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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 1 month

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sometimes i long to eat you up ; ryōmen sukuna

synopsis; sukuna doesn’t tell you that he loves you. he cooks for you, instead.

word count; 6.0k

contents; ryōmen sukuna/reader, gn!reader, househusband!sukuna, no curses au, fluff fluff fluff!!, sukuna is Whipped bc i say so, (he bullies you a bit but he does so lovingly), lots of cooking and descriptions of food, implied reincarnation au if you reeaalllyyyyy squint (but feel free to ignore it if that’s not your thing!!), reader is a silly goose, sukuna vs human emotion (he loses), he’s ooc but he’s Free

a/n; >:3 is anyone shocked….. that’s right. ari is in fact capable of writing for characters who aren’t stsg….. this one has been in my wips for Many Months now but i finally finished it!! i just think being in a nice warm kitchen could fix him. (super cute dividers by @/enchanthings !!)

sukuna doesn’t tell you that he loves you.

throughout the years you've been together, it's something you've grown used to. words like love must feel foreign in his mouth; even more so when they slip into the air, voiced, manifested.

discomforting, if the crease between his brows is anything to go by.

he only says it under certain conditions, little moments here and there, all of them memorable; a particularly sentimental midnight drive, that time you broke down sobbing into his chest after a rough day, the night he proposed. and so on.

little moments, precious moments, few and far between. that’s just how sukuna is; unaccustomed to being loved, even more unaccustomed to being in love. swallowing the words down, afraid of what could happen if he spoke them aloud, through more than a mere whisper. as if they could burn you.

you don’t mind, because you know him. and you know that he loves you, even if he doesn’t say it nearly as often as you do.

sukuna shows his love for you in other ways. driving you wherever you need to be, holding you to his chest when you’re sleepy, watching reality shows with you even though he hates them. always watching over you, making sure you’re safe and happy, almost hunting for anything that could disturb your peace. you can feel that love, almost reach out and touch it; a hand on the small of your back guiding you through large crowds, a bouquet of camellias waiting for you on the kitchen table.

but, above all else — sukuna translates his boundless love into food.

the sun rises outside the walls of your apartment, slow and steady, soft and hazy sunlight flitting through the windows of your kitchen. dyeing the open space in a golden glow, like something out of a summery daydream.

as you rub the tender skin beneath your bleary eyes, your feet move you forward. slowly, groggily. stumbling towards your target.

sukuna doesn’t flinch when you wrap your arms around his waist, forehead bumping into his broad back, practically tackling him into a hug. he’s become attuned to the sound of your clumsy footsteps. he makes a tiny noise, acknowledging your presence, and that’s all.

the low purr of the espresso machine buzzes in the air, and sukuna watches over the process, dutiful as ever. the same drawn out, thoughtful process he goes through every morning; picking out the coffee beans himself, grinding them into coffee grounds, and making a cup for you with his beloved, expensive coffee machine. making sure every setting is exactly as it should be.

it gives him peace of mind. and it needs to be perfect, in every possible way — so sukuna tries his best not to let you distract him.

(he never quite succeeds.)

a blissful little sigh slips from your lips, as you squeeze his waist. hands wandering, feeling him up, buzzing with the warmth the contact gives you. he’s always so cozy, like this. all you want is to smush your face into his plush chest.

but sukuna clicks his tongue, and places a palm on your forearm. keeping it still. his voice comes out raspy, excruciatingly deep. a gruff kind of tilt to it that makes you shiver.

”assaulting me first thing in the morning, are we?”

you’re a little too sleepy to respond, too out of it. still reeling with the hazy remnants of your deep sleep, stretching your limbs out groggily and making a little mrm sound that makes his lips twitch upwards. unwillingly, might he add.

the two of you do this every morning. it’s a ritual, of sorts, one that you need to function properly. he always makes you a morning cup of coffee, and you always cling to him through the process. he always huffs and puffs and clicks his tongue — but never once pushes you off.

all sukuna does is caress your arm, absentmindedly, where it rests around his midsection. still watching over the slow brew of the coffee. attentive.

you try not to disturb him too much, you do. because you know he loves this, deep down; the morning sunlight kissing up his nape, the sense of peace sinking into his bones. the feeling of your chest against his back, your fingers fiddling with the strings of his apron.

but eventually, you always give in to the temptation of speaking. of coaxing a response from that deep, raspy morning voice. so you part your lips.

”did you have nice dreams?” is murmured into his back, your cheek smooshed against the soft, dark fabric of his tight turtleneck.

sukuna hums. listening, always, even when he pretends to tune you out. then comes his response.

”i never dream.”

a moment passes.

you bite down on your lip — struggling to withhold a giggle. it doesn’t really work, but you tactfully pretend not to hear his displeased grumble. ”right,” you smile. ”my bad.”

a soft silence washes over you, once more. just for a couple of blissful moments, as you drowsily blink, and sukuna puts two ceramic cups on the counter. until you break it again.

”i think i dreamt of you.”

sukuna stills, for a moment. only barely, a brief twitch of his fingers; waiting. for tiny crumbs of love, ones you give out like candy, almost absentminded. like you don’t even have to try.

ones he never fails to pick up, tuck into his pockets, chew between his teeth.

(sometimes, he envies how freely affection seems to spill from your lips.)

it’s touching, in a way. the idea that he never quite leaves your mind. that he’s there, always, even in your dreams. it’s… sweet. he supposes.

a little yawn leaves your lips, as you stretch your limbs out like a sleepy cat. ”you were a cashier at the mcdonalds i went to.”

…

a click of his tongue — his hand slipping from its position on your forearm. ”get out of my kitchen.”

and just like that, a burst of giggles bubble up inside your throat. muffled into the cotton of his sweater, a sound that makes his heart feel a little too big for his body.

”noooo…” you whine, nails digging into the fabric so he can’t shake you off. clinging to him tighter when he tries, no real intent behind it. ”’m sorry. don’t get mad!”

”i would never work there,” he scoffs. ”frankly, the thought is insulting.”

you quirk a brow. ”what kind of beef do you have with mcdonalds?”

”don't ask me stupid questions,” he huffs, clicking his tongue, a bitter lilt to his voice. ”they don’t make food. it’s practically contaminated — poisonous. i don’t want you eating that plastic.”

(why would you want to, when you have him to make you anything you want?)

you bite down on your lip, trying to hide a smile. he sounds cute when he gets riled up. ”aw. i like it, though...”

a moment passes.

”alright, then.” his voice is controlled, hiding every single tinge of his carefully concealed frustration. he must have been an actor in a past life, to sound so effortlessly unperturbed. ”go buy yourself one of those cheap, awful, bland cappuccinos you love so much. i’ll pay.”

your lips twitch upward. he’s just being snarky, you know he is; but you still bundle up his sweater with your fists, and shake your head. ”i’m just kidding,” you purr, biting back another yawn. ”only want yours.”

sukuna stills. silent, once more. trying not to acknowledge how your words tug at his heartstrings, chew at the bones of his ribcage. something akin to pride sprouts in his chest, and it’s enough to get him to smooth his thumb over your knuckle again. content.

finally, the kitchen falls silent. only the low purring of the coffee machine to fill your ears, until that dwindles out too. a kind of peace settles in the air. something holy, sukuna thinks.

something that makes him feel human.

he moves his hands delicately, tenderly. attentive, as he pours hot espresso into your cup, slowly and gracefully, a delicate rhythm to his steady hands. just thinking of how warm you feel, like this, how you touch him like he’s harmless, like he could do no wrong in your eyes. how your voice sounds so pretty in the wake of a new morning, when it’s just a little raspy, unguarded in a way that makes him feel like he’s cradling a wounded bird in his arms. something fragile and majestic.

he pretends not to like the sound of it, the way it distracts him from his extensive brewing process; but sukuna thinks he’d do just about anything to hear it once more. absolutely anything.

”what are you thinking about, sukuna?”

”nothing,” he’s quick to hum. maybe a little too quick, but before you can question it, he scoffs. ”are you gonna cling to me all day, you little brat?”

”… can i?”

sukuna clicks his tongue.

(he’s awfully lucky you don’t look up to see the cherry red tint of his pierced ears.)

three little words begin to crawl up his throat. he can feel them, ticklish, heavy, and gulps them down before they get too far. busying himself with the clinking of coffee cups and stirring of silver spoons.

then he’s turning around, to face you properly. blowing a little on the cup, a fragrance of espresso spreading throughout the kitchen, blending with the flowers by the windowsill. he hands you a cup of coffee, made just the way you like it, glancing at your forehead; wondering if he should pair it with a kiss.

maybe later.

”careful. it’s hot,” he hums. then he’s turning around to prepare his own cup, while you murmur your thanks, squeezing at his waist affectionately. taking a sip of the bitter brew.

a warm cup of coffee, thoughtfully crafted, only to be passed into your awaiting hands. the same transaction you repeat every single morning. the same act, conveying the same sentiment; those three little unspoken words.

you take another sip, and a smile blooms on your lips.

your stomach is growling.

it’s been ten minutes since it started. ten minutes since you noticed the pit of hunger in your gut, growing more and more for every passing second; and you’re trying to ignore it, valiantly, sitting in your cubicle and mentally cursing yourself for being so scatterbrained.

how on earth could you forget your own lunch?

a pang of ache bubbles up in your stomach, and you curl into yourself. sitting on a not-so-comfy chair, doing your best to survive, staring at the clock on the wall and watching the minutes tick down.

only twenty minutes left of your lunch break.

in hindsight, it was inevitable. inevitable that you’d burn yourself out, a bit, that it’d make you lose sleep, that your fatigued brain would eventually forget something so important. so fundamental to your peace of mind.

you need your lunch to focus properly — there’s no way in hell that you’ll make it through the work day otherwise. you could accept your fate and go buy a sandwich and a can of coffee, but…

(dammit.)

sukuna always makes your lunches himself. tailored to suit your tastes, to give you the nutrients and energy you need not to lose your mind or set the building on fire, with all the hours you spend staring into your computer screen and writing until your brain turns to mush. they’re always delicious, always lovingly made, and you think you might break down and cry if you have to settle for a cheap sandwich instead.

a sigh slips from your lips. your coworker shoots you a sympathetic glance, hearing yet another of your stomach’s agonized growls. she taps at your desk to get your attention, and you look up to meet her kind eyes.

”my offer still stands, you know?”

you give her a smile. ”no, it’s fine,” you murmur, rubbing the back of your neck. ”eating someone else’s handmade food just wouldn’t feel right…”

”he spoils you, huh?”

a huff. you pout a little, and she chuckles, going back to eating from her bento. it’s hard not to feel jealous. it’s even harder not to think of the bento still waiting for you in your fridge.

finally, you resign yourself to your tragic fate. putting both palms on your desk, ready to lift yourself up; doomed to survive on a cheaply made sandwich and a too-sweet can of coffee. it’s not ideal, not at all — but it is what it is.

if only you hadn’t forgotten it…

”you’re a klutz.”

something is placed directly in front of you. two boxes, stacked on top of each other, wrapped up in a pink cloth. tied neatly, smelling just slightly of food. tantalizing.

you raise your head.

sukuna has one eyebrow raised, a mild expression of disbelief painted on his face. unimpressed, as he gazes down at you, hair tousled and slicked back. wearing a leather jacket, black like the tattoos etched into his skin, on his face, a larger one running in streams of ink from his shoulder down to his forearm. you can see a tiny bit of it, crawling towards his collarbone. equally tantalizing.

a click of his tongue breaks you out of your silent stupor — unable to do anything but look at him. like he just fell out of the sky.

”sukuna,” you sputter, finally, glancing down at the bento and then back up at him. ”you —”

”you’re lucky i noticed,” he cuts you off. ”almost didn't make it in time.” one glance at the clock on the wall, and he’s placing a can of peach tea on your desk; it’s still covered in condensation, his fingers leaving prints on the exterior. ”i should go. doubt your bosses will be very thrilled to have a motorcycle parked outside.”

”ah.” you fall silent. looking down at your lap with a weak smile, a little too ashamed for his liking. ”… sorry, ’kuna. i know you’re busy.”

he gazes down at you where you sit, slumped in your chair, bags beneath your weary eyes. an apologetic smile on your lips, just a little dejected. like you’re being scolded.

(his eyes soften.)

sukuna shakes his head. only slightly, by a hair, but enough to put you at ease — to let you know he isn’t upset, that grumpy is simply his default state. his voice shifts into a lower, softer tone. ”just don’t forget it next time.”

then he flicks your forehead. gently, not enough force behind it to even sting. ”klutz,” he says, again, and you know it’s a term of endearment.

a smile sprouts on your lips. you sit up straight, eyes crinkling as you look at him, before falling down on the bento in front of you — practically drooling as you think about the meal you’re about to have.

”thank you,” you coo, a sweet grin on your lips. voice tingling with barely contained fondness, expression and posture brightening as you tap your feet beneath your desk. meeting his gaze. ”i love you.”

something smooths over sukuna’s face; something you can’t quite put your finger on. his lips are pursed, and his amber eyes simmer with something awfully fond. swirling like the spots of sunlight on the wall just behind him.

it’s brief, easy to miss — a single tug of his lips. the tiniest little smile.

his hand reaches out, fingertips ghosting over your skin as he brushes through your bangs; adjusting them. and you know it’s just an excuse to touch you, that he’d let himself be greedy and ruffle your hair if you weren’t in public. he doesn’t like having an audience, small as it may be.

(but he can’t really control himself, when it comes to you.)

”make sure to eat all of it,” he hums, glancing out the window, towards the motorcycle parked outside. ”i’ll come pick you up later.”

you smile, and sukuna leaves. elegant, even in the way he moves. collected and confident, languid, long legs and a broad back. the warmth of his palm on your head remains, as you wave after him with a cheery see you soon!

and it’s finally time. with an eager kind of giddiness, you begin to unwrap your bento — ignoring your still growling stomach, the jealous mutters of your coworker, the ticking of the clock on the wall. from outside the window comes a ray of sunshine, a streak of gold falling across the floorboards. it illuminates the contents of your lunch, and you swallow down a gulp.

the presentation is lovely, as always. the top layer carries a mouth-watering cutlet, a wide array of little vegetables, fresh and clean, while the bottom one has a couple perfectly formed onigiri. they’re awfully cute, shaped into little pandas, decorated with dried seaweed and sesame seeds. you pick one up, holding it in the light of the glittering sun seeping in through the window behind you — it’s so cute you almost don’t want to eat it at all.

”did he really make that..?” your coworker mumbles, still chewing on her own food. you’re too hungry to respond.

you fish out a tiny note, tucked between the boxes. that’s where he usually puts them. you don’t remember when it started, but you know he enjoys it; writing down little reminders or words of encouragement. his handwriting is beautiful, clear and concise. your eyes trail over every little word, every letter, the little scribble in the middle. it makes you smile.

you’ve been working hard lately. don’t overdo it. the company won’t fall apart if you slack off every once in a while. i lo we can watch that show you like when you get home.

a warmth spreads through your body, from the pit of your stomach down to the tips of your fingers; your heart constricting to make room for the love that blooms between your ribs. you barely even notice the wide smile on your lips, leaning forward to leave a little kiss on the paper. it’ll have to do, since he isn’t here to receive it himself.

and as you dig in, savouring every piece of food he made, you’re almost certain you can feel it. that burst of emotion he always tries to contain, the three little words that always sputter out on the tip of his tongue.

the cutlet is perfectly crispy, juicy on the inside, practically melting on your tongue. seasoned thoroughly, cooked to completion, so tasty it makes your mouth water. the onigiri are stuffed with a wide array of fillings, fluffy rice blending nicely together with the contents, little grains sticking to the corners of your mouth. and the veggies are cut into cute little star shapes, light and refreshing, balancing the meal and making you wolf everything down with a bright smile.

there’s love, in this, in every meal he makes for you. there’s love in the way he’s picked out your favorite ingredients and seasonings, love in the way he’s put so much effort into the presentation alone. love, love, love. you can practically taste it on your tongue.

the peach tea tastes sweet and fruity, and you gulp it down eagerly, bento left empty. there are only five minutes left until you have to start working again — but you feel nowhere near as spent as before. you think of his hands, his eyes. his love.

god, you can’t wait to get home.

a soft, orange glow simmer in the kitchen, an atmosphere too sweet not to savour.

your dining room table is covered in a white cloth, burdened by the weight of one burning candle and an expensive vase; stuffed with camellias in all hues, jasmine buds and pretty bluebells, floral scent mingling with the cinnamon-like one of the scented candle. every inhale fills your senses with pure bliss.

not to mention the food.

you’re drooling. you’re sure of it. eyes darting from plate to plate, dish to dish, overwhelmed by the delicacies; trays of sushi, perfect cuts of salmon and tuna cushioned by soft rice, maki rolls stuffed with all your favorite toppings, plenty of soy sauce in tiny cups. fried shrimp, a golden colour, fluffy and crispy, and miso soup topped with garlic and cubes of tofu, steam rising from the ceramic bowls. and then, of course, his infamous dumplings, grilled on both sides — a perfect golden brown.

all your favorites.

sukuna takes hold of a teapot, made of glass, stuffed with a blooming chrysanthemum. petals stretching out like rays of sunlight in the golden water. he pours it into two ceramic cups, and then promptly drags a chair out for you; a silent beckoning.

but all you can do is stare.

”sukuna…”

he quirks a brow, meeting your astonished stare, eyes round and confused like a puppy’s; painfully cute. he could eat you up. ”what?”

you open your mouth, then close it again. silent, furrowing your brows as if in deep contemplation. ”our anniversary is in august, right?” something panicked smooths over your face. ”i didn’t forget?”

a sigh spills from his lips. ”don’t be dumb,” he clicks his tongue, glancing away for no more than a moment. ”we haven’t had much time to eat together, lately. that’s all.”

(he missed you. he wanted to spoil you, a bit.

he could say it out loud; but he chooses not to.)

either way, he knows you get the message. because suddenly your eyes glimmer, and a full smile blooms on your pretty lips. you waste no time in plopping down on the seat in front of you, right across from sukuna. ”hehe. thank you, baby.”

he huffs. tiny, more of a shy little breath. ”alright, already. eat. before it gets cold.”

”okay, okay!”

he watches as you grab your chopsticks, hungrily eyeing all the dishes on display. listening to his own heartbeat; thrumming, softly, just behind his ribs. pulsating like a fish gasping for air.

”gosh. when did you even do all this?” you ask, soaking in the intimate atmosphere, as he runs an absent hand through his hair. still smelling lightly of coconut oil from the shower he took.

”when you were away.” he reaches for the cup in front of him, tracing the tips of his fingers against the ceramic. ”jin helped. not with the cooking, obviously, but…” he raises it to his lips before taking a sip. ”the ambience. i suppose.”

a hum. you raise your hand, reaching for the bouquet of flowers. ”did he bring these, too?”

a curt nod is all you get.

it’s enough to have your lips raising up into a smile; fingertips brushing against the petals, pink and yellow, cupping the flowers like they’re made of glass. ”no wonder. do you know what bluebells symbolize?”

sukuna stills. he meets your gaze, eyes trailing towards your knuckles, your fingers, how they blend together with the petals. how he could almost mistake them for stalks. he leans back in his chair, and mutters under his breath;

”why else would i ask him to buy them?”

you blink. not in surprise, but realization — the sweet kind, like a splash of citrus blooming on your tongue.

(he’s always been a bit of a sap, hasn’t he.)

”… that’s true,” your lips split into a sheepish smile, hoping he won’t feel the heat of your cheeks from this distance. ”they’re pretty. thank you.”

another little furrow of his brows. ”enough of that,” comes a sigh. ”if you really want to thank me, make sure the food doesn’t go to waste.”

you stifle a giggle, reaching for the bowl of miso soup. following his advice.

sukuna watches you dig in with a certain look in his eyes, something alert and attentive, soft in the corners. resting his chin on the heel of his palm, waiting patiently for the little blissful sighs to start spilling from your lips. wallowing in the finely crafted atmosphere, pleasant scents and soft lighting, the air brimming with something tender and raw.

he spent all day preparing this. planning out every single meal, waiting for jin to arrive with the scented candles and flowers, leaving his homemade ice cream in the freezer for later. cleaning the kitchen until not a single speck of dust remained. cathartic, to immerse himself into cooking for you, cutting tofu and vegetables into little cubes and slices, fiddling with the temperature settings and watching blue flames lick at the stove like hungry snakes. gutting the fish he bought fresh from the market, dipping large shrimps into boiling oil.

there’s something powerful about it, something he can’t quite put his finger on. something that makes him feel at ease. and it’s tender — the act of creation, of feeding someone you care for. he didn’t appreciate that part of the process until you came into his life. he didn’t truly love cooking, either.

(he doubts he’ll ever tell you, but he won’t ever stop being grateful for that.)

you continue to eat, sipping from the soup, dipping sushi into soy sauce, munching at the tempura, humming happily to yourself. you look so pleased, so content, like the cat that got the cream.

sukuna watches. his eyes stay glued to your fingers, the way you hold your chopsticks, the grain of rice that sticks to the corner of your lip after a particularly big bite. his ears stay keen, intent on picking up on every little joyous hum behind your teeth. even while eating, he’s feeding off your reactions; every expression you bless him with. he fell in love with the way you eat many years ago.

”so good,” you moan, closing your eyes in pure bliss, and he has to take a sip of his tea to cover the smug smile on his face.

”make sure to finish what’s on your plate,” is all he says, but the honeyed note in his voice gives his satisfaction away. pleased by your approval. ”i made dessert, too.”

at that, your eyes light up even further, swirling with something excited and sweet, and he fails to hold back an amused little huff.

the evening continues. you eat your fill, warm soup and fried food and sugary ice cream, and promptly fall asleep on the couch in the middle of a romcom he only watches for your commentary. snoozing on his shoulder, all tuckered out. always so sleepy after eating.

he brushes a strand of hair away from your face, the tips of his fingers gliding across your soft skin. he spares a moment to admire you, under the soft glow of the living room lights — unable to shake away that greedy vein beneath his skin. if it was possible, he’d admire you forever; but there’s no way you’d ever sit still for so long.

so he carries you to bed. big, strong, tattooed arms, lifting you up with ease, like a baby bird in the maw of a rottweiler. handling you with the utmost care, tucking you under the covers, leaning forward to press a single kiss between your brows —

and then you smile.

…

sukuna stills. he watches you, watches you, watches you, every single miniscule motion of your facial features.

then he pinches your cheek.

”owww!”

your eyes flutter open, flashing with betrayal, and sukuna only gives you that signature click of his tongue. ”did you really think you could trick me so easily?”

”i did! you carried me here!” your lips fall into a petulant frown, as you scramble to sit up straight against the fluffy pillows. he only rolls his eyes.

”i wanted to appease you,” he says, and you almost fall for it because it’s not quite a lie. ”such a brat. can’t even walk on your own, huh?”

”well, pardon me for wanting my sweet fiancé to hold me.”

”i hold you all the time.”

”it’s not the same,” you sigh, two little shakes of your head. ”whatever. you wouldn't get it.”

sukuna quirks a brow, but doesn’t push it. instead, he releases the slightest exhale, eyes blooming with amusement, his palm finding its way to your tousled hair. smoothing down your skull.

”go back to sleep,” he beckons, softly, almost hypnotically. his voice is at its most tender when it’s late at night; a little too exhausted to sharpen his syllables properly. ”i’ll hold you later.”

”… you’re not joining me?” you ask, eyes filling with confusion, and he feels a slight tug at his heart — a little string that ties him to you.

”i need to plan next week’s meals,” he mutters, watching as you furrow your brows, meeting his gaze with a pair of disappointed puppy dog eyes.

you know he’s weak to them.

”don’t pout,” he scoffs, looking away for the briefest little moment. weak. ”i'll do it quickly.”

”you always say that,” comes a heavy sigh. you bundle up the covers with your fists, shooting him a bitter little glance. ”but it always takes forever.”

”don’t complain,” he tuts. tilting his head, pink locks falling across his forehead, his maroon eyes. ”haven’t i pampered you enough tonight?”

at that, you fall silent. still pouting.

he tries not to feel bad. he wants to sleep with you; but he can’t. sunday nights are for meal planning. they have been since you first moved in together, and he’s not planning to put a fork in the road of his carefully nurtured routine anytime soon. he needs to make sure you eat balanced meals, get all the vitamins you need — it’s practically life and death.

still, it itches at him. the way you gnaw at your bottom lip, curl in on yourself. you look sleepy and disappointed, and the bed looks empty, which only makes you look smaller in comparison. you look small and lonely and sad.

(it makes him wish he could unhinge his jaw and swallow you whole; keep you tucked between his ribs, where you'll be warm and safe. but he brushes the thought away.)

for a moment, he’s entirely still. then his pinkie twitches, beckoning him to you. there it goes, again, that invisible string. he takes a step forward, crouching down to meet you at eye level.

”sorry,” he breathes, barely above a whisper. the word feels foreign on his tongue, but he swallows the discomfort. ”i’ll hurry. you have my word.”

you blink.

then you’re smiling, again. flipping onto your side, sluggishly, just to face him fully. ”’kay.” you reach out for his hand. ”don’t complain if i’m knocked out when you get back, though.”

he looks at your intertwined fingers. brushing his thumb across your skin, a hum buzzing in his throat. affectionate, despite his teasing. ”i wont have to listen to your nightly tangents, then.”

”you love my nightly tangents!”

a snort pushes past his lips. ”sure,” he smirks, ever so slightly, snarky enough to make it sound like a lie. because he does love them.

he loves hearing your voice turn delirious, all sleepy and dreamy with fatigue, loves your stupid questions and even stupider answers. he loves being kept awake on nights when he feels too stiff to sleep, when he knows he’s going to have that dream again; a dream of crumbling buildings and burning flesh, of moonlight on asphalt and blood underneath a young boy’s fingernails.

a dream where he looks at you and feels nothing but apathy — far more grueling than any of the bloodshed.

