overall, life was going pretty well for you now.

Were it not for the fact that you still missed Jaehyun with every fiber of your heart.

After your published story, many newspapers had made follow up articles, even leaking the party chairman’s name. Of course he had then been fired from his position and the party would not make it to be one of those with the highest votes anymore.

Not a word was lost about the Falcon though. It was like he had never existed.

But you knew better.

Jaehyun had stopped street racing entirely and had enrolled back into university for his last year. He had taken the last race’s prize money to pay off the family’s debt - his entire team had left their amount to help him out this time, including you. This had allowed him to sell his car and start working part time in an electric shop.

It hadn’t been by far as much as he had earned as a racer, but they had made ends meet with honest work.

You were wholeheartedly happy for him when Taeyong had told you all this one day when you had met in Daejong a year ago.

“He misses you very much too,” he had said, and you had smiled lightly.

“I thought he hated me.”

“Did you forget what he said during his last race?”

That he loved you.

“I will never forget.”

Jaehyun had won the biggest race in his whole career, but he still wasn’t entirely free. Being crowned King of the Streets, having won a lot of money and becoming popular as well as getting your love - all that hadn’t set him free from his past.

“But now, it doesn’t matter anymore,” you had added, speaking to Taeyong.

He had wanted more time not only for, but also with his mom and sister. Being a good son and brother like his father could have never been.

Jaehyun couldn't put his life on hold to leave his family eventually, too. You had understood, so you had quietly accepted all this, letting him go and focus on the things he saw as important now. Where it had been racing and winning before, his priorities had entirely shifted.

If your love wasn’t part of this anymore but had made him realize this, then what more could you ask for?

By now, another year later, Jaehyun must have graduated from university already and his sister must be a sophomore in high school. Every now and then, you thought about them and prayed for their safety, but your life wasn’t on hold anymore.

“Miss, your interview partner is waiting in the lobby.”

“Okay, thank you.”

You took your notebook from your desk and walked out of your office. The room wasn’t as big as the one in your old company and the view was not as splendid, but you were editor-in-chief for the city's biggest magazine. You could write about things you really cared about like politics and things going on in town, nobody pressured you to cover topics that required you to do criminal things.

The company fitted your personality, your morals. It was perfect for you.

A week ago, you had gotten a request from someone who claimed to have a really good story for you. Even after telling the person via mail that your magazine didn’t take on this kind of sensational story, the person was being persistent, so you gave in and were open to hear what they had to say.

“Good morning, I-”

The last words got stuck in your throat and your breath caught simultaneously. You let your notebook nearly slip from your hands upon encountering your today’s interview partner.

“Good morning.”

He smiled the smile you had lured out of him only after a few weeks of knowing each other. In these two years, he hadn’t changed one bit. He looked more mature and admittedly also more relaxed, the scowl entirely gone. His clothes had changed into more sophisticated ones as he wore black dress pants and a white button up.

“Life’s been treating you well,” he added. “I’m happy for you.”

His deep, soft voice let you nearly melt again, but you were a professional, so you regained your composure real quick.

“I heard you have a really good story for me Mr. Jeong,” you smiled. “I’m really looking forward to it.”

____

Jaehyun wanted you to publish a story.

This time, with him and with his name written all over it.

“I don’t want to hide anymore, I don’t want to have secrets. I want to come clear, not only with myself, my family and friends, but also with everyone involved. I’ve already gathered permission from everyone, and even though it admittedly took me very long to reach this conclusion, I’m a hundred percent sure I want to do it. And most importantly, I want you to do it.”

It would be his personal story, from his own point of view where he would talk about his past, his father’s wrongdoings, his struggles and what he had been up to since his final race. He asked you to sell this story to your old company for a wider audience and for a follow up.

Legally, he weighed himself secure since he had talked to a few layers before making this decision. It was all for his conscience. If this helped Jaehyun finally move on entirely, then you would happily do it for him.

“Back then, during my last race, my navigator had never used the new system. I only found out much later.”

You paused your writing and looked up. You had settled yourselves in a conference room to work on this story without any interruptions. “Why did she never use it, Mr. Jeong?”

“She had so much faith and trust in our connection, she was sure she could do it without, that was how much she believed in me.”

You lowered your head and pretended to write, but out came only gibberish. Your heart was racing. You always fondly thought back to that time. “She must have been a real baddie,” you joked.

“She was.” The corners of Jaehyun’s lips curled upwards. “I don’t regret anything except for one thing.”

“Which is…?”

“Letting her go.”

You were asking yourself why you suddenly couldn’t see anymore as your vision was very blurry. When you wiped the back of your hand over your eyes, you realized that you had started crying, and the tears had stained the writing on your paper.

“I have one more question for you,” you only brought out.

“Yes?”

“Have you married yet, Mr. Jeong?”

The pause that followed almost tore you apart as you closed your eyes and prayed inwardly.

“I’ve been waiting for a special person to return to Seoul,” he nearly whispered. “When she didn’t, I went to search for her.”

You looked up to him, tears still burning on the brim, but somehow, you didn’t feel sad anymore. You felt more overwhelmed with this entire revelation that caused your heart to finally flutter again.

You had never stopped loving Jaehyun.

“And… what if that person doesn’t want to go back to Seoul?”

Jaehyun stretched out his hand and laid his palm against your cheek, wiping away your tears. It felt so familiar and warm, a feeling you had deeply missed. Even though there was still a respectful distance between you that had built up in the past two years, the connection was as deep and intense as ever.

It was at this moment that you realized Jaehyun had never stopped loving you too.

“Then, I’ll go wherever she goes.”

2K notes · View notes

dfortrafalgar · 18 days

Text

Distraction

Portgas D. Ace x Fem!Reader

You and Ace intended to spend the day at the beach, but he can’t seem to be able to relax.

Warnings: modern au, so much smut. like so much smut. wet, sticky smut. 69-ing briefly. reader is also written to be on the chubbier side (im projecting <3) ace fucks you in the back of his car, basically. MINORS DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED.

I woke up thinking about Ace today so I cranked this out in, like, an hour. It was a nice change of pace while I've been finishing up IMLY and the Luffy fic from my poll, which is almost done! (speaking of which, thank you for 200 followers <3)

Ace hadn’t seen your swimsuit yet. All he knew about it was that you purchased it recently on a shopping trip with a group of your friends, but it was currently concealed under a light t-shirt and denim shorts. Throughout the drive to the shoreline, he was anxiously eyeing your bare thighs, his grip on the steering wheel of his station wagon turning his knuckles white.

“What’s got you so nervous over there?” Your airly voice shook the freckled man out of his daze. “Eyes on the road, hotshot.”

“It’s nothing,” he blurted, pouting and turning his attention back to the road. Maybe he should have you sit in the backseat when your skin was exposed.

His own friends often joked that he was no better than a dog. It wasn’t his fault that his sex drive was higher than cruising altitude… or maybe it was. But he couldn’t help his wandering eyes when the soft skin of your plush thighs was exposed, or the way your deft hands fiddled with your cuticles as you stared out the window, sparkling eyes taking in the cloudless summer day as the backroads passed by on the drive to the beach. Most of your evenings together were spent with either his head between your legs, your head between his legs, or your face smushed into a soft pillow while Ace desperately railed you from behind.

It was a good life, that’s for sure.

“It’s been so long since I’ve been to the beach,” you suddenly stated, turning your head to look at your flustered boyfriend. “I’ve only ever been swimming in pools recently!”

“Yeah, me too,” he replied, his voice shaky.

Your eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Ace, are you really alright? Your face is kind of red.” You reached your hand over to press your palm to his forehead. “You don’t feel like you have a fever, do you?”

“Nah, I feel fine. Honestly. Just… thinking.” One of his hands left the steering wheel to rub his sweating palm against the fabric of his swim trunks. All he had on, other than the baggy trunks, was a white tank top that had a very unfortunate oil stain around the chest area. He was sure his entire upper body was flushing red with the debauched thoughts that plagued his weary brain. He hadn’t even seen your bathing suit yet and his mind was running in circles. (He started to debate calling up that therapist that Sabo recommended.)

“Well, tell me if you really don’t feel good. I don’t want you to force yourself to be out today just because of me,” you cooed, your voice soft and comforting.

He needed to tell you to stop talking. Even the sound of your voice made butterflies swarm in his gut.

He might as well have been ovulating.

After what felt like an eternity, the trees surrounding the backroad route he had taken began to dissipate, replaced with the beautiful sight of the shoreline. The ocean spanned outward as far as you could see, disappearing along the horizon and blending in with the bright blue sky. A few small beach houses dotted the shore.

“You said this was a public beach, right?” you asked curiously.

Ace nodded, swallowing a thick glob of spit. “Public, but very minimal. There’s some private properties surrounding it so a lot of people assume the entire place is off-limits to locals, but there’s a small parking lot set back from the beach near a tiny bathroom shack-lookin’ thing.”

You grinned. “Nice.”

“Do you not like public beaches?” he inquired, tossing you a side eye as he pulled further down the road, approaching the aforementioned parking lot.

“I don’t mind them,” you replied. “But sometimes really busy beaches make me nervous. Sometimes I don’t feel comfortable swimming when there’s too many people around… I get self-conscious in my bathing suits!” Your statement was punctuated with a fluttering, nervous laugh as you involuntarily squeezed the skin of your thighs.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that when I’m here,” Ace replied, flashing you a cheeky grin.

The parking lot seemed sparse. It was entirely gravel with a few decrepit wooden fences separating where cars could park, some overgrown weeds poking through the impacted dirt here and there. Sure enough, there was a brown, run-down bathroom shack between the beach and the parking lot. During high tide, it almost seemed like the entire area would get flooded, but the gravel was drier than bone thanks to the beating sunlight.

You dug through your bag, removing a tube of sunblock.

“I thought you already put on sunscreen before we left,” Ace said, pulling into a spot and putting his beat-up station wagon in park.

“I did, I’m just putting some extra on my face,” you responded, uncapping the tube and squeezing some of the white gel onto your fingers. You deftly rubbed the lotion onto your skin, across your cheeks and brow, down your nose, and down your neck.

Ace needed to look away from you as your hands trailed down your neck and across your collarbones, ridding your hands of the excess lotion. You weren’t provoking him on purpose, he knew that, but clearly his dick was taking charge of the day.

Little prick.

The two of you excitedly exited the car, grabbing your small umbrella and towels to find a nice spot to set up camp on the sand. You were quick to lay down your towel when you found a spot, Ace digging a deep hole into the ground to mount the umbrella and provide a shelter from the beating sunlight. Only a few other people were dotted around the beach, mostly older folk who were most certainly retired and enjoying their elderly days basking in the sunlight. The thought made you smile. You watched with glittering eyes as Ace pulled his tank top over his lean body, his muscular chest rippling with his movements, letting the cloth fall into his bag in a wrinkled heap.

“Oh, shit, forgot the cooler,” Ace mumbled suddenly. “I’ll be right back.” He swiftly turned tail and hiked through the sand back to his car.

You smiled, crawling under the umbrella and feeling the sand beneath the fabric shift below your knees. You slid your denim shorts down your legs, shifting your weight to pull them off before folding them neatly and tucking them into your beach bag. Your shirt followed, your hands hooking under the bottom hem and pulling it up over your head, repeating the process of folding it and storing it away. Weirdly enough, you felt more comfortable on this beach than any other. While some old folk liked to gab, the sparse population on this beach seemed more than willing to keep to themselves. And there was no risk of creepy men your age or obnoxious teenagers to toss rogue comments about your body or shitty pick-up lines.

And you had Ace, of course, who would kiss the ground you walked on if you asked. The thought made your stomach flutter with glee.

Back in the parking lot, Ace was quick to haul open his trunk and grab the small cooler they had packed with water, some sodas, and some light snacks, slinging it over his bare shoulder and slamming the door closed. The hinges made a terrible squealing noise as the door moved. He really needed to get that fixed. He quickly jogged back to the shoreline with the cooler bag in his possession, his sandals making scuff marks in the gravel.

He almost died and came back to life when he saw you from behind.

Your clothes were off, your body hugged in a bikini that looked sculpted for you and only you. The strawberry-print bodice was tied around your neck and below your shoulder blades with thin straps, the front of the suit being held together in the front with a metal ring between the bust. Your plump breasts peeked over the seams slightly, making blood rush to Ace’s face. The solid-colored bottoms squeezed your hips and ass perfectly, with one side open and held together with strings in an intricate criss-cross pattern.

Ace’s feet were moving on their own, his soul ascending from his body as he floated toward you.

You heard the rustle of his swim trunks from behind you as you approached, turning to look at him over your shoulder. “Hey! All set with the cooler?”

He plopped to his knees on his own towel, the cooler hitting the ground with a thud. “Yeah, all set…” His voice trailed off as if he wanted to say something else.

You gazed at him with confusion painting your features.

“You… you look…” Ace could barely look at you. “You look so fucking hot… oh my god.”

Suddenly, his demeanor in the car made much more sense. The constant red flush painting his adorable freckled cheeks, his mouth in a perpetual tongue-tie, his lips pursing together tightly as he struggled to keep his composure. Your lips pulled into a bright smile, relishing in the flustered behavior of your boyfriend.

“Aww, thank you, baby!” you cooed, moving closer to him. Your hands trailed down his arm, ghosting over the tattoo on his bicep before teasingly falling to the cooler and unzipping the top, pulling an orange soda out of the bag.

“Please don’t tease me, I think I might explode,” Ace huffed.

You popped open the can with a satisfying click, taking a quick sip from the opening. “You know… I don’t think anyone’s going to mess with our stuff if you want to go back to the car…”

Ace’s dark eyes darted toward you, assessing the mischievous expression on your face as you kept the cold soda can pressed against your mouth. The metal was rapidly developing condensation thanks to the heat in the air, droplets of water dripping down the orange can and onto your fingers, plopping against your folded knees.

He carefully removed the soda from your hands, tucking it back into the cooler to make sure it didn’t spill, before standing up and hauling you to your feet, dragging you by your hand across the hot sand and back to the parking lot for a third time. He ripped his car keys from the pocket of his swim trunks, shoving the metal key into the door lock to open the vehicle before leading you to the trunk and popping open the door. You quickly clamored inside, him following behind you and closing the trunk from the inside. He chucked his keys somewhere towards the front of the car.

He wasted absolutely no time in smashing his lips against yours, making you wince slightly at the feeling of his teeth hitting your own, but the way his long fingers expertly groped the skin of your breasts below your bikini top made you forget about the momentary discomfort.

After a few stifling moments, Ace pulled away and heaved into the skin of your neck, holding you down by your shoulders.

The best part about him owning an old, refurbished station wagon was the ample amount of room in the back, as well as the lack of center console between the two front seats. It was a car built for fucking.

“Is this what you were thinking of on the ride over here?” you asked, a coy tone on your tongue. “About what my new swimsuit would look like?”

Ace grumbled, a childish pout on his lips as one of his hot hands continued to rub patterns up and down your side. Up to your breasts, his thumb ghosting over your concealed nipple, trailing down your waist and groping the plush flesh of your belly, down your thigh to squeeze your ass. The way the strings on the exposed side of your bottom piece fit into your skin made his cock throb.

“You’re insatiable,” you giggled, your own hands leaving scorching patterns over his shoulders and arms. “Are you ovulating? You’re acting like me before my period.”

“Shush,” he grumbled, followed by another sweltering kiss, all tongue. You felt a dribble of spit leave the corner of your mouth, sticking to the skin of your cheek. His lips moved against yours, exchanging a blistering heat. Ace always seemed to radiate warmth even on the coldest days, and his presence in this moment filled your body with a heated, lustful buzz. Goosebumps rose on your skin when he pulled away from you leaving your front exposed, gently biting your puffy lower lip with his teeth.

“How worried are you about someone messing with our things on the beach?” he asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

You adjusted yourself slightly below him, his knees beside your hips caging you onto the floor of his trunk. “Hmm… not too worried.”

“Perfect,” Ace replied swiftly, tugging his swim trunks down.

He had such a nice cock, perfectly shaped with a cut tip that flushed a beautiful rosy hue. A slight upward curve, lean and not too long, perfect. He was either hard for the entire time you were setting up your small spot on the sand and you hadn’t noticed, or he was fighting with every fiber in his body to keep the erection at bay. Whatever the circumstance, the fantasy of spontaneously fucking you in the trunk of his car in that sexy bikini of yours that he daydreamed about on the drive down was finally coming true.

Your hands made a move down to your hips to pull on the fabric of your bottoms before his fingers wrapped around your wrists, halting your movement.

“Sorry,” he uttered, his voice a soft whisper filled with a desperation you rarely saw from him. “Your suit stays on.”

Your mouth morphed into a grin as he released you, leaning back up on his knees and idly stroking his cock with his right hand. You parted your legs for him, making a show of smushing your breasts together under your tight top. God, your suit could have been molded onto your body, it looked so good.

“Are you going to stay there and jerk off over me, or are you going to share some of the fun?” you asked deviously, one of your hands crawling below your bottoms and teasing your clit with the slick that had built up. A pleasant, tingling flutter resonated in your belly and floated down your thighs, but nothing was better than the feeling of his fingers and cock doing the work for you.

“I want to do everything to you,” he muttered, releasing his dick from his slow ministrations. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

You watched as it bobbed in the air, so hard it held itself out away from Ace’s toned stomach. You involuntarily licked your lips at the sight. “You’re so pretty…” you muttered. You took it upon yourself to sit up, gently pushing against Ace’s shoulders to get him to sit on the trunk floor on his ass, leaning against him further to get the hint to lay down in the position you had just been in.

Neither of you had a strictly dominating or strictly submissive attitude. Rather, you mutually shared the moment, taking charge when you wanted and snatching the lead away whenever you pleased. This was one of those moments as you rotated your body on top of his, moving your ass closer to his face as one of your hands ghosted along his hip bone, your other arm supporting you and keeping you upright.

Ace got the hint almost immediately, his greedy hands groping and squeezing your ass as he pulled you downward to rest your clothed cunt against his mouth. The hotness of his breath and the feeling of his lips against your weeping pussy concealed by the polyester made your breath hitch as your lips traveled closer and closer to the tip of his dick, watching hungrily as it seemed to pulse in the air, desperate for attention.

Your boyfriend made the first move, pulling you down by your hips and resting your cunt over his mouth, his tongue forcing its way between your folds through the suit and quickly finding your clit. You gasped, your arm shaking somewhat as you quickly followed his lead, wasting no time in taking his cock into your hot, ready mouth.

And goodness, did he taste good. A familiar slightly salty musk partnered with the residual scent of his daily body spray, a vanilla and cedar flavor that always made your heart flutter in your chest. His cock might as well have been burning as you hollowed out your lips and took him further down your mouth, loving the way the organ pulsed against your tongue.

On the other end, Ace’s fingers had found their way into the fabric of your bathing suit, holding the barrier aside as two of his digits spread your natural slick over your cunt and lubricated his skin before he pressed them into your pussy, addicted to the way your muscles constricted around him. Your entrance was always on the tighter side no matter how many times you fucked, and it was absolute heaven for him. He turned the pads of his two fingers forward, pushing gently against the roof of your vagina where he knew you were acutely sensitive, and smirked to himself when your thighs clenched around his head. Your movements over his cock momentarily stuttered at the feeling of his thumb connecting with your clit to simultaneously stroke the needy bud while passionately fingering your pussy.

He knew you too well. He knew what you needed. Ace wasn’t a selfish lover, he had learned your quirks and needs very early on in your relationship. You loved your clit rubbed in somewhat slow circles, alternating between various pressures. You responded to his fingers against your g-spot, and you loved when his dick curled upward into the same area. Not too deep so as to hit your cervix, which hurt you quite a bit, but deep enough to reach those sensitive areas that had your legs shaking.

You learned quickly too, however. Ace’s tip was the most sensitive part of him, his breaths growing shallow when you delicately sucked your lips around it and trailed your tongue along the slit, collecting the small amount of salty precum that emerged from the tip. He loved it when you gently fondled his balls, rubbing the wrinkled skin between the pads of your fingers. He adored the inside of his thighs being caressed, and you tried your best to do both with one hand as the other trembling appendage fought to support your weight as you continued to blow him.

You popped off of his cock momentarily, stroking the base with your hand. “Did you have fruit recently?” you asked, turning your head somewhat to look over your shoulder. Not like you could see much.

Ace paused his motions against your pussy. “... Maybe.”

You grinned, the usually salty, bitter taste of his essence now replaced with something slightly sweeter. You wanted to egg him on, to ask him if he had planned for this to happen and eaten some pineapple or citrus with his breakfast in preparation, but you decided to keep your inquiries to yourself and return to your task of sucking him off.

Ace was content to keep fingering you, his current position in between your thighs a bit too difficult to involve his tongue, but he knew he could please you regardless. The circular movements of his calloused thumb against your throbbing clit had you sucking in sharp, lustful breaths through your nose, small whimpers leaving your throat and vibrating down his shaft making him bite his lip and stifle a wheeze. Your thighs were quivering as he continued to curl his fingers into your g-spot, following the rhythm of your lips around his cock.

After some moments, however, you quickly scrambled off of him, your hand clutching around your stomach as you pivoted above him, capturing his lips in yours. You ground your clothed cunt over his pulsing cock, keeping it locked between your pussy and his toned abdomen.

“Now who’s the desperate one?” he asked, teasingly, his signature boyish smirk traveling right back to your clit.

“I can’t help it, you’re contagious,” you huffed against the skin of his cheek.

Usually, the two of you used lube. It didn’t matter how wet you got thanks to foreplay, the sensations were always heightened when there was no risk of chafing. But clearly, you didn’t have that luxury today. Nor did you have any condoms. Instead, you bit down your thoughts, reserved yourself to spending 70 beri on the morning-after pill later that day, and hovered over his cock. You pulled your swimsuit to the side and took his dick in your hands, wasting no time in slipping it through your folds that were thoroughly drenched thanks to Ace’s expert fingers.

The first insertion always hurt somewhat. A slight, red-hot throbbing pain that radiated through your pelvis, followed by a pleasant pressure as his cock slowly intruded into your tight muscle. The groan that radiated from Ace’s throat made your pussy flutter.

That was another thing you loved about him. He was loud.

Maybe on a normal day you’d be worried about someone hearing you, or seeing the way his car shook with the force of your collective moments, but both of you had succumbed to desperation and couldn’t care less. Traumatize the elderly beach goers who might happen to walk through the gravel parking lot to their own cars.

You sunk fully down onto Ace’s hips, his dick perfectly nestled inside your wet and willing pussy as his hands tightly gripped your hips through your suit bottoms. You slowly rocked your hips, desperate for some extra friction against your clit. It was much harder with the fabric covering you, but eventually you found a movement that felt just right. Edging your hips slightly forward, you rolled your pelvis against his, dragging your clothed slit over the taught skin of his lower abdomen, moaning at the feeling of his dick pulsing within you.

Maybe you really didn’t have to worry about lube today. Every motion against the walls of your vagina had you biting your lip and arching your back over him.

Ace’s hands assisted with bouncing you on his cock, his voice slowly increasing in volume as he watched you through half-lidded as your breasts jiggled with each movement, how the fat of your belly and thighs rippled so deliciously as you gyrated above him. His voice was delectable, gruff and whiny, higher-pitched than usual with stuttering breaths and hitches in his throat that had your heart beating a mile a minute.

Your legs were growing tired, and Ace could tell. He wordlessly beckoned you off of him, being quick to lean you over the back seats and move your suit to the side again, slipping his cock back in between your folds. This angle always fit the both of you. As much as Ace loved it when you rode him, taking you from behind came with many more benefits. His free hand could travel down to dip beneath the cloth of your swimsuit and rub those delicious circles against your clit while simultaneously thrusting his desperate hips against your ass. His chest pressed into your shoulder blades, his free hand supporting him against the back of the seats as you held onto the leather for dear life, whining with each motion of his cock against your inner walls and his calloused fingers against your clit.

It didn’t take long for you to unravel, the feeling of his rough finger pads against your desperate nub too much to bear. Your orgasm approached slowly at first, filling your stomach with warmth, the insides of your eyelids flashing purple and indigo, before your body snapped and you were shuddering against Ace, moaning out loud as your pussy involuntarily clenched around his cock, your cunt feeling feather light as it fluttered. The force of your orgasm caused you to gyrate your hips back against his, weak, airy moans escaping your tongue as the red-hot pleasure radiated through your entire body leaving your pussy buzzing with the aftershocks.

Ace was barely holding it together. The force of your orgasm causing your pussy to clench around his cock had his arms weakening against the seat, his hips frantically rutting into you as sultry moans left his lips at the feeling of his cock burning inside you, begging for satisfaction. His fingers never stopped rubbing your clit, caught up in what had essentially become second nature for him. The overstimulation had you twitching around him, shallow breaths heaving from your lungs. Ace’s pace increased as did the stuttering of his hips, his thrusts growing more shallow as his own orgasm approached.

