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anashins · 2 months

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King of the Streets

Pairing: street racer!Jaehyun x journalist!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I don’t think so.”

You were flabbergasted. “Pardon me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If only it were so easy.

____

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

“Do you want to order something else?”

“I’m good, thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Where are you going after this?”

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

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

“Pscht, not so loud!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Wow!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So you headed to the industrial park.

____

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Place your bet!”

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

“Pardon?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you did.

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

“Ready, Jaehyun?”

“More than you are.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not afraid of you. I pity you.”

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

“And why would that be, Jaehyun?”

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

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

No way in hell.

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

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

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

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

No way this was your situation now!

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

This… this situation couldn’t be real.

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

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

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

“Everything ready?” A male voice.

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

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

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

“Jaehyun, do you hear me?”

You flinched when you heard another voice.

“Clear and loud.”

“Only ten seconds left.”

“Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

“One!” You closed your eyes.

“GO!”

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

____

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I was waiting for you to come home.”

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

“Jaehyun, are you currently racing?”

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

The driver repeated, “I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

“I’ll come home safe.”

“Promise?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We have a problem.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll navigate you the best I can.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, thanks radio-guy.”

“Welcome, uhm… intruder-lady?”

“I did not intrude!”

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

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

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

“Screw it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up, Taeyong.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Neither did you. “Ready.”

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

____

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

What were you supposed to answer?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright, I’ll come downstairs.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait!”

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

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

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

“Are you nuts?”

“You see, I’m a journa-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

Then, he continued his way.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_____

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s me.”

You furrowed. “Who?”

“Me.” Pause. “Jaehyun.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t write anything!”

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

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

“What is it?” he grumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes widened. “Now?”

“Now,” he repeated.

You hesitated.

“Your last chance,” he pushed.

“I’ll get changed.”

____

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

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

“Tell me what?”

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

“Navigate what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So I’m not just… observing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sighed. “What do I have to do?”

“Take this.”

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

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

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

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

“I can’t do this, I’m sorry!”

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

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

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

“I’m going home!”

“And why would you do that?”

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

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

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

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

You faltered. “Hm… okay, yes… but…”

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

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

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

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

This time though, genuinely. And perhaps partly relieved.

____

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Yeah, I wonder why.”

You gasped. “Excu-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Exactly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

____

“He is very popular,” you remarked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because the job is illegal and hard?”

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

“... I can relate.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll get the drinks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

____

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

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

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

“Just take this free ride, will you?”

“Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How old is your sister?”

“She’s fourteen.”

“So, in middle school.”

“Exactly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

____

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

____

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frowned. “But didn’t you-”

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

“But your mo-”

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

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

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

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

“For my sister? Or for your story?”

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

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

____

“There is nothing personal in this story.”

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, then make him.”

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

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

“I already plan on doing that.”

“So what’s the problem?”

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

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

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

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

____

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, I think she’s their navigator!”

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

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

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

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

“Hey…”

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

“Hey!”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll show you the truth.”

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

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

“Yes.”

“Did I say something wrong earlier?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is this…?”

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

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

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

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

“I believe you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jaehyun…”

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

____

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

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

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

“Our ways will part here and now.”

You thought you had misheard. “Pardon?”

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

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

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

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

“No,” you refused. “I will stay.”

“I SAID GO!”

“AND I SAID I WILL STAY!”

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

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

“You’re afraid to hurt me?”

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

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

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

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

“Friends?” he suddenly croaked.

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

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

You had just hoped…

Cherry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

____

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

… but what could it be?

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

Patient was heavily intoxicated.

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

____

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

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

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

“Okay, sorry? Jeez.”

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

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

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

“Yeah, but-”

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

In unison, they both said, “Fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t you need to go home as usual?”

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

“Okay, then let’s go!”

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

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

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

“I love it!”

“And I-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You responded, quite confidently, “You do.”

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

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

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

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

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

____

“Close your mouth and suck.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know what?”

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

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

He didn’t need to ask twice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But his expression remained serious. “No.”

You didn’t know what he meant.

____

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

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

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

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

So you had written another version of this story.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

____

“Are you nervous?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes?”

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

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

“Of course.”

“No, I mean it.”

You frowned. “Mean what?”