(you chase those ghosts away, ground him back to a sweetened life. one that smells of cinnamon and sunlight and ripe fruit.)

sukuna does love your nightly tangents. but you don’t need to know that, so he doesn’t say it. he keeps it locked behind his teeth, under his tongue.

he squeezes your palm.

and then he’s rising to his feet. you follow him with your eyes, blinking drowsily, cheek smooshed against the soft mattress. he resists an uncharacteristic coo.

”g’night, honey,” you muster up a sweetened grin, teeth shining like stars. ”don’t stay up too late, okay?”

he hums; a silent i won’t. there are some things he won’t speak aloud, because he knows you’ll hear them anyway.

”pleasant sleep,” he murmurs, raising a hand up to card through his hair. blinking away the fatigue — until a soft bout of laughter spills from out your throat.

”pleasant sleep?” you echo, grin teetering on something mischievous; a sleepy snort pushing past your lips. ”what are you, a fucking vampire?”

sukuna blinks.

then he’s clicking his tongue, that familiar sound, and pushing your face into the fluffy pillow on your bed — muffling your little giggles. gentle, his large palm on the back of your head. affectionate.

”behave,” he tuts, but he’s grinning. your giggles don’t fade away, even when he’s turning on his heel and walking out of your bedroom.

”sweet dreams, count dracula!”

he throws a glance over his shoulder, meeting your crinkled eyes. ”you’re not getting any breakfast tomorrow.”

ignoring your muffled, distressed whine, sukuna hides a fond smile behind his palm. biting down on his bottom lip to keep it at bay — absently deciding on what to make for your breakfast tomorrow. pancakes or waffles? maybe he’ll skip the vanilla ice cream, this time. just to teach you a lesson.

when he returns, half an hour later, you’re fast asleep. curled up under the covers, drool slipping down your bottom lip. he tucks you into his neck, and mouths the words into your ear — three little words, always those same little words, never quite spoken in more than a whisper, as if he fears his voice would break under their pressure.

but his breath fans against the shell of your ear, and you absently nuzzle into your arms. as if you understand. that silent language between you.

he wonders if you realize how much you mean to him.

sukuna doesn’t tell you that he loves you, but you know. you know, because it’s in everything he does.

you know that he loves you because he actually allows you into his kitchen, when anyone else would be chased out with a pitchfork. because he doesn’t push you away when you wrap your arms around his waist, over his cream-coloured apron, even though you know it distracts him while he’s cooking dinner — only ever clicking his tongue or making a noise of disapproval, placing a palm over your forearm. muttering little harmless grumbles of it’s like you want to get first degree oil burns.

you know that he loves you because you’re always the first to taste his food, without fail, the first person he goes to when he tries a new recipe. and you appreciate it, even when you joke about how honoured you are to test your king’s meals for poison. he quirks a brow and threatens to take the food away, sure, but then there’s always that one flicker of amusement in the amber of his eyes.

you know because he grills his dumplings extra on both sides, just how you like it, because he forms his onigiri into pandas just to see you smile. because he knows how to make your perfect cup of coffee by heart, and refuses to use anything less than an absurdly expensive coffee machine, beans he grinded into powder with his own two hands.

because he believes you deserve nothing but the best, nothing less than the finest delicacies this world has to offer. wholeheartedly.

you know that he loves you because it’s there. you can feel it, in every stolen glance, every slight smile when you finally dig in. you can feel it in the way the cutlet melts on your tongue, the way the bitter espresso runs down your throat, the warmth that blossoms in your chest when you catch him watching you with the faintest glimmer of a content smile.

a silent declaration, a hymn you can always hear if you strain your ears enough —

i love you, i love you, i love you.

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #sukuna fluff #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #jjk fluff #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader

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anashins · 4 months

Text

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

paigestrap · 2 months

Text

i need you.

paige bueckers x fem!reader

warnings? smut (minors dni), light angst and fluff, swearing

summary - you and paige are friends until you aren’t 🤭🤭

enjoy!!! (please?) even if u don’t pls don’t tell me i’m sensitive.

you couldnt identify the point at which your friendship with paige grew into something more. meeting her in one of your soc classes when she showed up late and sat next to you, you two became friends almost instantly.

you knew who she was of course, had gone to many of the uconn women’s basketball game. and you would never tell her, but you were definitely a fan from the start, her game and personality being a major draw, and maybe also the fact that she was beautiful, like really really beautiful (a fact you would also never tell her).

you two started hanging out pretty much everyday, whether you were doing work, going out to eat, or hanging out with her and the rest of the team at a bar after games, the two of you had become quite comfortable in each others company.

but one day, things started to change. when your shoulders would touch watching your favorite show with her next to you, it sent electricity throughout your entire body, you felt yourself looking forward to the times when your hand would brush hers while walking side by side with her to class, your mood would lighten when she would text you to hangout or simply tell you about her day, and the time you spent together felt more and more intimate as your fondness for the blonde grew.

sometimes, it felt like paige was feeling the same thing you were. her eyes would linger for longer than you felt a friend’s eyes should, her touches felt more intentional, her compliments more frequent, and her words gentler. there were times when you both were alone where it seemed like the two of you were so close to crossing that line. like the first time she asked you to spend the night, and you woke up the next morning in her arms. or when she asked you to wear her jersey to her game the next day, and of course you obliged. she asked you afterwards if you would wear her jersey for every one, justifying her request by saying you’re her “good luck charm” and of course her good luck charm needs to rep her jersey, and of course, you obliged. when you were out with her at the bar and the two of you had been drinking she would constantly be touching you, hugging you, and telling you how much you meant to her. you couldn’t tell if this was paige being paige, or if she was truthful in her words and actions.

these moments were always left unspoken, as neither you nor her felt confident enough to ever cross that line. but your heart yearned for her. her touch, her voice, her laugh, her beautiful mind. and it was getting harder and harder everyday to hide your feelings.

now, with her returning to campus after the uconn women’s basketball team lost to iowa in the final four, you feel those inhibitions being lifted. your phone screen lit up as her contact appeared on your lock screen.

p: need u rn. can u come over?

you: of course, i’m on my way

as you walk out of your apartment to make your way to your friend you realize now the extent to which you feel for her and you want nothing more than to hold her in your arms and comfort her.

“hey,” she says, opening the door for you, her face betraying her overwhelming grief. you don’t say anything, you just pull her into a hug as she lets out her first of many tears.

“i know. i’m so sorry paige. you deserved the win, you all did” you say, comforting her while also holding back tears of your own.

“can we go to my room, just wanna be with you right now,” her tear stained eyes meet yours, and your heart swells at the urge to kiss her tears away.

“of course, i’m here for whatever you need, always” you say, grabbing her hand as the two of you make your way towards her room.

“i wish you’d been there, missed you so much it’s crazy,” she admits as you both lay down side by side in her bed. her eyes never breaking away from yours.

“i missed you too paige, im so sorry i couldn’t be there for you. i hope you know how much i wish i could’ve” you pull her into your arms and embrace her as her tears begin to fall again.

“i think,” she starts, but stops herself and pauses for a long time. you are about to ask her about it before she continues, “i think i realized something about myself this weekend”

another pause. your heart beats faster, you curse yourself knowing paige could feel it too. “what’s that,” your voice is barely audible as you struggle to get the words out.

“i need you, like i really really need you. ever since i met you i just wanna be by you all the time. when we lost i just wanted you to be there and,” she propped herself up to look at you before pulling you in to a tight embrace “i’m scared that you don’t need me too” her voice breaks at the end, shattering any hope of disguising her emotions.

“oh paige, you have no idea,” you say, feeling yourself breaking at her words. you pull away from her embrace and stare into her eyes, searching for a reason not to let your walls fall. you don’t see one, “i need you like i need oxygen to breathe. the world feels muffled when you’re not next to me, i admire everything about you and i’ve never felt this way about another person before. i’ve been so scared these past few weeks that i’ll lose you if you find out how much i want you, but i can’t go on pretending i think of you as my friend when you are so much more than that.” there it is. there’s no going back now. your eyes move away from hers as you await her response.

“baby,” she whispers, hand moving to caress your cheek as she gently pulls your face in her direction, “you’ll never lose me,”

suddenly, the space between you feels so small, and in a swift motion she closes the gap between you and kisses you. the world around you begins to spin as all of your senses become heightened. you feel yourself kiss back, not too hard, not too soft, and suddenly the emotions brimming for the past months come flooding to you all at once.

her hands meet your waist as she shifts her weight to be positioned on top of you, your legs opening as she places herself in between them, never breaking your kiss.

she eventually breaks it to look down on you, a million emotions displayed on her face. she reconnects your lips with hers and you feel yourself giving in completely, desire for the blonde blooming as her kisses grow hungrier. “i want you so bad” she says breathlessly in between kisses. her tongue grazes your bottom lip, requesting entrance, and as with all of her requests, you oblige.

“please, paige,” you let out, suppressing the moans threatening to slip out as her tongue explores your mouth. you tug on her shirt, needing to feel her body closer. she takes it off and removes your shirt as well. leaving you in only your bra on top. she smiles as she looks at your now exposed body.

“god, your tits are fucking amazing,” she remarks, staring at them lustfully. you blush, suddenly feeling so exposed. her hands reach your back as she unclasps the final layer, removing your bra and revealing your bare chest. she fondles your tits and the sudden touch elicits a moan you didn’t have the restraint to hold back. her hands feel so good, and you desperately need them somewhere else, “i wanna fuck you so bad babe”

“god paige please i need you so badly” you whine, so far gone at this point to even try to hide your burning desire.

“yeah?” she grins, biting her lip and licking her lips, “where do you need me, my sweet girl, show me”

you pull yourself up and remove your bottoms, leaving you in nothing but your underwear. you grow increasingly aware of how wet you are, and embarrassed at how obvious it is. her hands roam your body and she grips both of your thighs, her gaze lowering to your heat. “you’re so wet, all because of me?” she asks like she doesn’t know the answer and lets her finger graze over your clothed pussy. you moan as she touches your clit, grinding your hips desperate for more. “so needy baby, i’m gonna take these off now alright?” you nod as she removes your panties, leaving you completely exposed and at her expense.

her hand meets your bare pussy, rubbing in between your folds and onto your clit, eliciting a loud moan from you as your body reacts to her touch. you move your head to the side and close your eyes, letting the pleasure take over. but you are quickly brought back to reality when she stops touching you and takes your face into her hand, bringing it back to face her, “i want you to look at me when i fuck you, do you understand baby?” she plants a kiss on your lips and you nod in response, unable to say a thing.

her fingers move back towards your heat and she slides one into you, “how’s that sweet girl, does that feel good?”

“yes. please. more.” you whine, your body burning at her touch, desperately needing more.

“oh yeah?” she teased as she slipped another finger in you, slowly pumping them in and out of you, curling them so she could feel them stretching against your walls.

you were done for. your body twisting and rutting against her, only causing her to quicken her pace inside you, never breaking your gaze for a second. “god you’re so fucking gorgeous like this, all mine”

your senses overloaded by her hungry words and quickening pace, you felt yourself nearing your climax “paige, please don’t stop. i’m so close” you beg, causing her to fuck you harder and faster.

“yeah? come for me baby, you’ve done so well, my pretty girl,” that was all it took to force you over the edge. you come hard, screaming out her name as the pleasure enveloped your entire body. she fucks you through your orgasm, whispering in your ear the entire time telling you how pretty you look and how good you are.

the wave of pleasure subsiding and your senses gradual coming back to you, she slides her fingers out of you, licking your wetness off of them and falling back onto your smaller figure.

“holy shit” you breathe out, panting. suddenly feeling very sleepy.

“yeah, holy shit.” she laughs, “you’re so fucking hot, you know that?” you blush at her compliment, burying your face in her chest.

“do you still think i don’t need you?” you ask, looking up at her with a shy smile. she grins, giving you a sweet kiss and looking at you with so much endearment it makes your heart swell.

“no, i’m pretty sure you made yourself clear” she laughs, pulling you closer.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers smut #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #wlw #paige bueckers gf #wlw smut #smut #paige bueckers x reader #it’s five in the morning please excuse any grammar errors

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mrsdarkandyandere7 · 3 months

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Marriage Proposal

Pairing: Dark Peter Parker x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

SUMMARY: You should’ve broken up with Peter long ago. Now you deal with the consequences.

WARNINGS: --

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

–

You reluctantly look up from your plate at the feeling of a hand covering your own, the warmth irradiating from the firm palm making you itchy to remove the hand, but you let it be.

"Happy anniversary, babe.” Peter smiles at you, so genuine and loving, and you force your lips to stretch into a pleasant smile.

“I can’t believe we’ve been together for a year now. I feel like we’ve only met yesterday but here we are.” he says with a chuckle.

“It’s as if time flies away when you’re in love, right?”

You weakly nod, opting to bring the wine glass to your lips to give you an excuse to avert eyes. But that doesn’t stop the turmoil of emotions that devastates you inside, the guilt eating you away.

You’re a horrible girlfriend. And a coward one too. One that keeps prolonging and dragging time, too timid to break-up.

Not tonight, you decide, delaying the confrontation furthermore. Peter is so happy and you’d hate to break his heart on such an occasion.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

“This place is really gorgeous, I love it.” you say, allowing your eyes to wander around the restaurant.

The place is indeed pretty. Elegant but at the same time, private and personal. It suits Peter.

Tension accompanies throughout the entire dinner as you play the girlfriend role dutifully, pretending to laugh at Peter’s jokes and smiling at him.

A part of you feels so bad for it, there used to be a time where you actually loved Peter.

You still like and respect him, he’s a great guy, unlike many men. But you’re no longer the same person that you were when you meet him.

And Peter…

He’s the one that took a 180º change. Deep inside, he probably means well, intending to protect you but that isn’t enough to make you stay.

Not if you want to have a toxic-free life. A life without having to answer a full interrogation when you plan to hang out with friends.

A life without having to call and text your boyfriend about what you’re doing, otherwise he’ll most likely show up at your workplace, face pinched with worry because you failed to contact him.

You’re so caught up by your thoughts that you wince, surprised when people start clapping and cheering, everyone’s attention fully on your table.

When you confusedly look for Peter, your whole world drops.

The world seems to stop when you look to your side as Peter gets down on one knee, a jittery smile curling his lips.

Your face drops in horror, mind frozen and unable to think.

“Peter…”

“I know, I know.” he brushes you off, joy irradiating from him, “Just let me say this first, yeah? I’m so nervous.”

Your mouth opens and closes a few times and you blink, unable to fully comprehend what’s going on. This can’t be true…

This has to be a prank, there’s no way that Peter is actually proposing to you. But your doubts are swiftly cleared as a small and elegant velvet box appears in the scene.

No…

Peter clears out his throat with a small noise before looking at you, and you realize how nervous he actually is, a light layer of sweat in his forehead.

“I had this whole speech ready, you know. Been preparing it for weeks now.” he confesses after a long moment, shaking his head.

“Tony helped me write it. Lots of fancy poetic words and-and I completely forgot all of it.”

“But what I really wanna say is that I love you, Y/N.” Peter declares, his voice gaining determination, “From the moment I saw you, I knew that you were the one for me. I was lucky enough that you gave me a chance to prove to you how much I care for you…”

Your heart tightens at those words and you clutch the table’s fabric, feeling yourself helpless.

“... and this past year has been amazing. The best year of my life. All because of you.” Peter smiles tenderly at you, his hands working on opening the velvet box and you feel yourself tensing up when a delicate silver ring comes into sight.

“So…Y/N L/N, will you give me the honor of being your husband?”

And just like that, you faintly nod, not trusting your voice to speak. Peter beams at you and you do your best to retribute, despite the numbness that strikes you like a bullet.

The restaurant explodes in a loud applause and Peter wastes no time in pushing the pretty ring on your hand, engulfing you in a tight hug.

“I love you so much.” he feverously kisses your head.

You push your face against his chest, hoping to hide the tears that burn in your eyes as you start regretting saying yes already.

#@mrsdarkandyandere7 #yandere avengers #yandere marvel #yandere peter parker #dark marvel #dark peter parker #dark peter parker x reader #yandere peter parker x reader #dark!peter parker #dark!peter parker x reader #yandere!peter parker #yandere!peter parker x reader #tw: yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #tw: toxic relationships

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itaipava · 4 months

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— lewis hamilton being a simp for you.

he loves to spoil you, so he always buys you all your favorite things and things that he is sure will be your favorite; he loves buying clothes, accessories, beauty products and he also makes sure that your home always has everything you like or want. and he also likes to surprise you, so sometimes you show him something you liked or he saw you researching something you really wanted and you think he forgot about it, but you are delightfully surprised to see him with a bright smile as he hands you a gift package when he gets home; he just hugs and kisses you, saying that you deserve much more than this gift.

so many little chivalrous gestures; he always walks outside the sidewalk, opens doors for you first or holds them for you to enter, gives you his jacket at the slightest sign of cold or, when you’re wearing shorter clothes and goes to sit down, he gives you his jacket so you can put it on your lap to feel more comfortable. he also protects your body in crowed places: always asking you if you’re okay or if you wanna go somewhere else.

he never lets you get overwhelmed with anything, so he always takes time out of his day to help you do whatever you need to do; he also makes sure you are eating well and loves to prepare dinner for you after a busy day; he cooks for you while you tell him about your day and he listens to everything and gives you advice (if you want). sometimes he gives you some of what he’s preparing for you to try and smiles proudly when you say it’s good.

he always helps you calm down when you have something important to do; like an exam or an important presentation. he gently massages your shoulders and leaves occasional light kisses on your neck as he says words of encouragement. he also makes tea for you and if you want he helps you revise and always tells you how proud he is of you; showering you with kisses and hugs to let you know he really means it. he also sends you text messages throughout the day wishing you good luck.

he always makes eye contact with you while you talk; as soon as you start talking to him, he turns off his phone and all his attention goes to you. it doesn’t matter if you’re just rambling about your day or telling him some funny story from your childhood, he looks at you intently while stroking your hand. he wants you to know that he is paying attention to everything you say because he absolutely loves listening to you and that everything you say is important to him.

he loves spending time with you and moments like this are so precious and unique to him; he loves your company and because of the races, sometimes he doesn’t get to spend as much time with you as he would like, so he makes the most of every second with you. it doesn’t matter if you’re just lying down while watching a movie on netflix or taking a calm walk around the city, any moment with you is perfect for him.

he loves wearing matching clothes with you; he loves it when you two wear the same piece of clothing or matching colors - he loves it even more when it happens accidentally. his smile is so pure and genuine that it makes your heart race. he also has a necklace with your initials that he never takes off and, of course, you have one just like him; with his initials and the number 44 engraved on the back. it’s something simple, but for you two it’s so special and important.

in addition to having your photo as wallpaper, he has a photo of you in his wallet; every time he sees your photo, he smiles a little when he remembers that he’ll be home soon; in your arms.

he keeps all your favorite things (and things you might need) in his house; your favorite sweets, tampons, medicines, your favorite tea or coffee, elastics and hair ties, chocolates, comfortable clothes.

he loves your quirks and mannerisms; little things you do and sometimes you don’t even notice, but he does and loves them. he loves every little detail about you and will never get tired of it.

#formula 1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #lewis hamilton fluff #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton

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lunarw0rks · 9 months

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who you think is the loudest one when they 🥜

LOUDEST TO QUIETEST;

graves — he's talkative and outspoken enough out of the bedroom, let alone in it. when he finishes, he can't stop himself from making noise. constant praise, constant mutterings. he only groans throughout, but once he's reached his climax; he moans. typically drawn out and low, paired with unintelligible praises for his partner.

price — unexpectedly loud. he doesn't look the type, but i feel like just can't. shut. up. price doesn't talk as much when he's finishing, not like graves, however, but his noises are noticeable. his grunts and deep breaths grow louder. audible heavy breaths, his brows furrowed in focus as he tries his best to maintain his rhythm to ride out his finish.

soap — talks his way through everything. he likes to think it's for his partner's enjoyment because it partially is, but it also aids him in encouraging the pleasure he's so deeply lost in. when he finally reaches his momentous finish— his mouth goes agape, but he's groaning audibly. loud, but not so much that the neighbors would be concerned.

könig — I don't picture könig outright moaning or whimpering, even when he's going to finish. it's short grunts and growls, low mutterings of praise/degrade into his partner's ear. but it's for him, to live whatever fantasy they've played out to get him to this point. as I mentioned in the other headcanons; he cums a lot, and for several seconds. it's the absence of moaning — instead, it's growly breaths and gasps with a clenched jaw.

alejandro — sometimes he's more vocal, other times he only groans a bit throughout the act. BUT when he's close, frankly, he's talking too much to let out many sounds of pleasure — which would be indistinct moans, anyhow. mainly to his partner, speaking in his native tongue, letting them know he's close, etc...

gaz — this one might be a bit disagreeable for some. but i feel like gaz makes little sound at all, aside from dialogue with whomever he's intimate with. kyle would be keener on talking through his pleasure, worshipping said partner, etc. even when he finishes, he's rather quiet. he sees no need for dramatics, even when he feels the intense rush of an orgasm. when he cums, he may gasp, then there's usually a devilish simper spread on his face, showing off his perfect teeth. if it's an intense session, he might moan a bit with each thrust/motion.

simon — an obvious choice for the bottom. though I think it would heavily depend on the mood of the evening; how vocal he is, also taking into account his partner's preferences. but in terms of moans/groans, noises in general; simon produces little. unless he's going at a wicked pace, where there'd be sharp grunts. but the majority of the time, his lips parted and mouth producing heavy breaths, maintaining as much eye contact as possible.

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wyattjohnston · 1 month

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closer than i ever even knew - quinn hughes

summary: quinn saves the day and goes mini-golfing

word count: 1.1k

note: happy belated birthday @fallinallincurls! this is much, much shorter than i anticipated and i hope it's short but sweet. muchas gracias to @offside-the-lines <3

bingo: friends to lovers | witty banter | fake dating | it’s always been you

It starts, like any good romance movie does, with an event she doesn’t want to go to and a friend willing to save the day.

The event isn’t even big or fancy, which makes the whole thing so funny. She’s under no obligation to bring anyone, let alone a romantic partner, but, during the busiest hour of her week, a coworker had asked if she was going to, and the ‘yes’ had slipped from her mouth before she’d even realised it was happening.

Thus, Quinn Hughes was playing mini golf at a "team bonding" event her company decided was a good idea.

Her intention hadn’t been to earn any brownie points by bringing him—he had volunteered himself, after all—but the second they arrived and her boss spotted Quinn Hughes, Captain of the Vancouver Canucks, she immediately grouped them with her, her wife and the next nearest couple.

They wasted no time in heading to the first hole, her boss taking the lead and making sure they weren’t stuck behind anybody else. Which turned out to be a good thing because Quinn was taking practice swings with the putter.

She rolled her eyes as she asked, “Are you taking this seriously, or are you having fun?”

“Are we on a team?”

“No, it’s individual.”

“Then I’m taking it seriously,” Quinn answered easily. “No way am I letting you win.”

The questions came through shortly after they started, nosing in on the relationship lie that resulted in Quinn joining them for the day. Well, they weren’t aware that it was a lie, of course.

Luckily for her, Quinn was all too happy to do the talking.

The lingering looks and touches had her wondering why Quinn pursued hockey when he would have been just as successful as an actor. Even though he was determined to win, the simple repositioning of her hands on the putter and the minute correction of the position of her hips were leaving her short of words.

“Is this good enough for you, Captain?” she called over her shoulder, teasing Quinn as she lined up for her next shot. The wiggle in her hips was joking—mostly involuntary even—but it immediately drew Quinn’s eyes, even though he was mid-conversation.

“You’ve got great form, babe.”

A wink accompanied the sentence and she had to look away so that her blush wouldn’t be seen by her coworkers. Or by Quinn.

It did mean that she turned around and focused on her putting, leading to a nice hole-in-one.

At various points throughout the afternoon, Quinn’s hand found hers. Their fingers intertwined in a perfect fit, and it took all her power to not act like it was a strange occurrence; she desperately wanted to get out of her head and enjoy those moments while they lasted.

Her boss, finally taking a break from talking about hockey, asked about how they met. The looks sent Quinn’s way were a discrete panic, but he didn’t seem to be facing the same problem.

“We had the same routine running the Sea Wall—seemed like fate that we kept running into each other when my schedule’s so chaotic, you know?” he answered, providing an entirely accurate retelling that had her shocked he hadn’t opted for something a bit more romantic. “She literally fell for me.”

“Me?” she nearly screeched, any confusion she was feeling or fluttering in her stomach was immediately overtaken by incredulity. “You tripped over a dog lead!”

“You distracted me, what can I say?”

There was some cooing that followed, and Quinn refused to make eye contact despite the cocky smile on his face. It was becoming increasingly difficult to tell whether it was all just for show.

Her boss ended up winning, after a lot of effort and a competitive nature that would rival anybody Quinn played with or against. She and Quinn shared many sideways glances with raised eyebrows at just how competitive she was.

The world stopped spinning when Quinn leaned in and whispered directly into her ear, “Still beat you, though.”

As they were leaving, Quinn took her hand again. It was so casual that she wasn’t sure any thought had gone into it at all—and with nobody looking their way, it did nothing to heighten their ruse. She glanced down at their hands, too distracted to even say a proper goodbye as Quinn earnestly told everyone he hoped to see them again soon—that also added to her confusion.