“A-Ace… fuck, baby…” you whined, dropping your forehead against the back of the seat. “You’re gonna make me cum again…”

The man was too caught up in the throes of pleasure. Calling him desperate earlier was clearly an understatement. A loud, throaty groan reverberated from his lips as his hips rapidly drilled into you, forcing you against the back of the seat. His shallow breaths only helped to fuel your second orgasm that rocked you with a sudden wash of white light behind your eyes and you were shuddering against him again, your own moans filling the stifling air of the car.

Ace barely had time to call out your name before he was thrusting disjointedly into you, crackled, weary moans leaving his lips as he came into your sore cunt, his hands pressing down onto your lower back to keep you still as he buried his cock into you, soaking you more than you already were. You felt him pull out of you, your cunt fluttering around nothing as the sound of him falling backwards against the closed door of his trunk filled your ears.

Your own spent body dropped to the side, sitting on your hip and barely holding yourself up with one hand. You slowly picked your head up, gazing at your boyfriend and assessing his condition.

Black hair mussed beyond belief, his freckled cheeks and shoulders flushed with a delicate red hue, his lips wet and swollen parted with the force of his labored breathing. His eyes were closed, jaw slack as his pelvis continued to twitch from the force of his orgasm. A few last drops of cum were bubbling from his tip, slowly dripping down his drenched dick that almost glistened, covered in your own fluids. You felt wet between your legs. It would have been a nice feeling if you weren’t already so stifling, your entire body feeling sticky. You finally noticed the way the windows had fogged up. You didn’t have time to think about carbon dioxide toxicity before Ace’s weary hand traveled up to the back window of his trunk door, blindly popping the window open a crack to let some fresh air flow into the car. The summer heat felt oddly cool against your sweaty skin.

You slowly crawled closer to Ace, ignoring the way your drenched cunt sat uncomfortably inside your bathing suit. You combed a damp strand of black hair off of his forehead before delicately pressing your lips against his cheek, encouraging him to finally open his eyes.

“You alright?” you asked, your voice low and quiet.

He finally smiled, his narrow, dark eyes filling your chest with warmth. “I think my heart almost stopped.”

You giggled, running your sweaty hand up and down his skin. “Should I wear bathing suits around you more often? I don’t think you’ve ever fucked me like that.”

Your boyfriend’s humble laughter made you grin. “For the sake of my health, you probably shouldn’t.” He finally leaned forward to press a tender kiss against your wet lips. “Though, if I were to die fucking you in a bikini, I’d die a very, very happy man.”

#x reader #reader insert #fem reader #one piece x reader #op x reader #ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace #portgas ace x reader #portgas ace smut #ace x reader smut #portgas d ace x reader smut #smut #op smut #one piece smut #ace oneshot

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writersdrug · 2 months

Text

Nectar and Bane - Pt. 1

Pairings: Hunter!König x Witch!Reader

Pt. 2

Summary: König is hired to hunt down a pesky witch by a warlock, who paints you as the most evil thing in the past three centuries. With the promise of finding true love (or, the closest thing the warlock can offer: a brainwashed woman who is forced to dote on the hunter), König sets out on his journey. However, you aren't what he was expecting at all, and he develops a newfound obsession with making you become his.

Warnings: dubcon, mentions of rape, manipulation, kidnapping, sex pollen (kinda? If you squint? not really, but better safe than sorry), corruption kink, mentions of blood and violence, mentions of consuming human organs, unrequited pining, angst at the end, death (not for main characters), cowgirl, missionary, mating press, biting, hair pulling, nipple play, power imbalance, handjob, obsessive thoughts and behaviour (please let me know if I missed any!)

Notes: thought I'd try my hand a fantasy au version of cod, or at least of König. This is really long (over 15000 words) so I split it into two parts. The next part is pretty much done, I'm just exhausted and wanted to at least crank out half. Let me know if you would like to be tagged in pt 2!

ps if anyone has any suggestions or tips on how to make collages or banners for fics, pleeeaseeee lmk

translations at the end

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Watch your every step. From the moment you step foot into those woods, you can’t trust anything you see.

That’s what the sorcerer had drilled into his head before he had begun his journey. He called you dangerous, cunning… “A sneaky, meddling bitch…” he had grumbled over the table in that crowded tavern.

Two small pouches, one of silver, one of gold, sat in between the two patrons on the table. Stains of ale and coffee rings littered the unvarnished wood. The wax of the thick candle had trickled down and formed small, hardened pools at the base – its flame flickered weakly, casting unflattering shadows against the man’s weathered features, and making the portentous hood covering König’s face only that much more ominous.

He'd listened warily as the sorcerer described the witch – you. Tens of centuries old, too much knowledge and too little wisdom to use it sensibly. You take whatever you want by whatever means possible, and your favored method was using your physical assets and the promise of sexual devotion to coerce those within your web to do your bidding. “Sometimes it’s for her personal gain – sometimes, she does it for fun.” The warlock added bitterly. “Akin to a serpent, she winds you into her embrace, and then crushes your bones before she swallows you whole, saving your heart for last.” You’d done it to him, ensnaring him into your alluring trap, before stealing his spellbooks, his potions, his most prized collections… and vanishing into thin air.

An enchantress, König had concluded.

The warlock’s request? “Kill her. And be quick with it. The sooner this earth is rid of that swine, the sooner we can all rest. And, better yet – bring me her eyes! Potent things, witches’ eyes can be – of course, that is if they’re still working. If the bitch has gone blind, don’t waste dulling your dagger. A handful of her hair would do just fine.”

König had killed much worse for much less, and this sounded like it would be on the simpler side of things. A few days’ worth of hunting and a quick, efficient kill – hopefully, one of his easier jobs, although with the way the sorcerer described you, that might not be. He’d dealt with magicians before; up until now, they had been rather boring to hunt – tedious, but nonetheless, boring. Most of the time, they tried to end him with some elaborate incantation in the few seconds remaining of their life after he’d ambushed them. His silver blade would be slicing across their throats before they could utter five syllables. They were always so intent on murdering their victims slowly and in a flashy manner. With König’s preference for a more immediate result, he was usually the one collecting the fingernails, teeth, and tongues.

(Over time, he’d had noticed that it was always sorcerers ordering the assassination of other sorcerers. He wondered why they had so much of an issue amongst themselves, but he didn’t question it. Whatever kept him fed and paid for his room, he would do it.)

The picture the warlock was painting of you, however, made you seem much craftier and more calculated. You couldn’t resist the glamorous ways of murder via magic – it was written in your nature as a witch. But you played the game with your charisma and wit, too; something magic users didn’t typically rely on (half of the time, because they weren’t charismatic, nor witty). You waited until your assailant would fall to your wicked charm, before dissecting him like nothing more than a toad for your cauldron. If not an easy kill, you at least sounded like you would be an exciting one – but König knew he could get something more from this client for killing you.

“What more can you offer me?” he asked.

The warlock chuckled. “The gold is insufficient, is it?” he leaned forward and hunched his shoulders, speaking in a hushed tone. “Tell me, what do you desire? Recognition and respect? Revenge against someone who’s crossed you? To bring back a loved one from the dead? Or, perhaps, to find a love of your own?”

König’s shoulders tensed, and the rest of the warlock’s utterances fell on deaf ears. Could he possibly give him a chance to find himself someone to love? Someone that he and only he can worship? It was true that he would be happier to live alone, in whatever way that would allow him to be independent of society… but the thought of being able to live alone with someone, someone who was devoted to him, someone who could decorate his hut with signs of life and warmth, someone with a kind smile and a sweet voice, someone who he could spend hours upon hours with, memorizing each curve of their body, the taste of their nectar on his tongue…

He called it love. Others would call him insane. He’d heard it all before – how no one would ever love him, given his profession, his awkwardness in carrying a conversation about anything normal other than how sharp his knives are, and how he uses them… that, and the fact that he never shows his face (“He must be hideous under there…” they would speculate). Nonetheless, he still craved the devotion of an obedient, warm body waiting for him in his cabin at the end of the day – once he did get a cabin. Why should he be denied what everyone else wants?

He knew he was a hypocrite; he couldn’t expect someone else to be so willing to leave everything and run away with him. Not with his insane ideations and obsessions – hell, not with who he was as a person. But if he killed enough healthy rabbits to keep her fed, and if he fucked her hard enough that her eyes rolled back into her head and she couldn’t muster enough strength to escape the mattress… would she ever care about what kind of man he was?

The warlock smiled slowly. “Of course… that’s what all of you sick bastards want.” He said, leaning back and folding his arms. “If it will seal our contract, I will give you whichever woman you choose. I’ll make her yours, and only yours, with unconditional love – even for your damned soul.”

A fair deal, König had thought. Which is exactly what had him currently trudging through the dense woods, searching for any traces of a witch – a sack with two loaves of bread and some apples hung over his shoulder, along with his well-worn tashka stuffed with the coin he had earned over time. His sword was strapped to his hip in its sheath, his dagger (a short sword, when it was compared to the average person) stuffed into the lead-lined, deerskin sheath on the side of his boot; and a pelt, heavy and thick, hung around his shoulders. All he had to his name.

König had done a day of research on you – testimonies and sightings of you ghosting the perimeter of the woods at an early age, hoping to lure some poor soul away as your very first victim. “I imagine she was a succubus in her previous life,” the warlock had spoken, “maybe too much of a whore for even the devil to handle.”

He had caught you one night by luring you to his cabin with the scent of a savory meal. Guessing by your inexperience, and the way you avoided using words as you snarled and thrashed in the warlock’s grip, he assumed you had not yet reached one hundred years old. You were still young and fresh-faced, appearing no more than twenty to human eyes. “After a few decent meals, and reintroducing her to the work of her past life – she’d settled in as the perfect student. It almost felt like having a pet.” He added with a smug smile.

König questioned how happy you were with being reintroduced to the work of your past, but he didn’t comment on it.

After living with the warlock as his student and whore for a few centuries, you turned into a strong, young witch. You didn’t care to go into town, preferring to stay at the cabin and watch over the brews whenever he had to make deliveries or run to the shops. The warlock had no complaints about your desire to stay holed up in his home – fewer people to ogle at you, fewer glimpses into a more civilized life that might tempt you to run away. He’d much rather you be a brooding, antisocial bitch, than watch one of his clients stare at you with a yellowed, lustful grin, like you were some harlot in the window of a brothel.

On one particular day, without any indication of what you were planning, he had returned home from his rounds to an empty cabin – not just empty of you, but of his potion stock, his rarest ingredients, and his most prized spellbooks. He’d run into the woods in fury, screeching your name and hurling threats into the trees around him – but you were gone. Not a trace of you could be found within a five mile radius of his home.

It was like you had never been there, save the absence of his personal belongings.

In König’s opinion, you didn’t strike him as an extremely dangerous individual. Sure, the warlock had harped on and on about how cunning and deceiving you were – but all you had done was lie to him. And from the way he had described the conditions you were under, König didn’t exactly blame you for running away. Maybe this job was a waste of his time…

Still, he couldn’t find it in him to complain, despite the nip of the mid-autumn air, and the fact that he was embarking on what might be one of the most treacherous endeavors of his career. He was getting a decent payout for it – that is, if he lived to finish the job. Additionally, the scenery was a comfort to his journey; wiry birch trees stood high and thickly clustered, their brown and black spots like ever-watchful eyes, staring at the gargantuan hunter as he moved. Their golden leaves mimicked the light of the sun, the real thing blocked out by the overcast skies. A whisper of wind flew by his ears, carrying down and blowing the leaves further along his path with a gentle sigh. As if nature herself was telling the world to be quiet, be still, and prepare for winter.

It was times like this where König became unsure of himself. What if he hated having someone else to care for? What if, deep down, he preferred the silence and the solitude? But then, the loneliness would strike him. The longing to be understood (if that was humanely possible), and the desire to have something warm, alive, and sentient to acknowledge him. It consumed him on those sleepless nights, perfectly warm by the hearth of whatever inn he resided at, yet so hollow without having someone to wrap his arms around.

A swaying movement in the branches above pulled him from his thoughts. Hanging down by a twine thread, tied to one of the spindling birch branches, was a tiny, burlap pouch. It reached a few feet above König’s head, and was drenched in a dark, thick liquid that dripped rhythmically onto the forest floor. Looking to where the drops landed, he noticed the matter on the ground was decaying – a steaming pile of rot was all that was left of the leaves that were once there.

He frowned. The trap was clever – for a witch in their first century. König had expected something a bit more dangerous for someone your age. Maybe the last hunter had been too gullible, and you stereotyped them to all be oafs. Or, maybe you were too old and couldn’t craft traps with the same skill and precision as your younger self.

He drew his dagger from his boot and quickly sliced the twine thread. The pouch dropped to the floor with a squelch, landing in the very puddle of death it had created. The liquid beneath it bubbled and hissed, and the bag soon dissolved to reveal its contents: bits of bone – a kind of reptilian foot, from the looks of it – dried pomegranate seeds, and a fuzzy layer of mold, all appearing to be drenched in some kind of blood.

He carefully stepped around the stinking mess, his eyes turning back onto the path to continue his hunt. He both hoped for and against finding more evidence of your existence. He wanted to get back to town as soon as he could, so he could hole himself up in an inn until his money began to run out – all the same, his mind craved a puzzle and a chase. Though, with how old you were, he doubted there would be much of a chase.

More leaking, swaying hex bags hung from branches as he trudged on, pointing him in the right direction. He didn’t bother to quiet the sound of the leaves beneath his footsteps – the rustling of the wind through the foliage was doing the job well enough. He held onto his dagger tightly, his other hand on his longsword, as he carefully toed through the dense forest. He had to be close – the smell of fennel and turmeric settled around his presence, along with the babbling of a nearby stream.

The sound of a distant tune danced through the trees. The voice was soft, yet clear, and whoever it belonged too was much too confident that they were alone in these woods. König wondered if it was actually you, and not some poor soul who had been foraging for the autumn mushrooms and berries – but he was nearly a day’s trek into the forest. No one would dare come out this far, unless they wanted to be alone. And, they were potentially hiding from something; their own past, perhaps.

He cautiously followed the sound of the tune, still disguising the sound of his own steps within the rustling leaves and wind. His heart thrummed with both uncertainty and excitement; he always did get too thrilled at the idea of a struggle and blood covering his hands. He took a deep breath in through his nostrils, focusing his attention on the voice that carried through the trees, pulling him closer and closer… He gripped his dagger tightly as he crept, reminding himself of the warlock’s warning: cunning, sneaky – be on your best wits.

The voice brought him to the edge of a clearing. The birch trees parted and encircled a few meters of earth, and a few bushes huddled along the far edge, dotted with purplish berries and thorned branches. A wicker basket, woven clumsily and rather lopsided, sat on the ground and caught each berry and branch that was tossed into it. A figure knelt in front of the bushes, carefully plucking the berries with thin, delicate fingers, stained purple from the juice of the berries, and nails that might need a trim soon, unless they were intended to be claws.

The cloaked figure confused König. The voice was too melodic, too clear and fresh for an old witch. He had assumed you weren’t much younger than the warlock, but still old. He remained a few yards away from you, shrouded by the trees and dense foliage outside of the clearing.

It was when you turned your head, dropping your handful of berries into the basket, revealing your face, that he realized how wrong he had been in his assumption.

Your skin was soft, he could tell even with the distance between the two of you. Your lips delicately moved as you sang your tune, your eyes sparkled in contrast to the dull autumn colors that surrounded you. Small wisps of your hair danced around your cheeks as the wind caressed it. Your entire body looked soft, warm, and pliable… exactly what he needed. Craved.

It wasn’t hard for him to imagine it: leaves tangling into your hair as he pressed his fingers around your neck, pushing you to the cold ground and watching as you gasped for air. He’d use his knife, but not to kill you. He’d drag it over your hardened nipples, watching them perk up even more at the prickling sensation, before he’d carve his name into your stomach. Smear your pretty blood all over your pretty face, watch as your eyes widen with horror, as you question how someone can be so deranged and cruel, how he can take so much pleasure in something so vile and horrible-

Or maybe, he could convince you that he just wants a fuck. You looked like you could use one – when was the last time you’d had someone’s lips on your breasts, or their cock in your cunt? It had certainly been too long for him… he couldn’t imagine how long you had gone without being thoroughly ravaged, living in these woods all alone. He could take care of that. He could be gentle, for a little while; holding your wrists above your head as he pushed you against a tree, whispering praise and encouragements into your ear, “… so gut, so Schön, genau so…” taking you from behind as your nipples perked up from the rough texture of the bark, listening to you whine and moan in that sweet voice of yours as he lets out months’ worth of pent up frustration by thrusting his cock into your warm pussy, over and over and over until you scream and tighten around his length, milking the cum right out of him as he fucks you deep, maybe sinking his teeth into the junction of your neck-

He growled quietly, palming his rapidly-growing erection as he tried to clear his head. Stay focused. Kill the witch, and then you’ll get what you want.

Remember the warlock’s promise.

Even if he didn’t need you to satisfy his needs, he could still make this interesting. Not like you could outrun him, anyway.

He stepped into the clearing, and as if by some ironic joke, the wind died down immediately. The crunch of his heavy boots was enough to make his presence known to any living thing within a mile radius.

Your singing stopped. You whipped your head in his direction, and immediately a look of fear fell upon your face. For a moment, the two of you were frozen in a staring contest. You reminded him of a doe, staring at the crossbow of the hunter you had noticed, wondering if this being was actually dangerous, or nothing you needed to worry about. He wondered what he must remind you of, and he wished to hear the panicking thoughts flitting through your mind.

Finally, you broke the trance – you gasped, stumbling backwards and awkwardly standing as you ripped a pathetic, little knife from your boot. You faced him and pointed the knife at him – you held it improperly, and if he truly wanted to make this messy, he could easily make you stab yourself in a struggle. He wondered what it would feel like when your nails dug into his rough skin, dragging marks down his forearms (or his back, if he played his cards right).

You pulled the thick cloak tighter around your body – you were tiny. Well, everything was tiny compared to König. But you were unexpectedly small. With the way the sorcerer had described you, he had expected you to reach his shoulders at least. But there you were, craning your neck to look up at him with fearful, owlish eyes.

“State your business!” You demanded, your voice cracking slightly.

König chuckled in response. You really were too pathetic for your own good, weren’t you? He took you in – your lips were pulled into a frown, parted slightly to reveal your perfect teeth, the way the fabric of your cloak quivered where it bunched in your fist… perfectly ordinary things that ordinary people do. But, besides the fact that you were a witch, something about you made it all so captivating.

“Hey!” you shouted, bringing his eyes back to your gaze. Your fear had given way to a judgmental ire. “Gods, have you ever seen a woman before?!”

König scoffed. “Woman? Yes, of course. I’ve seen witches, too. None as young as you, however.”

Your eyes widened in panic once again. You stretched your knife out towards him as he stalked over to where you stood. “S-stay back! I’ll kill you!”

Your meek threat didn’t slow him down. He continued his advance until he had corralled you against a tree, your one hand bracing against the trunk behind you, and the other holding the knife under his ribcage. The only thing between his flesh and your blade was his linen tunic, which wouldn’t do much to protect him should you decide to stab him – but were you capable of that? Your eyes were so filled with fear as they stared at him, your chin to the sky to take all of him in. Your fingers trembled around the handle of your knife as if the prospect of having to nick him made you uneasy.

“Not with magic?” he asked, his eyes flitting to the bush next to you. He plucked one of the berries between his thick, gloved fingers, rolling the onyx sphere between his thumb and middle finger before squashing it.

You pouted (a sight König could never grow tired of). “I’m not a wi-“

He snatched your forearm, and you yelped, dropping the knife to the forest floor. His fingers easily wrapped around you; he wondered how easy it would be to break it.

“Don’t lie, now.” He ordered, his eyes narrowing with a hint of annoyance. “You’re not good at it.”

He released your arms with a shove. You scrambled back with a fearful expression, swiping the blade from the ground. He watched with interest as you stood several yards away from him, pointing your weapon towards him once again.

“Fine.” You said, holding yourself a bit taller. “You’re right. What’s the crime in that?”

For a moment, König was lost. Why weren’t you trying to weaponize your magic? It was almost as if you had forgotten you weren’t a human. For someone who was supposed to be a cunning bitch, as the warlock had put it, you weren’t very smart.

“I’m not here for justice.” He replied, wiping his glove on his shirt. “Just doing my job.”

“Hunter?” you asked.

He extended his arms – gods, he could have crushed a pillar between those arms – as if presenting himself to you. “Was it not obvious?” he asked, and you could hear the smirk in his tone.

You huffed. “Well, you’re not a very good one. Most hunters don’t make conversation with their prey.”

Prey. He liked that you understood your position, that he was the one in charge here. Maybe you were a clever girl…

“I like to listen to the begging.”

“Begging?”

“For your life.” König folded his arms over his chest, inspecting you closely. The only thing you had to protect yourself was your cloak, and that hardly provided a shield against the wind. Even though you were obviously wary of him, it wasn’t wary enough. You had spoken too many words with the hunter, and had it been anyone else, you might have been dead long before now.

You seemed malleable – book-smart and spitfire, yet all too gullible. Easily manipulated. Just what he needed to brainwash you into loving him. Or, at least, being his pet. You’d never truly love him, he had come to learn that from experience. But maybe, if he could somehow convince you that you needed a big, scary man, who could protect you and fuck you nicely, it would be enough to make you stay. After all, you were too naïve to be alone out here, weren’t you?

Could the warlock perhaps make you his prize? It’d kill two birds with one stone, he could convince you to return whatever knickknacks you had stolen, and your presence would never bother anyone ever again – besides him, but of course, it would never be a bother to bed you every night.

Your expression turned sour. “I don’t beg.”

The tone of your voice sent a shiver down his cock. He’d have to pound that little attitude right out of you.

“Who hired you?” You asked indignantly. The knife in your hand had slowly lowered, now pointing at his feet. Your initial fear seemed to have worn off. Were you brave, or just that stupid?

“It doesn’t matter.” König replied.

“It does to me.”

“You don’t know? How many people have you wronged?”

You scoffed. “I haven’t wronged anyone. People just don’t like it when you call them out on their atrocities.”

König hummed. You had a point. “Your teacher – the warlock.”

For a moment, you scrunched your face in disgust. Teacher. Only a fool as mad as the warlock himself could consider he was any such figure in your life, other than a torturous one. Then, you sighed, shoulders slumping defeatedly, the knife now aimed straight at the forest floor. “That old toad can’t even kill me himself…” you muttered. “What payment did he offer you?”

“He promised me anything I desired of your possessions.” König replied, taking note of the change in your presence. He purposely left out the warlock’s promise to find him a “companion.”

“And what would you do with cursed fig seeds, or stag’s blood?” You asked, folding your arms over your chest (which, König noted, framed your breasts perfectly). “I have no gold – not enough to be a reward for the trouble of killing me.”

“He gave me three hundred gold coin, too.”

Your lips turned down into a scowl. “That’s all?! That absolute hypocrite!” You lodged your knife into the tree behind you and placed your hands on your hips. “I took everything from him, save that disgusting old shed he called home, and that’s all he’ll pay to kill me?!”

Your outburst pulled König from his obsessive staring. “You’re… insulted?”

You turned back to him and huffed. “Well, obviously.” You retorted. “I stole all he had to his name, and he treats me like a fly buzzing in his ear. I deserve a bit more recognition than three hundred gold coin.”

“You admit to it, then.” König said, stepping closer. You appeared to be too angry to notice how near the hunter was to you. “You are a thief.”

You laughed – a sound that König did not expect to be so sweet. “I’ve done much worse than thieving, mind you.” You shook your head. “And he’s done even worse to me.” You sighed, pulling the dagger from the tree trunk and sheathing it back into your boot.

Once again, he was reminded of how small you were. Why weren’t you afraid of him? Sure, you had the advantage of magic while he did not, but you weren’t even acting defensively anymore. You treated him like a traveler who had stumbled across your path, starting up conversation and sharing your story.

“What has he done?” he asked, his interest in you growing by the second. An outcast, despised, hated by others. He felt that the two of you were kindred spirits, and he would not risk losing a connection so rare – one he had never felt.

“You mean he didn’t even tell you?” you said, sounding more hurt than anything else.

“He did.” König sheathed his own dagger as a peace offering. “But I’m coming to think he was not entirely truthful.”

You sighed, looking down at your basket, then back at König. “I suppose I could tell you, since he brought you all this way to kill me. Walk with me – but keep your dagger away. And if you try anything, I’ll slit your throat. Understood?”

He suppressed the urge to laugh. Could you even reach his throat? “The warlock said you would lure me away to your hut, and carve out my heart.”