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

“Of course!” you replied happily.

“No! I mean... shit.”

What did he want? “I don’t get it.”

“I love you.”

You were stunned.

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

“You guys ready?”

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

“Then get ready.”

____

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

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

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

“Shit, we didn’t see this coming!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trust, friendship and even love.

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

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

____

And you did.

Jaehyun crossed the finish line first.

Jaehyun won against the Cheetah.

Jaehyun was crowned King of the Streets.

…

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

Only eight hours.

____

“King of the Streets”

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

____

“Congratulations.”

“Pardon?”

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

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

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

“Pardon?” you repeated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It is.”

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

“I have to go,” you said.

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

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

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

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

“Jaeh-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

____

“Jiyeong?”

“Can I come in?”

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

“Sure.”

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

“I’ll be going away.”

“Where to?”

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

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

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

“Next week.”

“I wish you all the best.”

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

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

“Why would I possibly hate you?”

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

You were confused. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Jiyeong…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he never came.

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

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

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

You wanted to move on, too.

____

2 years later

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

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

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

Overall, life was going pretty well for you now.

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

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

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

But you knew better.

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

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

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

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

“I thought he hated me.”

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

That he loved you.

“I will never forget.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, thank you.”

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

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

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

“Good morning, I-”

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

“Good morning.”

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

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

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

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

____

Jaehyun wanted you to publish a story.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Which is…?”

“Letting her go.”

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

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

“Yes?”

“Have you married yet, Mr. Jeong?”

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

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

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

You had never stopped loving Jaehyun.

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

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

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

“Then, I’ll go wherever she goes.”

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moondirti · 1 year

Note

Idk if you have answered an ask like this already but please feed me some possessive/ jealous Ghost hc or whatever bc that man is 10 times sexier while jealous and possessive.

Pls just imagine jealous sex with this man omg…

he would not know how to handle himself i'm pretty sure. sorry to sabotage your thirst anon, i just love me a repressed man :) anyway, this is for the same mc in cigarettes out the window (reader with the call sign 'scout') but it can be read entirely separate! so, without further ado here's some jealous ghost

He's colossal, a force composed of pure brawn and unfathomable depths. Talk of Ghost illustrates him as a norse warrior to end all, the nightmare fuel of enemies who can't help but pale at a skull face. Wholly a reputation founded on that tactical precision; charcoal eyes, half-lidded to contain the ire that bubbles like magma. It's all physical. You'd just assumed that strength extended to his emotional conviction as well.

But he gets quiet sometimes, eerily so. The type where he embodies his name and dissipates like shadow on you. You don't see him for days.

It definitely depends on the stage of your relationship. Catch him jealous before the six month mark and he'd choose to abandon ship. It's that instinctive fight or flight, the choice to back down and reassess before he loses another one of his men. But you're not the enemy; your hands are soft and supple when they cradle his face, never seeking to add to his scars. You're gentle when you tell him that it's him, always will be; no one can ever compare to the behemoth you'd surrendered your heart to.

It takes a lot of time to get Simon to the point where he allows himself to be possessive. The first time, it goes something like this:

Some bar in France, cleared out for their obligatory drink post-mission. Johnny had held him up, pulling him off to the side to start on a tangent about his makeshift bomb that ended up saving their lives. His eyes stay fixed on you, edging to his peripheral where you're caught up in a rather funny conversation with Gaz.

You muffle your snicker behind a shaking hand. Simons' own squeeze into fists.

While your relationship with the Lieutenant has yet to be defined, the men of the 141 recognise the silent claim that curls over your shoulders. It was written in your sleepy sigh, dewy skin gleaming with contentment, that night they'd woke at a safe house to find you three inches closer to his mattress. It was the first of many, many hints.

Garrick isn't flirting with you, not by a long shot.

But he is making you laugh. Perhaps harder than Simon ever has.

He can't really describe what overcomes him. It's a rib-shattering heartbeat, working overtime to supply his vision with brimming red. A deeply vulnerable pit bottoming out in his gut; that fear, still there, that you're only temporary. He only acts on the former so he won't face the latter.

He leaves Soap with no more than a clap on the back. The sergeant takes it for what it is, a promise to continue later.

"Price wants you on reports."