The streets of Vancouver were deeply familiar, etched into her brain from a young age with every slight raise in the concrete committed to muscle memory, so she knew that they were headed towards the water and away from either of their apartments the second Quinn chose a direction. The Sea Wall surrounding the city was her favourite part of it with nothing else even coming close.

“Weird time for a run?” she asked. She wiggled her fingers just to test the pressure. Quinn squeezed back. “I don’t want to go for a run right now.”

“Nobody is going for a run,” he said gently. “I didn’t even want to be going for runs but I saw you on that first day and kept going out just in case I’d see you again.”

She screwed up her face, the disbelief that ran through her had her pulling her hand from Quinn’s and huffing, “Don’t be stupid.”

“How am I being stupid?” There was a tinge of hurt in his voice that she so rarely heard; she felt it right in her chest.

“I don’t know, Q. I just don’t believe you went out of your way to find me. That’s not…” Her voice was muffled by the sound of the water rushing against the Sea Wall. “That doesn’t happen in real life. To me.”

Quinn stared at her, seemingly taking in every inch of her face, and she could only imagine the expression she was making. If she looked as pathetic as she felt, she would need to make sure she never saw him again.

“It’s happening to you.” he stressed. “Today was… Today… I’d like today to be every day.”

She had so many things she wanted to say but no ability to make them come out of her mouth. She felt no less pathetic than she did a moment earlier, though she did feel a little more hopeful. It had been a good day, even if confusing, and she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t been wanting something similar since they first met years prior.

“Why don’t you believe me?”

“Because you’re Quinn Hughes? Because you’re the Captain of the Vancouver Canucks? We’ve just spent the entire day with your ass being kissed—you could have your pick of any woman in Vancouver. We’ve been friends for like, what? Three years now and you’ve never—”

“I am now. I don’t want anybody else. I want you. It’s always been you.”

i would very much love to hear your thoughts if you have any, and would love if you'd reblog and share it with some more people <3

#quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #homemade fic #nobody saw me spell gracias wrong except for anyone who sees Kayla’s reblog #so many garcias

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chvoswxtch · 23 days

Note

Hi it’s @feelmyskinonyourskin (can’t ask off anon cause I’m a side blog) I’d love to order a macchiato over ice from Frank please!!!! Congrats on 4K!

hi darling! thank you so much!

I appreciate you giving me the freedom to discuss all my slutty thots about frankie. I think one thing that doesn't get talked about enough is that frank secretly likes it rough so let's discuss

as a reminder over ice means it's spicy! (minors dni)

headcannon below the cut

frank castle secretly likes it rough

i've said it once & i'll say it again, i'll die on this fucking hill: frank castle is a hopeless romantic. he's an old fashioned, brings you flowers on the first date, arrives fifteen minutes early, opens every door for you, doesn't hesitate to pay the tab, doesn't expect you to invite him inside, perfect gentleman

he's a giver. he makes sure his partner is well taken care of before he even thinks about himself. in all the flashback scenes with maria, she's on top, & frank is letting her set the pace & do whatever she wants

in his scene with beth, we see a snippet of something similar to that but, we also see a hint of frank exercising a bit of control. the way he grabs her face where he's essentially grabbing her neck & face bc his hand is so damn big, how he's gripping the sheets, pinning her to the mattress completely- he's clearly holding back bc he probably doesn't wanna go too far & scare her, but there is another side of him that is dying to come out

it's something you catch onto, & something you wanna explore. not that you don't love slow & sweet romantic sex with frank, or flirty playful sex when a few drinks have loosened him up, but you want something more

but frank being frank is never going to ask you to let him be rough. it would make him feel selfish to use your body for his own benefit. he's also terrified of going too far & hurting you. he's so violent & dangerous in so many other aspects of his life, & he never wants you to see that side of him

but you know that frank would rather die than hurt you, so you make it your mission to convince him that he doesn't have to hold back anymore

one night while you're laying in bed, both of you half undressed, frank lying between your hips as you two share a heated & sensual kiss, his hand glides downward from your cheek to your neck, giving it the faintest of a squeeze before letting go. reaching out to grab his wrist, you pull back & stare up at him

"stop holding back."

frank looks down at you in pure puzzlement. he doesn't understand what you're talking about. he cocks his head to the side & searches your eyes for an answer

"stop doin' what?"

maintaining eye contact with him, you bring his hand back to your throat, placing your hand on top of his and squeezing it to show him that it's okay

"I know there's a part of you that wants more, and so do I. you can let go, frank."

when he catches on to what you're saying, his confusion melts into a serious look of apprehension, & he starts to shake his head

"sweetheart-"

you expected him to protest, so you already have your argument ready. you're not backing down from this

"frank, you're not gonna hurt me. you don't have to treat me like i'm made of glass. you can be rough with me. I can take it."

frank doesn't budge. he's still got that apprehensive look in his eyes, but you also see a flicker of need. you squeeze his hand one more time over yours to show him that this is what you want too

"I know what my limits are, frank. if it's too much i'll tell you, and I trust you enough to know you'll stop."

frank is silent for a moment, & you're worried that he's going to keep being stubborn. but then you notice how his eyes darken, & the low timber of his voice makes you shiver

"you promise you'll tell me the second I do somethin' you don't like?"

your eyes light up with excitement that frank is actually considering it. nodding your head eagerly, you stare up at him, feeling heat spread throughout your lower half

"I promise."

those two words of consent make something inside of him snap. this time when he captures your lips, his kisses are more aggressive & demanding, & they travel down the column of your throat. he bites down on your neck, not hard enough to hurt you, but just enough to leave a possessive mark behind that makes you squirm. he soothes the sting with his tongue & continues his assault on your neck, savoring the noises it pulls from you

his large hands are everywhere. squeezing your breasts, gripping at your hips, kneading your thighs, leaving faint bruises behind in his wake, all evidence of him completely giving in to his own desire

normally frank eases into you & gives you a moment to adjust, but not tonight. as soon as his thick cock is buried to the hilt inside of you, he's snapping his hips relentlessly, pounding you into the mattress

one of his hands holds both of your wrists, keeping them pinned above your head, and his other grabs your neck. his thumb is on the left side of your jaw and his index finger is on the right side, holding your face in place, while the rest of his fingers are wrapped right around your pulse point applying a little bit of pressure. frank always wants to be able to see your face when he's fucking you, but especially right now. he wants to make sure you're enjoying this as much as he is, watching you closely for any sign of discomfort

but all he sees is your mouth hanging open & your eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head. incoherent moans are leaving your lips, & your cunt is squeezing his cock in a tight grip. it makes the last of his resolve vanish & he's leaning in to grunt in your ear, speaking in a low & rough voice

"this what you wanted, baby? wanted it rough like this, yeah?"

frank is repeatedly hitting that spot inside of you that only he's ever been able to reach, the one that makes supernovas explode behind your eyelids & renders you speechless. he chuckles darkly at your inability to speak

"look at you, takin' my cock so well. bein' such a good girl for me, yeah? lettin' me have you like this?"

the room is filled with the echoes of skin slapping against skin, frank's feral grunts, & your incoherent moans that keep rising higher in volume & pitch. frank has you completely at his mercy, pinned to the mattress beneath his large body, hands held captive above your head. you can't move, not like you even wanted to, & you can't hardly speak to tell him how close you are, but he knows. he always knows

"gonna come already, sweetheart? you like it that much? shh shh shh...I know baby, I know you do. I can feel it, yeah? such a good fuckin' girl. go on baby, come for me. you've earned it."

frank fucks you through your orgasm, but he doesn't stop. he's still relentlessly thrusting, & even though it's overstimulating, it feels too good to want to stop. he groans in your ear when he feels your walls tighten around his cock & flood him with your release, but he hasn't come yet. gripping onto your hips even tighter, his thrusts somehow get even rougher, & in a matter of minutes you're barreling towards another orgasm

"want ya to give me one more, sweetheart. you can do that for me, yeah? c'mon, be a good girl and come for me again. that's it...that's a good girl...that's fuckin' it baby."

only when he feels you come for the second time does frank finally give in to his own release. his hips stutter as he digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your thigh, grunting loudly while he's emptying himself inside of you

while you're trying to catch your breath, frank gently caresses your cheek with his thumb, a stark contrast to how he was grabbing your throat just minutes ago

"you alright, baby? wasn't too much, was it?"

all you can do is let out a breathless laugh, staring up at him in a haze of bliss and incredulity

"are you kidding me? I can't believe you've been holding back on me this whole time."

frank just looks down at you with a huge grin on his face, leaning in to kiss you softly

"I won't anymore, if it makes ya happy."

once again, i need to be put down like a rabid dog

#court's 4k followers celebration #court's 4k friends celebration #court's cafe #frank castle #frank castle x you #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle headcannon #frank castle request #frank castle smut #the punisher #the punisher headcannon #the punisher request #the punisher smut

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signedmio · 3 months

Note

Hello! how is it going? I’m so happy to see your requests are back open and that you also write for Helluva Boss now, so I wanted to request something for that! One of my favorite works of yours are the Hazbin Hotel things of reader finding the characters crying and comforting them, so I was thinking I’d love to request the same thing but for Helluva Boss characters. Maybe Blitzø, Stolas, Fizz and Moxxie x gn reader (either platonic or romantic is fine) where reader find them crying and comforts them? ❤️

also sorry if I messed up my english, it’s not my first language :)

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐳ø, 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬, 𝐦𝐨𝐱𝐱𝐢𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐳𝐳 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

a/n: MY FIRST HELLUVA REQUEST LETS GOOO. my first few requests for helluva might be a bit ooc due to the fact that i’m much more of a hazbin girly lol. i literally almost started crying writing blitzø’s part so PLSPLSPLSPLS enjoy that one esp 😋 i think this is one of the longest things i’ve ever wrote tbh LOL but okay enough of my yapping, enjoy

warnings: possible angst(?), platonic!moxxie, profanity, mentions of sex in blitzø and fizzarolli’s part, use of yn in moxxie’s part, ooc writing in all 4 parts😭

proofread: yessir 😎

tags: helluva boss, stolas, fanfic, blitzø, moxxie, fizzarolli, hb, x reader

𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐳ø

…always felt so trapped, despite the fact that maybe, just maybe, it was because of his own doing. and deep down, he knew that, whether he said it aloud or not.

he never thought the voices in his head could sound so real, he never thought his closest loved ones could seem so far, he never thought that his spirits could be so low, especially when those around him thought that they were so high.

when his daughter, his precious, his world, slammed her bedroom door in his face before screaming, “i fucking hate you!” against the clash of things being thrown from the other side of the door, he couldn’t stop his eyes from filling with tears.

blitzø didn’t know what in all of hell was up with him today, something mentally, that’s for sure.

he couldn’t help but feel a curl in his stomach watching millie and moxxie be all lovey throughout their shared shift, and not a good kind of ‘curl’, he couldn’t scroll through sinsta for three minutes without seeing a verosika-related post, either by her, or one of her sex deprived fans, and he had just gotten home from a meeting with stolas for their…monthly activities — and he couldn’t help but feeling like a shit boyfriend to the one he loved most, and fuck, even his loonie is mad at him now too??

the imp sluggishly moved across to the other side of his apartment and slumped onto the couch, his face being taken in by the warmth of the rough pillow, with his phone in his hands, he felt it vibrate.

if he got lucky, it might be an apology call from loona, as she was probably already out bitching with her friends at those stupid hound parties, thanks to vortex.

but no, it was a call, from you, normally he loved your late night conversations you both had with one another, but tonight? eh… it really wasn’t the time.

he stared at his screen for a moment, his eyes fixating on your contact info, the name displaying ‘babe’ with a red heart emoji, and the picture was a selfie you guys took together.

in the miniature version of the photo, it showed blitzø in a band t-shirt, sticking his tongue out with a ‘v’ to his lips, as you grinned at the camera, as you cuddled into his horns, it was the morning after your first time together, your bed head looked adorable, it could kill him.

he sighed softly, before pressing the ‘call’ button, putting the phone to his ear. “hey, babe!” you spoke from the other side, your voice slightly muffled from the quality of the mic in your phone.

that alone caused him to start sobbing all over again, ‘fuck fuck fuck fuck shit fuck fuck.’ he thought to himself, but that wasn’t what mattered now. you just sounded so happy, when he felt so shit, that’s one of the many things he loved about you, you were so strong, always saw the light.

“hey hey, shhh, blitzø, what happened??” you cooed through the phone, your heart ached for him, you rolled over onto your side while you laid in bed, curling up to the blankets, as you would to your boyfriend, if he were there with you.

all you got as a response were whimpers from the other line, a few hiccups here and there. “i need words, love.” you said, softly.

blitzø sniffled, “bad day..” his voice cracked as he spoke, although he did so, so softly, well obviously you’d seen him upset before, but never like this.

“wanna talk about it?” you asked, more than hesitant to do so, you knew blitzø was by no means good with his feelings, and you were lucky you got this far with him, considering some failed attempts from the past of you trying to ease him into opening up, but you had to try, it just felt right.

on the other hand, blitzø was just as nervous as you were, if not more, he had been through it all before, and for him, it had never ended pretty, but he loved you more than anything, and he knew he had to do this.

“yeah..”

you listened to every word he said, for hours, 9pm turned to 11pm, 11pm turned to 2am, and 2am turned to kicking down his apartment door at 3:19am to cuddle him to sleep on the couch.

and as tired as she was, as well as annoyed, loona couldn’t stay mad at her father after seeing him snuggled up next to you on the couch asleep.

especially when she snapped a picture and posted it all over sinsta…

guess who’s mad now, bitch?

𝐟𝐢𝐳𝐳

…never felt like he had gotten home so exhausted before. he didn’t even have the energy to sling himself across the palace to get to his bed quicker

he wanted to see you, he wanted to be with you, he wanted to be against you and your nice warm body, with your beautiful smile…

after walking up a few flights of stairs, taking an elevator here and there, walking down a hallway that was way too long to be one to begin with, he reached your shared room. he was home.

“hi, baby!” you exclaimed, happy to see your partner at last, pausing your show that was displayed on the big screen T.V in your room, hoping out of bed to peck your boyfriend on his cheek. “i missed you!”

he managed a tired smile, “i missed you too, sweetie.” fizz paused for a moment, looking away from your gaze before asking, “can i hug you?”

fizz had a lazy, but goofy grin on his face, extending his arms out to you, doing grabby hands. you give a pouty smile, your partner was so cute you couldn’t deal with it, “of courseee, froggyyy.” you said, babying your tone, pulling him in by the waist.

“you don’t gotta ask, y’know, we’ve been together too long to do that.” you joke with a chuckle, fizz laughs along with you, softer than yours, but still, he sinks into your arms before replying, “mammon’s business, despite its stressors, has taught me the importance of consent, and not just when it comes to sex”

fizz chuckled, his tired but soft tone still remained, as he pulled away from you just slightly to peck your nose, “i’d never wanna hurt you, honey, it’s better to ask, then to be sorry, y’know?”

you blink momentarily, you were not expecting that response out of him, you recover quickly, however, smiling at him, “you are just the sweetest.” you say, pulling him in for another hug, placing a peck to his neck, snuggling your face in it as you do so.

before you can even get another word out, fizz starts crying, attempting to sniffle back the tears.

you pull away instantly, “froggy? are you okay?” scanning him for any signs of harm or discomfort.

your boyfriend nods, makeup dripping down his face, “y-yes…” his lips trembling softly as he spoke. “did something happen at work today?”

fizz shook his head, “not really” he sniffled again, “just missed you.”

“awww fizzie, cmon!” you take his hand, pulling him the bathroom,

“let’s take a nice, warm bath, and then we can do skincare and watch that one show you like, and then we can go to bed, does that sound nice?”

“that sounds really nice… thank you…”

𝐦𝐨𝐱𝐱𝐢𝐞

…was your good friend since your early childhood years, his father had a business connection with your parents, which led to you both being babysat together a lot.

both of you were grown adults now, he was married to your gal-pal from your high school days, and you were engaged to one of the kids from your friend group back when you were in college, well, before dropping out.

other than your separate significant others, you were eachothers ride-or-dies, your for-lifers. you both went to eachother for practically everything.

so when moxxie knocks on your door while your spouse is out with friends, asking for help, you don’t hesitate to let him in.

you sit him down asking him what was the matter, and he gets fidgety immediately, stuttering out an attempted response before the tears start flowing, he starts crying about how he got into an argument with millie, and how scared he was that this might ruin their marriage.

instantly, as it was second nature to you, you scoot closer to him the couch, rubbing his back as he sobbed, still venting to you about the argument and how much he misses millie.

“look, mox, here’s what ya gotta do. just call her, and tell her everything you’ve told me, i’ve known millie since we were just freshies, she’s bound to understand!”

“i guess so.. thanks, yn.”

𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬

...was distraught, and even that was an understatement. his beloved octavia was lost, in los angeles, in the human realm.

you, stolas, and blitzø searched around what felt like all of fucking earth to find her, while millie and moxxie were off doing eachother who knows what.

stolas sighed, running a hand through his now human hair, his breath beginning to get noticeably more shaky, with blitzø walking ahead of the two of you.

“hey.” you say, putting a hand on his arm, “it’s gonna be okay.”

“but what if it’s not though? what she’s not okay? what if she’s in danger? or worse, what if someone took her?” his voice trembled more and more at the thought.

“no.” you start, turning stolas around to face you. “she’ll be okay.” you say, putting a hand onto his chest, “she’s smarter than you may think, she’s seventeen now! she’ll know what to do.”

“but what if something happens? and i’m not there to protect her?” stolas says, his movements going to a halt, blitzø looked at the two of you, before mouthing that he’ll meet up with the both of you later.

before you know it, tears well up in his eyes, without even thinking, he pulls you into a tight hug. “i just need to know my girl is okay…”

“she’ll be okay, sweetie.” you say, pecking his cheek, you pull back slightly, lovingly looking into his eyes, “and so will you..”

i do not permit for my work to be reposted, translated, or stolen. all rights go to signedmio. characters are not mine, unless stated, and belong to their rightful creators.

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jmliebert · 2 months

Text

♡ when Aemond has a crush on you ♡ (modern) headcanons

he hides it well; Aemond is not the type to wear his heart on his sleeve. At first, it's hard to tell he has a crush on you because he is cold and seems indifferent. he observes, weights his options

he keeps his distance at first; both emotionally and physically. his behaviour might even make you think he hates you, though it's quite the opposite of course, he just have problems with showing his feelings :((

but (!) his piercing gaze always finds you. his eye follows you discreetly, hungry and restless

when he's near you, his body language is a mix of nervousness and inner pride. he wants to please you which is a weird feeling for Aemond, so his fingers may fidget a little, but still; he stands tall

he quickly learns your daily routine and starts showing up in places you frequent. these "coincidental" meetings are his way of staying close without being too obvious (in his head at lest)

you quickly learn he uses a lot of sarcasm, but you learn to enjoy this side of his, actually he's quite funny

if you ask him for a favour, he might act like it's a bother, but he always does it, despite his outward coldness

sooo.... as you can see he's a little lost, unsure, but(!) this one time when his brother Aegon makes crude, inappropriate joke about you, Aemond's anger flares and that's when he truly realises his feelings for you may run deeper than he'd like to admit

Aemond tries to be more straight-forward at this point. he assist you whenever he can, subtly offering help here and there, giving you this little smirks of his

he often asks you random questions about your life (often very specific), wanting to know everything about you and it's quite endearing that he's so focused on you

stil he respects your space! or at least tries to. he doesn't want to intimidate you or make you uncomfortable with his presence (most of the time), even though being near you all the time is what he would prefer

he spent many sleepless nights analysing your conversations and overall every aspect of you

long walks; during those you talk about trivial things and deeper subjects like psychology, philosophy, or your favourite books and movies. Aemond is silently enjoying when you put your hand on his arm during those walks. these moments are when he feels most connected to you, when he melts more and more...

because finding someone attractive is one thing, but finding someone attractive and genuinely interesting is a whole new level and at this point Aemond is charmed, really charmed

encouraged by this connection growing between you, Aemond asks you out. and let me tell you- he's SERVING! like he arrives at your home to pick you up, greets you with a gentle kiss on the hand and a soft smile, the kind that sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach

and he smells so gooooood!!!!! I just know it

at dinner he pulls out your chair, ensuring you're comfortable before taking his own seat. throughout the meal, he’s attentive and considerate, paying for dinner without hesitation (duhh)

his eye contact is intense, making it clear he finds you captivating

about the first kisss.... at first it's gentle and tentative, almost like he's testing the waters. he would begin by leaning in slowly, his lips brushing against yours lightly, his hand cupping your jaw. he would look deep into your eyes, waiting for silent approval and when he gets it, he smiles and you smile too

as the kiss deepens, you’d feel the intensity building. the touch of his lips would become firmer, his body pressing you closer as he wraps his arms around you. his grip might grow more insistent, almost aggressive, as he pulls you in tight, the kiss becoming more passionate and intense. there's a raw edge to it, as if he's letting go of the restraint he's been holding onto, revealing the fire and desire that’s been simmering just beneath the surface

when you gasp softly against his lips, Aemond is losing control. his hand moves down to grab your ass, pulling you even closer, your lips crash and then he suddenly halts. moving back just enough to regain some composure. he's breathing heavily, trying to steady himself, his eye fixed on you with a mix of desire and restraint

"We should probably slow down, but I really don't want to."

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

you can find more of my works about aemond ♡here♡

#prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond headcanons #hotd headcanons #modern aemond #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond has a crush on you #aemond imagine #hotd imagine #aemond fluff

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circeyoru · 4 months

Text

The Raven’s Deer _ Part 2

You guys send requests for this so fast. I thought I have time to write. Anyways~ Here it is!!

[Alastor x Zestial’s Little Sibling!Reader]

Part 1

Part 2 (here)

How the tables have turned. Before, Alastor could enter Zestial and your territory just fine, even teleporting via one of the many ravens in the city. But now, he found his own presence blocked just outside the two sibling Overlords’ domain

He recalled how Zestial and you would have radios in the mansion and even in the forest to sometimes catch his broadcast, since the two of you ancient souls were less pleased with Vox’s attitude and not his product per say. So he tried his hand at finding a radio from within your domain so he could at least request for your ears to listen to him

What he got back was nothing. As if all the radios were gone. He knew it wasn’t gone, but it was merely because he wasn’t allowed to reach it. As much power as he had over radios and broadcasting throughout the city, it pale in comparison to yours. While you weren’t as showy, you were feared for a reason

Alastor put his minions at the edge of your domain, as much as he could to cover grounds and alert him when you appeared. Not even Rosie was helping him with them since she said it was his private business with you. She’d love nothing more than to have you and Alastor reunited and be the same as you always have (maybe more), but you hated when people butt into your affairs, thinking that it was ingenuine to both demons. Then there were Zestial and Carmilla that actively blocked Alastor’s connection with you

Call it luck, call it Alastor’s stubbornness and persistence. Either way, he caught you one way or another when you were flying back from a little murder spree. “My cruellest dear, I merely wish to speak to you. Please lend me your ear and time.”

“Actions speak louder than words, Alastor. Rosie must have told you so. Your 7 years disappearance spoken plenty to me.” You had given him a taste of your nightmare aura with your black wings that mimicked that of an angel’s puffing up to make you look more threatening

“My nightmare, and I have been trying to get a hold of you for the longest time. That accounts to something, yes?” Alastor pleaded back. The fact that you used the modern way of speaking was very telling of your mood. He had to be careful with himself else risk angering you further. “May I take you to… Your favourite restaurant?”

“It closed after the third year you were gone due to angels raiding the place.”

“Your favourite hunting grounds?”

“Just returned from there.”

“Your forest?”

“You have not permitted entry.”

“Anywhere you please, name it and I’ll bring you there.”

You had raised a brow. This needy side of Alastor was something he showed to you after some time of being acquaintances and business partners. You have to admit that it was very attractive and you love seeing him like so. Your anger overpowered your curiosity as you nodded, though where to move the conversation though… “The Vees’ headquarters.”

Ruthless as always. You knew he and the Vees had bad blood yet you wish for your talk to be there of all places. If he backs down or suggests another location, you’d definitely leave him in the dust

So the two of you made your way to the Vees’ tower, walking side by side while Alastor was a bit behind. Imagine the look on Vox’s face when he saw the two of you coming to his building, worst thing was your wings were out. Not a good sign. At all. Vox was quick to intercept when you two had passed the front door

“What can I do for you, Raven? Nightmare? Mare? Uh, Night?” Vox put on his business smile, holding his clapped hands in front of his lower chest. He’d eye back to Alastor when you made no movements or eye contact

Alastor cleared his throat. “We- I’d like to use your building as a location for the dear here and I to have our chat. So if you’d be so kind as to vacate this location for a moment, that would be much appreciated.”

Vox stared at Alastor, his face showing ‘error’ on it as he went on overdrive to understand the situation. He was really curious why you were with Alastor and why here? “Ha, you think you can waltz into here and just—”

“I don’t mind taking your souls. Vox.” Your eyes glowed, looking over to the TV Demon with intensity. Hallucinations of all kind appeared in Vox’s eyes when your gaze was on him. He had to do a double take that you weren’t speaking as you normally would. “I’ve been looking for a reason to level the three of you, especially that freakishly tall one with 4 arms.”