You huffed disappointedly, walking back to the bush near König. Completely calm, like he had only ever come up to you with the intention of finding a friend. “And yet, he’s still alive, after all the chances I had to kill him. We can stay outside of my hut, if it eases your mind. I’ll let you make your own tea, too. But if you aren’t set on killing me right this minute, I really should return to start drying these out.” You held up your basket. “Before too much time passes, and I can no longer use them.”

König had never given his prey more than a few moments to try and beg their way out of his crushing hands. He couldn’t believe he had even given so much lenience to your baseless trust in him – what he should have done was take the opportunity to grab your face and snap your neck. But he was starting to doubt the warlock’s testimony; you were a thief, yes, but had you really committed any crime? Or were you simply just taking the revenge you deserved from your captor – or, as the warlock called himself, your master?

König sighed. He gestured his hand out, signaling for you to lead the way.

You frowned. “First, give me your word.” You demanded.

“I will not harm you.” He said, with a hand over his heart. He didn’t care about forcing you to make the same promise – you were harmless enough. He did, however, make sure to avoid saying that he wouldn’t touch you. Although he was developing a few ounces more of respect for you, who knows? Maybe you would find a reason to drag him into your hut and satisfy both of your needs – and, if he was lucky enough to get that far, maybe you’d offer for him to spend the night in a warm bed, and he could be saved from sleeping on the cold earth for one night.

His word seemed promising enough to you. Threading your arm through the handle of the basket, you began marching through the woods, watching the ground carefully as you stepped over roots and twigs.

König followed by your side, watching you from the corner of his eye. You really were helpless – all it would take is a strong push from him, and you’d be tumbling down, maybe hitting your head on a stone, or rolling down the mountainside until your neck snapped. Even if the fall didn’t kill you, he could easily land one hit to your chest and pierce your lungs with your own ribs. But here you were, worrying more about the uneven forest floor than the lumbering creature by your side.

“What did he tell you?” you asked, pulling him from his fantasies. “About the beginning, when he took me.”

König laughed in pity. “He made it sound like he caught you, not that he took you.”

You sighed. “He didn’t catch me… well, I suppose he did. More like how animals are caught.” You adjusted your grip on the basket, still watching the ground beneath you. “I was the botanist’s assistant before he came along. Stared at me like I was naked. He would come more often than he needed to - asked me where I was from, who my father was – things I didn’t understand why he needed to know. I still don’t.”

König didn’t understand himself. He continued to listen, the sounds of his footsteps drowning out your quiet ones. He began to wonder just how much of the warlock’s testimony was true.

“He came to the shop one night.” You continued to recount the story. “I was lighting the lanterns in the greenhouse. It was storming, and I didn’t hear him. He bludgeoned me and dragged me into the streets like I was some sort of animal.” You paused, turning your own words over in your head. “I suppose I was, to him.

He brought me back to his cabin – that’s when he started the curse. All I remember when waking up is feeling sick. I tried to stand, but it- everything felt heavy, like I was stuck in mud. I managed to crawl outside, and he was there. Saying my father wouldn’t recognize me, that he had killed the old lady at the botanist, that everyone would think that I had killed her… that I would be burned if I returned to the village. That I would forever be an outcast as long as I lived – as a witch. As what he made me.”

You paused again, for longer this time. König looked down at you, observing how your face twisted in… disgust? Anger? Your eyes were somewhere else, possibly somewhere where you could light the world on fire, drain the life from everyone who had ever done you wrong. König had felt that same hatred before, and he had learned to let it pass. You were still stuck there, wishing you could drive a blade into the warlock’s neck – and more.

“You stayed, then?” König asked, returning his gaze to the trees before him. “Why?”

You scoffed. “It’s not like I could go anywhere, not during the change. For the first fortnight, I couldn’t do anything but crawl on the ground and wail. And he let me – I’d get to the edge of the woods, and he’d be there to drag me back. Drug me into the hut at night and held me, fucked me, saying he was protecting me and similar bullshit. Of course, he was right; at that moment, I was as good as dead if I had ventured out on my own. And once I’d gotten my strength back, I was still a new witch. I’d never be accepted into the village – witches never are, despite the warlocks being the vile ones – and I had no idea how to live as one. So I relied on him for a while, until I knew enough to make it out on my own.”

König hummed in thought. Despite the initial desire to snatch you himself and have his way with you, his fists clenched at the thought of you being dragged around by the warlock. This life wasn’t one you had chosen, and yet the very person who had forced it upon you was killing you for it. It made something within him boil, something deep and buried, that he had thought had been tucked away for good.

You didn’t deserve any of this. He was fighting with himself in that moment, but the desire to show you what you should have been given was consuming him. He wanted to tell you that he knew what it was to be an outcast, he knew what it was like to feel lonely and crave being alone at the same time. To wish that you had the power to hurt anyone you deemed deserving of it, yet to have that someone who would never hurt you.

He would do it. He would be that person for you, he would be the one to kill for you. He knew he was getting ahead of himself – after all, he was hired to kill, you, not fall for you. And he knew it was just another one of his delusional fantasies… but he couldn’t help himself. You were like him, which was something that he had not yet been able to find. Something primal in him told him to sink his teeth in, to hold onto you until you stopped your struggling and realized that this would be good, for the both of you.

He was insane. But did it matter what he was, as long as he could give you what you needed?

“So, yes-“ you continued, bringing König out from the depths of his thoughts. “- I stole from him. Took the books he used to teach me, maybe a few ingredients for potions, a few seeds to start my own garden… but compared to what he took from me, I might as well have taken a loaf of bread.”

You stopped suddenly, and König came to a halt beside you. You nodded your head to the scene before you. “It’s not much, but it’s home.”

König looked ahead: the trees parted into another clearing, larger this time. A rickety hut leaned against a wall of rock, made of thin, birch logs and mud slathered on top to keep out the wind. In the center of the clearing was a large stone, positioned near a pile of ash and rocks. A log lay near it, possibly another place for someone to sit. A small garden sat closer to the creek before your hut – it didn’t look to be doing very well, but that was expected as winter approached.

By the creek, there was a large, twisted oak. Its roots hung directly off of the bank and down into the water. Its leaves had fallen to the earth and mingled with the rest of the foliage by now – the entire thing had crimson paths winding around it, hauntingly similar to blood-filled veins. Several pieces of clothing and fabric hung from the branches and swayed in the autumn wind.

As you marched ahead, placing your basket down by the makeshift firepit and disappearing into the hut, König took a few, cautious steps forward. He was both charmed by the simplicity of it, and despondent that you were forced into this lonesome sort of life. He wanted to drag you from this measly hovel and show you something better.

But how? He was no better off than you were. All his earnings were spent on a room at the nearest tavern and a decent amount of ale to help him fall asleep. He never cared about having a home, as long as he had a place to keep out the cold. He didn’t think it would be good enough to drag you back to the village and convince you to spend the night with him in a thin-walled, noisy inn… but, even if he didn’t end up killing you today (something that seemed more and more likely with each passing second), he refused to leave you in this hell. If it was a cozy cabin, built so far away from civilization for the sole purpose of privacy and comfort, he could understand. Maybe even plead his case to you so you would let him stay. But this – this was a last resort. A broken down spot in the woods that you made for your banishment, for hiding. This wouldn’t do.

Call him insane. Call him crazy, hopeless, sick in the head… maybe his desires were founded on the thought that he would give you what he had never received.

You emerged from your hut, the thin, wooden door clanging shut behind you. You looked at him with a puzzled expression. Why was he still standing at the edge? You wrapped your cloak tighter around yourself and made your way over to him, your hair blowing across your face.

He watched as you stopped in front of him, your brow creased with question. Your head tilted back to look up at him, yet any traces of fear that you had shown earlier were gone. You looked at him like you’d known him for the past hundred years. It made his heart ache within his chest.

How could anyone have painted such a wretched picture of the woman who stood before him?

“Is everything alright?” you asked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Like I said before, if you’d rather we stay outside-“

König interrupted you, reaching down and grabbing the sides of your arms firmly. You sucked in a breath warily, but you were still not afraid of him.

“I- you-“ Scheisse, what is he trying to say? He wanted to take you away, he wanted to show you how similar the both of you were to each other, he wanted to show you what (he thought) love was – slow, gentle, possessive, and strong. He wanted to keep you in his pocket, both to keep you safe from the world, and to make sure you couldn’t be taken from him. He wanted you, you, you –

This is insanity. He knew it. But that didn’t stop the fire in his chest, and the questionable throbbing in his trousers.

You knew. Your eyes said everything as they softened, as your lips pressed together into a knowing, sad smile. Were you going to turn him down? Would you say that you preferred it this way, that you liked being alone and living like a prisoner on the run? You took his face in his hands, and he had a foreboding sense in his gut that you might tell him to leave.

Quickly but gently, he cupped one hand at the back of your neck and pulled himself down to you, pressing his lips to yours before you could speak. It was only right, he thought, as he held the kiss – you didn’t understand that he could help you, he could build the life you deserved and keep you safe from any other hunters and warlocks. He placed his other hand on your lower back and pulled you in, moving his lips against your own and praying you wouldn’t deny him.

Like an angel answering his prayers, you tilted your head and wrapped your arms around his neck, standing on your toes and kissing him back. He tugged his teeth at your bottom lip, and you so graciously allowed his tongue to slip past your teeth, letting him taste you. He whined, flooded with relief that you didn’t try to shove him away and call him deranged.

His cock was quickly growing hard, but he ignored it. Right now, he needed to figure out exactly what he needed to say to make you-

A raven’s call tore through the air, piercing his thoughts. It was much too close than any bird would naturally be.

He tried to turn his head in its direction, but you dug your fingers into his hair, making him stutter and freeze on the spot. He grabbed your hips, about to pry you away-

You pressed your lips firmly to his, and he heard you faintly muttering incoherent words against him. The world around him was suddenly showered with colors: purples like the berries that had stained your fingers, oranges like the leaves that were scattered across the ground, silvers like the thick clouds that blanketed across the sky… The black spots on the birch trees suddenly blinked and flitted across his vision; thousands of them stared at him, and he heard your sweet laughter echoing in the distance as the world spun, spun, spun…

He felt the cold earth press to his cheek, and the last thing he remembered was a sickening ache in his stomach.

He should have heeded the sorcerer’s warning.

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

"… so gut, so Schön, genau so…”

... so good, so beautiful, just like that...

#konig #konig x reader #konig x you #konig x yn #konig cod #konig fanfiction #fantasy au konig #cod fantasy au #cod x reader #konig x reader smut #konig smut #konig nsfu

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kitten4sannie · 3 months

Text

ᴘᴜᴘᴘʏʙᴏʏꜱ4ʏᴏᴜ.ᴄᴏᴍ

ᴘᴇᴛ ᴘʟᴀʏ/ᴘʀᴀɪꜱᴇ ➠ ʏᴜɴʜᴏ

pairing: camboy! yunho x fangirl! reader (fem)

genre: camming au, fluff (lowkeyy), humor, smut

summary: dedicating your hard earned money and free time to your favorite camboy goodboy_99 comes with a lot of perks.

w.c: 3.9k

warnings: switch! yunho, switch sub leaning! reader, there’s some sub 4 sub vibes in this, monster cock yunho, yunnie’s got piercings, exhibitionism/voyeurism, masturbation, edging, use of a cock ring/golden retriever butt plug >:3), teasing, pet names (baby, kitty, kitten, etc), reader calls yunho puppy/pup and he loves that shit, dirty talk, lots of praise, some degradation, kissing, toy usage, nipple play (f/m), squirting, breeding kink, rough unprotected sex, cumming in mouth, snowballing, these losers lowkey fall in love <3

a/n: shoutout to felix @yourfatherlucifer for allowing me to build on your camboy yunho fic idea :3 you're such a genius for that concept <3 so yeah there’s not enough whimpering baby boys with monster cocks in fics i swearrr (if you know of any pls send them my way ><) so i decided to offer my contribution,, more like cumtribution am i right?? *crickets* anygays i had way too much fun with this one skjdhf you'll see what i mean >3< i hope you enjoy ~~

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ᴄʏʙᴇʀꜱᴇx ʙʏ ᴅᴏᴊᴀ ᴄᴀᴛ

0:01 ❍─────── 4:28

Volume: ▁▂▃▄▅▆▇ 100%

ᴘʀᴇᴠ | ꜰꜰꜰ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

You've never missed a single stream from your favorite camboy goodboy_99, always willing to pull up his stream after a long day at work no matter how tired you were, never opposed to cranking one out in his honor. You sent him a countless amount of coins throughout your obsession, picking out new options from his personal menu, never tired of seeing him act them out with a cute little smirk on his face and your username gracing his pretty pierced lips.

At first, you were a silent viewer, just concerned with getting yourself off, but then somewhere along the line, you began to leave lots of comments in the live chat, though they were more akin to sexts, and for some odd reason, Yunho paid more attention to yours, instead of the numerous other ones. Maybe it was because you were his number one fan, or perhaps, just perhaps, it was because he was into you too, but you assumed that was just your delulu mind at play.

Regardless, here you were, sitting with your legs spread in your computer chair, a vibrator on your clit, and your eyes glued on the bright screen that was showcasing your beloved camboy in a similar position: his thighs spread open in his gaming chair, his pretty flushed face contorted in pleasure, fucking himself dumb with a purple pocket pussy, the base of his thick cock constricted with an even thicker cock ring.

“Aaah, haaah…W-who made me put on this cock ring, huh? It won’t let me cum, guys, c’monnn, lemme cum,” Yunho whined out, a few beads of sweat dripping past his dyed black and red bangs down to the leather dog collar around his neck, giving his webcam a small pout, begging his viewers with his big brown eyes.

➵ ᴀɴᴏɴ: ʜᴇ'ꜱ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅ ꜱᴏ ᴡʜɪɴʏ ᴏᴍɢ

➵ ʜɪᴍʙᴏ4ʏᴏᴜ: ʟᴏᴏᴋ ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴅʀᴏᴏʟɪɴɢ. ᴍᴜꜱᴛ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ꜰᴜᴄᴋ

You brought one hand to your keyboard, pressing the rounded side of the large vibrator directly into your clit with the other, making you shudder and jolt, your fingers rapidly pressing into the keys. You’ve been in this exact position so many times before, you knew you couldn’t possibly cum until you saw Yunho fall apart in front of your straining eyes.

➵ ᴜʀꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇᴋɪᴛᴛʏ: ᴅᴏ ᴜ ᴡɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴀᴋ3 ᴜʀ ᴄᴏᴄᴋ ʀɪɴɢ ᴏꜰꜰ ɴ0ᴡ ʙᴀʙʏ ʙᴏʏ?

Yunho giggled softly at your typos, running a hand through his sweaty hair, causing it to fall back down onto his forehead, spreading his thighs just a little wider. “Yes, fuck, I’m going to cum all over myself for you, baby.” He pressed his fingers into his aching balls, feeling how sensitive they were, before he slowly slid the cock ring up and off of his leaking cock. “I’ve been edging myself for so longgg, god, it's gonna feel so good.”

➵ ᴘᴜᴘᴘʏʟᴜᴠʀ: ɢᴜʏꜱ ʜɪꜱ ᴄᴏᴄᴋ'ꜱ ꜱᴏ ʀᴇᴅ ʀɴ ʜᴇ'ꜱ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ʀᴇᴄᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴜᴍꜱʜᴏᴛ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴜꜱ

➵ ᴀɴᴏɴ: ꜰʀ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴀᴛ ʜɪᴍ ʟᴇᴀᴋɪɴɢ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ꜰᴜᴄᴋ,, ʜᴇ'ʟʟ ɢᴇᴛ ᴄᴜᴍ ᴏɴ ʜɪꜱ ᴄᴇɪʟɪɴɢ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɪɴ ᴅᴇᴠɪʟᴍᴀɴ ᴄʀʏʙᴀʙʏ

Yunho arched his back off of the chair, holding the vibrator near the base of his cock, the vibrations sending endless waves of arousal through his jolting body, the silver chain links hanging from his collar rattling against his drool-stained chest, soft, staccato moans echoing from his drooling mouth, on the edge of ecstasy, but not quite getting there. “Fuck, m’ so close, so close, so close…”

About to catapult into ecstasy yourself, you found it in you to help Yunho reach his much-needed orgasm, rapidly clicking a few options on the webpage. It was the least you could do after watching him edge himself in various ways for your own entertainment.

Yunho heard a familiar jingling tone emanate from his computer’s speakers, preventing his eyes from fully rolling back into his skull, instead bringing his attention to his bright monitor, his cock beginning to pulse, a few more beads of pre-cum spilling down the shiny, bright red tip.

➵ ᴜʀꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇᴋɪᴛᴛʏ ʜᴀꜱ ꜱᴇɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ¹⁰⁰⁰ ᴄᴏɪɴꜱ

➵ ᴜʀꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇᴋɪᴛᴛʏ: ᴘʟꜱ ᴄᴜᴍ 4 ᴍ3 ᴘᴜᴘᴘʏ

Yunho received a hefty dono from his favorite viewer, got a cute request from them, and got called puppy all at the same time? It was simply too much for a baby boy like him to handle, especially after being teased and edged by his dear audience for so long. “Cumminggg, oh my god, m’ cumming so hard,” Yunho moaned out, dropping the vibrator from his cock, just letting it hang at his side, his thighs jolting each time his veiny cock twitched up into his heaving abdomen. “F-uuuck…” Long spurts of milky liquid splattered onto his straining abs, some shooting across one of his pierced nipples, some of it even gracing his pretty, glistening parted lips. Yunho didn’t even realize he managed to cum inside his own mouth until he tasted the bitterness on his tongue when he swallowed his drool down. “Holy fuck, you guys, I just swallowed my own cum…I should’ve just aimed for my mouth the whole time…Mm, remind me next stream.”

➵ ᴀɴᴏɴ: ɪ’ᴍ ɪɴꜱᴀɴᴇ

➵ ꜰᴀɴʙᴏʏ4ᴛᴇᴇᴢ: ᴄᴀʟʟ ʜɪᴍ ᴘɪᴄᴀꜱꜱᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʏ ʜᴇ ᴘᴀɪɴᴛᴇᴅ ʜɪᴍꜱᴇʟꜰ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴜᴍ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴜᴄᴋᴋᴋᴋᴋ

The visual and physical stimulation you were providing yourself proved to be almost lethal, dropping your now silent vibrator onto the carpet below, hunched over in your chair, resting the side of your sweaty cheek on your cat paw mouse pad, your twitching, tingling fingers gently pressing into your keyboard. “He looks so pretty…” you whispered to yourself, hearts forming inside your glistening eyes.

➵ ᴜʀꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇᴋɪᴛᴛʏ: ʟᴜᴠ ᴡᴛᴄʜɪɴɢ ᴜ ᴄᴠᴍ ʏᴜɴɴɪ3 ,, ᴜʀ ꜱ0 ᴄᴜᴛᴇᴇᴇᴇ

Yunho slid his long, slender fingers through the puddles of cum splayed across his chest, bringing them up to his lips, sucking it off of them, his hooded eyes accompanying his curled lips, looking like a mischievous puppy. “If you love seeing me cum so much, Kitty, then you should see it in real life, doncha’ think?”

“Huh?” you reacted, suddenly sitting up straight, your eyes and mouth wide open, wondering if you had nutted so hard, you were having auditory hallucinations.

While licking the remaining saltiness from his lips, Yunho’s smirk grew wider. “You heard me. Since you’re my biggest supporter, I thought I’d fly you out to join me in a stream. Whaddaya think?” He just sat there, looking smug as hell, confident in himself and his decisions, his heart pounding away inside his chest.

As you sat there in disbelief, factory resetting in silence, Yunho turned his attention to the rapidly moving live chat, giggling a bit. “That's a pretty hot idea, huh, guys? Wanna watch us fuck each other stupid?”

➵ ᴀɴᴏɴ: ɪᴍ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ʙᴜꜱᴛ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ɪᴛ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴ

➵ ᴘᴜᴘᴘʏʙᴏʏꜱʀᴜɪɴᴇᴅᴍʏʟɪꜰᴇ: ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴡɪʟʟ ɪᴛ ʙᴇ ᴍʏ ᴛᴜʀɴ ᴛᴛ

➵ ᴀɴᴏɴ: ᴋɪᴛᴛʏ ɪ'ʟʟ ᴘᴀʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴜɢ ᴏɴ ʜɪꜱ ᴄᴏʟʟᴀʀ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ

The rest of the chat had an overwhelmingly positive response, further egging on Yunho’s insane idea and your urge to pack up your bags right then and there. You still weren’t sure if you had fallen into a coma or if this was your reality, but regardless, you hit enter on your poor keyboard.

➵ ᴜʀꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇᴋɪᴛᴛʏ: ᴜ ʙᴛʀ ɢᴇᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴘᴜᴘᴘʏ

➵ ᴜʀꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇᴋɪᴛᴛʏ: ɪᴍ ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ 4 ᴜ ♡

You landed a critical hit on Yunho’s heart when your highlighted comments popped up on his screen, causing him to cover his face and spin around in his chair, tiny giggles escaping his throat. He peeked at his webcam through his fingers, whining, “Hurry up, Kitty, I'm waiting!”

࿏࿏࿏

Taking a flight over to him wasn’t too difficult, but what was incredibly difficult was standing with your luggage outside of Yunho’s apartment in an outfit you took hours deliberating over, left to your own devices, which meant that your brain would go over all the reasons why he would send you home as soon as he opened the door.

Before you could get even more sweaty just from standing there, the door swung open. Yunho’s face suddenly froze, his eyes growing wide, resembling marbles and beginning to sparkle. He just stood there staring at you, taking in all of you, wanting to etch it into his memory.

“H-hi, Yunnie, I’m Kitty, well, Y/N, heh,” you squeaked out, dropping your bag on the ground to give him a shy wave, your lips quirking up into a nervous smile. “Y-you look even cuter in person.”

“You’re the cute one here, silly.” Yunho giggled softly, immediately stepping past his doorframe to pull you into a hug, burying you in his oversized dual-colored sweater. “I’m so happy I can finally meet you, Y/N,” he whispered near your ear, rubbing your lower back with his large hand. “We’re gonna have so much fun together…”

Once he pulled away, you almost melted into the floor, your knees feeling a bit weak, still able to give him a big, goofy smile. “So much fun,” you echoed, your flushed face matching Yunho’s bright red ears.

࿏࿏࿏

After spending a bit more time together just hanging out around Yunho’s apartment and taking time to talk about whatever, including a discussion about your sexual experiences and limits, your walls seemed to drop all together, realizing he was just as chill, and just as perverted, in real life as he was during his streams. Your heart still raced over the smallest things, but that was for a different reason. Your body was practically vibrating as well, but that also had a different cause, a far more explainable one.

“So,” Yunho began, gently running his thumbs over your knuckles, licking at the piercing on the side of his bottom lip. “Should we go live now?” He squeezed your hand slightly, leaning in to drown you with his intense gaze. “Are you in the mood to play, baby?”

You couldn’t possibly tell him that you were essentially the human embodiment of Niagara Falls, having to squeeze your thighs together as much as you could to keep your arousal from dripping down your inner thighs past your short skirt. “I really wanna play with you, Yunnie,” you replied, gently placing your hand on his knee, your fingers moving past his ripped jeans to make contact with his warm skin.

“Then, let’s play, Kitty.” Blushing and returning your sweet smile, Yunho reached up to caress your cheek lovingly, before standing up to turn his webcam on and start up a new stream.

Yunho sat down in his spacious chair, making sure his pretty guest of honor stood in front of him for the time being as his faithful viewers showed up in the chat in large waves, eventually holding his hands out near you like he was presenting a prize. “Here she is, everyone!” He gave the webcam a playful smile past your shoulder, coaxing you to sit comfortably inside his large lap, his hand going up to pet your head, which you nuzzled into, the small bell collar he put on you earlier jingling a bit. “My Kitty finally arrived for playtime.”

➵ ᴀɴᴏɴ: ᴛᴡᴏ ʜᴏᴛ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ɪɴ ᴏɴᴇ ʀᴏᴏᴍ ??? ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴅᴏ???

➵ ᴘᴜᴘᴘʏɢʀʟ: ɪꜰ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ꜰᴜᴄᴋ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇxᴛ ꜰɪᴠᴇ ꜱᴇᴄᴏɴᴅꜱ ɪ’ᴍ ꜱᴜɪɴɢ

“Now, c’mon Kitty, show everyone how excited you are to be here,” Yunho purred near your ear, reaching around you to grab your thighs, gently pulling them open as you spread them fully out yourself.