"Does he?" You shoot him an incredulous expression, shifting back and forth from his blank stare and the captain, who huddles near Laswell over a game of gin rummy.

"Affirmative." The response comes out faster than he'd like it to, clipped with full-bodied aggression.

"Right..." Licking your lip, you take a moment to match your scrutiny to his. Simon thinks he sees it, the glint your pupils take when you finally catch on. It combats the spite that courses through him, pooling down to fill the weight between his legs. Clever girl - you know him, probably better than he knows himself. "And I'm assuming you need to consult me on something regarding that?"

"Yes." It's all the indication you need.

"Well." You look to Garrick. "I'm sorry to cut this short, mate. Remember to tell me about Serbia some other time."

And Simon doesn't miss the odd look the sergeant gives you, lips curled downwards in an acknowledging humour. He doesn’t like that he’s comfortable enough to give that much.

But you follow him, smaller footsteps matching his as he finds a secluded hallway near the bathroom. It’s a good thing, he – rather, his internal monologue that sounds too much like your voice – echoes.

"Gonna bring up what's wrong, or will I have to force it out of ya. Hm?"

"Didn' appreciate the way he was lookin' at you, pet."

Your breath hitches, clumped lashes fluttering as you take him in anew. If this were anything else, Simon would credit your grin to a cruel sadism. As it stands, though, he lets it guide the flow of his plastered heart. He's on the right track.

"And how was he looking at me, Si?"

The growl that leaves him is untamed, the feral rip release of a hand grenade. A large hand clamps over your jaw, pressing inwards so your lips pucker out at him. The other pushes your torso to the wall, skimming past the hem of your shirt.

It's new. It's thrilling. It's a wildfire turned eternal damnation, fuelled by a fatal sin that forever trumps envy. Lust, bubbling poison to his insecurity - practical headway into something he's good at. Words were never his forte, but he can fuck you like no one else can, thrusting deeper between your velvet walls than thought possible. It's always been enough to spur breathless awe.

Enough, enough.

"Like he could ever amount to me."

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gretagerwigsmuse · 5 months

Text

can't hardly wait

Summary: in which a guy named bradley likes you back on hinge...

OR a prequel fic with the first hinge messages

Pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader

Warnings: listen i know i have a picture selected for her, i just wanted to have the ice cream comparison and went with this one. also i have all the pics on bradley's profile if you're curious 💁🏼‍♀️ he's just so goddamn cute! written for @roosterforme 's 'rocktober' event and inspired by the replacements song. don't forget to read part 1 to see how the date goes 😉 [image template (x)]

Your phone lit up with a notification, buzzing in its spot on your glass desk. You glanced down at it for a moment before going back to your slide deck - until it buzzed again. It was a Hinge notification. You hadn't been particularly active on the app the last couple days, not wanting to get your hopes up yet again. But you'd made one last ditch attempt on Hinge, liking some guys who were way out of your league - before telling Max he had the go-ahead to set you up with his buddy. Leaning back in your desk chair, you swiped up on the notification.

Oh. It was this one - the pretty one. Bradley.

You scrolled back through his profile one more time, reacquainting yourself with the 6'1" brunet. He had a picture cuddling a chunky French Bulldog, one at a Rolling Stones concert, one with an older guy who was probably his dad, and one where his eyes looked like pools of chocolate, in addition to his main photo. Unbidden, a smile crept across your face. He looked kind, sweet. Even if he didn't say where he worked.

Bradley, you tested the name out.

Without further delay, you pulled up his message:

Did you only like me because I also have a picture eating ice cream on my profile? I guess that means you're not lactose intolerant?

You let out a little giggle and twirled around in your desk chair. Oh, he was sweet (and a little nerdy). No, it's because you're unfathomably pretty and I didn't think you'd actually like me back. Trying not to overthink it, you typed out a response:

bold of you to assume it also wasn't the 'stache...and that i'm not just mainlining lactaid

It was cute, a little cheeky. He typed and deleted his response a couple times, leaving you on the edge of your seat.

How far do you have UVA going in MM this year?

You pursed your lips. Hmph. And went back to scrolling his profile. Ah, there it was - he'd also gone to UVA, though a couple years before you. He also drank, didn't smoke, and was vaccinated and bi. You swiped back to the chat.