When the hallucinations of terror stopped, Vox nodded, immediately making an announcement for everyone to leave the building immediately. By then Vox had realized Alastor did something to you that warranted your wrath

While the staff left, Vox personally went to his two partners to ask them to stop what they were doing and leave. Velvette was understanding since she wasn’t even doing another. It was Valentino that caused a problem that needed Vox to step in with a bit of convincing from your side

(You weren’t aware nor did you care at the time, but you had saved Angel from a hellish work schedule. Even giving him a breather and the idea that Valentino was powerful as long as within the building the Vees own. You certainly didn’t care about Angel and Alastor making brief realizations of each other in the same vicinity)

Sitting down at the top floor where Vox was so kind to put out snacks and drinks for you (not Alastor). Before you could disrupt the recording devices in the room, Alastor had taken that action for himself to complete. You retracted your wings to lean back with crossed legs and arms, signalling for Alastor to start speaking

You were internally screaming when Alastor was on a knee at your legs, his ears pinned back. If it weren’t for the fact that you were mad at him, you’d be playing with his ears and hair. They were just so fluffy and soft and— Ahem! You listened to every word that came out of Alastor’s lips, his confidence dying as he told you his situation that he kept close to his heart

To confirm his words, you leaned forward and hovered your open palm to his chest, as you would when extracting a soul. Yet there was nothing to grasp at; instead, there was that familiar thick collar around his neck and a chain that disappeared into the floor to wherever his owner was

The room was enveloped in darkness with stars all around, a scenery anyone could fall asleep under. The two of you floating in the middle of nowhere. Your black wings cocooned the both of you as you hugged him by the waist, “I bethought thee w’re dead. I did accept yond thee w’re gone. (I thought you were dead. I accepted that you were gone)”

Alastor hugged back, the warmth from you was so foreign but so comforting all the same. He missed this. “I apologize for the heartache I caused your black heart, my sweet.”

“M’re apologises can’t saveth thee f’rev’r, Alastor. Thee needeth to doth something. (Mere apologises can’t save you forever, Alastor. You need to do something)” You gave him a look and a pout, showing your ‘childish’ anger

The taller demon laughed and nodded as he asked what you wanted. You answered by saying you wanted to have his cooking, you craving some deer in particular. Alastor obliged to your request with delight, the two of you walking about and shopping for ingredients to catch up. Similar to who demons acted when seeing Alastor and Zestial together, demons all did a double take to see you smiling at Alastor and chatting away like old friends

Oh, speaking of. You left some money behind for Vox. You weren’t unreasonable, just think of it as suddenly renting a place to use and returning it with money. You basically gave him an amount that could sponsor his and the other two’s projects for at least 2 years, if they spend it wisely. Even though they exacted the corpse of Alastor when they returned, this was also a good surprise, no complaints

“Ah, I guesseth I shouldst bid broth’r Zestial and Carmilla yond we madeth up, else you’d beest blacklist’d in two domains…... (Ah, I guess I should tell brother Zestial and Carmilla that we made up, else you’d be blacklisted in two domains…)”

From then on, Alastor drilled it into his head to never anger you if possible. Like ever. “Hahaha, My darkest star! Your wrath is one to be feared!”

Note: Welp. Hope you guys like this. The Vees part was not planned I tell you. Originally it was them being murderous on the streets and Alastor having no room to talk. But then Reader's (somewhat) design was to be a similar similar in trait with Zestial, so... This happened

Circe Y.

MASTERLIST

#alastor headcanons #alastor imagine #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #Circe's Nighty Writings #alastor #hazbin hotel oneshots #The Raven's Deer

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sixxteenbullets · 11 months

Note

for the johnny cade smut, it can be just an "i was worried about you" and kind of caring smut, the sex being rough but with praise? sorry if this doesn't make sense!

I WAS WORRIED

PAIRING- JOHNNY CADE X FEM!READER

WARNINGS- MENTIONS OF MURDER, P IN V, LOVING SMUT, WRITTEN BADLY

Smut starts at paragraph 14

Hearing that your boyfriend had gotten into trouble wasn't nice to hear. Especially when it involved a murder in self defence of a well known Soc boy. When Y/n heard about it, she felt many different things. The first was shock, then anger at how someone could try and hurt her baby, and then sadness because he had to go into hiding to avoid the mess.

That's what brought her to her current situation, demanding that Dallas Winston take her to him. "No, with that big mouth of yours, everybody would know."

That was absolute bullshit, they both knew it. Sure, she likes to gossip, but never at the stakes of her friends, definitely not at the stake of her lover. "Yes! Now get in this car and take me to see Johnny!"

He stood still for a moment, eyes narrowed, jaw clenching and unclenching. She grew nervous, but only for a moment before he scoffed and got into the driver's seat. As much as he didn't want to take the chance of his best friend getting caught, he knew Y/n was a good girl. She'd never rat. Plus, it would keep Johnny's mouth shut about her for a minute.

They didn't speak throughout the whole ride. There was nothing to say. Y/n wasn't shy about showing her anxiety through the tapping of a foot or the silent mumble from her lips as she thought about all of the things that could go wrong. While Dallas tried to hide what he was feeling, he didn't do it well. He touched his face too much, looked away from the road too much. He was stressed and it was clear to her, but they said nothing to comfort each other.

As soon as the thunderbird was parked in front of an old church, Y/n was off. Dallas only shook his head as he watched her run straight into the building and give the two of them a near heart attack. Ponyboy, once he realised who she was, just gave a soft smile and breathed in relief. Johnny on the other hand, wasted no time jumping up to pull her into him. There were no words to describe how refreshing it was for the boys to see a new face.

The two held each other for a while, ignoring Dallas and Ponyboy's teases and laughs. She was the one who broke the hug, much to his dismay, and headed over to the other criminal to give him a hug. He gladly accepted it and even showed disappointment when she ended it. She understood though, going so long without any sort of comforting affection like that must have been brutal.

After the tension of the arrival proved short-lived, the four all began conversing in whatever they could think of. This went on until Dallas abruptly stood up and had Ponyboy take him outside to their food supply as he was getting hungry.

When the two boys were gone, Johnny and Y/n sat in a comforting silence, eyes moving between contact and lips. There was an unspoken thought lingering between them, something that neither of them had built up the courage to say. It wasn't until she acted on an impulse and smashed her lips into his did he realise that she was very real and very much there. This was happening.

The kiss was filled with so much hunger and passion that he felt light headed. The love which was ignited between them was so foreign to him. She gave him everything she had and more. Johnny Cade was only eighteen years old, as was she, and his life was at risk. He could be thrown into prison, killed for revenge, or be driven mad by the constant danger he was in. That was too real. More than their love or their kiss. More than the hand that slid down his torso, and more than his actions of pulling away from her. "Not here,"

Y/n's only thoughts as she was being taken to a loft in the back of the abandoned church was how she was going to show her boyfriend how much she cared for him.

Johnny was laying on his back in no time, his girl slowly pressing kisses all over his face. Every one of them brought him happiness. At one point she stopped, pressing one last kiss to his jaw before she met his eyes again. Her legs moved to straddle his hips and her hands held his face. "I was so worried about you," she breathed. "So worried."

"Let me make it up to you." These words surprised both of them. She didn't think he would be so forward, and he thought the exact same thing.

In one swift, careful motion, he was on top. His hand was behind her head and his lips were on her neck. She closed her eyes and took in his warmth. Her lips parted in silent ecstasy as his hand roamed down her side, pulling her shirt up to be even with her waist. That was his next portrait. Kisses were trailed down her middle, stopping just above her pants before he pulled away.

A pathetic complaint left her mouth incoherently, but it was short lived as she saw his hands trail to his hips. She followed in suit by removing her shirt and her own pants. The look in his eyes was unreadable before it changed to hunger. Something that she's never seen before. And, fuck, was it hot.

Their lips met again and his hips grinded down into hers, creating a shameless moan from both of them. But he didn't stop there, every bit of contact made only encouraged the dirty passion.

It was his turn to pull away from her then, meet her eyes and speak so softly that she could hardly hear him. "Are you sure? Are you ready?"

"I want you." That was all he needed to hear before he tore away her underwear and lined up with her entrance. The anticipation got to her and made her close her eyes, preparing for what was about to come.

Seeing this, he pressed his forehead to hers. "I love you."

Every inch of him that was thrust into her was savored by each of them. Every inch of skin that they could think of was flooded with warmth. Her leg swung up over his hip, his hand gripping her thigh, moving up slowly to wrap around her waist and keep her impossibly close to him.

A tear of pure euphoria slipped down one of their faces, they didn't know which of them was crying but the salty taste that joined their lips confirmed that it was happening. Whatever discomfort there was for either lover couldn't even be remotely matched by the amount of love and pleasure they were engulfed in.

It was nearly impossible to keep quiet. Dallas and Ponyboy were not far from them, just outside the church. They could hear so easily. The risk, however, was not very present in their minds. Many other thoughts were taking over. For example, how fucking good they both felt.

His hips grinded into hers at a quick pace, pelvis hitting her clit with every motion. Her back arched and her torso met his. The arm that wasn't wrapped around her was used to slide down her arm as their fingers intertwined. Light, feathery kisses were pressed against her breasts.

She spoke in slow, breathy words. "You're so. . . Good."

For a brief moment, Y/n opened her eyes to look at Johnny. His face was twisted into an expression that could only be described as heavenly. A small, emotional smile graced her lips as she let her eyes close once more.

"You're beautiful." He was so quiet. His face hurried into her neck, mouth opened as he neared his high. The hot breath on her neck was something she never thought she'd enjoy so much. There was a tightness that grew in her core, then, building up so much that she struggled to keep from crying out.

As if nature was on their side that day, they reached their climax together. A fire ignited between them and spread through their most connected points all the way to the tips of their fingers, still laced together tight. The intimacy was crushing them in the most pleasurable way.

Her empty hand went to tangle in his hair, gripping tight. The arm that he had wrapped around her middle moved downward so that his hand could squeeze the fat of her ass.

He had pulled out and released on the ground between her thighs. There wasn't much time to allow his body to calm down before his attention was back on the girl in front of him. Her eyes were still closed as she attempted to calm down from her own high. He crawled back up beside her and laid down. She was quickly pulled into an embrace, neither party caring about how sweaty the other was.

"You're coming back again next week." It wasn't much of a question as it was a statement.

She breathed a laugh and nodded against his chest. "Yeah, I am."

______

UGHHHH. RAHH. I'm sorry but I suck at smut lol. I'm not much of a johnny girl, nor a smut girl, so I'm sorry this isn't as good as it could have been.

@thesunmeltedthegrayaway on the other hand, has some really good works on johnny!

#johnny cade #the outsiders #dallas winston #ponyboy curtis #johnny cade x reader #the outsiders 1983 #sodapop curtis #darry curtis #two bit mathews #steve randle #the outsiders smut

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kaylinelizabeth4004 · 10 months

Text

Heaven is Here

SYNOPSIS: Through many fleeting moments throughout history with a strange woman, Aziraphale and Crowley learn they accidentally trapped a human soul to Earth, stuck to reincarnate forever.

TAGS: Aziraphale x Crowley x Reader, fluff, slight angst, soulmate au (on accident), history, historical settings, no beta we die like men

WORD COUNT : 12,253

A/N: This fic is kind of accidental. I’ve always been more about Aziraphale/Crowley in this fandom than any reader insert, but one day I happened upon a Tumblr fanfic and had an idea. This probably won’t be a regular thing - except I am planning a sequel to this exact fic - but I thought why not. Im still more Aziraphale/Crowley.

55BC—————

"And you love this?" Crowley asked, holding the seafood up to the light as though it would reveal to Aziraphale all the disgusting little details.

"It's delightful!" Aziraphale insisted, showing Crowley how to eat the oyster. "Try it, dearest. You might just enjoy it."

Crowley pursed his lips, not wanting to put whatever the hell this was in his mouth. But Aziraphale was looking at him with those eyes. He didn't know how describe them, and he didn't want to analyze how they made his heart hurt inside his vessel's chest. So he closed his eyes and ate the damned thing.

He put a hand over his mouth to stop the gagging. This Angel's taste was not quite normal if this is what he considered fine dining. He tried to smile politely, to not let him know that it was utter horseshit.

"You don't like it," Aziraphale said with a rather disappointed voice.

"N-No, I don't," Crowley said, and he didn't know why but he was sad to disappoint the angel. He was just trying to be kind after all, it wasn't as though he had properly sinned. But why would a demon feel bad for an angel? That went against his lot's whole thing.

However, Crowley found a wicked part of him that liked pissing off his lot. He'd never put it in as many words however.

"Pity, they are quite delectable."

"Sure, angel," Crowley said, sipping a large mouthful of wine. They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, eating and drinking as they'd like. Then Crowley looked up to Aziraphale's soft "ahem." He was pointing behind Crowley, and when he turned he saw what caused it.

A young woman was sat in the corner, a large glass of wine in her hands, and she was weeping to herself. It wasn't loud or particularly noticeable, if it wasn't for the tear tracks down her cheeks, glittering as they caught the light. She was looking at her lap and sipping the wine, balking at the taste yet coming back for more.

"She looks happy," Crowley said.

"She looks sad! You demons need to learn the proper emotions."

Crowley stared at Aziraphale for a moment, wondering if he was joking. Upon realizing that Aziraphale was, in fact, not joking Crowley said, "that was sarcasm, Angel."

"What was sarcasm?"

"My comment, 'she looks happy.' Of course she doesn't look happy that's why I said it."

Aziraphale furrowed his brows, "but your words meant the opposite of what you said."

"Exactly," Crowley said. And with a flourish he added, "it's called sarcasm."

"But why say something you don't mean? Isn't that lying?" Aziraphale asked, in all sincerity.

Crowley thought it over, "s'pose it could be seen that way. Most people view it as ironic."

"Oh, yes, of course." Aziraphale took an anxious sip of wine, looking back towards the girl.

"Angel..."

"Yes?" He was avoiding eye contact

"You don't know what ironic means, do you?"

Aziraphale pouted, "no I don't and I quite detest that you do."

"Ironic literally means saying the opposite of what you mean for some sort of point. Mine being that she looks downright miserable."

"Even though you said she looks happy." Aziraphale said slowly as he tracked that line of logic through his head.

"Right, even though I said she looks happy."

"And that's ironic?"

"Don't ya think?" Crowley said with a wide smile, his teeth appearing almost like he had pointed fangs.

"Why yes I do think-"

"Angel, that was irony."

"Oh." Aziraphale blinked rapidly a few times then sipped his wine, embarrassed he didn't know something that Crowley did know. He thought he was the knowledgeable of the two. "Well, sarcasm or not, we should help her."

"We?"

"Why - yes, we're both here and we see -"

"I don't help people," Crowley said quickly, his voice deep and harsh. "I'm a demon, I do the opposite of help."

"Well, yes but-"

"There are no buts with this. My lot were created to ruin your lots pickings. I pillage and plunder, that's my job." Crowley said this firmly as though it would make his point clearer. The more intense he was, the more his words seemed to slur together a bit.

Aziraphale paused for a moment, and Crowley wondered if he was about argue his point once more. "Isn't the phrase rape, pillage and plunder?"

"I don't do that. I'm not a monster," Crowley balked. He finished his wine and set the glass down. Throwing some money on the table he said, "sorry Angel. Got a priest to tempt. Catch you later."

"Oh, goodbye." Aziraphale said as Crowley ambled off through the restaurants doors. But despite himself, Aziraphale found himself smiling. Crowley wasn't truly all bad, even if he thought himself it. His gaze at the doors quickly moved over to the pretty girl weeping. She was still crying and her glass was a lot emptied.

Aziraphale got up, straightened his toga, and walked over to the girl. "Oh, um, hello. I'm -" oh shoot, he hadn't thought of this part yet. He had to quickly think of a name. Instantly his eyes shot up to the art above her, a fleece. Aha! "Jason. My name is Jason. Pardon the intrusion, but I couldn't help but notice you're upset."

She sniffled, setting the glass down on the table. Aziraphale was struck by her face, now that he could see it not turned down and hidden. She was pretty. She eyed him warily, "Yeah, what's it to you?"

Aziraphale sat down on the chair opposite her, "I wondered if I might be able to help."

She laughed bitterly, "only if you can stop the Emperor." Aziraphale's eyebrows raised at that and she rushed to cover for herself, "oh no, I didn't mean that. All Hail the Caesar and what not. He's doing a mighty fine job."

"It's certainly not a 'mighty fine job' if he's got you crying as such."

"No, I s'pose not."

"What can I do for you?"

"Nothing," she said honestly, wiping the tears away quickly. "Honestly, Jason, I appreciate the thought but what's done is done. You can't change the past."

Aziraphale made a face in slight disagreement, though he knew he couldn't explain that to a human female. "Then perhaps telling someone will make you feel better. I harbor no connection with the Emperor, your opinions are quite safe with me."

She stared up at him after he said this, looking him truly in the eyes as though they told her all she needed to know. Then she did speak. "It's this invasion on Britain. My father and brother were both sent off and I worry. I've heard horrible things about the natives, truly barbaric things like removing of one's head. I don't want them to be hurt. Especially my brother, he's so sweet. He could get hurt by the army rather the natives."

"Hurt by his own army?"

"He doesn't stand up for himself. And that lot can be harsh. I s'pose I shouldn't blame them, I'd be harsh too if I had to kill people in battle. But I worry they will pick on him, push him 'round to try and get him to fight, and he won't."

"Ah, I see," Aziraphale said, rolling his tongue in his mouth as he thought it over. "Well, I can assure you one thing. The natives are not unnecessarily cruel. They do fight, but only when they need to. You couldn't expect anything less, dear."

She nodded, biting her lip. "No, you're correct. I'd defend my country against invaders as well."

"But they won't torture. Your brother will be quite alright, I'm sure of it."

After a minute of silence she looked up again at Aziraphale, "Thank you, Jason. Strangely enough, that makes me feel better. Knowing it wouldn't be torture."

"No, it wouldn't be."

"I really should be going, my daughter will be expecting me."

"Right, of course. Blessings on you, my dear." And though he'd already said the blessing, he felt compelled to say it again. To strengthen it for this poor soul. "Blessings on you forever."

Aziraphale helped her out of her seat. Just then, for an imperceivable second, Aziraphale thought he saw a golden shine cross her eyes. He didn't think much of it, figured it was the miracle. He'd never seen that happen, but he wasn't often looking in their eyes.

She took his hand, kissed the back of it, and thanked him again before walking out. Aziraphale smiled contentedly, though he felt a pull in his heart he hadn't felt before. Urging him to follow her, but he figured it was some sort of indigestion.

Crowley was sprawled on a bench not far from the restaurant, glancing up at a night time sky he couldn't see. He wanted to see it, but he gave up on that dream 2,000 years ago. The Fall took many things, and his eyesight was one of them. He could still see in general, he knew what people's faces looked like and where he was going. But specifics were lost on him, and the night looked like eternal darkness rather than the sparkling stars and planets he'd been told about.

"I helped create some of those," he mumbled to himself.

Then he closed his eyes, needing to not look at what he couldn't see. It still hurt, as though the wound wasn't thousands of years old. But it never properly healed in the first place.

He felt a weight against his foot and heard a thud within a matter of seconds, and he blinked in surprise. At his feet, a young woman was crumpled to the ground. His foot was sticking out in the pathway. Whoops.

He thought about rising to help her, then thought better of it. Beelzebub didn't need another reason to hate him. So he sat still and watched the woman get onto her hands and knees, glaring at him.

"Not going to help are you?"

"No, I think I'm keen to just watch," Crowley responded. She rolled her eyes, getting onto her feet and dusting off her toga. He examined her quickly, not knowing what to make of her. Then, she said something entirely unexpected.

"Keep your foot out of the way, asshole."

It wasn't a particularly inspired remark, nothing witty or threatening. But it was the fact that a random woman said that to him, a demon, without prompting. And with that remark, she walked away.

"Damnation on you eternally," Crowley murmured, waving his hand in a flourish towards the woman. He doesn't know why he said it, he's never really said it like that before and he certainly didn't why he even added the 'eternally' bit. But whatever the reason, he said it.

Though he knew she was too far away to hear him, she turned and looked back. And found a brief moment, maybe it was the trick of the light, he saw a golden shine pass over her eyes. She smirked shyly, then turned and walked away. And with each step, Crowley felt his heart pulse in a way he hadn't felt before.

1377—————

There was complete silence in the cathedral as a young boy, only aged 10 and dressed in trousers, walked through the crowd towards the priest. They seemed to hold their breaths as he lay on the floor before God, surrendering himself to Her mercy. Aziraphale watched the coronation. He had mixed feelings about the child, Richard. He wasn't a particular fan of the whole 'king' concept, but he thought the honoring to God bit was a nice touch. He wore simple enough clothes to note stand out, yet nice to enough to be recognized as a noble. His layers were in varying degrees of beige as he hid in the very middle of the crowd.

After the 10 minutes on the floor, Richard rose and made his way to the priest where he was being dressed in oil.

"Bit like a salad, eh?" A sultry, baritone voice said from beside Aziraphale, making him shudder. When he looked, it was Crowley. Dressed in similarly simple noble clothes, of course in tones of black and red, he watched the young king as different body parts were coated in oil for different purposes.

"Crowley? How did you get in here? It's a church?" Aziraphale said in a hushed whisper, earning glares from the people beside him. "Sorry Lord Wellington."

"Churches are built by humans."

"And what does that have to do with anything? You're still a demon in a place of worship for God," he said the word 'demon' especially softly for fear someone would turn in a panic at the word 'demon' being said in a cathedral.

"Yeah but it wasn't made by God. It was made for Her, by humans. Totally human structure."

"It is not."

Crowley shrugged his shoulders, "you got a better reason I can come and go in these?"

Aziraphale pursed his lips, "I suppose not."

A loud smack echoed through the church and Crowley frowned, "you made me miss the slap, Angel."

"That is your concern?"

Crowley shook his head in frustration, "He's a bloody king now, last time he coulda gotten hit and it's by a priest. S'course I wanted to see it."

"He's a child."

"Not anymore. He's got too much to think about now to be a child."

"No," Aziraphale wondered. "I suppose he's not longer a child at all. You know, dearest, you really do have the grandest thoughts when you think about it."

"Shut up," Crowley replied, his cheeks turning rosy at the compliment.

Within seconds of him saying it, the priest placed the crown on top of boy's head and declared loudly, "Long Live King Richard II!"

The crowd burst into applause as the young king was carried through the cathedral. They whooped and hollered, crying "all hail" and "god save the king" as he passed them by. The boy looked cheerful, pink cheeks and bright curls waving underneath a crown that looked awful heavy for a boy his age. But no, Aziraphale thought, perhaps this was the end of his childhood after all.

"Are you attending the feast afterwards? I hear they will serve beef, and I haven't have beef in decades!"

"Ahh, well I don't know, Angel."

Aziraphale smiled, leaning in as though he was sharing a conspiratorial secret, "I hear there are miraculously two spots for a Lord Fell and Mr Fell, if you are so inclined."

Crowley's eyebrows shot up, eyes hidden beneath his favorite pair of sunglasses, "oh you devil!"

Aziraphale's smile dropped, "don't you say that."

There was a pause as Aziraphale processed the hurtful words, and Crowley processed that he actually cared to make it right to him. Then all at once, they both started speaking on the issue, words overlapping in a frightful mess.

Crowley sighed, "Right I'm sorry -"

"- that really hurts -"

"- I know, I know -"

"- I mean, I am most certainly not fallen -"

"-we had this conversation in 1066 -"

" - I did not appreciate that."

" -I know, Angel. I'm sorry."

After that final note, Aziraphale nodded. "Alright, well. Thank you."

They started to walk together towards the banquet hall not far from there, waiting to indulge in fine wines and beef. There was a large parade towards it, all the nobles and even those fortunate peasants engaged in laughing and singing. Jesters performed stupid dances in their funny hats, knights marched in perfect unison, and songs came pouring from every lute and voice in the area. It was a perfect celebration of a new king, all on their way to fall victim to gluttony, drunkenness, lust, greed and infinitely more temptations.

All things that should fill Crowley's heart with a miserable sort of glee. And yet... he felt off. Crowley couldn't explain the feeling in his chest, almost like a nagging telling him things weren't right. But all this temptation, he thought. This ought to be perfect! But it wasn't, and he had a feeling before he even glanced at his Angel that it was because of him.

Sure enough, he was right. Though Aziraphale hadn't said anything, being kind enough to accept Crowley's words at face value and dropping it, but Crowley knew him well enough to know something was wrong. He hadn't made it up to him.

"Angel, a word -" Crowley said, grabbing Aziraphale's elbow and leading him away from the crowd. As he did so, he missed the way Aziraphale's mouth dropped open, blue eyes fixated on the contact. They'd rarely touched before.

"Yes, Crowley?" Aziraphale asked politely but his tone was full of too much passive aggression to really be polite. He stood stock still, arms poised in front of him and looked expectedly at Crowley.

"I- I, I need to..." Satan this was hard. The words felt like glue in Crowley's mouth but he did his best to force them out. "I need to, to s'make it up to you."

"Pardon?"

Oh damn Aziraphale, making Crowley actually communicate. "What I said, I was wrong. You were right. It wasn't right of me and I need to make it because my apology isn't enough."

"I never said that."

"Ah, yeah, you never said it. But you's do this thing with your face when you's upset. And my words aren't getting there. Just tell me what I can do to make it up to you."

They waited a moment, staring at one another. Suddenly, a large crash came from parade and the two looked over in surprise. The musicians were playing a long, one very eager man slamming the cymbals that caused such a loud sound. Behind them another jester bobbled along a delicate little dance, flourishing his arms on either side before turning and doing a bow.

Crowley saw Aziraphale's eyebrows raise, the corner of his cute little mouth twitch up and a finger pointed towards the little dance. He ran to stop it, saying, "no, no, no, I'm not doing that."

"Come now-"

"A dance? You want an 'I was wrong, You were right dance'? You can't be serious, Angel."

"I am serious, you wily serpent. Now do the little dance or I'll never forgive you," Aziraphale said in mock frustration, puffing out his chest.