With your thighs trembling, you revealed the bright pink vibrator you’ve had lodged inside you for the past hour, your cunt already so slicked up with arousal that the toy threatened to slip out of you if you didn’t keep clenching around it. “So full…”

“Do you see, everyone? See how good I treat my guests?” Yunho asked his audience, making a downwards V over the top of your cunt, rubbing his fingers along your folds, making sure to stimulate your clit at the same time. “I watched her shove this toy up her cute little pussy earlier…She’s been walking around my apartment with it inside ever since like a good little slut.”

➵ ᴅᴏɴᴛʟᴏᴏᴋᴀᴛᴍᴇ: ᴛʜᴀᴛ’ꜱ ɪᴛ ɪ’ᴍ ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʜɪɢʜᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏɴɪɢʜᴛ

➵ ᴀɴᴏɴ: ʜᴇ’ꜱ ᴘʀᴇᴘᴘɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴏɴꜱᴛᴇʀ ᴄᴀᴡᴋ ᴏꜰ ʜɪꜱ ᴍᴍᴍᴍ

Moaning at the feeling of Yunho pulling the toy out and slipping it back inside your hole, you leaned your head back into his chest, his stiff cock pressing into your ass, your hands moving back to play with his hair. “Wanna touch you too, puppy…”

“I know you do, Kitty. You’ll get to put your hands all over me in a second, I promise.” Yunho nuzzled your cheek, giving it a gentle lick that made you shiver, pulling the toy out agonizingly slow, inch by inch, drawing a long moan from your lips. He slipped both of his arms around you, bringing his hands down to spread you open with his thumbs, your clenching cunt on display for every single one of his viewers to drool over. “Look at this pretty kitty’s hole, everyone. So pink, so wet, so ready to use, huh?”

His follower and viewer count hit a sudden spike, making the both of you giggle to each other. Yunho then lifted one of your thighs up onto the chair, spreading his own thighs open a bit just in time for a golden retriever tail to become visible fo his viewers, his ass comfortably filled with one of his favorite plugs. “Kitty watched me put this in after she filled herself up. It slipped in so easily too, and my sweetheart got so wet, but I told her she couldn’t cum until you guys got to see. Aren’t I the best, guys?” His chat sped up a little faster, the majority of people talking in all caps, making Yunho chuckle.

➵ ᴀɴᴏɴ: ɢᴜʏꜱ ɪ ᴄᴀᴍᴇ ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴏ ɪ ᴅᴏ

➵ ᴅᴏɢʙᴏʏ: ʜᴇ’ꜱ ᴇᴅɢɪɴɢ ᴜꜱ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ

When you whimpered and nudged him for his attention, Yunho nodded knowingly with his cheek against yours, nuzzling it. “Oh, I know, baby. You’ve been so good letting that toy fill you up for so long, but you need more. Is that right? You need puppy’s cock in your breeding hole, don’t you?” he teased you in a low, pouty voice, rubbing your wetness around your clit with one hand, using his other hand to push the vibrator in and out of your clenching cunt, going faster and faster until you began to cry out.

“Yes, puppy, please, I can’t take it…!” you voiced desperately, jolting against Yunho’s body, about to scream when he pressed the rounded end of the vibrator to turn it up even higher, your thighs beginning to shake. “Oh my god, i’m gonna…”

“Cum for me, Kitty, cum for everyone….” Yunho squeezed your clit roughly, simultaneously jamming the vibrator into you at such a velocity that you screamed, your arousal starting to pour out of you, the clear liquid getting onto Yunho’s thighs and the chair below. Yunho groaned at the sight, using his hand to rub your juices around just to hear how wet it was, moaning, “Oh, fuckkkk, look at that, Kitty’s making such a mess for us.” He brought his dripping fingers to his drooling mouth, eagerly sucking your cum off of them. “Did that feel good, kitten?”

“So good…” Feeling Yunho’s rock-hard cock throbbing against your lower back, you squirmed around against him, turning your head to look at him, still panting softly from your ear ringing orgasm. “Wanna make you feel good too, pup, with my breeding hole…”

“Oh, yeah?” Yunho nosed your neck, licking a stripe up your neck past your collar to make you shiver, looking you straight in the eye afterward. “Wanna squeeze around me, baby? Feel how big I am inside your tiny little cunt?”

You reached up to caress his hair, gently tugging on it, your eyes full of desperation for your favorite streamer. “Please. Want you to stuff me with your cock. Wanna make you cum from how tight I am for you.”

Yunho unknowingly began to rut against you, leaving streaks of pre-cum on the small of your back. “That’s my slutty little kitty…so eager to be filled by her puppy…” He reached back around you to spread your hole open once again for the camera, looking at his webcam with hazy, hooded eyes. “What do you think, chat? Should I fuck this kitty full of my pups?”

➵ ᴀɴᴏɴ: ᴅᴏ ɪᴛ ᴅᴏ ɪᴛ ɴᴏᴡᴡᴡᴡᴡᴡ

➵ ᴀɴᴏɴ: ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴏꜰ ꜰᴜᴄᴋ ɢᴇᴛ ɪɴꜱɪᴅᴇ ʜᴇʀ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ᴍʏ ᴅɪᴄᴋ ᴇxᴘʟᴏᴅᴇꜱ

Unable to take Yunho’s teasing anymore, you quickly stood up, wobbling slightly, before you sat back in his lap, this time facing him, the both of you struggling with his joggers to pull his cock out, already grinding yourself along it when it was finally free, the slippery ridge of his silicone cock ring supplying you extra pleasure. “Need you, Yunnie,” you whimpered, pulling at his collar to bring his parted lips onto yours, your tongues joining in the middle.

Yunho moaned into your mouth, swiveling the chair to the side so that his viewers could still get a good look at your shared desperation, his cock starting to throb steadily against your slick cunt when you began to suck on his tongue — though the whining and whimpering noises Yunho was known for didn’t start until you began to rub and flick at his pierced, hardened nipples from underneath his sweater, his hands diving underneath your own sweater to grope and pull at your tits, eventually moving to your ass to squeeze it, your hips lifting up slightly so that he could tease your entrance with his leaking cockhead.

You moved your hips back slightly so that you could reach down, grabbing at the base of his tail and moving it around experimentally until Yunho began to gasp for air, figuring you were rubbing against his prostate. “Does that feel good, puppy? Am I hitting the right spot?”

“S-so good, makes me wanna fuck you, kittennn, wanna fuck you dumb on my cock. Can I, please?” Yunho suddenly begged you, fucking himself back on the plug that you continued to maneuver around inside him, not hesitating to give you the most adorable, lust-drunk pouty face you’ve ever witnessed in your life.

“Yes, puppy, please, please, please fuck me,” you answered just as desperately, ruffling his soft, slightly damp hair, letting go of his tail to wrap your arms around his neck.

Yunho quickly swiveled the chair back to its original position so that your ass and throbbing cunt was on full display from behind, using two fingers to spread your open for him, slowly guiding his thick cock inside you inch by inch, until he completely bottomed out, resulting in a blissful sigh from the both of you. “Look at you, kitten, so fucking full of my cock. I’m gonna fuck your brains out,” he groaned, his large hands encasing your hips, immediately jack hammering himself into you like he was using a fleshlight, your joined bodies creating a lewd symphony of slick sounds.

Yunho rammed himself into you so roughly, you couldn’t do anything else except take it, bouncing on his monstrous cock over and over again, the tip of it repeatedly forming a bulge inside your stomach that only Yunho could see, throbbing inside you from the sight of it. “So good, it’s so good, Yunnie, love your cock…!”

“Love your wet cunt, Kitty, love how tiny you are, like you’re gonna break just from getting pounded into by my puppy cock,” he moaned back, gripping your ass so hard, your flesh squished through his strong fingers, still driving you down onto his cock like you were made for him, for his pleasure. “Makes me wanna stuff you full of my litter….”

“A-aaah, but puppy likes being edged with his cock ring, doesn’t he? It feels so much better like this, yeah?” you huffed out, reaching behind you to squeeze one of his intensely swollen balls, receiving a high-pitched, pleasured moan from your playmate.

“Feels so fucking good, Kitty,” Yunho agreed, mindlessly kicking the speed of his thrust game into hyper-drive, mindlessly fucking himself into you so roughly, so sloppily, his cock almost slipped out a few times, requiring him to hold you down by your hips. “Your pussy’s clenching so hard around me, baby, it’s so tight for me…Feels like you’re gonna cum…”

“Yeah, gonna cum, puppy, feels too–aaah-good…!”

Yunho locked his arms around your waist, his hips never faltering, his veiny length rubbing along your inner walls in just the right way, making you cry out. He pressed his lips onto your ear, slipping his hand in between your sweaty bodies to rapidly rub your stiff clit, purring, “Good girl, cum for me, kitten. That’s right, baby, squirt on my cock…”

When you came, you came hard, your arousal leaking out around his slippery cock, your body jolting as each wave of pleasure coursed through you, resting your head on his shoulder, his sweater slipping down it. Once you recovered, Yunho pressed his lips against yours, whispering words of praise, among other things that his audience couldn't hear until you slowly lifted yourself off of him.

“I think it’s time to make our good puppy cum, don’t you think, guys?” you asked his webcam, walking around Yunho’s chair to stand behind it, running your hands down his body, reaching for his twitching cock, slipping your closed fist up and down it until you made Yunho whimper pathetically, tears forming inside his eyes, causing the already rapidly moving chat to go completely ape-shit.

➵ ᴡʏɴɢ: ɪ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴇᴅɢᴇ ʜɪᴍ ᴍᴏʀᴇ, ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʜɪᴍ ᴄʀʏ

➵ ꜱɴ: ɴᴏᴏᴏ ʟᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏᴏʀ ʙᴀʙʏ ᴄᴜᴍ ᴀʟʟ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ʜɪᴍꜱᴇʟꜰ ʜᴇ ᴅᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇꜱ ɪᴛ :(

You continued to pump his reddened, leaking cock, replicating his incredibly needy facial expression, pouty lips and all, murmuring, “Awww, poor puppy wants to cum so bad, huh?”

Yunho bucked his hips up into your hand, trying to fuck himself into your closed fist, his abs and muscles straining from his desperation, his ass clenching around his favorite plug, more drool beginning to leave his lips and dribble down his neck to his dog collar. “Please, let puppy cum, wanna cum inside my mouth like a dirty boy,” he babbled out, tears overtaking his vision once the pain of edging himself for so long began to overtake the pleasure on his almost orgasm.

“Mm, then be good and cum, puppy,” you replied sweetly, suddenly slipping the pre-cum drenched cock ring off of Yunho and bringing it up to his mouth, watching him lap up the clear liquid off of it without you even having to ask. “Such a naughty boy, so good for us, aren’t you?”

“So good, Kitty, m’ so good,” Yunho echoed, running his hands up and down your forearms for his own comfort, practically panting like an actual dog would, his bangs plastered to his forehead with sweat. “Gonna cum so hard…”

“Cum so hard for us, Yunnie, come on, that’s it….” Leaning yourself over his shoulder, you used both hands to milk his long, heavy cock, driving loud, whiny moans out of him, along with spurt after spurt of milky cum, watching the way he caught the stream of it on his lolled-out tongue. Yunho tilted his head back, looking up at you with teary, glazed-over eyes, making a small noise, clearly wanting to share himself with you.

Without hesitation, you pulled him by the collar, pressing your mouth onto his, his tongue slipping inside it almost instantly, lazily swapping his hot cum and saliva with you, the both of you swallowing the combination down with ease afterwards, your hands caressing one another’s sweaty faces. After a shared gaze of affection, Yunho pressed a kiss onto your nose, making you blush harder than you had the whole night.

When the post-nut clarity hit him, Yunho sat up a bit in his chair, giving his webcam a variety of hearts using his hands. “Thank you all for tuning in for this special stream, everyone! Love you!”

➵ ᴀɴᴏɴ: ɪ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ɪ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜱᴀᴡ ɢᴏᴅ

➵ ᴘᴜᴘ: ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴍʏ ᴛʜᴇʀᴀᴘɪꜱᴛ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ

➵ ᴡʏ: ʙᴇᴀᴛ ᴍʏ ᴍᴇᴀᴛ ꜱᴏ ʜᴀʀᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴜᴛᴄʜᴇʀ

➵ ꜱɴ: ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ ꜱᴛʀᴇᴀᴍ ᴀꜱ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ʏᴜɴʜᴏ ♡

As soon as Yunho turned his webcam off, he brought you into a tight, comforting hug, nuzzling the side of your head with his own. “You did so good, Y/N…That was amazing, this is amazing…”

You hugged him back just as tight, your heart fluttering, wondering if it was all just physical between the two of you or if there was something else blossoming behind the lens of the webcam. “I think so too, Yunnie…I just…” You began to pull back, causing Yunho’s happy expression to drop a bit.

“What’s wrong, Y/N? You didn’t have fun?” he murmured, his bottom lip jutting out slightly.

“No, it’s not that! I had tons of fun, Yunnie, the most fun I’ve had in a long time…” you reassured him, ruffling his damp dyed hair as gently as possible, smiling at him with your eyes. “I just don’t want to overstay my welcome, you know? So I should probably–”

“No, no, noooo,” Yunho repeated whinily, pulling you back into his arms, nuzzling your neck this time, enveloping you in his comforting scent and warmth. He eventually pulled back, just enough to rest his forehead onto yours, gazing at you, as if he was letting you take a peek at his beating heart through his eyes. “Stay…?”

You swallowed harshly to keep your heart from bubbling up into your throat, warmth searing into your cheeks, murmuring, “Are you sure?”

Yunho bit at his bottom lip, lowering his head slightly so you didn’t have to see just how red he had become, though his bright red ears betrayed him. He eventually looked back into your eyes, swallowing down his nerves. “Y/N, what if…what if told you I was your number one fan too? What would you say then?”

With your heart hammering away inside your chest, you pulled yourself together just enough to softly press your lips against his. You smiled up at him afterwards, caressing his cheek, your eyes twinkling with adoration for your favorite puppy boy. “Does that answer your question? Or do you need another?”

Yunho pouted cutely, just about ready to melt inside your arms. “Another.”

fff: @itza-meee @chnt1 @k-hotchoisan @wonyobie @vampiregirl215 @yuyusbunny @christmastodoroki @luvt0kki @pieyoon @goldnhwa @choisanboobenthusiast @icyb3rry @maximofftrash @choism @yunhosmelonbar @nebulousbookshelf @astayinwonderland @slutologyy @10nantscompanion @ddaeing @pandagirl-016 @Randomgirl11-posts @staytiny816 @horanghae8 @smally97 @ateezzzser @crispybaguettes @bubblegumbird @midnightmaja @i2nsstuff @asimpelslut @svt-dinosaurus @wisejudgedragonhairdo @deathbyyeekies @firefox79 @wildesreblogs @everyonewooeverywhere @raspberrysannie @Whatintheninerealms @hyunjinsbby @Hyphenen @channiespup @abby-grace @seonghwaddict @mxnsxngie

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

#cultofdionysusnet #cromernet #wonderlandnet #ateez #ateez smut #yunho smut #yunho #ateez yunho #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #yunho x reader

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wynnyfryd · 6 months

Text

Trailer park Steve AU part 30

part 1 | part 29 | ao3

cw: Steve Harrington committing unforgivable thought crimes (besmirching LotR)

"Uh," Steve stammers as Eddie tugs him off the couch, because he just propositioned the guy while covered in snot and tears and wearing a blanket as a cape, and now that guy is holding his hand.

Eddie doesn't let go after he gets him to his feet. Their fingers lace together, and his palm is soft and warm, his fingers slightly callused. Steve can feel his own pulse pounding in his wrist.

"Simmer down," Eddie teases, "I'm not having sex with you. Yet," he adds with a lewd waggle of his brows when Steve puppy-dog pouts at him. "This is better than sex, anyway."

"If you're having shit sex, maybe.” Steve rolls his eyes and lets himself be dragged past a messy counter, where Eddie stops to grab a black lunch box and a cassette tape, a tissue for Steve’s face, then down the hall to Eddie's bedroom.

"My kingdom," he grins as he shoves the door open and waves Steve through with a bow.

His room is amazing. Awesome and terrible all at once: awesome, because it looks like someone put Eddie’s essence in a blender and ran the blades without a lid, and terrible, because the place is a fucking pigsty. There’s a bag of bread on the floor.

Eddie tells him to make himself at home, so Steve plops down on the edge of his bed, takes in the explosion of artwork tacked to the walls while Eddie buzzes around the room — swoops and swoons like a drunken bee, kicking shit into messy piles, sticking a cig in his mouth and forgetting to find the lighter, turning on the stereo. He pops in the cassette, and Steve lets out a surprised laugh when he hears the upbeat strumming.

"Rumours? Really? That's your 'better than sex' cure?"

Eddie cranks the volume. "It's workin’, ain't it?" he mumbles around the unlit cig.

Steve tries to frown and fails. "…Shut up."

Eddie snickers at him; gives him the cutest smile he's ever seen, nose scrunched up, eyes crinkled at the corners, then he tucks the cigarette behind his ear and shakes his hair out with a grimace. “Christ, it’s hot in here." His hands move to the hem of his shirt. "Look away or don’t, baby, I’m changin’!”

Steve smiles and averts his gaze, falling back on Eddie’s bed and looking at the ceiling with his legs dangled over the edge. In his periphery he can see Eddie hopping gracelessly around the dresser, trying to tug his foot out of the end of his skinny jeans, cursing under his breath; dropping all the ‘g’s off the ends of his words.

"I like your Southern accent."

"Do ya now?" Eddie throws it on thick, really hamming it up, "Well then, I reckon it's plum near the most attractive dad-gum thing y’ever did hear 'round these here pawrts."

Steve honks a mortifyingly stupid laugh, which makes Eddie laugh like a chime in a windstorm, which just makes Steve laugh even more, and maybe Eddie was right.

Maybe this is better than sex.

He wipes at his eyes, misty for a good reason for the first time all night, and when he looks up again Eddie’s dressed in his pajamas. Dark gray gym shorts, a black cut-off tank, the arm holes deep and loose to expose his armpit hair, his ribs.

Steve’s mouth goes dry.

Eddie’s wiry and pale, firm muscle wrapped around his string-bean frame, and he's covered in tattoos — black line art and gray shading, fantastical beasts and staffs and swords, a crazily-detailed set of serpent scales snaking up his side. But it's his legs that catch Steve's eye.

His legs are covered in words. Words and doodles everywhere, from his calves to his thighs, the lines wobbly and thick like Eddie put them there himself. There are quotes in sloppy cursive, longer ones in blocky print; a few stylized to look like comic book dialog, the words POW! and DANGER outlined in spiky bubbles above his knee. Steve wants to trace the lines; rehearse him like a poem, learn each ink stroke with his fingers until he can recite them all by heart.

Eddie catches him staring and gives a small, pleased grin. “Like what you see?”

Steve’s tongue feels too big for his mouth. “Yeah. I really do.”

The smile widens. Eddie clambers onto the bed, stepping over Steve’s head and plopping down beside him with his back against the wall, one leg drawn up, the other stretched out long and loose.

Steve shifts to lay the same direction, and his shoulder brushes Eddie’s leg, his wrist ghosting against his ankle bone. He doesn’t pull away; likes the look of their skin tones side by side — the smooth desert landscape of his inner arm, accented only by a few veins and moles; the riot of ink and art all along Eddie’s shin. Eddie’s feet are bare, and they’re wide, a little hairy (reminds Steve of Dustin’s nerdy ring book, and he almost says as much, but he knows Eddie’s even more obsessed with that shit than the kids are. He really doesn’t want the dude to pop a brain boner and spend the next four hours lecturing Steve about jewelry lore.)

“What are you giggling at down there?” Eddie nudges at his elbow.

“Nothing,” Steve says, and Eddie responds “All right then, keep your secrets” in a silly character voice. He stretches to the side and grabs a joint off the bedside table.

“Now,” he says, voice slipping into that deep, slow sing-song thing he does — his sales pitch tone, Steve realizes. “This part is, of course, completely optional, but. In my humble, expert opinion—”

“So humble,” Steve teases under his breath.

“—It really enhances the whole experience.”

“The Stevie Nicks Therapeu- thera-” Oh, screw it. “Un-saddening Experience?”

“That is correct.” He holds it out over Steve’s face, wiggling it in offering, and Steve thinks about his conversation with Robin over brunch:

"I can't believe you did coke.” "I can't believe you smoked weed." "I know." "Was it okay?" He hasn't tried weed since... "Yeah," she answers seriously. "Yeah, it was okay. It was nice, actually."

“Okay,” he decides. I trust you. “Let’s do it.”

Eddie puts the joint between his lips and lights it up.

—

part 31

listen i know it’s a quote from a movie that will not exist for another 16 years just let me have this. tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added tomorrow please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

#trailer park steve au #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #my fic #my writing

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tossawary · 6 months

Text

When writing fanfiction, there are a lot of unknowns surrounding Mobei-Jun that I answer based on what I think is compelling, funny, and/or contrasts well against SQH | Airplane Bro. (Sometimes, based on what contrasts interestingly and/or hilariously against Luo Binghe or Shen Qingqiu.) The choices I make for MBJ also depend on what suits that particular story.

An interesting question: "What kind of literature does Mobei-Jun like?" He's Airplane Bro's Ideal Man / Dream Guy! It's fun to think about what Mobei-Jun's relationship might be to fiction.

One choice that I've pulled a few times now is having Mobei-Jun be functionally illiterate, mostly because I think that situation is an interesting / amusing contrast to the guy who technically wrote the world into existence. Airplane Bro was cranking out thousands of words per day to eat, selling out his honest passion for literature, and Mobei-Jun can't / doesn't read.

There are lots of different potential reasons for this! Maybe Mobei-Jun is dyslexic. Maybe he desperately needs reading glasses and doesn't realize it. (Yes, maybe half of his glaring is just squinting.) Maybe his education was really bad because his family tried to murder him too many times. Maybe he just doesn't have any interest in fiction or in reading as a hobby in general, because paper / writing is rare in the Demon Realm for a variety of reasons and he's been busy building more relevant skills.

(Airplane Bro is shocked and offended, yes, but mostly because Mobei-Jun somehow successfully hid being unable to read from him for two or more decades. All of those "you read it" and "you write it" orders suddenly make so much sense.)

Another direction for "Mobei-Jun's relationship to media" that I've been enjoying lately as a premise is that Mobei-Jun is the sort of person who would have genuinely enjoyed "Proud Immortal Demon Way". But, like, in a weird way. Like, maybe Mobei-Jun isn't there for the women or the power fantasy, but he's fascinated by the cage of dissatisfaction, misery, and cruelty that the protagonist is building around himself using empty pleasures and merciless vengeance. Mobei-Jun is there for the tragedy. Everyone else in the comments section would think that he's a weirdo for different reasons, including Airplane Bro, but Mobei-Jun is (by accident) operating on a level where he sees the vision.

Alternate direction on "Mobei-Jun would like PIDW, actually": maybe he would like it because he actually loves trashy drama and stupid catfights. He's there for the comedy. He grew up in an environment where his father stole his uncle's wife and his own uncle tried to kill him multiple times, after all. In PIDW itself, right-hand man Mobei-Jun somehow successfully suffered years upon years of Luo Binghe's harem nonsense, and maybe Mobei-Jun was having the time of his life watching Sha Hualing start shit in the harem, actually!

Maybe in a Modern AU, Airplane Bro would try to sound intelligent and cultured by talking to his rich boss / boyfriend about classy literature, only to find out that Mobei-Jun basically only watches reality television competitions where people are constantly trying to tear each other's hair out for money. If people aren't screaming in each other's faces over a spilled glass of wine, throwing plates at each other over a stolen boyfriend or a ruined wedding, or backstabbing each other via wardrobe sabotage to get ahead, then Mobei-Jun is bored. Fighting matches or extremely dangerous sports are also fine, though, sure. (Airplane Bro doesn't like any of this stuff. He's a fantasy novel guy. He has no idea how to react to this.)

Another funny direction for "Mobei-Jun's relationship to media" is that maybe "Proud Immortal Demon Way" wouldn't actually be weird ENOUGH for Mobei-Jun's tastes. Maybe Mobei-Jun would be like that guy who claims "if I can guess the twist, then it's not suspense - suspense is when I don't know what's going to happen next, period" and reads long-running, amateur, foreign, abstract web-novels that he has to put through an online translator himself. Maybe in a Modern AU with this opinion, Mobei-Jun loyally watches telenovelas and Bollywood soap operas. Airplane Bro comes into the room and says, "Wow, not even any subtitles? You can understand what they're saying?" and Mobei-Jun says sincerely, "No. You have to figure out what's happening without them. This is the intended viewing experience."