Your allegiance to UVA in any sporting event wasn't exactly top of mind, so you had to check your March Madness bracket that everyone in the office had been forced to fill out for team building. Just has you were about to say Elite Eight! Bradley messaged back:

Sorry, that was really lame. I’m not used to this.

You smiled. that has to be a line...

His reply was instantaneous. It's not, I promise! Alright give me one more try. How's this?

In the background, your computer pinged with multiple Teams message notifications, but your eyes remained glued to your phone.

Did you know the moon's actually lemon shaped? And that the Milky Way apparently smells like raspberries and rum?

It was such a ridiculous and silly fun fact that it made you smile. Time to put all that barstool trivia knowledge to good use.

no, bradley, i did not know that. do you only specialize in space fun facts or can i get something else out of you...

----------

Turns out all it took was a smattering of the world's silliest fun facts to get you hooked, and after days of texting you were at the Hard Deck. The beachfront dive bar wasn't exactly your ideal first date location, but it seemed like there was a good crowd inside judging by the excessive number of the cars in the parking lot. As it was, your Uber let you out next to a pale blue Bronco. You smoothed your hands over your dress and checked your hair one final time before heading inside.

You didn’t really date. Not in the same sense that your friends Caroline and Darcy or even Alexa and Max did. The last person you’d gone out with for more than three dates had been your ex-boyfriend Jack and even that relationship fizzled after six months.

But there was just something about him - about Bradley - that made you think this could be something? Something about Bradley made you giggle at your phone while you read his texts and buy a new dress and get a wax for your date.

God, please like me. I hope he likes me.

The bell above the door jingled as you entered, suddenly taken aback not only by the amount of people in the bar, but also the Navy paraphernalia doting seemingly every usable surface. Jesus. Did Uncle Sam pay everyone's tab, too?

Scooting out of the way of another group entering behind you, you bit your lip and stretched your neck, looking around the bar for Bradley. What if he wasn't there? What if he saw you get out of your Uber in the parking lot and bailed? No - he wouldn't do that. The Bradley you had gotten to know over the last couple days sent you fun facts and his Wordle score. He asked about your projects at work and what you were having for dinner. He texted with full capitalization and punctuation. At the very worst, you'd hope you'd get an it's not you, it's me text from him.

But your worry was all for naught because when you got closer to the bar, you saw him. And by some sort of miracle he hadn't seen you yet, which gave you ample opportunity to ogle because you seriously needed a minute. God, he was so pretty. His hair looked lighter in person, not as brown, his arms looked so strong even in his unbuttoned light blue oxford, and that mustache? It worked. It really worked.

And he looked nervous? His knee was bouncing and he kept glancing down at the phone propped up on his knee. 7:33pm - you were late. You squared your shoulders and cleared your throat before closing the final few steps.

"Bradley?"

He spun around on his barstool at your voice. The abrupt motion caused him to almost drop his phone, but it made you smile. Once his eyes settled on you it was like everything stopped. The bar got quiet, you didn't notice the girl next to you complaining about her drink, and the hockey game on TV faded into the background - you just noticed Bradley.

A smile crept across his face as he said your name in turn and you nodded. Your stomach was going crazy with butterflies and your heart was pounding so hard, you were convinced Bradley could see the outline through your pink dress. His voice was warm and raspy and had your insides turning into honey.

"It's nice to see you - " He gave you a full hug that was over far too soon. God he smelled so good, too. "- Here, have a seat. Do you want a drink?"

"You too." You took his hand and got on the barstool, placing your clutch on the table and glancing around the bar. "Ummm, what're you having?"

"An old fashioned - sorry," he shook himself and glanced back down at his drink sheepishly, "you just look really pretty."

You cheeks warmed under his stare and you bit your lip. If your knee nudged his underneath the bar-top then that was just an accident. "Thanks, I'll uh - I'll have a margarita?"

Bradley was either really smart or really lucky when he ordered your margarita with your preferred tequila - you only had to pipe up to request salt on the rim.

And then it was just easy. Everything just fell into place. You talked about your time at UVA - he even got you to admit that you were a Tri-Delta after he admitted to being Sigma Chi philanthropy chair -your favorite restaurants and neighborhoods in San Diego, and your job, which Bradley endearingly thought was fascinating - something you wouldn't exactly agree with, but it was flattering all the same.