Crowley saw before him a choice, between what his lot were bound to and Aziraphale. And without a second thought, he chose Aziraphale. He would choose Aziraphale every time, he just didn't know it yet. And so, despite all the humiliation he knew this would cause him if the bosses down under ever found out, Crowley did the little dance.

Aziraphale watched, eyebrows raised in shock. He hadn't thought Crowley would do it. Certainly not for him. But as Crowley bowed, enunciating his t's with a flourish, he couldn't help but smile.

"Very nice."

"Are we good, now?"

Aziraphale beamed, "quite right, dearest. We are quite right."

Crowley let out a breath, adjusting his glasses as though they would hide that dance from history's books. "Well then, let's get a move on."

The pair followed the parade into the banquet hall, and continued with the affair. Aziraphale literally wiggled in his seat when the food was placed before him, so excited he couldn't sit still. Crowley drank the wine, actually quite good for English wine.

Then the dancing started. King Richard - now Richard II - climbed on top of the table and proclaimed everyone to dance. And so, the nobles in their fancy gowns, drunk and laughing to no end, jumped from their seats to join in the dance. Aziraphale sat still for a moment, not knowing what he should do. Angels don't dance, not really. But this Angel longed to dance.

Crowley saw the way his fingers tapped along the table to the beat. He groaned, getting up from his seat.

"S'alright Angel, up up."

"Pardon -"

"You heard what I said. Come on Angel, let's dance."

Aziraphale giggled and got up, following Crowley into the chaos of swirling dresses and flirtatious looks between anyone and everyone. Almost immediately they were separated, swung by different partners.

Crowley danced with an older woman who squeezed his buttocks when she thought he wasn't looking. He wasn't fond of dancing, not the way Aziraphale was, but he enjoyed the freedom of it all. There were no rules, not really. Yes some people liked the structured ones where you pose and turn on every 3rd beat or what not. But in dancing there was an air of just living - being truly alive. That's what it was all about, it's all anyone yearned to feel.

In the next turn to switch partners, time seemed to slow for Crowley. He saw her, flitting between the people to slide her arm into Crowley's and continue the dance. She was pretty in an unconventional way. A way society might not call beautiful, but made Crowley stop and stare. He was pulled towards her, as though he couldn't control it. She was the center of his focus and he wanted nothing more than to meet her. Then, she turned that pretty gaze on him. Her lips quirked into a smile, hands warm and soft as they held his tightly. Her skin was flushed from the dance, and her dress swung around her in bright, dashing colors. The last dance had ended and all the people were gasping for air yet still ready to dive into the next.

"Hello," she said softly, though somehow he heard her voice over the crowd.

"Hello," Crowley answered back, not sure what to do. He'd never been in this position before.

"A dance?" She asked, taking a deep bow before holding her hand out. Palm up. She wore one, golden signet ring.

"I'd love to," Crowley answered honestly, taking her hand and pulling her into him.

She giggled happily, throwing an arm around his neck as he led the pair towards the center of the dance floor. He started to laugh along with her. Their dancing wasn't particularly good, both of them knew that, but they were having fun. She would twirl away only to twirl back into him awkwardly, laughing so hard she snorted which only caused a barking laughter from Crowley. They continued forward, holding each other close until the final pull drew them chest to chest. She was shorter than he, and she glanced up through dark lashes.

"Hi," she murmured, her breath hitting Crowley's face. She smelled of wine and temptation. He looked into her eyes and there it was - that one moment in history he thought was a fluke.

It had been 1,432 years, not like he was counting, but he didn't forget the way the golden band seemed to fleet over her eyes back in 55BC. And now, he saw that same golden shine slide over the same pair of eyes. It was just a second and yet it made Crowley's mouth drop. She saw it too, but for different reasons. He watched as she looked at his lips, he could tell what she was thinking.

She went to lean in, breasts pressed against his chest and breath hot, but was ripped away by the next dance. She giggled wildly as she was pulled into a circle, but found herself glancing over her shoulder to stare at the handsome stranger she almost kissed.

As Crowley stood in the middle of the floor, mystified, Aziraphale went over to his table to get a drink. All this dancing was positively amazing, but it certainly drained one of their energy.

As he brought the cup to his lips, a body crashed into his, sending the crimson liquid all over his clothes.

"Oh, bugger," he said, setting the cup down to assess the damage.

"I am so sorry, sir!" A girl said, breathless as she ran over. "That was entirely my fault. Please, let me help you clean it. I'm sure there's a tub not far."

Aziraphale smiled politely and went to decline the kind offer, but when he looked into her eyes he found himself agreeing to go with her. She lit up with excitement, grabbing his hand and pulling him away. There was something about her, something he couldn't explain. But he was in awe of her movements and eager to learn more about her.

She turned into an empty hall near a bathroom. She had him wait here while she collected a basin of water and grease.

"I can't promise it will fully work," she said as she set it down, "but I'll do my best. I really am so sorry, sir. I would have never ruined your clothes intentionally."

"It's quite alright. They weren't my favorite anyway," he said as he removed the outer layer. His multiple layers undergarments were fine, and could suffer slight staining. It was the outer garment that changed the most.

She shook her head as she dunked it in the basin, "you can't mean that, sir."

"I find that I quite do," he said, watching her with a quite awe.

"What's your name, sir? I feel I've seen you before," she said, suddenly watching him with the same astute attention. She kept narrowing her eyes as though she'd remember.

Maybe it was the stain, the wine, the party, the demon nearby, or maybe it was just this woman that did it to him but without realizing, he answered honestly, "Aziraphale."

Her eyes lit up, "like the Angel?"

"Precisely, my dear."

"That's a beautiful name. Aziraphale, Aziraphale... can you believe it?" She mumbled the last bit to herself, rubbing liberal amounts of grease into the fabric.

"Do you have a connection to the name? Or the Angel, perhaps?" Aziraphale asked curiously, wanting to hear more about her.

"I do, strangely enough. It's a silly connection..." she said, absentmindedly turning the signet ring over and over on her hand.

"I rather find that when it comes to angels and demons, nothing is silly." Aziraphale chose to neglect some of the more strange decisions the staff had made.

"I, well, oh goodness it sounds all made up. Well, I was in the shops the other day. My friend makes jewelry and he's very good. I came by and he said a man dropped off this gold signet ring with the name Aziraphale burned into it. Said he didn't know what to do with it, not many people knows the Angel, and he gave it to me." She took the ring off her finger, staring at it with an admiration before holding it out to him. "It's your name. You should have it."

"Oh I couldn't possibly take from you, dear."

She shook her head, "no it's not taking. It's a gift. It's fate, that I should have a ring for an Aziraphale just before meeting one of my very own."

"Oh dear, I couldn't -"

She interrupted him by pressing a soft kiss to the ring, taking his hand and sliding it onto his pinky finger. When she looked up, still holding his hand, Aziraphale's jaw dropped. That golden shine. Where had he seen that before? It was brief, flashing over a pair of kind eyes, but it was there all the same.

"Please accept this, Aziraphale."

"I - I will. Thank you, my dear."

Neither Crowley nor Aziraphale saw her after that night. They didn't know her name, her status, or even really remember her outfit. If Cinderella was around, she would have been the prime candidate for it. Neither told each other about their experience with a strange woman until 150 years later as they talked about Henry VIII's decision to have Anne Boleyn beheaded. Nasty business that was.

1601—————

"He's really quite good," Aziraphale said, watching fondly as the actor of Hamlet lamented about life and death. It really was moving the way he toyed between truly living a life, or if death was not truly what life was about.

Aziraphale found himself doing that 'excited sigh' that Crowley described. He found it an odd way of saying his behaviors, but Crowley insisted that when Aziraphale was excited it wasn't a 'satisfied sigh' but an 'excited sigh.' To be fair, he'd said this after 2 whole bottles of wine and a shot of pure vodka, so Aziraphale couldn't grant its true authenticity. A drunk demon would truly say anything just to illicit a reaction.

The speech made him wonder what it was like to be a human, with no certainty about what happens with their souls. They don't have a guarantee about life, or death, and yet are expected to do as they are told with no questions. Crowley knew what it was like to ask questions, and it lead to scars even Aziraphale didn't know about.

"Ngk, s'pose so." Crowley grumbled, watching as the man stamped his foot on the stage. "Bit dramatic, no?"

"It'd a tragedy!" Aziraphale countered, furrowing his brows in surprise.

"Eh, I still prefer the funny ones."

Aziraphale shook his head, turning to watch the man on the stage. A flash of purple fabric caught his eye, and his gaze traveled to see a young woman peaking out from behind the railing. She was trying to stay hidden, but Aziraphale could see that she just couldn't resist the temptation to watch the rehearsal. Her eyes were bright and wide, soaking in the sight. Her clothes were dirty and well worn, a few sizes too big and the hem covered in a layer of mud. But despite it all, she looked entirely unique.

She was pretty, and Aziraphale didn't often feel as though many humans were pretty. He appreciated the art of humanity, and believed each human was their own work of art. But he didn't feel a pull to any of them, but her... she had an attraction to her. He could see her lean too far over the edge, as though the stage were dragging her in. It wasn't just a love and an admiration, it was an addiction. Aziraphale could see what was going to happen moments before it did, but it was too late. The girl tumbled over the edge and fell onto the floor of the Globe, catching the attention of everybody in the rehearsal space.

Her cheeks immediately blotted pink, covering her face in a rosy hue as the stage manager came to her with a snarl, "oi, who're you?"

"I-I-"

"You's not supposed to be 'ere," he said, grabbing her roughly by the arm and dragging her to her feet. She stumbled along as he pulled her to the entrance. "Out with you."

"Mary? Whatcha doin here?" Crowley called out, sauntering over to the man and the girl. The man stopped, looking at Crowley with a skeptical gaze. The girl's eyes widened, bright and eager, as she realized what Crowley was doing and she nodded vigorously.

"Yes, sir, I came to fetch you! Mistress Paulson requested you." She said quickly, trying to stand on her own despite the stage manager's tight grasp.

The man cocked an eyebrow, "oh yeah? You know's him?"

"Know me? Know me?" Crowley sauntered over with a cackle, "me's and Mary goes way back."

She nodded, ripping her arm from the man's grasp then standing politely. "Oh yes, Mr..."

"Oh don't bother with all the Mr Crowley Miss whatever business, just call me Anthony like any other bloke."

"Anthony has helped my sister much. He's an excellent doctor," she said, standing firm. Aziraphale watched her in awe, he was impressed. She picked up that Crowley was saving her quickly, easing into the lie with an expert comfort. She seemed familiar, as though they'd met her before. And most importantly, she was intelligent.

"Doctor? You didn't mention that about your friend," the man said to Aziraphale, his enunciation so poor he practically spat the words at Aziraphale's feet.

Aziraphale flashed a charming smile, "I hadn't realized that those particular skills would, uh, come up in a theatre of this, err,... caliber."

"I haven't the pleasure of meeting you, sir." The girl piped up, her smile was warm and gentle. But he could see in her eyes a tension, wanting to convince this man to not throw her out or worse - press charges. "My's names Mary Edwins. Friend of Mr Crowley."

Mary Edwins, clearly a fake name. Just basic enough to be believable, but enough slight hesitation that Aziraphale knew she was lying. She gave a little curtesy, spreading the oversized purple skirt over the floor. It really was too large, but she still looked charming. Aziraphale felt as though he'd seen that curtesy before. There it was, fast you could have blamed the lighting, Aziraphale knew better. There that same golden shine came over her eyes, if just for a moment. His mouth fell open in a little 'o,' unable to speak for a while 10 seconds before stuttering out, "oh, h-hello Miss Edwins, I'm Mr Fell."

The stage manager thought on it for a moment, before deciding that he wasn't paid enough to care. It was hours away from opening night, after all, and the little boy playing Ophelia needed alterations in his costume.

"Alright then," he said, walking back towards the director, a Mr William Shakespeare.

The girl was still a few feet away as Crowley walked dramatically back towards Aziraphale. The Angel tried to ignore it. He hadn't mentioned that part of it with Crowley, and he didn't know how to continue. Crowley mistook Aziraphale's expression as one of angelic smugness and rose a finger, "shut it, Angel."

"That was a good thing you did," he said with a little smile. He pushed it to the back of his mind, something to worry about when it was late and the city was asleep.

"Twasn't good, no. I was, real, I - I - I was bad. I let a criminal get away."

Aziraphale patted Crowley's shoulder, "no, dearest. You let a woman enjoy her passion. Look at her, you've saved her."

The pair glanced over at her as she tried, and failed, to subtly watch the actors get ready for their next scene. Her hand was on her heart, as though if she didn't put it there her heart would pop right out.

"Ehhh, that's not saving. Not really."

"Oh, it's not? Then what would you say is a human's purpose?" Aziraphale asked with a soft voice.

"I thought that's your job, Angel. Praising God and what not."

Aziraphale pursed his lips, looking away from Crowley. "You know as well as I that love of God is not all humans were made for. I am of the firm opinion they are here for their passions. They survive by it. They might be able to live with food and water alone, but no soul could truly exist without their drive. And this woman, her passion is theatre."

"Rather blasphemous words from an Angel."

"Rather kind actions from a demon."

Aziraphale smiled, looking towards the stage. Crowley tried to hide the blush on his ears and cheeks. It was always his ears that turned bright red from, from, well he didn't quite know from what. But he felt the heat and looked away. He looked at the girl, who perked your once she realized he saw her. She went over shyly.

Despite her apprehension, she raised her voice enough to say, "thank you for your help, Mr Crowley and Mr Fell."

"Mmm," was Crowley reply, gazing around the globe with a distinguished air about him. As if he was the most important person in the room. He tried to ignore her presence. She had a pull to her and he couldn't explain it, didn't want to address it. He already had the issue of a certain Angel who wouldn't leave his mind.

"Who are we to stop the love of the arts?" Aziraphale said, rather eccentrically. "Though you could have waited a few hours to see the whole show."

"I can't afford it," she said quietly, staring at her feet. Aziraphale noted her sweet little boots, their pointed ends digging into the dirt out of anxiety. "My mistress only gave me the morning. I need to be back in an hour."

Crowley and Aziraphale shot a glance with one another, not quite knowing how to respond. They stood in silence, the girl's eyes wide as she drank in Ophelia's mad lullabies.

"What's your name?"

"Mary Edwins."

Crowley smiled, "nice try, love. Your real name."

She cocked an eyebrow, glancing up at first at Crowley, then at Aziraphale, before looking back at her reflection in his sunglasses. "Why do you want to know?"

"We did help you, dear. We'd just love to know you, but if you cannot tell us, we won't rush you."

"Are you two a couple?" She asked quickly, pointing at the two and waving her hands in some strange, gesture of coupling. Her choice of question was so drastic, they didn't bother to notice the intentional diversion in topics.

Aziraphale looked up, mouth dropping in a little 'o' and he looked at Crowley. Crowley lifted a brow. Aziraphale answered, "We've known each other for a long time."

"That doesn't answer my question, Mr Fell."

"Aren't you a sly one, Miss Edwins." Crowley sneered, his top lip recoiling.

She just smiled, shrugging her shoulders with a little giggle. "Suppose so, Mr Crowley."

The golden shine. Crowley sucked in a harsh breath as she turned to look back at the stage. He could practically hear all his thoughts as they raced through his head, and he was unable to settle on just one. Those eyes. He hadn't seen them in years and yet this was the third woman who just happened to flirt with him, and had a gold shine go across her eyes. He reckoned she didn't know it happened, she probably didn't know what those little eyes could do to an immortal creature. Crowley swallowed, praying she never had to.

Then, the show continued and 'Mary's' eyes seemed transfixed. Aziraphale loved the theatre, Crowley enjoyed it, but 'Mary' adored it.

Crowley watched her eagerly, partly out of curiosity and partly because he liked feeling her passion in his soul as though it was her own. He found himself attracted to it, a drag of one's purpose. The passion filled her up, and she seemed to want to lean into it. She gasped as Hamlet killed his mother, she listened with eager ears as he instructed the actors on how they were to act, she cried as it seemed that everyone fell to the floor in a miserable death. Then, it was over. Actors stumbled to their feet, laughing as though they weren't stabbed with poisoned rapiers. The story was over, but 'Mary' seemed to be in a daze. Crowley watched with shrewd, yet eager eyes as she came out of it.

Then she straightened her back, smiling tightly to both of them. "Mr Fell, Mr Crowley, thank you for letting me stay. It has been such a gift. I'm afraid I must go."

"Let us escort you home," Aziraphale said, without realizing what he was offering.

She blinked wide eyes, "there's no need, sir. It's two blocks away."

Crowley lifted his chin, "love, we'd like to see you off safe."

"If you insist. Though I must tell you it's entirely through the city. Eyes will be on you at all times," she said it as a threat, a reminder to not do anything unsavory. Crowley almost frowned at that little bit of false hope. If they actually had bad intentions, a crowd wouldn't stop anything. She wasn't truly safe. But both Crowley and Aziraphale nodded, as though they truly headed her warning.

"Was that your first Shakespeare production?" Aziraphale asked, making polite conversation as he walked on one side of her, Crowley on the other.

"Oh, no. I do my best to attend all of them. I tend to prefer the funny ones, but the crowds can be a bit much for me."

"Eh? What'd you mean by that?" Crowley asked.

She blushed, "I don't like when crowds get very loud. They tend to jeer and toss things at the actors. It doesn't feel safe for anyone. I do enjoy his dramas though."

They walked in companionable silence for a moment before she asked the next question, "what do you two do? If I may, you're dressed rather odd."

"Odd?" Crowley asked with a frown, gazing down at his outfit. He was quite proud of this outfit. The ruff was amazing, really helped one feel confident.

'Mary' giggled. "I don't dislike your outfits, you just don't see these colors often."

Aziraphale and Crowley exchanged a glance, shifting in their outfits. Perhaps they do cling to their colors a bit much. But Aziraphale never felt it was a problem, he was proud of his wardrobe.

"I make my own clothes," Aziraphale said with a smile.

'Mary' lightened up, her eyes taking on a bright, sparkling quality before she actually smiled, a little tell that Aziraphale noticed. He'd seen that before, but couldn't place it. "That is quite wonderful, Mr Fell. I'd love to make my own, however I mostly sew for my mistress."

"You make her clothes?"

"Oh no, I tend to mend them."

The conversation lulled again, and Crowley bit his lip as he thought before asking the question that has been on his tongue since the play ended, "why do you love theatre so much?"

Her chest flared, her eyes wide and sparkling, and she could barely contain the words before they poured from her in excited spurts, "what's not to love? It's stories about being human wrapped up in fancy costumes and dramatic voices. It's full of stories that seem so outrageous yet we still find our way to connect. Isn't it just fascinating that you could watch a show about a man, driven mad by jealousy caused by a deceiving friend, murdering his wife and leave full of emotions? You'd think you'd be mad at the murderer, condemning him for killing his love. And yet, there's more to it than that. You can't quite hate Othello, but you can't love him either. It's so hard to explain what it is to be human, there's no word or sentence to explain it. It can be so isolating. But these stories can give us insight. I, sorry, I'm rambling," she said, taking a wistful sigh.

"Stories can be found anywhere, dear. Books, especially," Aziraphale noted. He enjoyed hearing her speak with such fire. In the back of his mind, he felt as though he could recall someone else talking about their love of stories, but he couldn't place it.

She nodded, smiling. "Yes, of course. And I adore books too. It's just... theatre is such a temporary art. Those moments on stage, or watching, could never be recreated, it could never be exactly as it was. And that's what made it so beautifully tragic. You are stuck with a slightly different story each night, with different takeaways."

"What a beautiful takeaway," Aziraphale said, watching her with a slight sort of awe.

She blushed, "I'm hardly unique in that way."

"Ngk," Crowley mumbled in disagreement, though he didn't actually say a word. Yet, she seemed to still understand what he was trying to say and blushed all the same.

As they walked, Crowley took off his sunglasses for a moment to wipe his eyes. He seemed to forget that his were unusual, yellow and with a snake like slit as a pupil.

"Are you alright?" She asked.

"M'yeah," Crowley answered, opening his eyes to look at her. After the initial realization he was seeing her without glasses, thus revealing the snake like eyes, he went to shove the sunglasses back on. But she wasn't looking unkindly at him.

Instead, she smiled widely, "they're beautiful."

"Wot?" He said in shock.

"Your eyes are beautiful, Mr Crowley." Then, as Crowley sputtered in surprise, she stopped in front of an expensive flat. "This is me mistress's. Thank you, Mr Crowley and Mr Fell."

She looked both of them in the eyes as she said their names, and with equal kindness and appreciation. Then, she turned away and scampered around towards the servants entrance. Aziraphale waited until she was inside to blow out a breath.

"She was something," Crowley said.

"Yes, she was."

"I- angel, I could be wrong on this but didn't she feel-"

"Familiar?" Aziraphale finished for Crowley, looking down the alley as though she would magically reappear.

"Yes! It's so bloody weird," Crowley said, rubbing his hand along his jaw.

"Yes, weird," Aziraphale said, enunciating weird in an odd way that made Crowley furrow his brows. The two beings tried to shrug off this encounter, heading their separate ways for the time being.

1865—————

Aziraphale stared at Crowley as though he'd never seen him before, utterly gobsmacked. "I will not provide you that, that thing! It's suicide."

"Aw not for that Angel," Crowley groaned, waving his hand nonchalantly as though he hadn't asked for the one thing that would completely kill him. "Just for, err you know, protection."

"You are a demon, Crowley. The world would need protection from you."

Crowley tried to not let that sting. He'd never said as much to Aziraphale, but these last 200 years have really brought some perspective over what it is to be a demon. He found a weird sense of discomfort over the word demon. As though he were entirely bad because of what he was, and not what he does. But he'd never say it, or tell Aziraphale he accidentally rhymed.

"It's not like that, I just want to secure myself. That's all."

Aziraphale pursed his lips and looked away, not bearing the thought that his closest acquaintance would dare to think of something like that. It was simply not going to happen, Aziraphale refused to let that happen. Crowley was going to live forever, with Aziraphale, and he was going to do so happily. He'd never tell Crowley, of course, but Aziraphale didn't know if he could manage eternity without him.

"Oi! That can't have that!" Crowley said quickly, throwing himself off the bench and facing towards a woman standing by the river.

She turned to look at the, in her view, random man dressed in mourning garb barreling towards her and shouting in a thick accent. She clutched the loaf of bread close to her chest, eyeing him warily as he continued rambling.

"Bread's not good for 'em, it can - can - can cause diseases," he said once he got close to her.

She sucked in a breath. He was taller than he'd looked from afar, and she found herself staring at him. He was also quite handsome, with tanned skin and shocking bright red hair, curled away from his face. She noticed a pair of odd looking spectacles hiding his eyes, and a tattoo peaking out beneath his sideburns.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know," she said breathlessly. She felt kind of stupid now, holding a loaf of bread as he stared at her with a passion for the ducks. A man dressed in all beige apparel came by quickly, standing by the other man's side. He looked kind, with bright blue eyes and plush pink lips she didn't even realize she'd taken note of.

"I'm terribly sorry for my friend's outburst," Aziraphale said to the woman, still looking shellshocked. "Though I'm afraid he is right, bread is not the best for them."

She looked down and stared at it. "Right, well I apologize. I hadn't been doing it long, if it's of any comfort."

Crowley grumbled but didn't say anything else, eyeing her with skepticism. After a pause where the three stood in silence, the woman tore the loaf into three sections. She then offered up a piece to each of the men, "better we eat it than them?"

Crowley and Aziraphale exchanged a glance, they hadn't expected this. Maybe it was the mood of St James's Park or the pull of this young girl, but they reached out to accept their proffered piece.

Just then a golden shine passed over her eyes. Both men's jaws dropped as they'd never shared of this particular detail of their stories, and had never experienced it together. And, for the first time, she seemed conscious of it too.

A hand went up to her cheeks just below her eyes, which had grown wide in surprise. "What was that?"

"Pardon?" Aziraphale asked in that slightly tense voice he had when he was covering up for something.

"The, my, my eyes. I was looking and then it went all - gold like."

"Oh I don't know about that," Aziraphale said.

She shook her head vehemently, pointing at the both of them. "Yours did too, and yours!"

"You saw our eyes shine gold?" Crowley asked shyly.

"Y-yes. I saw through your spectacles. The whole eye, it went gold -"

"It must have been a trick of the light, dearest. Eyes don't 'go gold.'"

She shook her head again, "no. I know what I saw. I, I think I'd better go. Thank you for the, the, the ducks."

"Wait-" "Don't go-" Aziraphale and Crowley started at the same time, but she'd already lifted her skirts so she could walk away as quickly as possible.

"She saw it this time," Crowley said, mouth open in surprise.

"This time? This time? You've had a girls eyes shine gold before?" Aziraphale asked, trying to ignore the way his heart ramped up at the news. Crowley felt it too, it wasn't all him.

"And by the sound of it, you have too."

"Yes, I have. But only thrice before, 55BC, 13-"

"-77 and 1601."

Aziraphale's blue eyes widened and he stared at Crowley in shock, "I- I, how did you know?"

"Same for me, Angel. Same for me."

"So she's connected then, to the both of us." Aziraphale said slowly, trying to work it all out in his head. Crowley nodded, pursing his lips and making a 'tsk' noise under his breath.

"She's looked different each time. I don't think she's an Angel or a demon," Crowley said, ripping off a small piece of the bread she gave him and tossing it into the water. No, it wasn't good for them but who cares at this point. They were eternally connected to something.

"No, I think you're quite right. She's something else entirely. I'll have to do some research, I'll let you know if I have anything of note."

Crowley swallows, "same 'ere."

"Okay. Well then, good afternoon to you," Aziraphale tipped his hat and wandered off back to his book shop, his head completely filled with ideas of shapeshifters and witches, all sorts of creatures.