#tossawary svsss #mobei jun #shang qinghua #moshang #fic ideas

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euphoricfilter · 6 months

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𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟔

it’s been 14 days, no action? :(

tags/ warnings: game designer! jungkook || non-idol au || established relationship || angst || slight comfort? || bro gets no action || he’s just sad

word count: 1k

notes: no taglist ‼️

☆ epic callob with @bonny-kookoo 💕 ☆

☆ series masterlist

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

It’s silent in the car, aircon blasting as Jungkook just sits there staring at the dashboard of his car.

When he glances over at the clock it sinks in that you’re not coming back downstairs.

It had been an hour.

Which he knows is enough time for reality to settle in for you, that if you wanted out it would have been decided by now and he’d be driving the both of you home. Reality sinks in, yet he can’t bring himself to start the ignition just quite yet. The smallest sliver of hope that any moment now you’d open the door to the lobby, and he’d already be there waiting for you.

His phone lays open on your chat, last messages from over a week ago. No sign of you typing to message him saying you made a mistake wanting to stay at a friend’s house for the night. No ‘I miss you’, no ‘I love you’.

He swallows, fingers tapping against the steering wheel as he knocks his head back against the seat.

“Shit” he whispers, tongue pressing into his cheek.

The streetlights blur behind a veil of tears, slipping down his cheeks as his bottom lip quivers.

His feet tap against the floor as he tries to swallow down a sob, ugly ache blossoming within his chest. He wonders if it’s fully due to you not being with him tonight, or if it was partially the fact the last couple of weeks had been the most stressful of his life. So many fickle emails and bratty clients. His mind melted after minimal hours of sleep, locked up in that crappy office of his for more hours than he had ever wished for.

Or if maybe partial to the fact that he could feel the both of you slipping further away from one another, your fingers slipping from between his. Sticky vines that tied your souls together slowly unfurling until you’d slipped from his side, pretty flower of your existence slowly wilting, where all he can do is watch. So caught up with what other people needed of him, that not only had he neglected himself, but you too.

His phone screen glares at him, another minute ticking by on the clock. He snatches it off the seat, hand running over his jaw as his mind cranks back to life.

He sits there for a moment, ‘I miss you’

He shakes his head. He doesn’t want to guilt trip you to come home.

His tongue runs over his bottom lip, eyebrows furrowing in the slightest. Fingers tapping away on the screen, game of battle ship sending into the chat.

He stares at it, body prickling with anticipation, hope firm in his chest as he waits.

It can’t be more than a couple of minutes before you’re accepting the game, always a lot better than him at it. Though he didn’t mind losing this time if it meant any meagre sort of interaction with you. The small truce with whatever you had going on mending that little crack in his fragile soul.

It’s when you’re half way through the game does he get the notification.

‘14 days without logging in, no action? :(‘

His shoulders slump forwards a little, quickly swiping out of the game you were playing to check on his app.

His feet patter against the floor as it loads, impatience seeping from every fibre of his being as it opens. His fingers are quick to flick through each of the columns, mouth tipping open a little wider as he catches sight of his score.

Third place too. Not even second. Third.

20 orgasms behind schedule, utterly awful that he would ever neglect you of that, even if it weren’t intentional.

“Oh hell no” he cries, tears clinging to his lashes. His head tips forward, heart hammering against his chest when he startles himself, loud ring of the car horn echoing off each of the houses of the street. He sits up with wide eyes, peering out the window beside him, eyes focusing on your friend’s apartment. Suddenly embarrassed at the prospect of him waiting outside in hopes of you changing your mind.

He’s quick to swipe back into your chat, quick to play his turn of the game before he’s opening his browser.

He scrolls through each of the tabs, patting around the passenger’s seat for his glasses. He fumbles to turn the small overhead light on, hand brushing through his hair as he finds the tab he was looking for.

He wouldn’t be paid for another week, the flights staring back at him from his phone. Realistically if the both of you didn’t indulge for the week, then it would be fine, price for the both of you sending his bank balance reeling.

He swallows down the thought of all the money that’s about to go out of his account, false reassurance that it would all be worth it by the time he gets paid for all the work he’d put in over the last couple of weeks.

“It’s okay” he whispers, fingers tightening around his phone. He pauses, tapping open his banking app to make sure he wasn’t about to go into the negatives because the universe knows you would berate him beyond belief if you ever found out he was in the negatives.

He doesn’t think about it, fingers pressing against the screen, janky wheel of the booking website taking longer than he would have liked to spin. A short puff of reassurance dissipating from his chest when the confirmation email comes through: two plane tickets for the both of you. That, and with the Airbnb all booked, Maria having confirmed that it was totally okay for the both of you to go as wild as you liked over your stay in her place, even offering to stock it up with snacks for the first night you’re there, Jungkook’s plan was finally underway.

Only a little while longer, countable sleepless nights, ongoing projects that had become the bane of his existence almost ready to be sent off onto some other poor sucker before it’s even thought to be released.

Months of planning, months of stress and hurt and utter shit. Yet he could see it, the moment both of your hearts reach out for one another again, bodies warm pressed together, unbridled love shared through gentle kisses. Everything back to how he liked it before life had become too hectic.

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risuola · 8 months

Note

Please hear me out!

i’ve been thinking about this for a while, and I wanted to write it myself but I can’t write for shit 😭 Here’s my idea, reader (she/her) is close friends with Satoru and Suguru. She takes Suguru’s place instead, and Suguru ends up not going insane, and decides to stick around in Jujutsu High. But because the reader takes his place in this story, she spirals and abandons the idea of being morally good. (She’s a sensitive softie at heart 🥹 the cruel reality of being a sorcerer really took a toll on her). She commits so many crimes that the higher ups urge the strongest duo to finally execute her after dismissing her for nearly a decade. She dies in their hands, and doesn’t get a proper burial. Kenjaku takes her body and uses it as vessel. When Shibuya arc finally unfolds, she shows up right in front of Satoru and Suguru, alive and well. Soon reveals that it’s Kenjaku who has full control of her body. Of course their guilts eats them alive, and the reader (more like kenjaku) rubs salt on their wounds by taunting them about how she’s a great vessel and also a waste that she had to die so soon.

LOST CAUSE — F. READER x GOJO SATORU + GETO SUGURU, but there’s no romance whatsoever, guest appearance of Kenjaku

cw: an au where SatoSugu have another close friend; spoilers for Hidden Inventory/Premature Death arc and the very beginning of Shibuya arc, so much angst and the usual that comes with JJK – blood, hurt, tears and depression : D also, possibly inaccurate references to the original plot, reader's death — 5,5k words

a/n: I’m hearing you out dear! Thank you for the conception, it certainly fulfilled my need to write long and angsty <3

It was stupid. All of it was stupid. Why? Which decisions led you to where you now stood, all of your mind and body filled with devastation as you stilled in time – above the piles of little corpses, disfigured and permanently contorted in a grimace of dread and suffering. A stench of blood and burned bodies irritated your nostrils, your eyes were teary from all the smoke that still was filling the air and as you looked down at your hands, they were covered in blood and purple goo. Sticky. Repulsive. And the screams. In the dead silence of your surroundings, your head was still filled with an echo of those, who were now dead at your feet. Those, who you were unable to save. The imagery of them running, begging, dying carved itself into your mind. Why were you here, again?

* * *

“Hey, y/n, you’ve lost some weight. Are you alright?”, Satoru asked, playing with pencil that just a moment ago he asked you to throw at him. A showcase of his new skills, the techniques he’s been perfecting for the last year after encountering Toji Fushiguro. You forced a smile, squinting from the blinding sun of the summer at its peak.

“Yeah, sure,” you replied, patting Suguru’s shoulder, because his attentive eyes were scanning you already for any sign of disorder; you could hear his analytic brain cranking up, his golden pupils drilling holes in your head. “I’m good, it’s just too hot you know?”

“Wanna go grab some ice cream later?”

“Always.” No, you didn’t wanna go grab ice cream with them. You didn’t wanna grab anything with anyone for that matter and already you had come up with some half-baked excuse to sell later to your two best friends.

You, Shoko, Gojo and Geto were all in the same year in Jujutsu high. You joined them a little late, but quickly found yourself inside the love triangle with the two boys. You called it love, but it truly was nothing more than just a bonding friendship that you wished will last forever; a really close one and you couldn’t imagine your world without their chaos. They were like brothers to you, the ones you’ve never had and Ieiri was like a sister, but she was smart enough to keep her distance from the mess of SatoSugu. You were not as bright in that matter, but for two years, you couldn’t appreciate enough the yin and yang that they created, the casual bickers and deep talks late at night, the cuddles and pinches, the pats and smacks, the tears and laughs, sleepovers, sleepless nights and everything between. You loved them, you couldn’t think of your future without them.

That’s until not that long ago. Few months, maybe. You felt like you’ve been spiraling slowly into something that could only be named depression, because if not that, then what else? Why would you randomly tear up nowadays, zoning out completely in the midst of sentences. Why would you spend nights, blankly staring at the ceiling instead of sleeping, isolating yourself from your friends more and more? And why would you still hear that? The screams, the pleads of hysteric, the soul-tearing sounds of pain and frighten that you’ve been carrying inside your brain since that one mission.

Everything went wrong then, and you were alone. Shoko stayed at the campus, working her way towards becoming a doctor and you, Satoru and Suguru were assigned only to solo missions since the plasma vessel failure. You were strong, it was stated that your year was exceptional, that all of you have a chance to become special grades soon, but you hated that. Being strong came with a burden that you were not ready to take, and when you realized that, most of it was already heaving on your shoulders.

When you got to that school, it was already too late and it wasn’t your fault. You rushed there as soon as you were assigned with the job, but when you dropped the curtain and looked at the building, there was already smoke coming from the window holes, that some time earlier had glass in them. And when you kicked your way inside the little indoor sports arena, the view struck you in ways you couldn’t possibly prepare yourself for and certainly, you couldn’t process it as well. The school was primary, those people were just kids, but the curses pay no mind to age of their victims. This one was particularly playful – or rather, eagerly violent – spreading hellfire around, burning these children alive one by one, causing chaos, suffering and bloodshed. When you finished exorcising it, it was over. For the curse, for your job and for the lives of all of those children. None survived. Not even one.

Not always we can save everyone, Suguru always told you, rationalizing the sacrifices sorcerers have to make and you tried to repeat that in your head when you got out. You tried to play it over the screams, but eventually, the soft tone of your friend’s voice got lost in the catastrophic cacophony of sorrow, sizzling skin and burning death. And that, maybe wouldn’t be enough for you to lose your mind. Maybe you could recover from that, but soon after the incident you witnessed the group of people that stood behind the assault. A band of grown humans, men and women, who were convinced some of those children were possessed by devils or some other shit, so in all hypocrisy known to race, they hired a curse user to fight fire with fire. Quite literally. Those people were so blinded by their fear of unknown that they sacrificed lives of dozens of little children, they shattered so many innocent lives only because they believed in something absurd. And then, they tried to push the blame on you, on sorcerers despite the fact they hired one to do the dirty job. And then, they killed the user, fearing him too. When you’ve got to see the body of a sorcerer that you’ve never got to meet, or at least you thought so, you realized that probably, you wouldn’t recognize him anyway. You’ve seen corpses barely reminiscing of humans, twisted and broken as curses often chose the most petrifying, violent ways of killing, but this? This was something you’ve never seen before – a cruel, ruthless exhibition of pure hate, evidence of deliberate torture, the picture painted in stabs, burns and bruises. All of which, caused by people, who frankly, showed no remorse nor regret as their faces were painted in pride, origin of which you failed to notice.

Those humans. Used jujutsu to commit mass murder only to blame it on your people and kill them. Animals. No. Worse. Much worse.

“Y/n, please, let’s talk it through,” Suguru tried to reason, as you stood up against the two of your friends, in the middle of Shibuya’s scramble crossing. People were passing next to the three of you, unbothered by the way your worlds were colliding right here, in the busiest part of Tokyo. People didn’t care of others, they wouldn’t react if someone next to them would get stabbed to death, only caring about their own shoes to not get them stained in the dirt of blood.

“Don’t be stupid, it’s not who you are,” Satoru raised his tone, but all you felt was nothing. The emotions you’ve seen on his face were real, you knew it. Satoru wears his heart on his shoulder, he pours everything he feels into the words he aims at people that are close to his soul, and you were no exception, but at this moment, you felt nothing. “I know you couldn’t do that.”

“Couldn’t I?”, you asked, thinking back on the last Friday, during which you executed those same people that used jujutsu sorcerers to wipe the floors of that primary school. To wipe the blood and burned bodies. You remember how they knelt before you, how the women cried begging for their lives, yelping that they have children, families and yet, those same children and families were nowhere in their mind when they ordered a mass murder in the primary school. “And why would that be exactly? Because you two think so?”

“Y/n, I get it,” Geto stepped forward, but stopped as you glanced at him. “I really do. You know me, we talked about it. It was hard for me too after Riko, I know what you’re going through.”

“I know Suguru.”

“I thought you keep his side, y/n,” Gojo threw his hands in the air, helplessly trying to find the words to dress his mind with. “I thought you believe in doing good with your powers. That people won’t understand so we shouldn’t look at them and just do what we do. Wasn’t that what you’ve told me?”

“I did, yes,” you gave it a nod and exhaled. “But it changed. Yes, they won’t understand. Anything that they can’t comprehend is pure evil for them and yet they believe in such absurd like gods. They will use us to do their dirty works and then blame us for it, because they cannot understand a single thing. And then, they will kill us, one by one and we, the strongest, cannot do nothing about it. We’ll have to go through life through the corpses of our friends. People don’t deserve what we do for them.”

“Y/n, please, let’s talk about it. Let’s get back to school-“ Geto tried, but you cut him off.

“You two, get back to school. I know I have a sentence already, there’s no point for me to get back there only to get executed. And frankly, I don’t want to get back there, to take part in what they teach us is right when we die for those people. We give our lives for them and they have no idea,” you said, taking a step back. You could tell the lights will soon switch. “Look around, Satoru, Suguru. They crawl around us unaware of our sacrifice and yet, even if they are so fragile a single blow can kill them, they think we deserve to be killed. I’m not gonna take part in this anymore. I’m sorry.”

“We can’t let you go, you know that, we-“

“Then attack me. I’m sure any of you can take me down. I’d rather die by your hands, than on a job of protecting them.”

You turned your back on them, and Satoru raised his hand, pointing at your silhouette, blue already on his mind as his cursed energy gathered in front of his fingers. Suguru’s curses sprawled out of their dimension, but none of them pursued with the attack, unable to do that. They couldn’t kill you. You were too dear to them. They loved you too much to take your life like this. So they let you go, and soon enough, they lost the sight of you in the crowd.

* * *

Nine years. It's been almost a decade and many things changed. You changed your ways completely, making a point of protecting sorcerers from people, even if that meant killing them, but care for humans was something you’ve lost many years ago, having it slowly replaced by disgust. Your once soft heart turned hard and dark and all the good in you vanished as you time after time solidified your beliefs that humans are simply not worth saving, therefore there was no need to keep them alive the moment they became useless. Over those years, you used those people to your benefit, raising money and gathering intel and then, the second their use to you has become nonexistent, so were them. Blood burned permanent stains on your hands but screams of hurt didn’t phase you at all. Have you become a monster? You might have. But for the lives of sorcerers, it was worth it.

It’s been almost a decade since you’ve been dismissed from jujutsu community for crimes, that over those years piled up rapidly and during this time, both Satoru and Suguru tried to stay out of this, whilst Yaga turned a blind eye to the corrupted path one of his students went down by. The now principal felt responsible for not doing enough, for not saying enough, for not noticing soon enough and though the rest of his students, now teachers in Jujutsu high told him that some things were inevitable, it wasn’t that easy to switch off the thinking. Same went for both the strongest, but for years, they waited in hopes for something to change.

That was until you killed someone seemingly important. A politician of sorts, high government pawn that you learned was funding a unit of so-called sorcerer killers, ones that modelled after Toji Fushiguro in cold blood were meant to take down a menace that jujutsu users were, as if it was them who were the ones to fear. Opposite to little no-one’s deaths, this one was loud, this one was medial and this one, Yaga couldn’t let slip. So, an order was given.

Kill on sight.

Almost ten years, and yet Satoru still couldn’t believe what happened. Whilst young, the three of you were almost inseparable and you, out of the whole group, were the most sensitive person he knew. You were soft and full of smiles, kind above all else and yet, you were strong enough to hold back the tears he knew were threatening to roll down your cheeks on many occasions. You were soothing, an oasis that was easily able to turn any darkness into light, and what Satoru couldn’t forgive himself was that once that same darkness started devouring you, he didn’t notice. Too focused on his own missions, on lighthearted shenanigans, on perfecting his usage of limitless and six eyes, he had no idea about your state of mind and when he realized, you have already been sentenced. Suguru didn’t notice either. Or maybe didn’t want to notice, because you talked through many nights about the doubts you both had. He knew about the utter devastation that was slowly consuming your soul but hoped you’ll overcome it, because you always were a sunshine, and a sunshine couldn’t die down to shadows. Turned out, this shadow was pitch black and no light made its way through it.

“Y/n,” they called you and the beautiful music that their voices created brought back memories of your youth. Ten years, almost, had passed since you’ve seen your best friends the last time, and with curiosity sparkling through your system, you turned to face them.

“Satoru, Suguru,” addressing them, your lips curved up slightly in a manner of soft joy. Your heart fluttered at the sight; your pulse raised just as it would for person who’s just seen the love of their life. “Long time no see.”

“It’s not as pleasurable as we would like it to be, y/n,” Suguru sighed and you took a moment to absorb the view.

Both of them changed. Suguru, still tall and broad, seemingly even buffier than he was before stood there with his hair now longer and partially knotted and partially left loose on his back. His facial features sharpened, jaw got more edge to it, eyes turned more narrow and focused, but still, some softness remained from what you remembered and probably he would seem even more familiar if not for the tough expression he had going on. Satoru, right next to him, became even taller. His white hair was now pointing up, kept by a white wrap that completely covered his eyes – something that he probably adapted during the time of usage of his six eyes. Not much of his face you could see, but with ease you noticed his features matured. Both were dressed in uniforms that you could only tie to their unbreakable bond with Jujutsu high.

“You’re now teachers, the two of you, huh?”, you asked, smiling softly, but keeping their moves in mind. “I’ve heard this year’s students are exceptional, now it makes sense. Good they have such amazing senseis.”

“You could have been one of the teachers too,” Gojo snapped.

“How could I teach anyone something I don’t believe in?” a chuckle rumbled deep in your chest as you thought of the image. Abstraction of it made you amused. “How’s Shoko? Is she a doctor now?

“She is,” Geto muttered, unsure why is he answering your questions. “Yaga is the principal.”

“Oh, is he? Look at him, climbing up that ladder,” you laughed, “so, it’s on his orders that you two are here?”

“You killed a fucking politician, y/n,” Satoru spoke, sounding calm but you could tell his blood was boiling. Both of his hands hidden in his pockets were visibly clenched in fists and even though you couldn’t see his eyes, you knew his brows were furrowed. “Almost a decade we allowed you to do whatever you tried to do, but this time, higher ups stepped in. The sentence is decided, we cannot let you pursue your goals further.”

“And why are you both here? I’m sure just one amazing special grade would be enough,” there was a certain amount of poison in your words, though it wasn’t directed at your friends and both of them knew it. “Are the higher ups so desperate to get me off the board because it’s them who give green lights to those assholes that kill us? Did you know that that pathetic politician I’ve killed was in midst of creating an army of little Toji Fushiguros? How do you think he even knew about the dude, huh?”

“An army of Toji?”

“Yeah, remember that guy, that cut both of you into slices? Yea, that one. And who’s giving away the cursed tools to said army? Well, it’s not me and I assume not any of you as well.”

“Y/n,” Suguru made his way to the side in what seemed like an attempt on surrounding you, because in that same moment, Satoru began shifting to the other side. “I agree with you. People don’t deserve what we do. But no one else can do it. You’re killing those whom we swore to protect.”

“Tell me, Suguru… how many bodies of our friends did Shoko cut open?” you asked and the question made the dark-haired man tsk. It was the truth that hurt the most, he hated how precisely it hit the spot. “How many of our allies were spread across her metal table after Haibara was there? Well, half of Haibara?”

“That’s not the point,” Satoru scoffed and with an exhale, he raised his hand up to loosen up the bandages around his eyes. “We die just as people die. Sorcerers are not above death. You know that, right?”

“We’re not above that, but we are above people and we risk our lives, which we just like them have only one of, for them. And they fuckingstep on it. If I have to pick who’s gonna die from a curse, why would I pick a sorcerer, when a loss of a mere human will be much less tangible than the loss of one of us?”

“Because they cannot protect themselves from curses, and we can.” Geto replied and in a whiff, you felt the appearance of his curses around him. Both him and Gojo were getting ready for a fight, so you had to get ready as well.

“But can we really protect ourselves from them?”, you glared back at him; your tone calm but laced with icicles that pierced through Suguru’s mind as he struggled to see you inside of you.

All of the softness he had always equated you with dissolved into something he couldn’t quite place. Image of you killing someone just for the sake of killing somehow couldn’t materialize inside his mind and it pained him, breaking his heart to think that he will be the reason of your death. And it’s true that probably, just one of them would be enough for that fight, but there was no way they would be able to chose and no one else could do it. You were the strongest, you grew into a special grade quickly after leaving and your technique proved to have no flaws or holes. You were a threat above abilities of others, stepping down only to the two of your friends, if not being equal to them.

“Let’s do it quickly, Suguru,” Satoru sighed, tucking his wraps into one of his pockets.

“Oh, where’s your playful attitude, Satoru?”, you teased, but somehow it hurt you as well. It was your friend you were talking to. Both of them, that came here to kill you and only way for you to get out of it was to kill them.

And killing them, turned out, you couldn’t do. Even hurting them came with difficulty not physically, but mentally. But you fought them both at the same time, keeping a defensive stance, searching for an opening to vanish. From them, you wished to run away, to not make them take the burden of your death because you could see it in their eyes, you were just as dear to them still, as they were to you. But they left you no opening to run away, so you fought. Using everything you’ve got to immobilize them, because instead of taking their lives, that would give you more time.

The way you stood against them, with your cursed technique of energy manipulation, it gave them the hardest time since Toji, and considering they were both taking part in the fight now, ten years after and significantly stronger, just showed how much work you’ve put into your own development. And with pride you noticed, how strong both of your friends became as well. You countered all of their attacks, slashed away the curses and blocked the blues and reds, albeit it really was a matter of time and you knew that. And so, you pushed through, materializing in your hands weapons made from pure, solidified cursed energy, using swords and needles and creating armor around your body that effectively, shielded you from any attack. Your weapon was different from cursed tools. It was made only from energy, strong and unbendable, changing shapes and forms as you deemed it necessary, allowing you to use it in close combat and on long distances. Any curses Suguru summoned stood no chance against what you wielded, but the sheer amount of them was just short of overwhelming you. On top of that, Satoru’s constant offensive, his fists saturated in limitless abilities, the sheer strength of both bodies that were attacking you, slowly rendered you weaker. And it didn’t surprise you.

The end has come when one of the curses stopped you mid-way, engaging in a fight that distracted you enough for a hollow purple to reach your body. The blast threw you away as your body pierced through three buildings straight, through thick concrete bocks and hard steel reinforcements like it was tearing through wet paper and it’s only thanks to the full body coverage of your cursed technique, that it didn’t kill you on the spot. But it hurt. All of your body felt broken once you finally stopped, back pressed against the wall that still cracked underneath the impact of your frame hitting it. Blood covered your vision and a cough shook your body with painful wave overtaking your entire nervous system.

“So that’s the infamous hollow purple, huh?”, you muttered, leaning your head back against the cold solid behind you. There wasn’t much in your body that wouldn’t be fractured at least, you could tell without a mistake that your heart was still beating only because of the cursed energy that still circled throughout your frame.

Both men appeared in front of you, jumping from above – Suguru coming from one of his flying curses and Satoru, probably just teleported here.

“I’m sorry, y/n,” Gojo whispered, squatting in front of you and Geto followed his motion to level his vision with yours.

“’ts alright, ‘toru,” you muttered, feeling the dizziness taking the best of you. After the hit you took, you were certain not even a genius like Shoko could save you. “Sugu… both so strong.”

Exchanging a quick glance, both sorcerers sat down, on your sides, paying no mind to the puddle of blood underneath you. They took your hands, so small in comparison to theirs, now red and wounded severely, but the pain you couldn’t feel much of anymore.

“I’m sorry I didn’t take this mission for you. Back in our days. It was meant to be mine, but I was training,” Satoru confessed, squeezing lightly the fractured bones in your palm, reminiscing of the day that was the beginning of your end. The elementary. That day engraved itself in his memory as one of many days that seemingly mattered nothing. Yaga told him about the issue, the curse and fire in school for the youngest, but he brushed it off, focusing all of his mind on perfecting the last touches of his technique. He still remembers how sensei was mumbling profanities, but couldn’t care less because he was that close from teleporting.