And it was only because of the easy conversation and banter between the two of you that you finally felt comfortable bringing up your most burning question all evening:

“So, what’s with the bar?” you asked, looking around with a teasing smile on your face. Bradley cocked his head. “I mean, is it just me or is like every naval officer within a forty mile radius here?”

And then the night took a turn...

don't forget to read part 1 to see how the date goes 😉

a/n: so this was just something small to tide me over before i post my next fic about thanksgiving! hope you all liked it!

#bradley bradsaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley and smart aleck #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster imagine #top gun imagine #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader

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aechii · 10 months

Text

₍⁠₍ OF LOVE AND FASHiON ₎⁠₎

A/N ?! last fic for the day booooo 😥 i dont know if i will be able to post any tmrrw, but i hope i can. anyways enjoy my lovelies

p.s. there's a little written part in this but it's abt 500-600 words

[y/n]'s heart's racing. every palpitation hammers against her chest with much force, so much so that her full-upon-entry water has decreased to less than half left in just 30 minutes. the heat still fused with the air, but as the sun begins to sleep, it loses its energy, leaving a cool undercurrent that presses into the skin of all the attendees. she's so glad about the cooler weather, finding it completely unfathomable how she would've coped if the heat joined tham at night as well.

but the man seated beside her crashes all of her composure, and her body begins to feel hot and strangled.

she hasn't seen such a visually blessed male specimen in all the years of her living, and the fact that his body was so close to hers because of the crammed seating made matters worse. she can't think, breathe or concentrate on the influx of dressed models that come and go non-stop.

"you look disgusted."

the voice comes from right beside her, and her head whips around, startled. the man that has enraptured her entire conscience smiles goofily at her, and her heart wavers.

"what? me?"

"yes," he chuckles softly, "you."

his eyes turn back to the show before them, yet he continues speaking before [y/n] can justify herself, "i don't blame you, though. some of the outfits are... questionable."

his facial expressions are priceless, and [y/n] falls into a bout of laughter, "you're sick!"

he looks on seriously, eyes flashing with extreme judgement, "i'm not lying! how does anyone find pairing a skirt and baggy trousers aesthetic?"

the combination, that [y/n] had, most likely, missed from being consumed by her thoughts, makes her grimace, "yeah, that wasn't a good look at all."

he turns back to face her and, god, he stares so intently that she has to look away.

"speaking of outfits, what brand you wearing? 'cause i know it's not lv for sure, i'm not seeing any," he thinks of the right words, "over exposure of the logo."

"that's one way to put it," [y/n] snickers, looking down at her outfit, "i made it all myself... apart from the shoes of course."

the boy is taken aback, mouth agape and eyes wide, "no way!"

she begins to feel flustered by his reaction and just smiles.

"that's so cool, honestly. i would take more pride in that than wearing a slutted out luxury brand."

"slutted out?" [y/n] can't believe her ears; he's going to kill her, she's sure.

"how the hell did you come up that?!"

the boy purses his lips, looking smug, "i'm just that amazing."

"you're delusional."

he pretends to think for a moment, "delusional enough to think i'd get your number?"

[y/n]'s eyebrows shot up, "you want... my number?"

he doesn't hesitate to nod, "i don't think i'll be leaving without it."

jobe, who had been painfully listening in on their conversation, decides to make himself apparent, "don't do it, you'll regret it."

she turns around, coming face to face with a younger boy who looks almost identical to the one she had been speaking with for the past 15 minutes.

"you two brothers?"

the older one responds, "yeah, he's a cockblock though, don't listen to him."

"cockblock? jude, i'm trying to save her life!"

ah, so that's his name.

"clear off, jobe," he rolls his eyes, turning back to the girl sitting beside him, "sorry about that- so, your number?"