Current Day—————

Crowley parked the Bentley outside Aziraphale's shop, the wheel a slight tap before getting out. It was cold today, and he saw dozens of people shuffling into Nina's shop for some warmth. He himself was freezing but he knew even slightly suggesting to Aziraphale would earn him some pampering, blanket tucked in, hot chocolate, and near undivided angelic attention. Normally he didn't like asking for it, but it's been a weird few years with the Armageddon't, and he could use some pampering.

He felt a pang in his chest, a strange sort of pull he didn't know what to do with. What did humans do when their hearts hurt? Then it struck him - he wasn't human. Why would his heart be hurting?

"Oi, you doing okay?" A voice said from the pavement outside Aziraphale's shop. Crowley looked up, surprised to see Nina with a bag full of ingredients.

"What're you doing out

She held up the bag with a raised brow, as though he was stupid to just suggest it, "you're alright then?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. But you haven't got other staff and the place's full."

"Oh, yeah, forgot you didn't know about that." Nina said dryly. "I hired a new barista. Name's Y/N. New to town."

There it was, that pull dragging him towards her shop. He couldn't explain, tried to rack his brain as to what would want him in there. He glanced back through the windows, trying to see if anything was amiss.

Each instance with her seemed to last for a second, barely enough to know if it was the truth or a trick of the light. But Crowley had lived long enough on enough stupid planets to know that when he saw something that wasn't typically there, it wasn't a figment of his imagination. He swallowed, trying to betray anything to Nina.

"Right. Well then, better get back to it," he said, moving past her shoving his way into Aziraphale's bookshop.

"Oh Crowley, wonderful you're here-"

"Yes, yes, I'm wonderful, you're wonderful, the world's bloody wonderful. Angel, do you remember in 1865 when we saw her in St James's Park?"

There wasn't a need to clarify who the 'her' was. Aziraphale straightened, removing his spectacles from his nose. "Yes, I do."

"And you remember when you said you'd research it and report back, but never did?"

"Yes, I do. Crowley-"

"I need that research now, Angel." Crowley said quickly, not letting Aziraphale ask more pointless questions.

"Nothing came of it, dear, that's why I'd never told you. We would have sensed if she was a witch, angel, demon, or anything other supernatural. We have those senses."

"Are you absolutely sure?"

"Crowley, what happened? What did you see?"

"She's here."

Aziraphale's eyebrows shot up and he placed a surprise hand on his chest, not quite knowing what to do with that information. "Here?!"

"In London. In the coffee shop, in Nina's coffee shop. I - I saw her. There was a golden thread between us. I know it's her, Angel. She looks different but she has every time. It's her."

"You saw a golden thread?"

"Yes."

Aziraphale put his spectacles back on, heading for one of his bookshelves towards the back of the shop, "are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes, Angel, I'm bloody positive."

"A Golden thread has never shown up before. The previous times were all the, err, the eyes. This means something." Aziraphale said, gathering the dusty book from his shelf and depositing it on his desk with a thud. "In Greek mythology the golden thread was your life line. Your life thread so to speak. Fate, destiny, the whole nine yards."

"Yes, Angel, but the Greeks were wrong and that's how we exist so what does it mean for us?" Crowley grabbed a chair and fell into it, placing a frustrated hand on his temple.

Aziraphale thumbed through pages until he found what he was looking for. He read the words, but it only helped to scrunch his brow. "This doesn't make any sense. The threads only have two colors, two avenues."

"What do the threads mean, Angel?" His tone pained in frustration. This girl was scaring him, and he couldn't explain why. As far as he knew she presented no threat to him. And yet all the same, he feared her. He wasn't a fan of the unknown. Everything had been so planned out for so long, even though he didn't like the idea of the world ending it was a plan nonetheless.

"It says here that white thread is for eternal blessings. Saints and what not. Black thread for eternal damnation. But it only exists on a human while they are alive."

"Wot? I don't see black threads on people, d'you see white threads?"

Aziraphale adjusted his spectacles, "it says here they only appear if an Angel, or in your case, dearest, a demon, specifically bless them. Or, err, curse them."

"Still, you'd think 6,000 years and I woulda seen something."

Aziraphale nodded in agreement, "I've not seen any either."

"Wait, how'd you know about all this then?" Crowley waved a hand vaguely in between Aziraphale and the book.

Aziraphale looked confused for a moment, "all this? Oh, ah, you mean how I've come to know about the threads? Well it is to my understanding that this was brought up by Michael -"

"Head honcho Michael?" Crowley asked.

"Yes, though I wouldn't use such human terms myself. Michael had thought it up around 100BC. Thought it would be a fun way of identifying humans. But the upstairs didn't fancy the idea, She dispelled it not too long after."

"Hmm... never woulda pictured that out of Michael."

"Well, they say you never really know someone." Aziraphale replied, looking back over the pages as Crowley began to ramble.

"Always thought that applied to killers. No one ever says that 'bout the good deeds, they only say it after you've hurt someone. If someone's killed a kid, everyone's all up in arms like 'you never really knew 'em.' But if someone's a paramedic no one's like 'you never really know-'"

Aziraphale felt his jaw drop open as the words at the bottom of the page finally clicked. Part of the reason Michael's plan never worked, at least according to Gabriel, was that the wording was too specific. "No one uses 'eternally' in their everyday vocabulary," he had argued. Back then Aziraphale had quite agreed with Gabriel, but everyone agreed with Gabriel if it meant shutting Michael up. But he remembered a time not long before the thread idea was vanished when he had used the word 'eternally' in conversation. He reread to be sure, then piped up over Crowley's random complaining, "C-Crowley... do you remember what you said to her in 55BC?"

Crowley's face scrunched as he tried to think all the way back. "I, uh, tripped her. On accident, then she called me an asshole and I-I damned her for eternity I think."

"Oh dear."

"What does this 'oh dear' me? Angel?" When Aziraphale didn't say anything Crowley got up, stalking over to him quickly. "What did you see?"

"I blessed her for eternity."

"So? What's that mean?"

"I-I think, and I could be very very wrong, however I think that means we've, err, we've trapped her soul in an endless strain between Heaven and Hell."

"No, no, no, no," Crowley started to say, unconsciously pacing as he tried to unravel it all in his head. "That doesn't make any sense. Her thread is gold, white and black don't make gold. It makes grey, she should be grey!"

"I think the color of her thread is far from our biggest issue, Crowley."

"So, so what? She's trapped to us?"

Aziraphale ran a hand down his face, trying to process. "I- she might be."

"But her body's changed each time. It's not the same woman."

"Ah, but her eyes. They've stayed the same. You know as well as I do they're the same."

Crowley stopped, knowing he didn't have grounds to argue. Aziraphale was right, after all. Then he groaned, rubbing his eyes. "Fucking hell-"

"Language," Aziraphale said with pursed lips.

"Wot? For the fucking or the hell part?" Crowley snapped, then upon seeing Aziraphale's dropped expression he immediately retracted. "I'm sorry. That was rude. You're not getting the stupid dance though. Angel, she's not immortal. Her soul is. She must just keep being, being reborn. But the soul from 55BC is still the same."

"That would make sense," Aziraphale said. "They do say the eyes are the window into the soul. Perhaps that explains why they remain while the rest of her can change."

"Yeah, yeah. It makes sense, don't it?"

"So we've accidentally trapped a human soul to Earth to live and die for eternity?"

"Yeah, yeah," Crowley sniffed. "Think we did, Angel."

There was a quiet pause as the two reflected on what they just realized. They, unwittingly, had created an immortal creature. She doesn't even know she's immortal, and by the past experience it sounds as if her mind is wiped with each death. But her soul lives on.

"Fuck," Aziraphale said quietly.

Crowley looked up sharply, "wot'd you say?"

"I said fuck." He repeated, with more confidence this time around.

On any normal circumstance, Crowley would laugh and cherish the moment he saw Aziraphale curse - and with fuck of all of them - but he couldn't help but think Aziraphale was right. Fuck, indeed.

"What do we do?" Crowley asked.

"We have to tell her."

"We do? Why's that? What d'ya think we're gonna say? Hi random stranger I'm a demon he's an Angel and your soul is stuck, here have a cuppa."

"Well that would be straightforward -"

"Sarcasm, Angel. You've been here for thousands of years and you still don't process sarcasm."

Aziraphale stood up and went over to Crowley, touching his shoulders so he'd look up to him. "I understand that this is difficult. This is, it's entirely unprecedented territory. But she deserves the truth." He leaned in, his voice but a whisper. "It does help that we both feel a pull to her. Once we see her, it hurts to no interact. Perhaps we can find a way to end this, to help her."

Crowley swallowed, looking away from Aziraphale's bright blue eyes. He smelled of vanilla and old books, a scent Crowley would bottle up and spray all over his stupid, cold flat if he could. Maybe this girl could help, maybe she was good. But they first needed to meet her.

"Alright. Fine. Let's go, now," Crowley said, sliding his sunglasses back on. Aziraphale nodded and retrieved his coat.

The pair walked out of the bookshop, locking up, and swiftly walked cross the street. They hesitated outside the door, neither knowing what to do. A flash of a blue apron in the window caught their attention, and then a golden thread, shining in the light, emerged and wrapped round the owners waist.

"You seeing that, Angel?"

"Y-yes, I am. It's not faded."

It didn't. It sparkled and swayed in the air, moving with the owners body as she walked around in the shop.

"On three," Aziraphale said. Crowley grumbled in agreement. "One, two ... three."

They opened the doors and were almost immediately greeted by a sweet smile and kind eyes. The same eyes they'd seen for hundreds of years. She smiled, tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear.

"Hi guys, welcome in! Feel free to take a seat wherever you like, I'll be with you in a moment."

"O-okay," Aziraphale said, his voice wispy in the confusion and whirlwind that was her. But she was entirely unaware, blissfully living in her own world that she didn't know was about to be ruined.

They sat in a far corner, away from any windows. Crowley sprawled in the seat, looking anywhere but at Aziraphale. Aziraphale sat stiff as a bored, left leg bouncing so furiously the table itself started to shake.

"Right, what can I get you lads?" She seemed to appear out of nowhere, shining golden thread wrapped round her sweet waist right where the apron was tied.

Aziraphale spoke first, not looking her in the eye but instead staring out the window. An uncharacteristically rude action on his part. "Oh, um, just a latte please. With 3 shots of vanilla."

"Ooo, yum. And for you, the one with the glasses?" She asked, her voice light.

Crowley thought for a moment. Better bite the bullet, eh? He turned, took his sunglasses off, and looked her in the eyes. "Espresso, darling."

Her eyes had a golden flash and she seemed to jump, her pad falling to the table in her shock. She looked between Aziraphale and Crowley with wide eyes, hands going to her stomach as she took deep breaths. "Aziraphale. Your name is Aziraphale," she said to him. Eyes wide. She turned to the demon. "You're Crowley."

"Yes, dear, we are."

"Why do I know that?" Her voice was shaky and yet she stayed, not angry or scared that she knew unknowable information.

Aziraphale and Crowley exchanged a glance. Crowley sighed, flicking his hand. Time around them stopped. Customers held their mugs up in the air, Nina mid pouring a cup, and a man getting ready to ask for the most ridiculous drink he could think of. All were trapped in this moment except for her, Aziraphale and Crowley.

She jumped, looking around with wide eyes, "h-how'd you do that? Why did you do that?"

"Please, take a seat dear," Aziraphale said, snapping as a plush chair appeared behind her. She tripped into it, her body language stuff and frightened.

"This is all feeling like a very strange dream, and I don't like it," she said, taking deep breaths to try and clear her mind. "Did you just stop time and if so, how the hell did you? And you just miraculously created a chair? And why do I know who the hell you are?"

"Dearest, it's not a dream, I'm afraid. You have met us before. You've met us multiple times before," Aziraphale took a breath. "I-I'm afraid we have some complicated news."

"Tell me who the hell you are!" She was getting scared, her heart fighting against her rib cage. She wanted to get up, she wanted to run away, put her hands over her ears and scream 'la la la' over and over until they left her alone. But she didn't. It wasn't a physical thing, even though these familiar strangers had put her in a terrifying position she knew they'd let her go. It was her soul that kept her trapped. "Who are you? I need to know. Who are you really?"

Aziraphale placed a warm hand on her own. His was large, soft and yet strong. She liked the feeling of his hands as he held one of hers, looking into her eyes. "My name is Aziraphale. I am an Angel of God. I was the Guardian of the East Gate at the Garden of Eden, but now I am on Earth. I perform miracles and I run a bookshop, with my dearest friend."

His eyes glanced over to the other man. He was handsome, tanned skin with fiery red hair slicked up and back over his head. Aziraphale might have called him a friend, but she wasn't stupid enough to believe that. It was more than that, maybe they didn't know it but she definitely did.

Another hand grasped hers, this one lean and long. He grasped her hand with a soft intensity she didn't know possible. "My name's Crowley. I'm a demon, you'd know me cause I was a, uh, let's call me a reptile."

She blinked rapidly, "you were the snake that tempted Eve?"

"Wow, she's a quick one," Crowley smiled widely.

"Wasn't he cursed to only use his belly?"

Crowley rolled his eyes, "it's complicated."

"You, both, are not human. You're an Angel and you're a demon. So Christianity is right."

"Yes, love. But God is actually a She, that bit got muddled," Aziraphale smiled. "Are you feeling better?"

"That doesn't explain, why- why do I know you? I recognize both of you, but I don't know why. Then you made that comment about having met me multiple times, for years, what does that mean?" She was getting a little riled but she tried to stay calm. This wasn't going to make any more sense by screaming at a literal demon. And Angel, but the demon was more infuriating at the moment. He stared at her with a mix of awe and shock, and she didn't want to think about any of it.

Aziraphale sighed, "before the current era, you know Roman times and what not, the Archangel Michael played with the idea of threads. It was similar in concept to the Greek idea of fate -"

"You happened to be alive when this was a thing. It means when a demon curses you and says the word 'eternally' a black thread'll appear to let everyone know you're damned forever. White thread with angels."

"I'm damned forever? Wait, you said Roman times - I was alive during the ancient roman era?"

"Well, darling, he blessed you and I cursed you at the same day. Meaning your soul is trapped with both Heaven and Hell," Crowley said softly. "We think your soul has been reincarnated since about 55BC. And it's because of us. This Golden shit you see is our connection."

"But white and black make grey?"

Crowley clapped and said "aha! She gets it!"

"Crowley," Aziraphale said, though his eyes were light with amusement. "We can't explain the color of the thread. But we believe it means you're connected to us. Both of us, we get this pull to you when you're around. As though we have to see you."

There was a moment of silence as they let her collect her thoughts. Unconsciously, she'd curled up into a ball on the comfy chair Aziraphale had miracled. She thought and thought, rolling over the idea that she's trapped here on earth. An accidental immortal being tied to these two.

She glanced at Aziraphale. She knew him, she has known him. She bit her lip, wishing to understand everything as it was.

"M-May I?" She asked, tentatively lifting a hand near his face. She needed to touch him, to feel him, to try and remember.

The Angel nodded. He was soft, his hair light and white, in short curls on top of his head. She liked the curls, they looked rather fetching on him. Her fingertips brushed lightly down his face, feeling his kind face. She liked his lips, they were pink and couldn't fight a smile. Then she glanced down and saw his hand in his lap. Running an hand down his shoulder to his hand, she lifted it and eyed the golden ring.

"Aziraphale..." she murmured. It all started to fall into place. The dancing, the food, the wine. He'd looked so out of place in pale clothing, so obviously finer than anyone else's. He'd tried to blend in with an outdated style, to balance the richness, but she could spot him through the crowd with ease. His cheeks had gotten pink, and he'd gone for a drink. She hadn't meant to spill on him, she just wanted a chat. "I gave you this ring. You didn't want it at first, but I gave it to you. It says Aziraphale on it."

He took a shaky breath, his eyes becoming glassy with tears. His lips trembled as he said, "you did."

Aziraphale slid the ring off his finger, turning it so she could see the inside. There enough his name was scrawled in haphazard writing. It had faded from the years, some of the details lost to time. But she remembered this ring when it was new. When William had gotten it in his shop and didn't know what to make of it. And she'd taken it, knew it would be special.

She pressed a soft kiss to the ring, then slid it back on Aziraphale's finger. She looked him in the eyes as she kissed the back of his hand, "I remember you."

The tears had actually fallen now, hitting his cheeks softly. He didn't try to hide it, and she wouldn't want him to. Perhaps it was this whole eternal blessing thing, but she was drawn to him.

Then she turned to the demon. Crowley. He sat high and mighty in his chair, looking away as though he were intruding on Aziraphale's private moment. He was handsome in a different way than Aziraphale. Where Aziraphale was soft and strong, Crowley was sharp and sweet. She smiled when she looked at him, knowing he was sweet without saying it.

She went to him to, lifting her hand then asking softly, "may I touch you?"

He swallowed, and nodded. She first touched his hair, it was softer then it looked. Her fingertips brushed it so it feel on his forehead, liking the contrast of his skin against the red. Then she traced along his tattoo, the way his cheekbone felt under her touch.

With gentle hands, she cupped his cheeks and turned his face so he had to look her in the eyes. She smiled. "I'd wondered if they were still yellow."

He closed his eyes, cringing. He'd always hated his eyes. "Sorry they're-"

"Beautiful." He opened his eyes quickly. "I remember your eyes. They've been in my dreams and I never knew why. The man with the yellow snake eyes. They are so, so beautiful. Like a sunflower."

"You're comparing s'demon eyes to a sunflower?"

She smiled and nodded, "you have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen."

Crowley sucked in a breath, closing his eyes. It as though the attention itself would make him implode.

"Keep them closed," she said. Then he felt a pair of soft lips kiss one eyelid, then the other. "Absolutely beautiful. Don't you think so, Aziraphale?"

Crowley was shocked to hear Aziraphale agree. "I adore your eyes, dear. They've been my favorite for a long time."

The three didn't know what to do with themselves, time frozen around them. But however strange the situation, she wasn’t afraid. Not anymore. She wanted to get to know this Angel and demon, understand their pasts and more about their connection.

“Thank you, my dear, for your patience,” Aziraphale said kindly.

“I suppose I should be thanking you, you’ve waited hundreds of years.” She said with a dry laugh that made Crowley smile.

There weren’t any words that seemed to describe the moment the three of them shared, in a moment frozen in time knowing they had all the time in the world. But for now it was enough, and that was all it needed to be.

#good omens #good omens season 2 #fluff #soulmate au #good omens fanfiction #good omens x reader #kind of on accident #didn’t think I cared about it until now and I still don’t but I’m proud of this fic #god it’s long please read #historical shit #Aziraphale x Crowley x reader #Aziraphale x Crowley #12k words #my sanity is gone #don’t even care that much about a reader insert with them but I’m here #so enjoy

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luciferism · 6 months

Text

[ "Midnight Dance" ]

Lucifer x Stripper!AFAB!Reader

Summary: You were a new hired stripper in a high-end exclusive strip club and you got lucky to land on a new, handsome and affluent patron. You were assigned to give him a private lap dance that went too far...

Tags: 18+, smut, one shot, lap dance, humping, vaginal fingering, creampie, biting, explicit, pwp, porn with a little bit of feeling

Word Count: 6.3K words

A/N: Oops, I went kind of inactive for a while. I got lazy.

[ Masterlist ] | [ Archives of Our Own ]

A seductive expression plays in your face, you are currently giving a lap dance to Lucifer, your new customer. He was a very attractive man, looking rich and confident. You cannot help but perform at your best. You sway your hips slowly as you tug your own lace lingerie.

Lucifer sits and enjoys the lap dance from the exotic dancer. He is enjoying your moves. He is impressed. The music is playing in the background while he observes you. He sees that you are giving a great show. He is in awe, not just because of the performance, but because you are indeed beautiful, despite your profession. He takes a moment to take his glasses off and look at you more closely. He is mesmerized.

Lucifer starts playing with your hair, enjoying your body and the way it sways. He is in euphoria. He is losing himself at the moment. He is having trouble breathing because it's too much for him to take in. This is the first time in years that he has felt this way. He doesn't want to ruin the intimacy and the mood of the moment. He continues to watch with his eyes wide open in astonishment and pleasure.

You hover above Lucifer's lap, teasing and caressing his body with your nimble hands. One moment your hips sways in circles and your warm core had touched Lucifer's lap, eliciting a pleasurable friction. You smile sweetly and winks at him. You continue to graze your core on his lap and try to hover up higher again.

It has only been a week since you started this profession because you needed the money for yourself and your passions. And much to your luck, you are already serving a man like Lucifer.

Lucifer's eyes are closed and his lips are parted. His breathing is faster, his heart is pounding, and his body is shaking a little bit. He's trying to keep it together, but he's having difficulty. All the pleasure that's being offered to him is too much. He can't resist it, this is everything he has wanted to feel for so many years. He opens his eyes, they are full of lust and desire. He reaches out and holds your hips tightly, pulling you closer to him.

With the lithe movements of your hands, you gently tug Lucifer's hands off of your hips. Customers are allowed to enjoy the lap dance but should never touch the dancers, as per the club’s policy. You bat your eyelash at him, hoping he would understand. Just then, you continue to give him a lap dance as the music plays.

Without breaking eye contact, you look at him seductively and turn around. You sways your hips a bit as you caress your own butt. You flash your butt for long while you graze your fingers on the seams of your thongs, giving Lucifer a sneak peek of your plump pussy.

Lucifer is absolutely infatuated by you, your body, your moves, your sensuality and your beauty. He follows every move you make with his stare, his lips are still slightly apart and his breathing is a bit heavy. His blood is boiling as it rushes throughout his veins.

When you turn around and flash your butt at him, he feels overwhelmed with lust. He is speechless and can barely move. He is frozen. His eyes are stuck on your inviting pussy, taking it all in. He lets out a gasp as he witnesses such beauty and he feels his teeth nip on his own lips.

This is probably your best performance after a week of joining the club. You don't know what the reason is, but you feel the necessity to perform better for this man specifically. You are definitely enjoying this night too much. You only had performed once privately before, during your second night, because of the demand for other girls that worked for a long time here. You are new so you get the newer patrons. And much to your luck, you landed on a great patron already.

You continue to tug the seams of your thongs as you slightly bend forward, the plump lips of your cunt flashes only an arm's length away from Lucifer. You chuckle softly, your hand stops tugging your lace thongs and proceeds to sensually knead your own butt in circles.

Lucifer is absolutely lost in the moment and can barely string words together. He is speechless, completely mesmerized by every move you are making. His breath is becoming heavier and his thoughts are cloudy. His body is shaking and he is having the strongest urge to touch your body and kiss you. Lucifer takes in your beauty in awe as your cunt keeps on calling for him—almost touching him—the lust in his eyes gets more intense. The pressure is getting to him. He is almost losing control. Lucifer pulls you closer. He can't handle it anymore.

Your lips curl into a bewitching smile as you let him pull you close. Despite the no touch policy, you feel excitement and arousal as your desire won you over your feeble rationale. The women in the club are not entirely following this policy especially if their patrons are gentle and have been respectful enough to them. Well, the patrons have been tested by the club before accepting them to take care of the women's health as well–another one of the reasons you wanted to leap over the lines of the club’s regulations.

And so you did it, you sat back once more on his lap with your back facing him. You did not say anything, in fact, you are rather proud of yourself that a man like Lucifer will fold halfway through your performance.

Lucifer can't contain himself. It's been a long time since he felt this kind of pleasure. He grips tighter on your hips, wanting to hold you closer. He needs more. He wants you. This was supposed to be a simple lap dance, and yet Lucifer is on the brink of giving into his desires and passions. He is already succumbing. He can barely think straight, his mind is foggy and his thoughts are all about you.

Lucifer licks his tongue and starts to kiss your neck. The sheer sensation of your neck against his lips flesh is making him go mad.

Your eyes flutter shut in delight. This man better be paying more than the cost—or at least take you home. Not that you are only after the money, though. Considering how attractive this patron is, you have let yourself loose and enjoy the feeling and the experience.

“Just... no kissing on the lips,” you mutter under your breath, trying to ‘preserve’ your image of professionalism in front of Lucifer.

It is the most strict policy of the club and you want to make sure this gentleman respects it. You start to sway your hips again on his lap, feeling something hard and quite big, poking your butt. A cheeky grin was plastered on your features, your back still facing him, and the sway of your hips turned into slow yet firm grinds. You hissed at the pleasure of friction from Lucifer's thighs hitting your cunt.

Lucifer feels the friction between your bodies, leaving his blood boiling even more and the soles of his feet prickling from emanated pleasure as your butt keeps on hitting the unmistakable bulge of arousal inside his trousers. He's puffing air through the gap of his lips, wanting to hold back, wanting to be respectful like he normally is, but... he needs you, and his rationality dwindles in every sway of your hips.

He's beyond the point of self-control. Lucifer pulls you tighter and kisses your neck some more, in a more demanding manner. He wants more of your lush cunt, more of you. His mind is in a vortex and his desire and passion surging inside him.

Lucifer stops kissing your neck. He had finally let his body be dictated by his lust. His hand slips and he grabs your head to the side, his fingers weaving your hair. He pulls you a little more–making your faces inch closer from each other and your bodies still tangling together.

His gaze settled on your face and your eyes closed in pleasure. You look so beautiful to him. A wave of lust brewed inside Lucifer. He wants you so badly and he wants you now. He wants to taste your cunt and claim it as his own for as long as he desires.

You cannot take it anymore, the heat is too much and this damned attractive man makes it even harder to be rational at the moment. In a swift motion of your body, you turn around and sit on his lap back again, facing him this time.