“’ts okay, ‘toru.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there either,” Suguru added, his voice barely a whisper as you leaned your head against his shoulder, desperate to ease the heaviness. What Geto remembered from the day in question was that he had an issue with his own technique. Little difficulty, as he was absorbing one of the special grade curses he just caught. It wasn’t severe, it wasn’t even that important, he could have fix this on another time and take the god damn mission, but instead, he declined. “I thought if I don’t take the job, Satoru will, but turned out, it got to you.”

“Sugu, ‘ts ok.”

“Remember how we used to sneak out the dorms to get ice cream in the middle of the night?”, Satoru changed the topic completely – a defensive mechanism to lighten up the mood, to prevent him from crying. And you hummed in response, lowering your heavy lids.

“And how Satoru got drunk after three sips of a beer? That’s when we all knew he’s the lightest head in the history,” Suguru added and faded images of how Gojo discovered that he cannot drink to save his life rushed to the front of your mind.

You had no idea how long it took, was it few minutes or merely few seconds, but you listened to both men rambling above your head, reminiscing of your school days and everything that you did together. Of every prank you witnessed that they took on poor first years, of every little mischief and menace they performed, following Satoru’s lead, because it’s always him who stood tall in the name of chaos. You were humming softer and softer, quieter and quieter.

Until you were not.

“And then we put those cupcakes in Nanami’s bed and-“

“Satoru,” Geto cut him softly, looking down at your stilled frame. At your frozen chest and softened features, sensing no more heartbeat. And Gojo turned his eyes towards you as well, taking in the last picture of you, who he loved as his little sister, even though there was no age gap between you and him. And then they both cried in silence, spending another hour with your dead body before gathering you and taking home.

* * *

October 31, 2018

21:18

Only word that could describe what was happening in Shibuya at this moment would be chaos. Pure disorder, people frightened and running, some unconscious on the ground and some other hiding from what was happening in the Shibuya station. Most of them couldn’t see it but felt the terror, saw the blood, smelled the death in the middle of which, two men were standing.

Both Satoru and Suguru, when they came down here to fight whatever the hell was attacking people, couldn’t move; their heads void of any logical thoughts as memories rushed to the fronts of their minds. Stunned to the core and frozen, they looked into the eyes of the person in front of them, distrusting their own vision. The person that wore the familiar look of you, the energy of you and what seemed like – the same cursed technique, and voice, and face, and hair, and everything. Not one thing betrayed trickery or deception as there you stood, facing them both with a smile on your face – one of those soft ones that had melted their hearts on the spot a decade before. Your features relaxed, genuine, borderline joyous as you breathed the air around them once again.

“What…?”, Suguru snapped first, forcing his own body to move and smacking his friend’s shoulder. “How?”

“Who the hell are you…?”, Satoru whispered, voice stuck in his throat as all of the information that his senses were receiving contradicted with what his soul was telling him.

“Aah? It’s been few months, but do you not recognize me anymore?”, your voice flew through your mouth, the very same gentle and bright tone they used to fall asleep to. “It’s hurting my feelings.”

“Cut it,” Gojo snapped, now putting more pressure on his vocal cords, a groan escaping his throat in effect. “Cut the bullshit, you’re not her. You cannot be her. Y/n is-“

“Dead? Yeah, that purple really messed me up,” you chuckled, shrugging your shoulders slightly and stepping forward. “I have to admit, restoring the body wasn’t the easiest of all.”

“Reveal yourself,” Geto took the defensive stance, ready to pursue with attack if needed and his curses floating behind him on standby. “You’re not fooling us.”

“Ah, how stubborn,” another laugh brightened your face, only now more menacing, more teasing as your dainty fingers reached up to gather the lose hair out of your forehead, revealing a line of thin stitches across your skin there. “See, you really did me a favor by burying her body oh-so traditionally. Isn’t that the procedure to burn every deceased sorcerer?” your mouth was moving, spilling the words interlaced with taunt as the, what looked like, thread was pulled out of the horizontal line above your eyebrows and soon after, grabbed by the hair, the top of your head was lifted, revealing the terrifying image of a brain. With mouth of its own.

“What did you do to her?!”

“Oh, I just took what you two threw away,” you replied, slowly putting the upper skull part down on its place, matching the lines as the thread went through the holes by itself, securing the head together. “And I have to thank you for your little sentiment. If not for that, I wouldn’t have my perfect vessel. Ah, but it’s sad, isn’t it? Such a young, pretty girl had to die so early, and more so, killed by her own best friends. What a waste to jujutsu community, don’t you think?”

Both the boys stood there in shock, guilt eating them alive as the salt and acid was being rubbed into the wounds that just opened. The scabs of the past were ripped away, revealing the gushing pain and Satoru growled in anger, realizing that once again, he might have been responsible for what happened to you. This time, Suguru kept up with him in terms of fury, feeling his own blood boiling in his veins, unable to watch your body being possessed like this, used like a toy.

“Y/n, I know you’re there-“ Gojo called, but got stopped quickly by another pilfering laugh.

“Oh, but she’s not. Her soul is long gone and dead. You made sure to have her soul dead, and you have to know I nearly teared up reviewing her memories when I took the body. Such a poignant story, oh, so heartbreaking.” The teasing had no end as more and more poisonous venom spilled through your mouth, contradicting the carefree and joyful tone of your voice.

“What makes you believe that even if you take her body, you can win here? We’ve defeated her already,” Suguru narrowed his eyes.

“Oh, you’ve won but that’s because she let you two won. Wasn’t that surprising how easily you finished her? A special grade? How she didn’t even try to dodge the hollow purple, like the little curse that she was fighting with was really that much of a struggle? Oh, don’t be silly, you two. It wouldn’t be that easy if she tried.”

“We won’t let you-“

“You must understand your situation. What you’re standing in is a special grade cursed object. A prison realm, and to say it simply, you’ve already lost,” you pointed at the floor, from where the four corners of a cube stretched into a mass of flesh, with an eye – giant and bleeding, staring at its target, as the next stage of sealing began before either of sorcerers reacted. “And what’s more interesting, the prison realm can seal only one person at the time, but with the incredible technique of my current host, I was able to fuel its capacity to two occupants, by manipulating the cursed energy it used. Marvelous!”

The cursed object began enveloping both men, rendering them helpless and immobile, as their cursed energy became unavailable for their use.

“We’ll save you, y/n, you hear me?”, Satoru yelled in unison with his friend and the lone tear rolled down your face, before your hand reached up wiping it in amusement.

“Gate close.”

823 notes · View notes

writtenfangirl · 9 months

Text

Jealousy, Jealousy

I am cranking out these Charles fanfics left and right. I have never done this for any other fandom ever.

Y/N was bored. It was the only way she could describe it. She was bored. With her boyfriend currently preoccupied with his phone, Y/N couldn’t stop the boredom that crept up her spine, numbing her body and dulling her brain. Her eyelids were beginning to shutter close and if there was one thing that could prevent her from falling asleep, it would be coffee.

“Cha?” She said, fighting back the yawn that threatened to escape.

“Hmm?” He hummed, his attention still wholly focused on his phone, his thumbs flying across the screen.

“I’m going to go get some more coffee, yeah?” Y/N said as she stood up from their table in the cafe that Charles and Y/N usually went to.

It was Y/N’s grocery day, which meant she was suppose to be in and out quickly but with Charles offering to come with her, her usual 2 hour errand had spilled over to 5 hours. With Charles receiving call after call from Fred and the rest of his race engineers, Y/N understood why he was easily distracted and she had exercised every bit of patience. Besides their day had essentially come to a close so it wasn’t like Charles was doing anything wrong by ignoring her. Their groceries were already loaded in the car and they were just meant to spend the rest of they day together.

Still, her patience was beginning to fray and she was getting sleepy.

Charles glanced at her before his eyes went back to his phone. “Sure, cherie. Can you get me another cup too?”

Y/N didn’t bother leaving a response, not when Charles was already preoccupied with whatever he was doing.

Instead she went to back to the counter, looking at their selection of pastries through the chilly glass window.

The cafe had one of the best pain au chocolate Y/N had ever encountered in her life and Charles was always partial to their eclairs.

“Back for part two?” The clerk, who had wide eyes and a kind smile, asked her French.

Y/N returned her smile and answered in French. “Oui. Can we get a refill on our drinks but this time with an order of pain au chocolat and an eclair?”

“Of course. I’ll bring your orders out shortly.” The attendant said before he disappeared behind the curtain that led to the kitchen to bring out their orders.

From the corner of her eye, Y/N could see that Charles was still distracted by his phone, his thumb tapping this way and that as he typed out a message to someone.

The door of the cafe opened and the little bell that was tied above it rang a clear and crisp note.

A man around the same age as Y/N approached the counter, a charming smile on his face. He was quite handsome with crystalline blue eyes and a chiseled jaw but he wasn’t the kind of man Y/N usually would have gone for. He had an air of arrogance that she wouldn’t have been able to stomach on a regular basis. Still, he was nice to look at.

“Where is the attendant?” The man asked as he looked around the counter for the clerk.

“He went to get my order,” Y/N replied politely, “I’m sure he’ll be out soon.”

The man’s attention locked on her, his eyes roving down her body before flying to her face, an arrogant smirk on his face. “You’re very pretty.”

Y/N tried not to roll her eyes, her previous politeness evaporating at the man’s words. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“Just the pretty ones,” he grinned. “You have a boyfriend?”

From the corner of Y/N’s eyes, she saw Charles look up from his phone, his eyes narrowing at her and the man before her.

“Why?” Y/N smirked, her demeanor instantly changing from mild annoyance to flirtatious as she became fully aware that her boyfriend was glaring daggers at them, “you’re gonna ask me out on a date?”

“Maybe. Do you have a boyfriend?”

Suddenly, Y/N felt a familiar weight around her shoulders and her smirk turned into a full blow grin at Charles’s arms protectively and possessively wrapping around her.

“She does,” Charles said with a glare, “can I help you?”

“No,” the man said as he looked at Charles with mild surprise, his eyes alit with recognition, “I just wanted to tell you that your girlfriend is very beautiful. You’re a lucky man.”

“I’m aware,” Charles said, clearly unimpressed, his eyes still narrowed into slits. “Do you need something else or are you ready to leave?”

“She didn’t tell me you were her boyfriend,” the man said defensively, raising his hands in an effort to show he meant no harm.

“Now you know. Do you want me to get the door for you or what?” This time, Charles’s tone held the undercurrent of a mild threat and his grip on her shoulder tightened.

Slowly, the man walked away, leaving the store with a tinkling of the bell.

Charles turned to her, the glare in his face never leaving. But rather than cower before it, Y/N simply grinned. “I think that might have been the hottest thing I have ever seen.”

“Stop provoking me, cherie,” Charles said as he slightly pinched her shoulder. “Why are you trying to make me jealous?”

She gave him an innocent smile. “It was the only way I could catch your attention. I was feeling neglected.”

Charles’ glare melted from his face, his face now looking mildly guilty. “Mission accomplished, you have my full undivided attention. I’m sorry for neglecting you, cherie.”

“Apology accepted,” Y/N said as she leaned up and placed a quick kiss on his nose before she grinned. “I was just kidding though. You can go back to work.”

Charles rolled his eyes. “You have my full undivided attention now. You can’t get rid of me that easily.” And then, as if to prove his point, he flicked Y/N’s nose.

“Well if this is how you react whenever you’re jealous, I should do it more often.”

“Please don’t. I might end up in jail or worse if you keep this up.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He deadpanned. “I can’t believe of all the men, you chose that guy.” He gave cafe’s door a pointed glare, as if somehow the previous man would suddenly materialize back into the shop.

“He was nice to look at,” she shrugged.

Charles scoffed. “I’m nice to look at!”

“Yes, you are. The best view in all of Monaco. I’d never go for a guy like that so you have nothing to worry about.”

Charles grinned at her and she returned it with a cheeky smile. “It’s hard to be mad at you, cherie, when you say things like that.”

“I know. It’s why I say things like that. Now, I am being serious. You can go back to work.”

“You’re sure?” He said, raising a brow.

“I’m sure.”

“You won’t try to make me jealous anymore?”

“Well, if someone handsome comes along, then I might not have a choice.”

“Y/N!”

“Kidding!” She laughed. “You know you’re the only one for me.”

Charles smiled, wide and genuine. The kind of smile that had Y/N’s toes curling in her shoes and her heart beating fast in her chest. “And you’re the only one for me.”

914 notes · View notes

rookthorne · 1 year

Text

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐏𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐦

It was an old wives tale that you put no stock in: that a way to a man’s heart was through his stomach — though this time, it worked, and it worked better than you could have ever imagined.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ༄ Fireman!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader x Fireman!Steve Rogers

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ༄ 2.4k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ༄ Fluff, extreme tension of the spicy kind, implication of a poly relationship (Steeb and Bucko are married but it doesn't stop them) and they are menaces

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ༄ Look, I can't help what I did here. I just thought of their uniforms. You're welcome.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ༄ Moments Silence (Common Tongue) by Hozier

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ༄ @stuckybingo 𝗕𝟱 — Firefighter AU — Masterlist

𝐁𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭 𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

It had been a day. And on days like this, you turned to baking; sugar was a sure-fire way to improve anyone’s mood.

You weren’t sure how you had gone that overboard, though. Your kitchen, once spotless and organised, was in disarray with trays of muffins and cookies that were overloaded to the point they were almost overflowing.

It wasn’t a baking disaster, no — it was just a severe overestimation of the ingredients, that’s all.

The clouds out of your kitchen window looked stormy and grey, and a steady breeze rustled the trees lining your yard, and you sighed, glancing back down at the array of sweets. You came to a decision then. The firemen — and firewomen — at your local station; they were always giving to the community, fearlessly putting their lives on the line to save others and help them.

They deserved some sweet treats, too.

With your arms ladened with containers of baked goods, you placed them on the back seat of your car and then started the engine. The fire station of your small town wasn’t too far away, so you cranked up the volume of your radio and began the quick drive, a big smile on your face.

There was a bus parked just down the road with the sign for children boarding, and the smile on your face widened. Today must have been field trip day, and where better to do it than here? Children were standing just inside the station's roller doors where a truck sat, lights flashing bright; red and blue bouncing and reflecting off of gleeful, childish smiles.

You hummed quietly to yourself and parked your car, a small distance away to keep the driveway clear — after all, emergencies didn’t stop just because children and baked goods appeared.

A loud whoop of a siren echoed as you made your way to the open roller door and the children squealed, making you grin behind the towering containers in your arms, overjoyed to have picked such a cheerful day to share.

“Kids, settle down,” a deep voice called, the smile evident in the tone. You peered around the doorway and saw a fireman, a toothy smile surrounded by an immaculate goatee. “Now, are you ready to see how we get down the pole,” the man pointed over his shoulder towards the shining fireman’s pole by the stairs, “over there?”

A collective cheer came from the children and you lowered your arms just a little bit so you could see over the top container better. The doorway was partially in the way so you stepped inside, and the man spotted you. “Hi there,” he said, and you smiled back. “Just a minute. Buck can help you when he gets down here.”

“No worries at all,” you said, and Sam — as his name badge on his chest showed — winked before turning back towards the pole.

“Buck, Steve! Show these kids how it’s done.”

Heaven above, you were not ready for what would come sliding down that damned pole.

The squeak from the sole of boots and the pull of skin against metal sounded and your mouth opened in a quiet gasp, the containers nearly tumbling from your arms.

A blonde man, the size of a fucking tree, you swore, slid down first. The pants of his uniform were held up by red suspenders that lay over an extremely muscled chest, on full display through an extremely tight grey shirt. He landed on the cement floor with a grunt and spread his arms out, a wide, toothy grin on his face as he took in the clapping children.

“C’mon, Buck,” he called, looking up at the hole in the roof. “Get down ‘ere!”

It was a miracle that the children cheered again, because the noise that left you when ‘Buck’ slid down the pole was not dignified.

‘Buck’ was just as, if not, taller than the blonde you assumed now was Steve, and definitely broader. Dark brown hair fell down his face in strands while the rest was kept up in a messy bun. His grin was wide, happy, and bright, and his face was covered in a light dusting of stubble. The dark red, almost burgundy shirt that he was wearing was arguably tighter than Steve’s.

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered when Bucky stood next to Steve, throwing a tattooed arm over Steve’s shoulder, grinning down at the kids that barely reached their knees. “Oh, fuck.”

Fate wanted to laugh at you, however, because it was at that moment that both Steve and Buck looked over at the open doorway, their grins growing wider by tenfold once they managed a glance at your floundering expression.

“Take care a’her,” Sam, the man with the goatee said before gathering and herding the kids towards the far wall, where uniforms and helmets hung ash stained, but proud.

They sauntered over, and it was all you could do to not fall to the floor with wobbling knees.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Steve said brightly, and you bit back a whimper. “What can we do for you?”

Uselessly, you glanced between the two of them – struck by how damn handsome they were up close. It put all your calendars to shame.

“Doll?” Buck said, raising a brow and offering his arms to take the containers. “Lemme take them for you.”

“Thank you,” you squeaked, immediately growing anxious at the loss of the barrier you had to hide behind. “I-I baked them for you guys, as a thank you for all you do for us–”

“Is that a batch of cookies I see?”

Bucky turned at the voice, but Steve was still staring at you, a smirk growing on his pretty pink lips–stop it! You chided yourself.

“Clint, back off, they’re mine!” Buck yelled, pulling the containers tighter to his chest and shifting closer to Steve until their shoulders bumped.

A snort sounded behind them and you watched another blond approach, rolling his eyes. “Yeah,” Clint said, waving a hand as he entered what looked like an office. “Like your husband would protect you when he could take them all for himself.”

Immediately you looked at Bucky’s left hand, ignoring the way the intricate tattoos contrasted against his skin in the light, and saw two gold bands — one wider than the other with black and red stones. You felt crestfallen, it was a shame–

“What’re you staring at, sweetheart?” Steve piped up suddenly, a dangerously mischievous glint in his eyes. “You eyein’ up my husband?”

The ground couldn’t swallow you whole quick enough, and your eyes widened. “No!”

Buck laughed and shook his head. “Like you weren’t enjoyin’ it, punk.” The containers shifted in his arms and he offered his hand. “I’m Bucky, and this here is Steve.” You offered your name and gasped as Bucky pulled on your hand, placing a soft kiss on your knuckles.

“Stop swooning and just ask her out for coffee, you fool,” Steve snapped and rolled his eyes, taking the containers from Bucky and striding away, pausing only to wink at you.

Time had frozen. Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. “What the hell just happened?”

“Ignore him, he’s an idiot,” Bucky said, staring at what you would guess to be Steve’s ass as he walked away. “Anyway,” he turned back to you and you realised belatedly that he was still holding your hand. “Thank you, doll, we appreciate it a lot.”

You looked up at him and smiled the best you could — you were still reeling from the shock of whatever the hell just happened. “You’re welcome,” you said quietly, and Bucky tilted his head slightly. It was like a punch to the gut, seeing his hair brush against his cheeks, and the way his grey eyes shone in the light. “I better go–”

“Where you goin’?” Bucky interrupted. He was still not letting go of your hand.

Staring up at him, you struggled for words before settling on, “Home.”

Bucky raised a single brow in question, and shook his head slightly, as if amused. “You don’t sound so sure about that, honey.”

Oh, god, you thought.

“Come stay a while, the kids are leavin’ soon,” Bucky said, gesturing towards the kids with a nod of his head. “And this way we can give our compliments to the baker directly.” His smirk — god, it would be the death of you. “I owe you a coffee, c’mon.”

The tug on your hand was like a jumpstart to your heart, and you followed on autopilot while Bucky walked towards another door. His heavy boots slapped against the floor and you watched his back ripple as he walked, barely restraining yourself to just reach out and run your hand over the muscle, to feel the power and strength of them.

“There he is,” Steve said suddenly, his head poking out the door just ahead. “I was about to come and pull you off her.”

“Like you wouldn’t join in, punk,” Bucky huffed, and you stiffened, your mind racing. Just what kind of marriage was this?

The door opened and Bucky pulled you inside. It was a breakroom of some description with lockers lining one side of the room, while tables littered the middle, surrounded by mismatched soft chairs. A red-haired woman was perched on a black chair just inside the entry, while a younger man stood at the lockers – both of them were staring right at you as you entered behind Bucky, the young man with wide eyes, the woman with narrowed eyes, like she was appraising you.

“Who’s this?” The red-head asked, a sly smirk pulling at her lips when she glanced down to see Bucky still holding your hand.

“This is the lovely dove that baked us all these goodies,” Clint piped up suddenly behind you.

The young man ran towards Steve who was setting out the baked treats, snatching one with a laugh when Steve pushed him away. “Kid, you got no damn patience, d’you?”

“No,” he answered, and he looked at you, waving happily. “I’m Peter, by the way.”

“Hi Peter,” you said softly. Bucky pulled you closer again and you were suddenly against his side, his arm over your shoulder and all you could smell was him — woodsmoke, some kind of spice, and just Bucky. You gulped quietly and smiled at the red-head who stood slowly and made her way over to the table, then Steve. “I hope you like them,” you gestured to the containers.

“Make way!”

Bucky pulled you to stand beside the door and the man with the goatee appeared, grinning happily and making a beeline to the table of containers. “That’s Sam,” Bucky whispered, pointing at Sam’s back with the hand over your shoulder. “He’s the fire chief.” Then he pointed at the woman, a slight smile on his lips when you looked up at him. “That’s Nat, and I am terrified of her.”

“I heard that, Barnes,” Nat said suddenly, her back still to you as she perused what was on offer. “Watch it.”

Unseen by her, Bucky grimaced exaggeratedly and saluted. You laughed.

“Alright,” Steve said, clapping his hands. He took a seat on a couch you didn’t notice before and he patted the cushion next to him. “Come sit down, sweetheart,” he said, though you had no choice because Bucky had started to steer you towards him. “You deserve to enjoy your baking, too.”

You landed with an oof against Steve’s side, and Bucky followed, sitting on the free cushion with a loud groan. “Haven’t sat down all day,” he complained. Steve rolled his eyes and offered you a muffin that you took with a smile.

The containers slowly emptied and so did the room. Clint, Natasha, Peter, and Sam had filtered out to the office, leaving you alone with Steve and Bucky.

“So, sweetheart,” Steve purred suddenly, and your gaze snapped to his face. You could feel Bucky shift next to you but you were trapped in Steve’s gaze, a deer in headlights. “What d’you say, huh?”

You baulked, not even registering Bucky’s hand on your shoulders, slowly moving up to grip the back of your neck. “What?”

Steve chuckled and Bucky huffed a laugh, putting more pressure on the back of your neck – enough to cause you to shiver. “Come home with us, doll,” Bucky said, his voice low and hoarse. A shudder flew up your spin and you couldn’t form words. It was all too much of a shock–

An alarm echoed in the breakroom and you jumped a foot in the air.

“Damn it all,” Steve groaned.

Bucky looked to the ceiling and let go of your neck. “Always the fuckin’ way.”

“What’s happening?” You asked, looking between the two as they got to their feet, slight frowns on their lips.

“Time to go save lives,” Steve winked. “Tell ‘er, Buck, I’ll see you out there.”

You watched Bucky nod and offer a hand to pull you up, only when you took it, he pulled you tight to his chest, a slight chuckle rumbling in his throat when you let out a small noise of surprise. His hands gripped your shoulders and pushed you back so he had to bend slightly to look you in the eye, it was all you could do to not whine needily at the action — why was he so damn tall, you cursed.

“Here,” Bucky said, pulling a small card and a pen from his pants pocket. He stood there for a second scrawling something, and then he handed it to you. It was a phone number. “Call me later.”

There was a shout from out by the truck and Bucky winced. “I gotta go, doll,” he rushed, and he placed a quick kiss on your cheek, the stubble on his jaw tickling slightly.

“Okay,” you said numbly, still in shock. Bucky smiled and ran from the room; the yells of his crew audible even over the alarm. Slowly, you ran your finger over where he kissed your cheek.

You couldn’t shake the warmth you felt when you sat next to Steve, nor could you shake the comfort you felt from Bucky’s touch. It was surreal. They were married to one another, but yet, here they were so openly flirting with you – you were intrigued, happy even for that fact.

Suddenly, as you walked back to your car parked a small way away, thumbing at the small card in your hand, you realised bringing treats to the station may have just changed your life.

And you could not wait.

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

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seths-rogens · 9 months

Text

cardboard houses, cardboard hearts | M | 1.9k | ao3

should’ve been finishing my infidelity au, but instead the cardboard joe cutout i was given inspired me to crank this out in one sitting,, anyway, please enjoy :)

—————

Eddie often thanks God that he took the leap and moved to Indianapolis after he finally graduated high school. Not that he really believes in God. Just… figure of speech and all. Though, maybe he’d believe in God if they were a metalhead with tatties and an eyebrow piercing, but he thinks that might ruin their image honestly.