"don't do it!"

and much to his dismay, she does.

y/n_l/n

liked by judebellingham and 23,899 others

y/n_l/n paris photo dump !! met some cool ass people there lowkey

view comments...

judebellingham was lovely meeting you, such a vibe 😆

y/n_l/n you too!! <3

yfn__ best time of my life honestly

y/n_l/n paris at night is a sight to see

user1 you look GORGEOUS

user2 i really missed pfw just a day after i left france </3

user3 JUDE????

user4 I'M ACTUALLY SO SHOCKED

user5 😮

user6 WE FOUND HERRRRR

user7 and jude beat me to it already 😐

judebellingham

liked by y/n_l/n and 899,231 others

judebellingham ❤🇫🇷

view comments...

y/n_l/n love the after party candid, send it to me plz xx + tell jobe i'm sorry but not sorry

judebellingham you look so pretty in it ofc + he'll see it anyways xx y/n_l/n @/judebellingham stop plz 😭🛑 jobebellingham @/y/n_l/n buy me croissaints and maybe i'll forgive you

jadonsancho freshh 🔥

user1 who's that girl in the last pic????

user2 someone who he met at the lv show, got her number and everthingggg 😭

user3 AND SHE KNOWS JOBE TOO? that's my chance stripped unrightfully away from me </3

user4 icel, she's gorgeous AAAAA

user5 this is my 13th reason

#work de aechii 🫧#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham angst #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham romance #jude bellingham #jude bellingham headcanons #jude bellingham fanfic #borussia dortmund #football imagines #footballer x reader #footballer x you

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quinzzelx · 12 days

Text

Don't Go

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Azriel thought he knew what pain was. But faced with the consequences of battle, he shatters.

Word Count: 4.8K

Warnings: Heart-shattering angst. I'm sorry, this does not have a happy ending. Death. I need to still proofread this!

A/N: One of my favorite Band's songs, one that I hold very dear to my heart, is called "Don't Go"... Let's just say, this song expresses the feelings of this perfectly. If you are interested in an alternate ending, one with a happy one, let me know.

☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆

I was raised in the valley There was shadows and death Got out alive but with scars I can't forget

You never imagined that drowning could be so tranquil. Drifting, falling, floating deeper into the abyss, your once-alert eyes now glazed over with a distant emptiness. The shimmering surface of the moon above reflected in the water, casting a serene glow upon the scene. Despite the turmoil raging within you, the water remained calm, almost comforting as it enveloped you.

With each passing moment, consciousness slipped further away, your limbs heavy and unresponsive. The light above grew dimmer, more distant, as you descended into the depths. A sharp pang in your chest served as a grim reminder of impending death, your lungs screaming for air that was nowhere to be found. The burning agony of suffocation clawed at your throat, the water filling your lungs with each desperate gasp.

This was the end. At the age of 347, a mere blink in the lifespan of a Fae, you faced your demise. While humans might find such longevity unfathomable, for your kind, it was but a fraction of existence. Yet, as the final bubbles of air escaped your lips and rose toward the surface, a sense of peace washed over you. Despite the fear that once gripped your heart, in this moment, all was calm.

Your death would not be in vain. You had fought until the very end. And now, as you surrendered to the depths of the lake, you found solace in the embrace of the water, welcoming you home. Your vision blurred, the edges of your consciousness fading as you struggled to stay afloat. Every movement sent waves of agony rippling through your body, your broken bones protesting with searing pain. Despite your efforts, the darkness continued to close in, suffocating you with its crushing weight.

But then, a sensation unlike any other tore through you, a visceral reaction that seized your heart in a vice-like grip. Panic surged through your veins, amplified by the frantic beating of your heart. It was as if every fiber of your being screamed out in terror, a primal instinct that screamed for survival.

Ears ringing and throbbing with agony, you felt a sharp, stabbing pain shoot through your skull as your eardrums burst under the immense pressure. The pain was excruciating, a relentless assault on the last bit of strength you held onto.

An orphan and a brother and unseen by most eyes I don't know what it was that made a piece of him die Took a boy to the forest Slaughtered him with a scythe Stamped on his face An impression in the dirt Do you think the silence Makes a good man convert?

In the tumultuous landscape of the Illyrian Mountains, whispers of dissent had been stirring for years. Cassian's hunch had sparked a relentless pursuit of the rebels, their motives driven by a desire to reclaim power and revert to antiquated traditions. Their disdain for the new order, especially Rhysand's leadership, fueled their rebellion.