Lucifer's eyes widen as he looks at your face while you sit on his lap once again. You are absolutely beautiful. Your full lips, your hair, you are so breathtaking and your curves are absolutely divine. You are the very epitome of sexy, irresistible and perfect in his eyes. Lucifer cannot tear his gaze away from you as if he has been bedazzled by your beauty.

The warmth of his breath slaps your skin, he is trying harder than ever to hold back. Your close proximity to him is making him go wild, he is almost at his breaking point.

You both are not saying anything as you sit still on his lap. Your hands rest on Lucifer's upper body, sliding a hand up and down on his toned chest. You smile sweetly at him yet your eyes are lustful as you look him in the eyes. Lucifer's lips are so kissable, his face is so handsome, he is perfect and you could no longer think about the club's policy. The thought of taking things further with this patron is exhilarating and could only bite your lower lip to ground yourself.

Lucifer’s lips stings as he stares at your lips. They are so beautiful to him. He wants you so badly. He wants you. He wants to make love to you.

Little did Lucifer know, you are holding back from kissing him right then and there. You want him too and maybe as strong as Lucifer's desire for you. You shut your eyes to put yourself in check but failed miserably as your hips moved and grinded on him instinctively. You're doomed, in a good way. It is worth it since it feels so good. You're not thinking about anything else other than this patron between your legs.

“I guess it's not too bad if we do a little rule breaking…” you say after opening your eyes. You wink at him as you hump on his lap. Without a second thought, you lean in and pressed your lips against Lucifer’s passionately.

Lucifer can barely think when you kiss him. His mind is foggy and he is losing control. He found himself kissing you back with the same hunger and passion. He holds you tightly with his strong arms, his hands snakes around your waist and grasping the flesh of your thighs. He picks you up and puts you back on his lap, with your back facing him once again.

Lucifer continues to kiss you, but his actions become passionate and aggressive. He holds you tq1111ightly and whispers in your ear.

“I want you. I want to taste you. I'm taking you, and I will not be denied.”

You let him manhandle you for a bit, your eyes are shut as you bite your lips from the pleasure you feel around your body. When you settle back again on his lap, you spread your legs on either side of his thighs and grab Lucifer's toned forearms as you lean your back against him.

“Mmm... I like this position.” You cannot help but moan quietly, your voice mixes with the faint music in the background. You tilt your neck to the side, letting your head fall on his shoulder.

Lucifer smiles and kisses your neck again. He touches your hair, your skin, all so soft and smooth. He moves you back a little, so you are slightly lying on him. His hands digging the flesh of your hips, his finger sliding on your lace thong, which he eventually takes off.

Lucifer continues to kiss your neck, he can't get enough. He is trying to hold back a little bit, trying to maintain his self-control, but he is getting lost in the moment and the pleasure. His mouth trails kisses on your shoulders and neck.

Your lips curled in a wide grin, you are now exposed with your cunt on display for someone if ever they come into this small room. You lie on top of him, your back pressing against his body, as you both sit on the couch provided by the club for the patrons.

“Let's keep this a secret... I want you to touch me more.”

The sensation of Lucifer's lips and tongue on your skin makes your lips quiver in delight. You are gasping and moaning quietly, your eyes are still shut—relishing this moment of passion and lust with your patron.

Lucifer slides his hand up your thighs, you are so soft and smooth, it is almost overwhelming for him. With the firm grasp of his hands, he pulls you against him and his hand touches your soaking cunt. The moment Lucifer's fingers caress your folds, a tiny scream of pleasure is caught in your throat. As if your body has a mind of its own, your back arch and your hand grabs Lucifer's wrist and glides upwards his forearm. His slow sensual movements in your cunt drives you to the ledge of madness.

His deft fingers rubbed gently and slowly along your folds, spreading them and rubbing them in circular motion. He can see your excitement, feel your breath, hear your sounds, your body next to his, your beautiful face and he can see your lips quiver..

“Ahh... Ahh... it feels so good,” Your moans become louder and small whimpers occasionally join your cries of pleasure. Your hips buck against his hand while you lean all your weight on Lucifer's body. When your legs instinctively press together, the grip of Lucifer's other hand on your thighs goes tighter—keeping your thighs open wide.

His warm breath wafts against your neck and shoulder and his lips and tongue on the smooth skin of your neck are sending you way above the cloud nine. Lucifer keeps on caressing your now weeping cunt slowly—teasing you, enjoying you, making sure he gives you as much pleasure as you give him. He wants to claim you. You're his, and no one else's.

You moan loudly and your entire body shudders as Lucifer's hand moves and touches you in just the right places. Your breath is becoming heavier as your eyes flicker as your senses are being overwhelmed. You can barely think, all you feel is Lucifer's touch. You can feel the heat between the two of you, the desire, the mutual passion and attraction.

You open your eyes and turn to look at Lucifer, “I'm losing control. What... What are you doing to me?”

His grip on your body tightens and his touch gets a little more aggressive as you ask, "What is he doing to you?" Lucifer's face went closer to yours, his warm and heavy breath caressed your neck and cheek, holding back a wave of pleasure. His hands move a little faster, harder, more passionately than was before.

Lucifer kept on rubbing along your pussy, with two of his fingers reaching the depths of your flesh. The amorous sound of his fingers in your cunt creates a more pleasing melody along with your moans and the faint music in the background. There was glint in his eyes as it continued to burn embers and his face twisted in ecstasy.

“I am claiming what is mine, what belongs to me. I want you, only you. This is what I have wanted for so long... and there is something I want to make clear.”

He moves his mouth to your shoulder and whispers softly.

“You are mine, now and forevermore. Forever my lover, my plaything, mine.” Lucifer's voice is heavy and husky, and a little more demanding. The only response to his words are your moans and the instinctive jolts of your legs.

Lucifer smiles at the sound of your voice, so filled with pleasure and screaming for his touch. He lifts you off his lap and pushes you down onto the couch and lays atop your body. He pushes the hair away from your eyes, revealing your beautiful and softer features, as you both stare into each other's eyes.

“I am claiming you. Your body, your soul. You belong to me and to no one else. You are mine.”

You feel a flood of emotions wash over you; a mix of shock, arousal and intense pleasure. The feeling is overwhelming, you cannot contain yourself any longer; every bit of your will has flown outside the window. You are helpless and at Lucifer's mercy—and you love it.

Lucifer's eyes blaze with raw desire, “I can't help it. You are so beautiful and wonderful.” Lucifer whispers.

He wants to claim you completely, to take your body and soul, for his own. Your gasps and sounds of pleasure are music to his ears and he can't get enough of you. It is impossible to hold back now. He has to have you.

You look up at Lucifer with your dazed expression and your eyes are half-lidded. You can feel him on your body, his eyes boring into yours, and your chest rises and falls as your lungs demand for more air. All you can feel is the burning desire between you and Lucifer, your breaths mingling together. You can see the raw desire in his eyes as you gaze back at Lucifer, and this makes you weak down to your toes.

“Yes, please. Claim me. I’m yours... only yours,” you quaver along with a moan. Your body and soul are in perpetual shudder.

Lucifer chuckles at your response. Your words make his chest tighten and his breath grow a touch shallow. For a moment, he forgets about everything except you. It's just you and him. You are both alone in this room of passion. Lucifer's hands move along your body, squeezing your breasts, and gently, he pulls the lace of your bra and throws it to the side.

“Your body is so beautiful.” Lucifer whispers, his voice brims with lust. His touch is making you dizzy and delirious, yet you can't get enough.

Lucifer grins and his lips meet yours once again deeply and passionately. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer that your chests pressed together. He trails wet kisses on your neck, face, lips and jaw; making you moan and whimper from the surging pleasure throughout your body.

Lucifer continues to claim you, his body rubbing and squeezing against yours. You are his and his alone. You are his pleasure and his joy. His hands are all over your body, running down the length of you, tracing your silhouette and teasing your sensitive spots.

You are overwhelmed with desire. Your mind is foggy and you are grasping the end of the rope of your self-control. Your stomach sinks and rises erratically every time you gasp for air. Your hand weaves through Lucifer's hair while you pull on his tie.

“Please... don't stop. I need this... more... more.”

Your hips buck against him and your body pressed against his, your breasts pushing against him. Your soft skin, smooth body, and hot touch feels absolutely incredible to Lucifer. Your mouth is on his neck, your tongue licking and teeth biting at his skin, sending shivers all through Lucifer.

“More, give me more. I need you inside me.” Your words come in whispers as your voice catches in your throat.

You wrap your legs around Lucifer's waist, pulling him closer to you. Out of desperation, your hips buck and thrust against his; your hand grabs on to his shoulder and rubs his chest frantically through his shirt. You grip onto Lucifer like he is the only anchor lest yourself be swept further to madness.

Lucifer’s lips curl into a mischievous grin and he kisses your throat and your face. The embers in his eyes were set into flames.

“You want me inside you, do you?” Lucifer whispers as his hands move down your body, his fingers digging into your breasts. He pulls away and removes his clothing swiftly and your eyes are shamelessly fixed at his impressive cock.

“I want you so much, but... I want to give you more.”

He leans down and kisses you again. This is not a regular kiss; it's full of passion and intense emotions. Your lips and bodies are pressed together, and your hearts pounding. He is taking his time with you, not rushing nor forcing you. He wants to make the most out of the experience and give you as much pleasure as possible.

Lucifer moves his leg over your stomach and between your legs, pressing against you with his body. He kisses your neck softly as he moves his face to kiss your lips. You feel that he's pushing hard against you, pressing himself into your body. Lucifer wants you even more than you want him.

Lucifer is driving you wild with his touching, his kissing, his biting, his licking, his hot breath, his presence. The feeling of your smooth skin under his fingers, the way you press yourself against him, the way you pull him closer, and the way you cling to him makes his heart pound and his mind go blank with lust.

“Yes…” Lucifer says as he rubs his shaft over your cunt and gently grabs your butt to push you against him. The friction and touch builds the pleasure and brings you both to a point of no return.

“Yes, you're mine. I want you, I need you…” Lucifer whispers in your ear.

“Yes…” You gasp and moan. The way Lucifer is touching and teasing you brings you closer to the edge. You are so aroused with the feeling of his hands all over you, your mind went into a vortex of pleasure, that there is no other place you would rather be.

“I want you to take me… Now.” You breathlessly demanded.

You kiss Lucifer's chest, his chin, his cheeks. You are lost in desire, no longer you, just an amalgamation of feelings and craving. All your thoughts are gone, replaced with the need for Lucifer.

You sigh in pleasure with a soft moan escaping your lips. You can't believe that you can feel this much pleasure, this much joy. You feel hot and wet inside and it's driving you insane.

“I want you too. You can never have me enough…” You whisper desperately. The touch of Lucifer's lips and hands everywhere send shivers all over your body, making you quiver and breathe heavily. You pull the back of Lucifer's head even closer, bringing his body hard against yours.

“I want you to fill me…Please!” You whisper desperately, your voice went a touch higher in pitch.

Lucifer grins when he hears your words, but he doesn't move yet. He kisses your neck, shoulders, chin and mouth over and over again. He nibbles your ear, kisses your nose, forehead, cheeks and your eyelids. You want to be filled by him, you want him to completely claim you. And he will do just that. There is no one else you will ever desire nor anyone else who will have you as he has you now.

His tongue slides down your body, leaving a trail of saliva. As he moves, his hands rub your soft thighs, your hips, and grab your butt, pulling you against him.

Lucifer smiles again, looking into your eyes. Lucifer presses himself against you, holding you tightly. The way your bodies are pressed together, the intense heat and friction between you sends shocks of electrifying pleasure throughout your bodies. The kissing becomes more intense, more passionate and hungry. Each kiss makes you feel like you have died and gone to heaven.

“Yes, I will take you... I will fill you.” Lucifer's voice is low and hoarse, his muscles tensed from desire.

“I want you too, so much…” He pulls your legs higher towards his body and pushes his shaft into your hole, deliberately.

Your body responds instantly to Lucifer's slow and deep thrusts. Each thrust done intensifies the pleasure. You are gloriously overwhelmed as he stretches and fills your walls. Your eyes are closed, your back arches, your whole body shudders and your lungs screamed for more oxygen. You sing your moans and your face is flushed. You kiss his shoulder and your legs clasp around him as well, trying to keep him as close and deep as possible.

You gasped for breath before you spoke, “More... please... I need you…”

Your breathing quickens and your heart keeps on pounding. You feel light-headed and your mind clouded by a haze of pleasure and excitement.

“Oh... Lucifer... yes,” your voice is broken and hoarse, not a hint of restraint, only pure desire and passion. Your fingers clutched on Lucifer's shoulders tightly as if you are holding for dear life. “I need you, Lucifer.. so much.”

A puff of air leaves your lungs as when Lucifer pushes himself slowly into your cunt—his shaft deliberately stretching your walls—with you giving him control over your body.

Lucifer grins in response, loving the way you concede completely as he takes you for himself; claiming you with your consent. The way your face contorts into pleasure, the way you squirm and beg for him, the way you meet his hips in every thrust, the way your muscles clench around him, and even the way you moan and whimper. He is loving it all.

Lucifer groans at your moans and actions. You give yourself to him in unadulterated desire to be used and filled by him. Your cries of pleasure fill the room as your body quakes in the pinnacle of pleasure you are feeling.

“Oh, yes…” Lucifer kisses your neck and bites your flesh tenderly. You could feel the hot huffs of his breath hitting your skin.

“How did I get so lucky? How?” Lucifer sighs and showers kisses on your face..

Lucifer moves out of your arms until he is hovering just above your body. He keeps on thrusting gently, holding your hands tightly and looking into your eyes.

“This is what we were made for, you. You belong to me, you are mine. And I am yours.”

Your eyes were filled with love and affection. Your body was still trembling with pleasure as you looked up at Lucifer. The sheer pleasure has intoxicated you and robbed you of the capability to form a coherent thought. You try to say something but it comes out as a broken whisper.

"You're... amazing..." you said as you are trying to chase a steady breath—a little bashful and a far cry from your earlier behavior.

You are lost in a sea of euphoria as you gaze into Lucifer's eyes. Your skin is flushed, your heart pounding and your vision is swirling. You know, deep within your soul, that this was meant to be.

“You are everything I ever dreamed of, Lucifer. I am yours. I am yours alone. Take me, I am yours,” you whispered.

You pull Lucifer in closer, wrapping your arms around Lucifer's neck and you press your mouth against his. Your hold on him goes tighter, making your faces touch each other and your breaths mingling.

“You are mine,” you press your lips to his again, your hands holding his strong shoulders. Your skin is burning from every touch and thrusts. You could feel your racing heartbeat in your neck as if you ran for a thousand miles. You are completely lost to him.

Lucifer smiles into your kiss as he listens to your words. Your adoration of him and the way your body trembles in the throes of pleasure strokes his ego and his heart swell with love.

“Yes.” Lucifer hisses as his lips meet yours again. He moans as he pulls your body even closer to his, his breath quickening and his muscles start flexing as he quickens the pace of his thrusts.

“You're mine,” Lucifer looks into your eyes as he speaks; his hands digging the flesh of your hips as he kisses you again. He can barely control his own desires too, his body is trembling in sheer ecstasy. The joy he feels is ineffable.

He is in his element. His body moves in rhythm with yours, his breathing deep and fast. No words are said now, just the sound of lips pressing against lips and bodies writhing together in the throes of passion and lust. You both share a look, an understanding of the moment. Nothing else matters, you belong to each other at this moment.

Lucifer kisses your neck and bites gently as he pumps his cock inside your cunt rather vigorously—leaving you gasping in pleasure and your hands tightening around him. Lucifer bites your neck again and again, harder each time, and you moan in delight and squeeze him close with your legs.

Lucifer smiles and bites your neck and shoulder, nibbling, teasing, leaving gentle and rough marks on your skin. These marks, you will think about over and over again in the days ahead. You want more. You want Lucifer, entirely, body and soul. As your lips meet, your tongues swirl together. Your bodies are set ablaze. You both are addicted to each other. Your bodies entwine in a timeless dance, your lips never leaving each other's.

Lucifer moves his mouth back along your neck, making another batch of small and soft bites, then licks the skin softly to ease and lessen the stinging sensation.

After a moment, he proceeds to kiss and nibble your collarbone and then your breast. You groan softly in pleasure, your body has not recovered from shaking as you are filled with arousal.

“Yes... I love this…” you gasp.

Lucifer smiles at your words and picks up the pace once more, hitting inside you deeper and faster just like you wanted.

You are completely consumed by desire. You wrap your legs even tighter around Lucifer, pulling him closer as your lungs demand more air. Your hips pushing against him in rhythm with his thrusts. You are losing your mind and you don't seem to care.

Lucifer moves his mouth back up to your lips. The heat between the two of you has reached its peak. Your bodies are writhing together, moving in time with each other with renewed ardor. Greedy tongue's caressing, lips meeting haphazardly, teeth occasionally clashing, and mouths hungry—wanting more and more.

He nibbles on your lower lip, then your neck and your breasts, habitually. Your moans and whimpers go louder, more urgent and a pitch higher; and your body vibrates in each nibble and kiss. You are in overdrive now as Lucifer continues to push you on the edge of your climax.

Lucifer is loving every moment of this. He is in no hurry, but he is definitely enjoying himself. Each nibble and kiss brings you deeper in the ocean of pleasure. Lucifer moves his tongue along your body and stays in your chest. He teases you, licking gently all around your areola, then licking and biting the puckering nipples themselves. Lucifer's tongue and fingertips are working you into a frenzy.

“Please…” your hands grip Lucifer's biceps, your fingernails graze Lucifer's skin.

Lucifer once again nibbles on your neck and kisses you deeply, your mouths locked together in another fiery kiss. His hands glide down onto your hips, holding your body tight against his. The two of you are moving vigorously as you both chase the euphoric sensation.

“More... please…” you pant the words out, your body moving quickly in time with Lucifer's thrusts.

Lucifer moans as he nibbles on your neck and caresses your shoulders lightly. He feels your body shaking in response. Your gasps for breath and your words of encouragement are only fueling Lucifer's own desires. His kisses grow more aggressive, his hips moving faster than yours.

Lucifer holds you tight against him and his lips meet yours again. You both breathe heavily as your tongues are in a tug of war. Lucifer feels your body trembling against his. His own body is shaking and sweating, and he feels himself reaching his peak.

“Lucifer... please.” Your breath is short and fast as you press yourself up against Lucifer frantically.

You are completely lost in the feeling of Lucifer's body moving against yours. Your legs are tight around Lucifer and your moans are loud and urgent.

"Lucifer, oh, Lucifer… don't stop... please more!" Your hips move wildly in time with Lucifer's thrusts, your body shudders with pleasure, as you feel the wave of your climax approaching.

Lucifer moans as he feels your body tense up against his. He can feel the waves of pleasure radiating from you, the heat of your body, your breath becoming heavier and quicker. His body is tense and trembling too with each thrust. Lucifer pushes as deep and fast as he can, as he feels your walls uncontrollably pulsate around him as he rides you through your climax.

Lucifer's teeth dig into your neck even harder, leaving you no room to catch your breath and recover from the first peak you had a few seconds ago. The heat and tension are almost overwhelming. Lucifer bites, licks, and sucks your skin passionately, driving you completely wild. You moan loudly as you quaver. Your body continues to tremble as your hand tugs gently on Lucifer's hair. His kisses and nibbles are teasing and provocative, stirring your body, pushing you closer to your another climax.

Lucifer moans against your flesh. The scent of your body, your voice and your touch are bringing him too close to a ledge, his body starting to quiver as well.

“You... oh, I…” Lucifer's voice is broken as his breathing quickens. Lucifer holds you tighter and moves faster—leaving the couch creak softly and both of your moans and groans drown the faint music playing in the background.

Lucifer smiles with each one of your mumbled words and loud moans, and he moves his body faster to match the urgency of your words. His body is trembling in sheer ecstasy. He is reaching his peak now and he is not holding back at all. Lucifer thrusts himself deep inside you, and moves his body with your rhythm.

“Oh… so good.” Lucifer moans and kisses you again. His own movements become more intense as he reaches his climax.

“Yes!” Lucifer gasps as he finishes inside you. It was like a flood poured out of Lucifer. His hot burst of semen paints your walls white as he continues to fill you up to the brim. In just a few more thrusts, a long, guttural and loud moan escapes your lips while your second peak washes over you.

Lucifer holds you tight and kisses you again. Your bodies are still united, with neither of you wanting to move. You both went limp and still catching your breaths. Lucifer's teeth are still in your shoulder, but he is careful not to bite you.

Lucifer pulls himself out slowly and lays beside you flat down on the couch. Your bodies are still against each other as you both snap back to reality. The faint music of the private dance room caresses both of your ears once again and the warm red light envelops your bare bodies.

Lucifer gasps for air and pants heavily. Heat and tension still lingers in the room. Your body remains in his arms, your breathing heavy and quick as to Lucifer's. You two are still for a moment and enjoying each others' warmth. Lucifer lifts his head to look at you. Your hair is messy and your forehead glistens with sweat.

“I... I... you, you were incredible…” Lucifer says gently.

You slowly open your eyes to look up at Lucifer. You take in the sight of his beautiful body pressed against yours, his hair tickling your skin and his warm smile fills you with an unmistakable and familiar feeling. Your eyes bore into his for a moment, feeling your body relax even more as the tingling sensations gradually dissipate.

“Lucifer... I'm not sure what to say,” your face flushes, you are breathing heavily from the passionate encounter you just shared. You feel a deep affection for Lucifer at this moment, something that surprises you greatly. You are still a little dazed, but you are happy.

“Thank you, Lucifer… It was amazing. I've never felt anything like it.” You rest a hand gently on Lucifer's face. The look in your eyes reveals your great affection for him. You both can feel your skin, your warm breaths and the rhythm of your pulses.

Lucifer kisses you deep and passionately as his hands move up your body. Your lips part for a moment, then come together again. Lucifer presses himself closer to you, his lips lingering on your mouth and your hands rest on Lucifer's shoulders.

“I am happy that you enjoyed it.” Lucifer says breathlessly. His body is tense and trembling with the sensations he's feeling. Lucifer's voice is hoarse and his breath comes in gasps.

“What do you say, you sweet, beautiful woman, that we get out of here and go to my home?“ Lucifer asks you with a mischievous smirk etched on his face.

The thought of having you in his bed and becoming his lover drives him mad with sheer elation. It makes him want to rush out of here and run home to enjoy you even more. His heart is racing and he is breathing heavily once again. He kisses you more, caressing your body, squeezing your breasts and running his fingers through your hair.

And the only thing you could do in response is say ‘yes.’

#obey me fanfic #obey me #obey me smut #obey me lucifer #obey me oneshot #lucifer x reader #obey me x reader #obey me lucifer x reader #fanfiction

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riizegasm · 24 days

Text

Through The Fire || B. EJ

❀ pairing: &team byun euijoo x fem!reader (ft. nicholas)

❀ genre: bffs to lovers!au, angst, minor fluff

❀ word count: ~6.2k

❀ warnings: explicit language, reader has a house fire, slight possessive behavior, lots of introspection

❀ summary: Stability is a luxury that isn’t afforded to everyone. However, you’re lucky enough to have your best friend, who has remained as the one stable factor throughout your whole life, even through the fire.

❀ A/N: I'm so so excited to share my second work with you all! I think this is one of the fastest times I have ever written a piece, which I think just shows how much I really love it. I hope you all love it too! As always, likes, reblogs, and replies are always welcome :)

masterlist

Red. Blue. Red. Blue. Red. Blue. Red—

“Y/N!”

You blink, no longer blinded by the flash of cop cars. A quick glance across the parking lot reveals a familiar silhouette trying to cross the yellow caution tape, only being held back by a policeman. You release a shaky breath, trying to find your voice for the first time all night.

“It’s okay,” you call, praying your voice is loud enough. “He’s here for me.”

For once in your life, your voice is actually heard, the police officer nodding once before lifting the caution tape. Euijoo manages to duck under, his large frame only stumbling once before rising to his full height. His long legs allow him to move quickly, pulling you into a hug before you can even blink. From your sitting position, your face ends up pressed into the hard plane of Euijoo’s abdomen. You can feel his thundering heartbeat beneath the skin.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he breathes, leaning down to press his cheek into the messy mop of your hair.

When the two of you part, you wince at the few black streaks that have transferred to Euijoo’s t-shirt. You know that ash is likely still coloring your face, the scent of fire and burning fabric clinging to your skin. Although the flames have been put out, there is still residual smoke pluming from the building behind you. You cough twice, as if wisps of clouded air are still swirling around your lungs.

Euijoo squats down, finally eye level with your seated form as he searches your face. You let your eyes flutter shut, telling yourself that you’re still dazed from the fire. In reality, you know that making eye contact with the man before you would be too painful. He has always been too transparent, emotions freely swimming in his brown eyes.

“Were you able to grab anything else?” Euijoo’s voice has fallen to no more than a whisper.

You just shake your head in response, not bothering to acknowledge your purse and laptop that are placed next to you. Everything else, as far as you know, is gone. Euijoo sighs.

“They said that tomorrow, we can come back to look for things,” you whisper, swallowing back the sob that threatens to escape your throat. “But they told us not to get our hopes up.”

Euijoo is silent for a moment, staring at you with those deep dark eyes. You can feel the intensity of his stare with your eyes closed, having been on the receiving end of that same gaze many times. You know he pities you, but that’s the last thing you want right now.

“I’m taking you home, back to my place. You can stay there for as long as you need.”

Your eyes pop open, meeting Euijoo’s gaze for the first time that night. “You don’t have to. I can get a hotel or something for the night.”

“Absolutely not. When you moved out here, I promised your parents that I would take care of you, so that’s what I’m going to do.” Euijoo stands again to his full height, reaching out a hand that you eye warily. “Now let’s go home.”

. . .