He’s getting off topic.

Eddie often thanks God for Indy in moments like these. Moments where he has a fucking beautiful man pinned to his own front door, strong, thick fingers tangling in his hair as Eddie desperately tries to fit his key into the lock. He shoves his thigh between Pretty Man’s legs - he didn’t catch his name - and presses upwards. Pretty Man whines, grinding down and making it all that more difficult to unlock the goddamn door.

“Hold on, Sweetheart. I just gotta-“ Eddie bites back a groan as Pretty Man kisses down his neck, sucking a bruise over his pulse as the key finally slips into the lock. Chrissy’s never gonna let him live the marks down.

He’s surprised he picked anyone up tonight at all. He’d gone to a concert alone for once, as Chrissy was staying at her new girlfriend’s place, and Gareth and Jeff weren’t the biggest fans of his guilty pleasure artist ‘King S’.

And honestly? In any other world. Eddie wouldn’t be either.

King S isn’t his usual style. Where Eddie usually loves a hard drumline, thrashing guitars and lyrics you can only scream, King S is all soft melodies and crooning vocals set to slow drum beats.

He’d stumbled upon him completely by accident, honestly. It’d been a slow day at the record store Eddie manages. He’d been there for nearly five hours and so far he’d only served maybe three customers - and two of those customers were an old couple shopping for their granddaughter. So he’d picked the first magazine he could reach off the stand by the counter, and flipped it open to a random page.

It’d been an interview with King S, who’d just released his first album at the time. He was talking about his inspiration for making music - his best friend and little brother who, he’s quoted as saying, ‘always ragged on him when he played his pop shit in the car’ - and the meaning behind his stage name - reclaiming an old high school nickname he’d been given after his brief stint as a bit of a mean girl, though now he promises he’s using it for good.

He’d flipped the page to find a double page spread of King S curled up in a bathtub. His eyes were squeezed shut through the lacy masquerade mask that was supposedly his staple (no one knew his real identity after all). His hair was messy and flying all over the place. He was…

He was naked. Or at least that’s how it seemed.

His arms and legs were bare, the black and white photo only emphasising the toned curves of the muscles in his arms and back and the dark hair covering those lush thighs.

Call him obvious but Eddie had been intrigued. He knew they’d received a new shipment of records that morning that weren’t supposed to be hitting the shelves until the next day, so he figured what the hell!

Ten minutes later, elbow deep in a shoddily painted green wooden crate, Eddie emerged victorious with King S’s debut album ‘Robins and Tadpoles’ in his hands.

The album cover was two people’s hands clasped together, matching ice cream cone tattoos on both wrists. There was a little dedication on the back. To R & D.

He took it out to the turntable on the shop floor and dropped the needle. When the soft music started, he was hesitant, but as the album moved on he quickly realised he was hooked.

He’d gone into the shop bright and early the next day - on his day off no less - and bought the album. Only slightly laughing at the look on Mike’s - part time Lit student, part time cashier, full time grump - face.

That had been two years ago, and Eddie had been solidly on the King S train since.

Sure, Gareth and Jeff - and Grant too when he was in town - would tease him about abandoning his people, about betraying the freaks and the weirdos, but really they supported his love for the artist, even if they didn’t quite get it.

So when King S announced a stop in Indy on his second album tour, the guys (and Chrissy) had banded together to get him tickets as an early 26th birthday present. Except when the day came, they were all busy, so he went by himself.

He didn’t mind really, was just happy to be there to appreciate the music. (And the man himself, Eddie has eyes, come on now.)

Elated and feeling just a little self fulfilled after the concert, Eddie had gone to his favourite queer/metal bar, Crash. He’s picked people up there before, sure, but they’ve all been metalheads, just like him, and as many of his friends have said in the past, he’s cursed to have the hots for the preppy jock types.

Usually, that’s not the type of guy he’d find in Crash. Tonight was different.

Eddie had been sat at the bar, thinking about King S’s arms beneath the crimson sweater he wore on stage, when a gorgeous man had stepped up beside him to buy a beer. The man was wearing a dark, charcoal coloured t-shirt under a light grey Members Only jacket, paired with light blue levi’s.

Eddie kinda felt his jaw hit the floor. Could this be the perfect end to the perfect night?

This brings us back to now. Eddie finally pushes the door open, swings Pretty Man around and pushes him back against it.

He drops his keys somewhere. It doesn’t matter. He’ll find them tomorrow.

They’re grinding fast against one another now, only their harsh, panting breaths filling the silence of Eddie’s apartment. Eddie slides his hand into Pretty Man’s hair, tugs on this side of too hard. Pretty Man moans, loud, almost echoing, and tilts his head to the side, baring his neck for Eddie to defile.

Eddie leans in, presses his lips to those two little moles, and—

“What the fuck?”

Eddie pulls back to look at Pretty Man’s face. He’s still, not looking at Eddie, instead staring with wide eyes into the open plan of Eddie’s living room.

Eddie follows his gaze and… Oh. Yeah. He forgot about that.

See the King S tickets hadn’t been Eddie’s only birthday gift. He knew this would come back to bite him in the ass, but his friends thought it was hilarious. Eddie thinks they’re assholes.

Because Pretty Man is staring at a life size cutout of King S, standing by the wall.

Eddie winces, pulls away. This guy might not look like a metalhead, but he was in a metal bar, there’s no way he listens to King S. He’s gotta come up with an explanation for this, and fast.

“Um, yeah… About that… would you believe me if I said I didn’t buy it?” He asks sheepishly, avoiding Pretty Man’s eyes.

“You’re a fan?” Pretty Man asks, except he sounds dejected, which Eddie thinks is weird. And actually? Fuck this guy. He’s allowed to like whatever he wants.

“Yeah, man. What’s wrong with that? Maybe it’s not for everyone but King S actually makes really good music.” He gets more than a little defensive, takes a step back and crosses his arms over his chest.

“No, no… that’s not what I meant.” Pretty Man raises his hands placatingly.

“Then what did you mean?”

Pretty Man sighs, rubs a hand over his face. “Don’t you recognise me?”

Eddie furrows his brow in confusion. “Do I like, know you or something?”

Pretty Man raises his eyes to the ceiling like this is difficult. “Really? Nothing?”

Eddie shakes his head. “I don’t…” Pretty man nods, sighs, and then walks past Eddie further into the apartment. “Hey, you can’t just—“

“How about now?” Pretty Man asks, stopping right next to the cardboard cut out.

Eddie flits his eyes between the man and the cut out, trying to understand what Pretty Man is getting at until he sighs again, pulls down the sleeve of his jacket to reveal…

A tattoo of an ice cream cone, and suddenly it all clicks.

Oh. Oh no. That’s… oh holy ever loving fuck.

“Holy shit!” Eddie exclaims, pointing frantically between Pretty Man and the cardboard. “You’re King S!”

“Yeah. It’s uh, Steve, actually.” Pretty Man, King S, Steve nods, seeming much more shy than he was ten minutes ago. He’s curled his arms around himself, trying to make himself shrink. Eddie feels bad.

“Did you think I was trying to sleep with you because you’re famous?”

“I mean, weren’t you?” Steve won’t meet his eye. Instead he’s staring around the room, taking in all the little details of Eddie’s life.

Eddie takes a step towards him. “No, man. I just thought you were pretty, that’s all.”

“You really didn’t know who I was?” Though he still looks unsure, Steve finally meets his eye.

Eddie shakes his head, coming to a stop in front of Steve. “I didn’t even buy that thing, dude. My friends thought it would be funny because you’re like, the only non-metal artist I listen to.”

Steve smiles at that. He really is so pretty, Eddie can’t help but think. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, man. Heard your first album right after it came out and I was hooked!” Eddie laughs softly. “I used to be a little bit narrow minded when it came to music, but I heard yours and it’s like the world of music blasted wide open.”

A pretty pink blush spreads its way across Steve’s cheeks. “Oh, uh… That’s really cool. I’m glad you like it.”

“I was at your show tonight, actually.”

“You were?”

“Yeah!” He shrugs. “I used to play in a band in high school, we were never very good but I liked to think I had good stage presence, right?” Steve nods and Eddie grins, leaning in a little. “I was nothing compared to you. It was fucking electric, I felt like my skin was buzzing.”

Steve’s smile seems to grow even wider. He sways forward into Eddie’s space, almost unconsciously. “This might be crazy, but do you wanna start over? Forgo the one night stand and just, I don’t know, get coffee or something? I know this cute little 24 hour place, Victoria Street, it’s only a couple blocks away.”

Eddie narrows his eyes a little. “Stevie… barely anyone knows Victoria Street. Are you, dare I say it… local?”

Steve’s cheeks darken even further. “Maybe.”

Eddie laughs. “Then, I’d love to start over. I wanna get to know you as Steve, not King S.”

Steve slips his hand into Eddie’s, tugs him

back towards the door. “God, how much do you know..?”

“I may have read a couple interviews.”

Steve groans, embarrassed, as the door clicks shut behind them.

Then, a few moments later. “Shit! My keys!”

The date goes well. As does the second, and the third, and so on, and so on. They’re officially exclusive by date 7.

Steve meets Chrissy and the boys on date 20. Eddie meets Dustin and Robin, right before date 45.

On date 94, Steve presents his third album to Eddie. There’s a different dedication on the back cover this time.

To E, my love.

——————

taglist: @judasofsuburbia @gothbat99 @cheatghost @flowercrowngods @fastcardotmp3 @simplebtromance @gonzofromspace

lemme know if u wanna be added to a permanent taglist for anything i do in the future, i’m thinkin’ that might be funky :)

#zee writes #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #the adventures of cardboard joe #<— starting that tag just in case 👀

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alwaysmicado · 4 months

Text

No broken hearts

8.3k | 18+ MDNI | fwb!Joel Miller x f!reader | pt. 6

Warnings: no outbreak AU, implied age gap, public sex, fingering, choking, unprotected p in v, creampie, Joel being a menace, pet names, degradation/praise, pregnancy (not reader), heavy drinking, reader hurts her hand, blood, emotional hurt/comfort Summary: After Joel fucks you against a gas station wall, you run into an old friend. A bottle of wine and a smashed mirror later, you make a late-night call from your bathroom floor. A/N: I'm so excited about this part!! There's so much going on in this one: kinky sex, wine, reader confronting her past, Tommy, and some good old angst (I had to, okay?). Not to worry though, reader laughs through the tears...kind of. Enjoy and let me know me what you think! 🖤

more public sex ・Laura ・last part・ masterlist ・ AO3

It’s Saturday, the heat’s cranked up to ‘inferno’ and you’re so prepared to just kick back and have a relaxed, blissfully lazy night in.

Your day so far has unfolded in a symphony of self-indulgence: finally tackling that book that’s been giving you the side-eye for a year, getting green with some new kitchen herbs, and breaking a sweat with yoga in front of the TV. Your soul feels rejuvenated already.

The only thing missing now is the perfect dinner to munch on while you sink into your sofa, get comfy, and dive into a Netflix marathon. You already have all the ingredients for your favorite pasta dish at home, you just need to get the essential partners in crime: a nice red—or three—and some snacks. Lucky for you, there’s a gas station a few minutes down the block from your place and the weather’s all sunny.

So, you throw on a comfy shirt, some shorts, your trusty worn-out sneakers, grab your bag, and head out.

Stepping outside, you’re met with a wave of heat that wraps around you like a snug, invisible blanket. The air feels thick and sticky, a relentless sun beating down with an intensity that turns the pavement into a makeshift oven. It’s the kind of hot that makes you think of ice-cold drinks and the cool water in the gym pool.

A grin tugs at the corners of your lips as your mind wanders to the last time you had the ingenious idea to cool off in there, but just ended up hotter and more sweaty.

The entrance bell jingles lightly as you push open the gas station door, a subtle melody signaling your arrival to the air-conditioned oasis, a welcome relief from the oppressive heat outside. Fluorescent lights hum above, casting a cool, artificial glow on the neatly arranged shelves. You catch the clerk’s eye, a charismatic smile on his face as he takes you in. His gaze, appreciative and lingering, meets yours with a playful spark.

You offer a polite smile in acknowledgment as you make a beeline for the wine section. The cool chill of the fridge greets you, and after a contemplative moment, you choose a robust red with an intriguing label. You always choose your wine depending on the aesthetic of the label. Bonus points if it contains an animal.

With the wine securely in hand, you turn your attention to the snack aisle, your eyes scanning the colorful array of options. The shelves are stacked with a tempting variety of chips, candies, and treats. You settle on a mix of savory and sweet delights after evaluating your options carefully. If there’s one thing you take seriously, it’s your snacks.

Wine? Check. Snacks? Check. More wine for good measure? Check. Approaching the counter, you’re met with a friendly grin from the clerk, a handsome face with a name tag that reads “Chris”.

“You find everything alright?” he asks, his tone dipped in a hint of flirtation.

“Yeah, I think I got everything I need,” you say, putting everything on the counter for him to scan.

“Good choices. Looks like you’re in for a great night.”

You chuckle, handing over the cash and putting everything in your bag. “You gotta treat yourself sometimes, you know?”

Chris hands you your change, his eyes holding yours for a moment longer. “Well, if you ever need someone to share that wine with, you know where to find me.”

You offer a nonchalant smile, shrugging off his subtle advance. If you weren’t set on being alone tonight, you’d entertain the idea, but alas, you stay the course. And yes, that’s the only reason. You’re not still thinking about the polaroid or Joel’s words — If anyone deserves to be happy, it’s you — and why would you? It doesn’t mean anything.

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind. Have a good one!”

Exiting the gas station, the door closes behind you with a jingle, and the oppressive heat engulfs you once again. The air is thick with humidity, and despite the forecast promising rain, the sky stretches above in a flawless canvas of unbroken blue. It’s a serene sight, almost too serene, leaving a lingering sense of anticipation, as if something is about to shift.

Shrugging off the uneasy feeling, you prepare to walk back home, reaching for your sunglasses to shield your eyes from the unrelenting sun. But just as you’re about to put them on, a familiar voice cuts through the stillness.

“Need help with those, gorgeous?”

How?

How does he manage to appear seemingly out of thin air wherever you go?

“As if there weren’t enough sleazy guys hanging around gas station parking lots already,” you sigh deeply and turn around to find Joel leaning casually against the weathered brick wall, arms crossed, biceps bulging, his face bathed in the warm glow of the afternoon sun.

An amused grin spreads across his face as your eyes meet. He looks effortlessly handsome in his jeans and brown t-shirt, his dark hair perfectly framing his face, the grays in his beard illuminated by the sunlight.

“You think I’m sleazy?” he flashes his irresistible smile and tilts his head in curiosity.

“I dunno, Joel,” you scoff and shake your head in mock annoyance. “Some people might consider lurking behind a run-down gas station to pounce on the next best woman that steps out pretty sleazy, you know? Just a heads-up in case you’re planning on spending the night here. I hear mace is pretty unpleasant.”

Joel snorts, his eyes lighting up and crinkling at the corners. “Hey now, I’m not after the next best woman,” he tuts, the look in his eyes changing subtly as his gaze lingers on yours. “But you already know that.”

His tone of voice catches you off guard. Your face heats up and you look away bashfully, unsure how to respond.

Joel eyes you curiously, expecting your trademark smart response, but you stay uncharacteristically quiet. He takes you in carefully, appreciating your side profile and the way your shorts hug your thighs. You look so beautiful in your casual outfit, so beautiful without even trying. Always.

The unbearable urge to hold you close, to feel you, to smell you, to show you how beautiful you are to him, takes over his body and mind within a split second.

“C’mere, darlin’.”

“Why?”

He rolls his eyes and tries to hide the smirk tugging at his lips. “Get your tight little ass over here or watch what happens.”

You sigh deeply and shuffle towards him, acting like it’s the most inconvenient thing in the world, like your panties aren’t already damp from his command alone.

As soon as you’re within reaching distance, Joel grabs you by the arms and pushes you against the wall on the back of the gas station, caging you in with his body.

“Careful, fuck,” you hiss when you hear the wine bottles hit the wall, but Joel ignores you, too busy kissing your neck greedily while groping your chest.

You let your bag slide down onto the floor as carefully as possible, trying to take advantage of the last few seconds of clarity you have left before Joel’s touch shuts your brain off completely.

“How do you always smell so good?” he mumbles more to himself than to you, his lips trailing sloppy kisses up and down your neck, and along your jaw. You shudder at the sensation, surrendering to the heat of his breath, the electrifying caress of his scruffy beard, and his rough hand massaging your breast. You’re putty in this man’s hands and you love it.

“You know there’s a—mmm, that feels so good—there’s a security cam pointed directly at us?” you whisper between soft moans.

The parking lot is all fenced in by hedges, but you’re still outside in broad daylight. Plus, the camera.

“Don’t care,” Joel whispers into your neck, then pulls up your shirt without skipping a beat. You laugh at his nonchalance and just hope that there’s no live feed broadcasting your…impropriety. There probably is though.

Coming here for late-night snacks or tampons when you ran out was super convenient, but what can you do.

Your pussy wants what it wants.

“God, I love your perfect tits,” Joel leans down to suck one into his mouth while massaging the other with his calloused hand. You bite your lip to hold back a moan, running your hands through his soft hair and arching your back as he licks and sucks on your soft skin.

He releases your tit with a pop when he’s had his fill, but not before biting down on your nipple harshly. “Ow, Joel!” you cry out and shove at his chest, but he just smirks at your adorable tantrum, pressing your hands against the wall over your head, his intense gaze locking with yours.

“Such a delicate little princess,” he taunts you with a chuckle, pressing his bulge against your core so the rough fabric of his jeans rubs your clit perfectly. You furrow your brow and whimper at the feeling, instinctively moving your hips to get the most friction.

“You like that, baby?” he rasps before pressing his lips on yours in a messy, needy kiss — the type of kiss that leaves you breathless and lets you forget who you are.

“Uh-huh,” you moan into his mouth, swirling your tongue around his, so far gone already that you’ll die if he doesn’t fuck you right now. As if reading your mind, Joel lets go of your wrist to slide one of his hands down the inside of your shorts and panties, groaning against your lips when he can feel how wet you are.

“Goddamn, angel,” he chuckles, leaning his forehead against yours. “I’ll never get tired of you being a complete whore in public.”

Joel lets go of your other wrist, wrapping his hand around the back of your neck, tilting your head up, so he can look into your glazed-over eyes. “You keep those beautiful eyes on me,” he orders as he starts drawing tight circles on your clit with his fingers, applying just the right amount of pressure. You nod and can’t hold back your moans this time, feeling your muscles tense and your thighs tremble with every movement of Joel’s hand.

“You want more, baby?” he asks, eager to feel your pussy around his fingers, and to prepare you for his cock as well as possible given your time-sensitive situation.

“Please Joel,” you moan, your breath quickening, “I want you.”

Satisfied with your answer, the pleading look in your eyes and the wetness seeping out of you, he slides two fingers inside your warm cunt, curling and pumping them while continuously stimulating your clit with the heel of his palm. You dig your fingers into his broad shoulders in response, needing an outlet for the pleasure building up inside you since you can’t moan as loud as you want. His dark eyes never leave yours, reveling in the facial expressions and noises he can draw out of you.

One of your hands wanders from grasping his shoulder to gripping his bare arm. You let your nails dig into him, not caring that you’re leaving marks. Joel doesn’t seem to mind either as he keeps going, his eyes locked on yours.

“God, you’re gorgeous, baby,” he whispers, upping the pace and adding a third finger to work you open some more. “Fuck, that’s it,” you groan as you feel yourself getting close already, your walls constricting around Joel’s fingers, making it hard for him to move.

“You better not come until I tell you to,” he growls, wrapping his hand around your neck and squeezing just the right amount. You’re so close that you almost come instantly when the diminishing flow of oxygen to your brain intensifies every sensation.

Joel can see the desperation in your eyes, can feel the pure need in your quivering body, can smell your arousal on your skin. His cock is straining painfully in his jeans and grinding against your hip only relieves so much tension.

He needs to fuck you – badly.

“You’re such a good girl,” he praises you, the vein on his neck pulsating. “Come all over my hand, baby, let me feel you.” He keeps his eyes on yours as he feels you tensing even more, trying your hardest to keep quiet.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you choke out as the tension finally snaps and your pulsating walls clamp down around Joel’s fingers.

“That’s it, baby, you’re so fucking hot,” he pants before loosening the grip on your neck and pressing his lips on yours in a hungry kiss, absorbing all of your moans while you ride out your high on his hand. Your hips stutter as you try to draw out your orgasm for as long as possible, and you grip Joel’s hand in your pants to hold it in place while you do so. When you feel yourself come down again, you release his hand and let your head fall back onto the wall, your chest heaving.

“Still think I’m sleazy, hm?” Joel nudges your nose with his, the grin on his face too wide, too cocky, too irritatingly beautiful.

“You’re such a dork,” you chuckle breathlessly, wiping away sweat on your forehead with the back of your hand. “And yes, very much yes.”

“Oh, really?” he purrs, caressing your cheek with his wet hand, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb slowly. “Says a lot about you then, doesn’t it, angel? Getting off on some sleazy guy’s hand behind a gas station.”

You can’t stop the grin spreading on your face as you wrap your arms around his neck, your gaze dropping from his eyes to his lips and back again. You’re whole body’s aching for him to finally fill you up.

Joel takes you in for a moment, a tender smile on his lips, loving how you look at him with your big, needy, glazed-over eyes, like he’s the only thing that matters to you — like he makes you happy. He knows this moment is fleeting, delicate, precious, so he holds onto it for as long and as tightly as he can.

He kisses you, hard, desperate, pressing you against the wall with his body, moaning into your mouth. Your hands explore each other’s bodies feverishly, grabbing, pulling, mapping the contours of shoulders, necks, backs, while stealing each other’s breath.

When you can’t take it anymore, your aching pussy screaming at you for relief, you move your hands down Joel’s belly hastily until you arrive at the waistband of his jeans. You look into his eyes as if asking for permission and he nods quickly, his cock twitching at the thought of finally being inside you.

He helps you open the button and zipper of his jeans before quickly pulling them down together with his boxer briefs to free his cock and balls. He lets out a labored breath when you spit on your hand and start jerking his cock, your left hand massaging his balls a little harsher than you usually would.

Joel’s strangled groans let you know that he’s loving every bit of it.

“You keep that up—fuck, that feels good—and I’m gonna come all over your shirt,” he chuckles against your lips, grunting when you increase the speed of your strokes. “Turn—oh shit—turn around for me, baby.”

You do so eagerly, and Joel loses no time pulling your shorts and panties down in one swift motion, exposing your ass and pussy to the light breeze that’s dancing through the air. You lean against the wall on your forearms, arching your back a bit, and wiggling your ass in anticipation.

With one hand guiding his cock through your wet folds a few times before nudging your entrance, Joel presses his other hand against the wall to better brace himself. When he’s sufficiently coated in your juices, he pushes into you slowly, watching in awe how your body swallows his cock inch by inch. You whimper a little too loudly at the delicious stretch, unable to keep quiet now that you’re feeling him inside you.

“Shh, I’m not even halfway in, angel,” he purrs, tracing your neck with his lips. “Be a good girl and shut the fuck up.”

He then pushes all the way into you in one harsh thrust, immediately clasping his hand over your mouth to muffle your scream. You ball your hands into fists and close your eyes, getting lost in feeling him deep inside of you.

You moan softly into his hand as Joel keeps thrusting up into you, his strokes rough and desperate. “Feel so fucking good, baby,” he groans, leaning back a bit to watch your ass jiggle with every snap of his hips.

You whimper and clench around him as a particularly deep stroke brings about a more intense wave of pleasure than before. Joel smirks and leans his head in closer to you, his lips grazing your ear. He removes his hand from your mouth, wanting nothing more than to hear your pretty little noises unfiltered.

“You liked that one, huh?” he growls into your ear, his husky voice making you shudder. “Uh-huh,” you nod eagerly, desperate for more.

He adjusts his grip on your waist and uses his new leverage to pull you back onto his cock harshly, allowing himself even deeper access to you. You respond immediately, the frequency of your whimpers and restrained moans increasing.

“Faster,” you gasp.

Joel responds with a groan, but he obeys happily, picking up the pace. You hum contentedly as you can feel your second argasm building deep inside you, the tension winding tighter and tighter, climbing higher and higher with every calculated movement of Joel’s hips. You bite your lip to keep yourself from crying out in pleasure and reach back to grip his forearm.

Beads of sweat run down his face and back as he tries to hold off until he’s gotten you there again. Luckily, he doesn’t have to hold out too much longer, as it only takes a few more hits to your G-spot to send you over the edge.