Months of meticulous investigation led Azriel to their hidden stronghold, nestled deep within the rugged terrain. The plan was in motion: pairs deployed, each with a specific mission. Cassian and Feyre, Rhysand and Mor, Nesta and Azriel, and you with Gwyn and Emerie tasked with liberating the captive females.

Amidst the chaos of battle, Azriel wielded Truthteller with lethal precision, dispatching adversaries with practiced ease. Yet, his focus fractured when Emerie and Gwyn rushed to his side, your absence glaringly apparent. Dread coiled in his gut as Gwyn's wide-eyed gaze met his. It was then that Azriel noticed your absence, a sinking feeling gnawing at his gut. "Where is she?" His voice was tight with worry, urgency lacing his words. Her response only fueled his anxiety. "There was a group of about ten. She's our best fighter, and she insisted we go for help." Azriel's instinctive reaction was to scowl at Gwyn's decision to leave you behind, but he knew you were capable. Still, the thought of you facing such odds alone churned his stomach. So many of them? Fuck, he had to find you. A glance at Nesta was enough as she immediately nodded. "Find her." With a silent nod, Azriel launched himself into the sky, his wings slicing through the air with a fierce determination. The urgency of his mission spurred him onward, each powerful beat bringing him closer to the treeline that marked the edge of the battlefield.

It was only recently, during your parting, that the bond between you had awakened with startling clarity. The sensation pulsed within him, a potent reminder of your connection. How had he overlooked it for so long? The question gnawed at him as he scanned the landscape below, every hut, every tent, every clearing scrutinized for any sign of you.

As he neared the cliffside, a gust of wind carried the pungent scent of blood, assaulting his senses with brutal force. Panic seized him, his chest constricting with a primal fear as he descended closer to the source of the chaos. Then, amidst the carnage, he felt it—a flicker of your presence, fragile yet unmistakable.

We all have our horrors And our demons to fight But how can I win when I'm paralyzed? They crawl up on my bed Wrap their fingers round my throat Is this what I get for The choices that I made?

Landing with a staggering thud, Azriel stumbled forward, his chest heaving as he fought to quell the rising panic. Ears ringing, he scanned the scene before him, desperate for any sign of you amidst the chaos of battle. The sight of severed limbs and pools of blood sent a shiver down his spine, his heart hammering with dread. The battlefield was a scene of utter devastation, a macabre tableau of violence and chaos. Bodies littered the ground, their limbs twisted at unnatural angles, pools of blood mingling with the churned earth. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid scent of sweat and fear.

A sudden sound to his right shattered the eerie silence, drawing Azriel's attention like a predator honing in on its prey. His eyes narrowed, scanning the landscape until they landed on a figure slumped against a tree stump. The Illyrian's battered form was a testament to the brutality of the conflict, bruises marring his face, blood staining his clothes. As Azriel approached, his shadows coiled around him like vengeful serpents, an ominous aura of danger emanating from his every movement. His broad shoulders were squared, his stare intense and unwavering, like the embodiment of death itself stalking through the battlefield.

The Illyrian male flinched as Azriel loomed over him, a towering figure of wrath and retribution. With a swift motion, Azriel snatched him by the collar, yanking him up and pressing him against the tree with a force that left no room for defiance. "Where is she?" Azriel's voice was a low, menacing growl, barely contained fury simmering beneath the surface. The Illyrian snarled in response, his bruised and bloodied face contorted with defiance. He spat into Azriel's face, a vile mixture of blood and saliva, his defiance fueling the flames of Azriel's rage. "I won't tell you a gods damn thing, Bastard," he spat, his voice dripping with venom.

Azriel's fury intensified as he tightened his grip, bones cracking and snapping under his relentless grasp, the Illyrian's defiant sneer faltering as pain seared through him. "Tell me where she is," Azriel growled, his voice a dangerous rumble that reverberated through the air like a thunderclap, echoing the storm raging within him.