Euijoo’s body wash smells of wood and cinnamon, the smell filling the bathroom and replacing the scent of fire and smoke that had previously seeped into your skin. Even his body lotion has a very specific scent, one that you are all too familiar with. The aroma clings to his clothes, along with a faint hint of laundry detergent, filling your nose as you slip into one of his shirts and a pair of shorts. They both hang incredibly long on you, shoulders in the shirt sagging while the shorts are snug around your hips.

Your wet hair has been pulled back into a bun, which you know will be a mess to tame in the morning. But Euijoo didn’t have any of the right hair products, and you would rather die than ask him to buy you something at the moment. Even when he offered, you shut him down, letting him know that anything he was missing would be a problem for the next day. After all, it was already well after midnight.

Euijoo’s eyes soften around the edges when you finally emerge from the bathroom, smiling timidly at you from the couch. You plop down unceremoniously next to him, hugging your knees to your chest as you back into the corner of the couch. Its leather creaks with the movement, a familiar sound after all these years.

“I ordered some food, just in case you haven’t eaten,” Euijoo says, inching further into your space. It’s impossible to fight a flinch when he places a hand on your bare knee, right where his shorts have ridden up your thigh. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.”

Without looking, you know that Euijoo is rolling his eyes, the tiny hint of sass that he’s harbored since childhood peeking through.

“Well, I called your dad, and he said you only texted your parents briefly. He wanted to talk to you but I told him that you were showering and probably didn’t feel like talking.” Euijoo gives your thigh a firm squeeze. “But I was hoping you’d at least talk to me.”

Your heart lurches at the thought of Euijoo speaking to your family, even though you know it has been a regular occurrence since you were teenagers. Your parents had always been fond of him, the picture-perfect image of the boy next door. And as you grew older, Euijoo had basically been absorbed into the family. Even though he’s been your best friend since you were children, you don’t know why the thought of talking to him right now is making your stomach swim.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you mumble, shrinking further into the couch cushions.

“Y/N…just…look at me, please?”

It takes all your strength, but you manage to tear your gaze away from your knees to meet Euijoo’s own. His rounded eyes are sparkling like they always are, a hint of sadness dampening their brightness. His lips pull up into a small smile at the eye contact, plush cheeks dimpling. His warm hand is still placed firmly on your thigh, large enough to span most of its circumference.

“There you are,” he coos, beginning to rub light circles on the exposed skin of your thigh. “Listen, I know you. I know you’re going to keep saying everything is fine because you don’t want anyone to worry about you. But your entire apartment building just burned down. You’re feeling something. You have to talk to someone about it. Even if it’s not me, you have to let someone in.”

You blink, and when you reopen your eyes, your vision is cloudy. Fat, hot tears spill over, leaving scalding trails down your cheeks. You can barely make out Euijoo’s smile dropping before you are pulled into a tight embrace. When you both were younger, you used to hate when Euijoo would use his overwhelming strength against you. But now, you are grateful for it, knowing you wouldn’t have hugged him otherwise.

“I was so scared, Juju,” you sob into the crook of his neck. “I was just in my room and when I opened the door, everything was in flames. There wasn’t anywhere I could go! I was trapped on the balcony until they came and got me. I thought I was gonna die.”

Euijoo just squeezes you tighter at the outburst, placing a kiss on the crown of your head. “I’m so sorry. But you’re okay now. You’re safe here with me.”

The two of you are quiet for a few moments, the only thing interrupting the silence being the occasional hiccup or sniffle. It feels like ages until you have finally calmed down enough to pull away. But when you do, you notice the tear tracks drying on Euijoo’s ruddy cheeks.

“Why are you crying?” You ask softly.

Euijoo just shrugs, chuckling sadly. “I don’t like seeing you upset.”

You don’t have enough time to respond before the doorbell rings, signaling the arrival of your food. Euijoo excuses himself to go answer it, allowing you to admire the long lines of his legs as he retreats. You can’t help but feel embarrassed, as you always are around the man. But you hate the way he leaves your heart hammering in your chest as you stare.

It’s not like you are unaware of how attractive Euijoo is. After all, the first time you ever laid eyes on him at seven years old, you swore he was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. Despite the childish attraction, you had grown to love him in a much deeper way, the kind of love that only develops when you know someone inside and out. Euijoo grew taller, older, buffer, more handsome, and you had found a million ways to love him differently, love him deeper. The love you had for Euijoo surely changed, which leaves you hating the way your body heats up and your pulse picks up speed as Euijoo rounds the corner.

His wide smile is paired with crinkled eyes and you feel a piece of your heart turn heavy like lead.

“I’m like 90% sure they got some of our order wrong, but there’s still plenty of good stuff in case you’re hungry.”

You don’t bother looking at the takeout bag, too busy guiltily feasting your eyes on the sight before you.

. . .

Falling into a routine is unfairly easy. The two of you will wake up from your shared bed, at Euijoo’s insistence that you don’t sleep on the couch, and begin to get ready for the day. You cook breakfast as Euijoo gets ready for work, cherishing the fact that your job has permitted you plenty of personal leave. You watch him leave in a crisply pressed suit and daintily patterned tie, off to his accounting job for a few hours.

Then you sit in silence, ruminating over everything that has led you to this exact moment. You replay the moment that you were confronted with a wall of flames, feeling heat lick at your toes the same way it did that night. You let your shoulders shake in terror the same way they did when you were trapped on the balcony, fearing for your life. You cough like the billowing smoke is clouding your lungs, even though the air in Euijoo’s apartment is crisp and smells faintly of lemon-scented cleaner.

Then Euijoo comes through the door, and you slap a smile on your face. Sometimes he returns with takeout, bag overflowing with all of your shared favorites. Sometimes he comes with a bag full of groceries, which the two of you unpack together while Euijoo recounts his day. You’re quick to shoo him away as you begin to cook.

It’s the only thing that makes you feel like less of a parasite than you are.

You’re both following that exact routine until you reach your first Saturday, and Euijoo practically vibrates in excitement at the prospect of spending the day together. Despite living in the same city, the two of you have rarely spent full days together, work or other personal engagements always getting in the way.

“I was thinking of having a few friends over tonight,” Euijoo mentions over a bowl of cereal. “I feel like you haven’t met enough of my friends.”

“It’s your house,” you shrug, burying your nose into your own bowl so you don't have to face the disappointed look in his eye.

“Y/N, you gotta stop with that.”

“With what?” You snap.

You know you’re being difficult. You know that all Euijoo wants is some positive input from his best friend, but you can’t. It hurts deep in your core to give him what he’s wanting when you know you are already taking so much. You shouldn’t be here, and you definitely shouldn’t have a say in whether or not Euijoo has his friends over tonight. Yet, he wants to hear from you.

Like he thinks you’re important. Like he thinks you matter. Like he thinks you’re more than just a virus, invading a host for selfish gain.

You have nothing to gain, you remind yourself.

“I’m sorry, Juju,” you sigh, brushing a stray piece of hair away from your face. “I’m not trying to be a bitch. I mean it.”

Euijoo’s spoon falls into his porcelain bowl with a loud clink. “I know you’re not. You’re just going through a lot right now. But I just want to help you.”

“You’re doing way more than just helping me.”

“I feel like I’m not doing enough.”

You sigh. “What do you mean? You’re already doing so much by just having me here and I can’t help but just wonder why.”

“Because I love you.”

The way he says it jumpstarts your heart, hotwiring it so it’s moving at a million miles per hour in your chest. You know he doesn’t mean it the way you want him to. He loves in the way a best friend loves, in the way family loves, that much is clear.

But there’s something in his open expression that has your heart clinging onto a maybe. Maybe he has loved you the way you have loved him and hated yourself for. Maybe he knows that being loved is all that you have ever wanted but is simultaneously your greatest fear. Maybe he knows that all of your belongings disappearing right before your very eyes while he was the only thing that remained meant something to you.

“You’re my best friend.”

Or maybe it meant nothing at all.

Euijoo sighs, leaning back in his chair before addressing you across the table from him. “It’s impossible for me not to worry about you when you won’t talk to me, or to anyone! You don’t leave the house and it just scares me. I want to help you, but I can’t do anything until you let me.”

You swallow, your bite of cereal feeling too thick as it travels down your esophagus. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Euijoo mutters as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just let me in.”

“I’m trying.”

“Are you?”

You’re not, and you both know it. If anything, you’re doing the exact opposite, trying to close yourself off as much as possible. You shrink into spaces, making yourself so small that Euijoo will forget that you’re there. It never seems to work, though. The other man sees you no matter where you attempt to hide.

There’s a moment of silence as the two best friends regard each other. Silently, you mourn your cereal getting soggy in your bowl even though you have lost your appetite. Euijoo’s own is empty, his metal spoon resting against the pure white bowl. For a moment, you catch a whiff of cinnamon. You’re temporarily perplexed, only to have your own question answered when the neckline of Euijoo’s shirt shifts against your collarbones. Despite not wanting to feel parasitic, you can’t refuse the comfort of literally living in his clothes.

“I just want you to be happy and have some fun tonight, so I’m going to have some people stop by.” Euijoo doesn’t once break eye contact as he speaks. “It’s not going to be big, but it will be good for you to talk to someone who isn’t me.”

You suppress a scoff, knowing that you don't really talk to Euijoo either, not in the way he desires. “Fine. Like I said, it’s your house.”

You don't stay to hear the exasperated sigh that Euijoo lets out, choosing instead to dump the remains of your cereal in the trash. There isn’t much other space to retreat to, so you make yourself comfy on the sofa, just barely out of Euijoo’s sight. It’s only a moment before the man joins you, hoisting your legs onto his lap.

“Movie?” He questions, thumb rubbing small circles into the bare skin of your ankle as if all is forgiven.

You just make a small noise of affirmation before sinking further into the cushions, letting yourself get comfortable as Euijoo puts something on.

Euijoo’s touch used to fluster you, back when you were in that awkward stretch of preteen and early teen years. No guys touched girls the way that Euijoo touched you unless they were dating. The girls in your classes would always try and convince you that it had to mean something more, that he had to feel something more for you than just platonic love. He loved loved you.

It didn’t help that you loved him way more than you should have.

It was enough to make you flinch when he wrapped an arm around your waist and pull away when he trapped you in a hug. You avoided holding hands on the way home from school and refused to share earbuds when the two of you sat next to each other. It would all make your heart pound too hard and your palms so sweaty that your phone would slip through your grasp.

You were just friends; that you knew. It didn’t matter that Euijoo loved to play with the loose pieces of hair that framed your face or that his hand outgrew yours to the point where your fingers swam in the spaces between his. It didn’t matter that your chest constricted every time his right cheek dimpled or that your face burned every time he called you by your name.

Because every boiling pot eventually cools to a simmer when the heat dissipates.

As you two grew into late teens and early adulthood, you eventually relaxed into the affection that Euijoo would display. The constriction relaxed to a minor tightness and the burn became more of a minor glow. You became more confident that this is what friends feel for each other, a love so vast that it fills your core to the brim but never fully encompasses you.

You would gladly let him encompass you. But until he does, you’ll have to make do with his scent.

You find yourself using Euijoo’s body wash in the shower before the party, even though your own has made a home right next to his. You also use his lotion, rubbing the scent of him into your skin. As much as you contemplate wearing his clothes again, you know that it will only be right to put on your best for tonight. Your makeup and hair are done for the first time in a week, and you feel a bit more like yourself again.

You feel like a girl anyone can look at and not know she’s screaming inside. You consider it a win.

The few friends that Euijoo invites over arrive in waves. It gives you enough time to introduce yourself and make some small talk before having to do it time and time again. By the fifth or so introduction, though, you’re feeling a little worn out, even with the booze that helps ease your nerves. You grab another seltzer from the fridge and squeeze into the corner of the sofa. You only have a few moments of peace before the leather dips beside you.

“Mind if I join you?”

Deep, piercing eyes are only barely visible behind overgrown black fringe, the rest of his hair falling down the back of his neck. Nicholas’s smile is welcoming, extremely warm and familiar for someone you have just met a handful of minutes ago. Despite the assortment of clunky rings, silver jewelry, and thick eyeliner, he seems pretty soft and pleasant.

“Go ahead,” you mumble, taking a long swig from your can.

“You know, It’s nice to finally meet you, the infamous but ever-illusive best friend. Euijoo literally talks about you all the time.”

You wish you could say the same, but Euijoo has always been notoriously quiet about others when you two speak. It used to bug you, not knowing anything about who your best friend chose to spend his time with. But throughout the years, you were forced to let it go.

“Good things, I hope.”

Nicholas chuckles softly. “Great things, actually. But something tells me it still doesn’t compare to you in real life.”

“You don’t even know me,” you scoff. “How would you know what I’m like?”

“Well, if your personality is anything like your beauty, then I think Euijoo just barely scratched the surface.”

The snort that you let out genuinely takes you by surprise. You rush to apologize, free hand coming up to hide your grin despite the way Nicholas is smiling as well. He looks pretty like this, you note, with his cheeks twisted upwards and eyes shining with mirth.

“I’m so sorry,” you giggle. “But that was a crazy line.”

Nicholas shrugs. “Listen, making pretty girls laugh is an art form. I had to say what I had to say. You honestly looked like you were going to commit murder just sitting here.”

Now it’s your turn to shrug, the smooth beats of Euijoo’s playlist soothing the silence between the two. The brief moment of respite is enough for you to feel a pair of eyes on you from across the room. When you turn to face Euijoo, though, he just shoots you a calm smile.

“I don’t think he likes that I’m talking to you.”

“Who? Euijoo?”

Nicholas doesn’t respond, choosing instead to take a long swig of his drink. The silver rings on his fingers reflect the minimal light in the room as he tilts his cup back. You struggle not to trace the movement of his throat with your gaze as he drinks.

“Why would he not want you to talk to me?”

“I think it’s because you’re off limits, sweetheart.”

Before you can respond, a warm body plops down on the couch next to you, instantly pressing into your space. The woodsy scent of Euijoo’s cologne is confirmation enough, but the way his hand instantly finds a home on your thigh is a dead giveaway. When you look over to regard the man, his eyes are trained away, locked on Nicholas instead.

“And what are you two chatting about?” He inquires with an overly saccharine smile.

Nicholas just smiles. “See what I mean?”

He’s gone with little more than a wink and a subtle tip of his cup.

. . .

Sunday morning brings a welcome mundane energy. You and Euijoo stand side by side at the sink, sudsy hands working on washing sticky juice and lip gloss off glasses from the night before. There’s soft music playing from Euijoo’s phone, a pleasant melody filling the silence along with the sound of flowing water. Despite the serenity, you can’t help the question itching in the back of your brain.

“So what was that last night?”

“What was what?” Euijoo’s eyes are endearingly round when he turns to look at the woman on his left.

You sigh. “That whole thing with Nicholas? We were talking and then you came in seeming all threatened?”

“Threatened?” Euijoo chuckles. “Why would I be threatened?”

“I have no idea. That’s why I’m asking.”

The smile that rises on Euijoo’s face doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His ears begin to bloom a brilliant shade of red, tipping you off to the lie he’s about to tell.

“I wasn’t threatened. It made me happy to see two of my closest friends getting along.”

The sound of the faucet running prevents you from responding, Euijoo having turned it on with a sense of finality. You decide not to push it, knowing that when Euijoo gets cagey like this, time and space are the only thing that can make him open up. You guess it’s what makes the two of you similar, your limited ability to be transparent with each other over the things that really matter.

You spend the rest of the day circling around each other like animals in an enclosure. You share space, following each other from room to room while simultaneously keeping as much distance as physically possible. When Euijoo sits on one side of the couch, you sit on the other. When you rummage through the fridge, Euijoo stands by the breakfast table. It isn’t until you both find yourselves in the shared bathroom, brushing your teeth over a shared sink that you speak.

“I think threatened is the wrong word for it,” Euijoo says with a foamy mouth. “I just know how Nicholas is, so I wanted you to be careful.”

You spit. “What do you mean?”

“He’s the player type, likes to fuck around.” Euijoo spits and swishes some water around his mouth before continuing. “I know he thinks you’re cute or whatever. But you deserve better than that.”

“Since when do you care about my love life?”

“Since forever.”

There it goes again, the feeling of maybe. You are left to wonder if he means that in the sense that you want him to mean it. You wonder if his attention to you comes from his Virgo nature or from his genuine care for you. You wonder if it comes from his love for you, and if it’s the same type of love that you have for him.

“You know I don’t date like that,” you mumble, folding your arms over your chest. You’re once again clad in Euijoo’s tee shirt, a tiny pair of shorts disappearing underneath its hem.

Euijoo sighs. “I know. But I also know that Nico doesn’t care about dating. That’s not what he’d want from you.”

“And who’s to say that’s what I want from him either?”

“I didn’t know you were that type.”

I’m not, you want to say, but the words swirl back down your throat like water down a drain. You don't get a chance to respond before Euijoo is leaving the bathroom, running a hand through his hair. It feels pathetic to follow him out, but you do anyway, trying to find words as you plop down onto his bed. Euijoo switches the light off before settling in next to his best friend.

“Look,” Euijoo says after a moment of silence. “If you want to go after Nico, then I can’t stop you. I’m sure he’d be happy to have you.”

“Would you?”

“Would I what?”

“Have me? In that way, I mean.”

The words leave your mouth before you can properly process what they mean. You want to rush to take them back, to let the words that hang in the darkness return to the safety of your brain. For some reason, you let them linger.

Euijoo releases a shaky breath, the sound seeming thunderous in the silent darkness. For a good moment, that’s all there is. You would be convinced that the man fell asleep if it weren’t for the odd rhythm of his breathing and the way his body shifts.

“Y/N, I could never.”

The blood in your veins ices over, leaving you frozen in place.

“Oh.”

Euijoo shifts on the bed, laying on his side so that he’s able to fully face you. “I mean there’s all of this. You’re in a vulnerable spot and we’ve been spending a lot of time together. I’m sure you’re just feeling a lot right now.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Euijoo sighs. “That’s why I also want you to think twice before going for Nico.”

You want to scream. How Euijoo could bring Nicholas up at a time like this is beyond you. You don't know how he can’t see that this isn’t about him. This isn’t about trauma or a fire or needing a warm bed to sleep in. This is about you, both of you. This has been about you way before the fire and will continue to be about you for years after.

But it’s no use, you know that much. In times of conflict, Euijoo has always been quick to skirt around the topic, always trying to obscure the truth through diversion. But there’s one simple fact that remains clear; Euijoo doesn’t want you. Or rather, he doesn’t want you to want him.

“I really hate when you do this, you know,” you spit.

You can almost hear Euijoo’s eye roll as he speaks. “When I do what?”

“When you try to tell me how I feel. You don’t know shit about how I’m feeling.”

“I could,” Euijoo retorts. “But you never let me in. So what the hell do you expect me to do?”

Even in the dark, you know the man’s face has turned red, hot with frustration. The knowledge is enough to keep you silent for a moment, carefully mulling over your words before you speak.

“If I tell you how I’m feeling, I’m going to end up telling you too much.”

“You could never tell me too much.”

You can’t help but sigh, letting your eyes flutter shut. “I just did.”

. . .

Cleaning the entire apartment is how you choose to put salve on the wounds of your friendship. You scrub away at the grime on the countertops, wipe the grease and stains from every mirror, and mop the floor until you can see your reflection in it. It’s not much, but it’s something to distract you from the red hot feeling that blooms in your chest when you think about the night before.

Bits of yourself seeped through the locked cage of your heart last night. And now that they’re out in the open, you’re not sure if they will ever return to you.

Euijoo returns home from work with a sigh, loosening his tie right when he comes through the doorway. The skin underneath his eyes has taken on a purplish hue, fine lines settling deep from exhaustion. He doesn’t even look like himself, despite looking everything like himself. You hate how you think he looks beautiful.

“Hey,” he greets softly when he strolls into the kitchen. “I didn’t have time to pick anything up, so I ordered delivery.”

You nod once, before tuning into the fact that the man has yet to look at you. “That’s fine.”

The silence that overcomes the kitchen hangs low like nimbostratus clouds, heavy with rainwater. It’s almost oppressive, the way Euijoo’s gaze remains down at his feet while you pick at your cuticles. Never in your decades of friendship have you ever had tension like this. You hate the way it makes your throat constrict, suddenly parched for a connection that won’t come.

“Are you okay?” You manage to croak out. “You look…stressed.”

Euijoo lets out a sarcastic chuckle. “Maybe because I am.”

“Why?”

Finally, Euijoo’s gaze snaps up to meet your own, eyes holding a sense of disbelief. “My best friend propositioned me last night and I turned her down. And when I turned her down, she lost it on me.”

“Juju, I—,”

“No,” he interrupts, voice scratchy from the thickness in his throat. “Don’t do that now. I’m just…what’s going on with you, Y/N? I don’t know what has changed, but it’s killing me. Why can’t you just tell me what’s been going on with you so I can help?”

Your eyes begin to sting as Euijoo speaks, the beginnings of tears welling up near your waterline. It takes a few seconds for you to swallow down the lump that sits high in your throat. Your hands are dry from various cleaning solutions as they flex and contract at your sides, looking for something to grasp onto. You just end up balling them into fists, letting your nails press grounding pains into your palms.

“I told you how much you’ve already helped me.”

Euijoo sighs, running a hand through his hair. “And I told you that wasn’t enough. So talk to me, tell me why I can’t help you anymore. Tell me why you asked me to sleep with you all of a sudden! Tell me why you’ve been so weird about this whole situation from the beginning!”

“Because I need you!”

You don't know when your voice gained enough power to come out as a yell, shrill and pained. But once it does, the dam breaks. You know you are helpless to stop it.

“I need you, and it scares me, Juju. You’re my best friend and I love you and need you in ways that you don’t need me. You provide me with everything and I’m just here as your best friend. I’m the friend you don’t even bring around much and the friend you don’t let anyone talk to! You make it so clear that you don’t need me and yet, here I am, living off you like some parasite.

“I love you, Euijoo. I’m in love with you. And knowing that you don’t love me back is one thing. But for you to take my love for you and throw it in my face as just another one of my vulnerabilities is cruel. You ask why I don’t let you in, and this is why. If I do, I’ll just tell you how I feel and you’ll pity me like you do now.”

Lightning strikes across Euijoo’s face as he listens, expression slowly twisting in pain. It’s a flash of a million emotions at once. Surprise, hurt, disbelief, and then it all mellows out into a calm nothingness.

“Have you only felt this way since the fire?”

You fight the urge to scream at the top of your lungs. “No. I’ve felt this way since forever, maybe.”

“Are you sure?” The man’s eyes reflect the light in the room, glossed over and twinkling with the first hints of unshed tears.

“You know what’s funny,” you bite out. “When I lost everything, there was only one thing that remained constant in my life, even through the fire.”

“Me?”

“My feelings for you.”

Euijoo sucks in an audible breath, shaky and laborious. It’s as if the confession finally sunk into his consciousness, as if he finally understood exactly what you meant when you said you loved him. His shoulders immediately sag in relief as the first few tears begin to trail down his cheeks. Despite the tears, he can’t help but smile.

“Y/N, I’ve been in love with you since we were eleven.”

“What?”

Euijoo just chuckles, sniffling twice before continuing. “I thought that you knew and that’s why you were shutting me out! And then when you just asked if I would sleep with you, I thought you were just rubbing it in my face. Either that or you were just emotionally a mess and needed some support.”

“Well, I am,” you respond with a watery smile. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you, too.”

Euijoo slowly approaches your tense figure, as if not to spook you. Even his hand movements are subtle as they reach for your dry hands. With just a small tug, you find yourself stumbling forward, far into Euijoo’s space. The height difference is enough to force you to crane your neck upwards to make eye contact, not surprised to see the man already smiling down at you.

Tears continue to stream down Euijoo’s face, the wetness dripping from the tip of his nose down to the floor. You know you probably look similar, despite having tried your hardest to fight back tears from the beginning. It’s no use now. Your walls have already come crashing down.

“I love you,” Euijoo whispers, as if sharing a secret not meant to escape your own personal bubble. “I always have, and I think I always will.”

You release a shaky breath, body trembling in Euijoo’s hold. “I love you, too.”

“Can I…?” Euijoo doesn’t finish his question, eyes simply darting down to your lips before meeting your gaze once again.

All it takes is a slow nod before a hand is wrapping around your waist, pulling you in closer and closer until—

When you were twelve, you had your first kiss. It was nothing more than a simple peck, shared on the back of the school bus on a school field trip. You remember the way your heart fluttered back then, palms clammy and body vibrating with nerves. You felt kind of gross afterwards, but giddy nonetheless.

When you told Euijoo later that day, he looked shocked. He floundered for a moment as he stood in place, frozen on their walk home from school. You remember lightly punching his shoulder, asking him what his deal was. It seemed to be enough to shock him out of his stupor, only snapping back to attention to say:

“That was your first kiss. They always say that’s the one you’re going to remember forever.”

Euijoo was wrong. If there’s one kiss that you will remember forever, it’s this one, with Euijoo’s large hands spanning the circumference of your waist. It’s this one, with Euijoo’s plush yet slightly chapped lips grazing yours. It’s this one, with the salt of tears mixing in with the taste of each others’ mouths. It’s this one, with Euijoo.

When the two of you part, Euijoo presses his forehead to yours, allowing your breaths to mingle as you pant. You can’t seem to quite open your eyes yet, simply basking in the sensation of Euijoo taking over all of your senses. You relish in the sound of his labored breathing. You love the warmth of his palms through the thin t-shirt you’re wearing.

You bask in the scent of him, the bold aroma of cinnamon, tinged with a hint of smoke.

#byun euijoo imagines #&team imagines #&team smut #&team fluff #&team angst #written in the stars #&team

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