“Let go, baby, I got you,” he rasps into your ear, desperate to feel you fall apart one more time. “Thaaat’s it. Fuck, you’re such a good girl.”

He talks you through your high, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as your walls clamp down on him, and waves of pleasure course through your trembling body. A cry begins to wrest itself from your throat, but Joel turns your head and presses his lips on yours just in time to keep you from being too loud. You kiss him back feverishly, the taste of him an intoxicating blend of urgency and tenderness.

He lets out a low, guttural groan against your lips as he finally lets himself go, hips stuttering as he fills you with his warm cum.

“Fuck me,” he pants breathlessly as he lowers his head, nestling it between your shoulder blades, soaking up the feeling of being this close to. He trails the nape of your neck with his nose, taking in your scent, and pressing a few soft kisses on your hot skin before pulling out of you.

You both lean against the wall with your backs, still gasping for breath as you continue to come down from your highs. Joel’s the first to break the silence, turning his head and gently rubbing your arm.

“You’re seriously gonna kill me one of these days.”

You giggle and lift his hand to press a kiss on the back of his hand. “There’s worse ways to die. Plus, I’d give a helluva eulogy.”

“Oh yeah?” he gives you a soft smile before taking some tissues out of his back pocket and handing them to you.

“Mhm,” you nod while cleaning yourself haphazardly. “The title: Eight firm reasons why I was happy to know Joel Miller.”

He snorts and looks at you with his jaw dropped in mock offense. “Why are you the way you are?”

“What? It’s gonna be cute and I’m gonna do a whole powerpoint presentation and everything,” you say as you pull your pants and panties back up.

He sighs deeply and pulls you closer by your waist. “I’ll take it. If you promise to wear that little dress you wore when we met.”

You put your hands on his chest and look into his eyes, his heart beating steadily under your palm. “Its a deal. Now, will you finally tell me what you’re really doing here? Or was I right all along?”

“I’m actually working today,” he chuckles, clasping his hands behind your back. “We’re remodeling a guy’s house a few blocks down the street, and I just came here to fill up the gas tank, not thinking about anything until I saw my favorite pair of legs.”

“Charming,” you scoff, cocking an eyebrow. “What a gentleman you are.”

“Would it help if I said that I also saw my favorite smile?”

“Well, yes. But it’s okay,” you smirk. “Can’t blame you for noticing these babies. They’re pretty great.”

Joel nods in agreement, leaning in to draw you closer and slowly kiss up and down your neck, his hands flattening against your spine. You close your eyes and hum at the sensation of his soft lips meeting your sensitive skin, letting yourself sink into his embrace and feel the reassuring touch of his hands.

He smells like home.

“You wanna come over later?” you ask while softly scratching his scalp. “I got some primo wine that I’d graciously share with you and I don’t wanna toot my own horn, but my pasta’ll knock your socks off.”

“Hmm, that sounds wonderful, darlin’,” he murmurs into your skin without stopping his kisses. “But I can’t tonight.”

“Oh?” you pull away from him far enough to look into his eyes. “What important business does Mr. Miller have on a beautiful Saturday night? No, wait, don’t tell me. You’re gonna play bingo at the senior center. That’s it, isn’t it?”

“Very funny, you little brat,” he rolls his eyes and pinches your butt playfully. You grin at him, but furrow your brow slightly when you notice a subtle change in his eyes.

“What?”

“I’m, uh,” he clears his throat, “I’m actually going on a date.”

Your face falls. “Oh,” you say quietly.

“It’s not–” he cuts himself off before putting his hands on your arms, squeezing them gently. “We could meet up tomorrow if you want.” He gives you a hopeful smile, but you don’t hear him.

“Darlin’?”

“Huh?” you look at him, confused. Your chest feels tight.

“Are you free tomorrow? I could cook for you. And not to toot my own horn, but I look pretty damn good in an apron.”

“I got plans tomorrow,” you say, taking a step back to pick up your bag. You grip the handles so hard your knuckles turn white. “How did you meet?”

“Tommy set us up ‘cause he thinks I don’t get out enough,” Joel sighs, shaking his head slightly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Smartass gets married and thinks he suddenly knows everything.”

“Tommy set you up,” you repeat, your left eye twitching.

“Yeah, and she’s nice, so I figured why not.”

“Yeah, why not,” you say with a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes.

“What are your plans, sweet–”

“Are you going out or…?”

“There’s this gin bar she really likes, so we’re going there. Sounds fun from what she described.”

“Didn’t peg you as a gin drinker,” you scoff, absently kicking the cigarette butt in front of your feet.

“Yeah, well,” he rubs the back of his neck, “trying new things is good sometimes.”

“I bet,” you nod.

“Darlin’, I–” Joel trails off when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He exhales deeply, his brow furrowed. “Tommy. I gotta get back,” he murmurs regretfully. “Can I drive you home first?”

“No, thanks,” you shake your head. “I need to run a few more errands and you surely wanna take a shower before you, uh, before you go out.”

His gaze lingers on you for a few seconds before he nods, “Okay, sweetheart. But promise to call me if you need anything, hm?”

“Will do, Joel,” you close your eyes when he cups your face and kisses your forehead.

“Be good, okay?”

“You know me.”

He winks at you, gets in his car, and you watch him drive away.

-----

With your sunglasses on, you put one foot in front of the other as you make your way down the street. Going straight back home isn’t an option, so you decide to stroll around and indulge in a bit of window shopping until you don’t feel your heart in your throat anymore. It’s annoying as fuck.

Feeling Joel’s cum pooling in your panties isn’t helping either.

“What did you expect,” you murmur to yourself as you come to a halt in front of your favorite antique shop. Opening a bag of chips, you start eating one after the other while perusing the pieces on display. Kind of like Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s — just much less classy, and much more covered in crumbs.

You exhale deeply and let your thoughts wander.

This shop means a lot to you. You got the lamp on your nightstand from here a few days after moving into your apartment. It was expensive, but Tommy encouraged you to get something special, something that would remind you of how far you’ve come and how this was your start into a new life. He was right. You love your lamp and what it stands for.

Maybe, one day, you’ll finally splurge on that one little glass figurine of a sleeping fox you’ve been eyeing for so long. It’s pretty pricey and, at this point, you appreciate that it remains a special treat, something to anticipate and savor when the right moment comes.

You put the half-eaten bag of chips back and haphazardly wipe your fingers on your shorts before deciding to move on. There’s a thrift shop you’ve wanted to check out for a few months now, so you quickly check in Google Maps where it is, then walk in that direction.

You don’t get too far, though.

Just as you turn the corner, you hear a voice call your name. It slices through you, sending a chill down your spine, stopping you dead in your tracks. You never expected to hear that voice again. Paralyzed, unable to run away, you gather your courage and take a deep breath before slowly turning around.

Your heart stops when you see her. She looks…different.

She walks towards you briskly, her dress billowing and fluttering with each step, a nervous energy evident in her movements and her smile.

“Laura.”

“I, uh– hi” she says, her voice slightly shaky. “Would you, um, wanna grab a cup of coffee?”

There’s a dark cloud in the sky.

-----

“I’m visiting a friend for the weekend,” she tells you, deftly adding creamer to her coffee. “It’s so nice here. Do you live in the neighborhood?”

“I do, yeah,” you say, your hand planted firmly on the wooden table next to your cup.

The gentle hum of conversations in the small coffee shop blends with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee — an atmosphere that you’d usually enjoy, but feels claustrophobic right now. You feel like you can’t get enough air into your lungs.

“It’s such a lucky coincidence that we ran into each other,” Laura continues, a soft smile on her lips. “I almost didn’t recognize you with your new hair.”

“I’ve had it for a while,” you respond curtly, avoiding direct eye contact.

“Well, it suits you,” she says softly. As she absentmindedly caresses her little bump, your eyes fixate on the subtle movement.

“How far along are you?” you ask with a tight-lipped smile, still unable to meet her gaze.

Laura’s features soften further, grateful for your question about her pregnancy. “I’m eighteen weeks and thr– no, four days today.”

“How are you feeling?” you circle the rim of your cup with your finger, your leg bouncing continually.

“Oh, um, I’ve had pretty awful morning sickness up until a few weeks ago. It’s, uh, it’s been fine apart from that. I’ve had lots of help, thankfully,” she tells you, taking a sip of her coffee. “My mom got clean about a year ago—unbelievable, I know—and Simon’s been doing good as well. He, um, he got a job at his dad’s firm and we’ve moved into a house with a garden. There’s a forest nearby and I’ve seen all sorts of animals already. You’d absolutely love it.”

She reaches out to you, her hand gently touching your arm as she notices your grip tightening around the cup. “Beanie?” The nickname and the warmth of her touch make you flinch.

“Please look at me,” she whispers, her request carrying a weight of emotion that transcends the simple act of looking at her.

You bite your lip and reluctantly meet her watery eyes — eyes that were once the embodiment of home for you. You’ve tried so hard to let go, to get over your pain, to heal. But now that you’re looking into Laura’s pleading eyes, it feels like you’re right back where you started, the pain in your chest resurfacing like an old wound, a dull ache that intensifies with every beat of your heart.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say quietly, shaking your head.

“I’m so sorry about what happened,” she chokes out, reaching across the table again to take your hand in hers.

“Laura–”

“I’m sorry every day, Beanie. I can’t take back what I did and I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I–I just miss you so much.” She wipes away her tears with the napkin on the table. “I miss you.”

“Are you sure you wanna do this right now?” you ask with raised eyebrows, searching her face and pulling your hand out of hers.

“I–yes,” she sniffles into her napkin. “I’m so happy I ran into you, I really think it was meant to–”

“You know what, Laura?” you sigh, fed up with this charade. “Just spare me, okay? I’m over you pretending that you care even the least bit about me. This,” you gesture with your hand around her face, “this whole innocent act you’re putting on right now, it got old three years ago. I was blinded enough to believe it back then, but that version of me is long gone, dead. So, if you’re just here to try and manipulate me into feeling sorry for you, I got bad news for you.”

“That’s not–I know I’ve hurt you, and I’m so incredibly so–”

“How dare you even say that you’re sorry?” you hiss, unable to grasp how a person can be this deceitful. “You’re not sorry for what you did, Laura. Come on, admit that it was the best thing you ever did and that you go to bed every night being proud of yourself for it.”

“Beanie, please,” she whispers. “I am sorry and not one day goes by that I don’t regret what I did. I–” she cuts herself off and takes a sip of her coffee, her hand trembling terribly as she sets it back down. “I know I was a horrible friend to you and that I hurt you, I do. Please believe me.”

You turn your face away and exhale deeply. Why is this happening?

“You were more than my friend, Laura,” you say quietly. “You were my sister. The only person I confided in, the one I fully trusted.” You ball your fist on your thigh, the physical pain of your nails digging into the flesh of your palm helping a little. “To this day, I haven’t told anyone else why I cut ties with my family or how I broke my hand. I only ever told you. Because you were there for me. Because that’s what we did — be there for each other.”

You hear Laura sniffle, but she’s seemingly got enough decency not to interrupt you.

“I told you what was going on with me and Simon and you fucking took that and jumped into bed with him. You broke my trust and lied to my face for months.”

You rub your temple, closing your eyes for a few seconds.

Laura says your name gently and you reluctantly turn your head to look at her. Her eyes are red and tearful, her hand trembling as she tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry for hurting you. I should have told you what was going on, I know I should have. I was such a coward and then–then I just didn’t have the guts to do it after you told me you were–”

“Don’t,” you sharply lift your index finger and glare at her.

“Look,” she exhales, a pained expression etched on her face. “I can’t take back what I–what we did. It wasn’t fair to you and I can assure you that Simon feels bad about it, too. Especially for not being there, you know, in the hospital.”

Is she for fucking real right now?

“How do you still think this has anything to do with Simon? I don’t give a shit about what he did or didn’t do. I didn’t trust him for a second while we were together. He’s an asshole who’s never gonna change, but you–“

You’re startled by the tears running down your cheeks, wiping them away quickly with your hands. You hate her for making you cry. And you hate her for giving you this pretentious empathetic look.

“I was bleeding to death and couldn’t reach you,” you whisper, your voice trembling with anger as your eyes pierce hers. “I tried Simon, too, but deep down I expected him not to care about me actually dying. I was just surprised that you didn’t care either. Don’t you dare look away right now. You need to hear this. I–I saw my life flash before my eyes before they put me under and the only thing I saw was you. You, Laura. My body was dying and the only thing my stupid heart cared about was to see you one last time.”

A hiccup interrupts you, momentarily breaking the flow of your words.

“I was scared to death and you weren’t there. I fucking needed you and you weren’t fucking there,” you whisper.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am for not being there that day. Please, believe me, I am. It just–” she runs her hands through her hair, a new set of tears rolling down her wet cheeks. “I was so fucked up back then. I–I tried to get love from wherever I could and then I saw all your texts and calls too late and I didn’t know what to do. I was so overwhelmed with everything and didn’t know how to be better or how to help you. I’d give anything to be able to go back and change that,” Laura sobs, her voice barely intelligible.

Pathetic.

“Why didn’t you reach out to me once in the past three years, then?”

She takes in a deep breath through her nose, then exhales through her mouth before wiping her nose with her wet napkin. “I had to get my own shit together,” she murmurs defeatedly, “and that wasn’t easy. I dunno what to tell you other than I’m sorry that I fucked your life u–”

You abruptly get up from your seat, the chair protesting with a loud creak against the floor. You pay it no mind, nor the heads turning to look at you. All you can hear is your blood rushing in your ears, and all you can see is the woman who broke your heart.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” you spit at her, leaning on the table and glaring into her eyes. “You don’t have the power to fuck my life up. My life’s been fucking great since I got rid of all the people trying to drag me down with them. I’ve never been this fucking happy before, so fuck you and your sorry apology. I don’t fucking want it or need it.”

You grab your bag and rummage through it for cash. “I feel sorry for you, Laura,” you murmur before walking past her and tossing a twenty-dollar bill onto the table in front of her.

“Why?” She doesn’t look at you.

“‘Cause you have no idea what you’re in for,” you laugh mirthlessly and shake your head. “You really believe he’s gonna be there for his kid and stay with you?”

“Yes.”

“What in the world would make you think that,” you ask incredulously.

“Because we’re married,” she blurts out, turning in her seat to look up at you.

You feel your soul leaving your body, hovering over you and watching your lifeless body standing there – shocked, paralyzed, heartbroken.

“What did you just say?” you whisper, your words barely audible.

“We got married after we found out I was pregnant.”

You’re about to say something in response — how can you be so stupid, why would you bind yourself to that man, you know what he did to me — but your eyes fall onto her bump before finding her gaze again, and you decide to keep your mouth shut. It’s no use. She’s made her decision.

“Good luck, Laura,” you turn around and make for the door. “You’re gonna need it.”

You welcome the rain that pours onto your face, washing away the fresh tears that roll down your cheeks. It doesn’t bother you that a car honks at you when you cross the street without looking. It also doesn’t bother you that your clothes are sopping wet and sticking to your body within a few minutes of your legs carrying you back home. You’re not allowing yourself to feel anything right now.

You’d break if you did, so you keep it together.

Until you walk by the gas station.

-----

“You’re not that trashy,” you murmur to yourself just as you’re about to drink straight out of the wine bottle.

Instead, you shuffle into your kitchen, get out your fanciest wine glass and pour yourself a generous amount. Your drenched clothes cling to you like a second skin. If you cared, you’d take them off to not end up with pneumonia, but the discomfort is soothing somehow.

You eye your sofa, but shake your head. You can’t sit on it like this, especially not with red wine in your shaky hand. You’re still coherent enough to care about materialistic bullshit like your pretty sofa. Priorities, right?

The wine goes down smoothly and the bottle is empty in no time.

It’s not enough to stop the heaviness in your heart or the suffocating thoughts and images flooding your mind, though. You’re helpless in halting the relentless surge of them as you find yourself bent over the kitchen sink, fingers gripping the cool edge of the countertop, your head bowed low between your tense shoulders. Your eyes are shut, and your breaths come out short and ragged.

You see Joel leaning against a wall, beer in hand, looking a bit lost among the other housewarming guests happily chatting. That is, until you step in and your eyes meet. The spark in his eyes and the soft smile he gives you make your heart flutter. You talk about your lives, you flirt, you laugh, you go outside for fresh air, he lends you his flannel.

Your first kiss feels so familiar it hurts.

He wraps his arms around you and you wrap yours around him, pulling him close, clinging to him as tightly as possible. Your heartbeats synchronize and his warmth envelops you in a soothing embrace. You lean your head against his chest. You feel at peace.

“I could never be with someone like you,” he whispers, his nose grazing your ear. He kisses your cheek softly, his hands running up and down your back soothingly.

“What?” You lift your head in shock and look into his eyes. They look different.

“You’re broken, darlin’,” he says softly, his eyes showing genuine pity. “I could never love you.” He cups your face and kisses your forehead.

“No one could.”

The mirror shatters, shards of glass scattering like stars across your living room floor.

11:26 p.m.

You sit on the floor, knees pulled up to your chest with your left arm tightly wrapped around them, your head resting on your knees as violent sobs wrack your body. You’re not really sure how it happened, or why, but it did.

The bathroom is filled with beeps as you wait anxiously for the call to connect, blood steadily dripping from your right hand.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” you whisper desperately.

“Darlin’?” you finally hear a raspy voice respond from the other end of the line.

“She’s fucking pregnant, Tommy,” you sob into the phone, your slurred words barely intelligible.

“Hey, hey,” he says with a soothing voice, laced with concern, “who’s pregnant?”

“She’s fucking pregnant and she ma–married Simon and now they’re the perfect fucking family,” you slur, your sobs making it hard to get out what your jambled brain is telling you to say.

“Where are you, sweetheart?” you hear Tommy’s soothing yet firm voice in your ear.

“Ho–ome,” you sob, “on, um, bath–bathroom floor.”

“Did you take something?”

“Jus’ alco–hol,” you sniffle. “Wanted to, um, stop my stupid brain.”

“Alright, darlin’,” he says calmly. “Can you tell me what you see?” You look around with unfocused and tearful eyes, trying to focus on your spinning surroundings.

“Can see the sink and my, uh—fuck, it’s bleeding,” you hiss as your bleary eyes try to focus on your bloody hand.

“What’s bleeding?” Tommy asks, his eyes widening in shock, as he immediately sits up straight and quietly exits the bedroom so as to not wake his sleeping wife.

��Jus’ my, uh, hand I think,” you mumble, moving your injured hand in front of your face, then looking around if you can spot blood coming from anywhere else on your body.

You can’t hold back a chuckle when you remember why you got a bloody hand.

“Listen to me,” you hear Tommy’s uncharacteristically stern voice. Did he sound like this when he was in the army? “I need you to turn on your camera and let me see your hand. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, I– wait a sec,” you mumble and finally press the video call button after a few clumsy attempts.

You change the direction of the camera, so it shows your hand and not your face, and you try your best to hold your phone as steady as possible with your trembling left hand.

“Jesus Christ,” Tommy gasps at the picture you’re presenting to him, shock and concern etched on his face. He expected a scrape or maybe even a cut that was bleeding a bit, but he wasn’t expecting this. Your whole hand is stained with dried and fresh blood, your knuckles are bruised, and there’s a two-inch cut on the back of your hand that’s gushing blood.

“What?” you giggle deliriously at his shocked face. “‘S not that bad, issit.”

“How did it happen?”

“Punched a mirror.”

You don’t tell him you punched it a second time when it was already broken, and that’s why you cut yourself so badly.

“I’ll send Joel over to help you, okay? He lives closer to you than I do.”

Your brain has never sobered up faster than at the thought of Joel seeing you like this.

“No,” you shout into the phone, startling Tommy and yourself alike. “Please, please don’t tell Joel, please. I–I’m fine, I’m sorry I called, I’m so fucking sorry, Tommy,” you start sobbing again. “He’s on a date,” you blurt out, “and I– please, Tommy. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for everything.”

“Hey, hey, shh,” Tommy tries to calm you, glossing over how you know about the date. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m not telling Joel and you don’t need to apologize, sweetheart.” He gives you his signature smile — the smile that made you feel safe the first time you saw it.

“Can you clean the wound yourself if I tell you what to do?”

“Mhm,” you answer, placing your phone on the floor and wiping your nose on your wet shirt.

“Alright, very good,” he coos. “Do you think you can get up and look for a first-aid-kit in your medicine cabinet?”

His words take a few seconds to register in your brain, but you manage to understand them and get out a quiet “Yeah”. You look up at the mirror cabinet above your sink before shifting your weight to get up. When you automatically put your weight on your right hand, you cry out in pain.

“What happened?” you hear Tommy’s concerned voice. “Talk to me, darlin’.”

“‘S okay,” you groan, clutching your wrist with your left hand, a new set of tears making their way down your cheeks.

“Tell me when you got the kit.”

You get up slowly by pulling yourself up by the rim of your bathtub, then hold on to the sink with your uninjured hand. You take a few deep breaths before opening the cabinet door, looking for the first-aid-kit. Fortunately, it’s bright red, so you see it fairly quickly.

“Got it,” you mumble loud enough for the speaker on the floor to pick it up.

“Okay, darlin’,” Tommy says softly. “Take the kit and open it. Tell me if you can see the gauze.”

“Mhm, can see it.”

“Alright, now run your hand under cold water first. When most of the blood’s cleaned off, you press the gauze directly onto the cut. You understand?”

“Yeah, got it.” You turn on the faucet, hissing as the cold water irritates your cut and all the scrapes on your fingers and knuckles. Your blood pools in the sink, mingling with the water, creating a macabre dance of crimson tendrils that gradually dissolve and swirl away.

“You okay, honey?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, sitting back down, your left hand firmly pressing the gauze onto the cut. You close your eyes and shake your head. “I’m so sorry, Tommy,” you whisper. “For dragging you into my bullshit. Again.”

“No need to apologize, sweetheart,” he coos. “You know I’d always drop everything to help you.”

“But that’s so fucked up, Tommy,” you blurt out. “You shouldn’t have to help me ‘cause I just can’t get my shit together. You got your own life to worry about and you got the most wonderful wife in the whole world and I’m this fucked up little gremlin calling you at night ‘cause I punched a fucking mirror like a kid having a fucking temper tantrum. Why the fuck would you put up with that?” You inhale and exhale deeply. “Sorry for my language.”

He can’t hold back the genuine laugh escaping his lips.

“What the fuck, Tommy,” you try to say in your most offended voice, but it’s kind of unconvincing since now you can’t hold back your own laugh.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says softly, clearing his throat, “but you’re being ridiculous. Get it through that thick skull of yours that there are people who genuinely love you and care about you. I don’t have to be there for you; I want to.”

“Thanks, Tommy,” you murmur, wiping your nose on your shoulder. “For everything.”

“You wanna talk about what happened today?”

“It’s, uh,” you sigh deeply, “it’s been a strange day.” You look at your injured hand and suddenly feel beyond exhausted. “I think the bleeding has stopped.”

“That’s good. Let’s continue, then, hm?”

He guides you through applying antiseptic to the cut and all the little scrapes on your knuckles and fingers, and through bandaging your hand correctly.

“Can you move every finger?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you rotate your wrist?”

“Fucking hurts, but yeah.”

“You’ll go see a doctor tomorrow, so they can give you an x-ray and make sure the wound is clean, you hear me?”

“Mhm, will do.”

“Now, go to bed, sweetheart. Your back’s gonna thank you tomorrow.”

You drag your feet to your bedroom, phone in hand, turn on your bedside lamp, then suddenly hear Tommy say “There she is!” when you accidentally change the camera direction.

You laugh defeatedly and shake your head at his beaming smile as you plop down onto your bed. “Can you believe I punched a mirror? So dramatic, my god.”

Tommy chuckles and looks at you with adoration. You look like a complete mess with your disheveled hair, cracked lips and blood-stained shirt, but all he sees are your eyes and the smile on your lips. He wishes you‘d be kinder to yourself. But he knows better than to push you. He’s confident you’ll find your way.

“I’m gonna turn the camera off, okay?” you murmur. “Don’t want you to get nightmares.”

“Sweetheart, you’re the most beautiful little gremlin I’ve ever seen.”

“Hey, you’re supposed to be nice to me right now,” you pout, eliciting a chuckle from Tommy. Turning off the camera, you let your phone fall onto the bed. You strip off your pants, panties and socks, shrug off your shirt and grab a fresh one from your drawer.

“Tommy?”

“Yes, honey?”

“Could you, um, could you stay on the phone with me?” you ask as you put on a new pair of panties. “Just for a bit?”

“Of course, sweetheart. You just close your eyes and go to sleep. I’m here.”

You slide under your covers, turn off the lamp and close your eyes.

“Tommy?”

“Yes, honey?”

“Thank you.”

-----

Thanks for reading, guys!! 🤍 part 5 || part 7 || series masterlist

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