The Illyrian's lips curled into a twisted grin, his defiance unyielding even in the face of Azriel's wrath. "Your whore? We took care of her," he taunted, his voice laced with malice as he sought to goad Azriel further. Azriel's gaze darkened, a storm of fury brewing behind his eyes as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against the Illyrian's face. With a swift motion, he slammed him against the tree once more, the force of the impact jarring his senses. "You will regret those words," Azriel growled, his voice dripping with icy venom. In an instant, Azriel's shadows surged forward, wrapping around the Illyrian's limbs like vengeful tendrils, constricting and squeezing with crushing force. The Illyrian's defiant grin faltered, replaced by a look of sheer terror as he struggled against the suffocating darkness. Azriel's grip tightened, his fingers digging into the Illyrian's flesh as he leaned in closer, his voice a low, menacing whisper. "You will tell me everything," he snarled, his words a promise of retribution as he unleashed the full extent of his wrath upon the helpless captive.

Azriel's gaze hardened, his patience wearing thin as he pressed the Illyrian harder against the tree. "You will tell me," he insisted, his voice a deadly whisper. "Or I will make you wish you had."

With a defiant glare, the Illyrian spat back, "You can't scare me, Shadowsinger. I'd rather die than betray my comrades."

Azriel's jaw clenched, his fury simmering just beneath the surface as he stared down at the defiant captive. "So be it," he growled, his voice cold and unforgiving. "But know this, your death will be swift compared to the torment I will unleash upon those who have harmed her."

With a final, chilling glare, Azriel released his grip, allowing the Illyrian to crumple to the ground in a heap. Azriel's heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing like thunder in his ears as he stumbled forward, the weight of the bond pressing down on him like a suffocating shroud. Desperation clawed at him as he scanned the surroundings, his senses straining to pick up any sign of your presence.

God forgive me for all my sins God forgive me for everything God forgive me for all my sins God forgive me God forgive me

As he reached the edge of the cliff, overlooking the vast expanse of the lake, a sinking feeling settled in the pit of Azriel's stomach. Where were you? His mind raced, frantically trying to piece together the puzzle of your disappearance. And then it hit him, a searing pain shooting through his head as the bond between you wavered and dimmed. Gasping for breath, he clutched at his chest, his vision swimming with panic and fear. He couldn't lose you, not like this.

Azriel's mind reeled as the realization struck him like a bolt of lightning. You were dying, and he had only just discovered that you were his mate. The weight of the revelation bore down on him, suffocating him with a sense of dread and urgency. With a fierce determination, he forced himself to focus, pushing aside the overwhelming surge of panic threatening to consume him. He cursed himself for not recognizing your distress sooner, for failing to protect you when you needed him most.

The sensation of suffocation intensified, the air growing thick and heavy around him. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't bear the thought of losing you. Then it hit him like a physical blow, his eyes widening in horror as the truth dawned on him. "No," he whispered hoarsely, his voice trembling with fear and desperation. In an instant, he was on his feet, his movements fueled by a primal instinct to save you at any cost. The chaos unfolding at the cliffside suddenly made sense, and he knew what he had to do.

With lightning speed, he leapt into the depths below, his senses on high alert as he scanned the eerie still surface of the lake. Every fiber of his being screamed for you, a silent plea echoing in the depths of his soul. No, no, no. He couldn't lose you. Not now. Not ever.

Don't go I can't do this on my own Don't go I can't do this on my own Save me from the ones That haunt me in the night I can't live with myself So stay with me tonight Don't go

Frantically, Azriel swept over the vast expanse of the lake, his heart pounding in his chest with each beat of his wings. The enormity of the task ahead overwhelmed him, but he refused to succumb to despair. With each passing moment, the silence from the other side of the bond grew louder, echoing in his mind like a haunting refrain.

"Please," he pleaded silently, his thoughts a desperate mantra as he called out your name into the void. "Hold on, just a little longer." He tugged at the fragile thread of the bond, hoping for some sign of life, some glimmer of reassurance. But there was only emptiness, a faint flicker that threatened to snuff out entirely.

Then, like a beacon in the darkness, a glimmer of light caught his attention, reflecting off the surface of the water below. It was a small ray of hope amidst the vast uncertainty, and Azriel clung to it with all his strength. Grateful for the clarity of the lake's icy waters, he scanned the depths below, searching for any sign of you.

And then he saw it—a flash of metal glinting in the moonlight, unmistakably your sword. His heart leaped with a mixture of relief and dread as he circled the area, his keen eyes scouring the surroundings for any trace of you. With a surge of determination, Azriel dove into the clear waters of the lake, his muscles straining with the effort as he propelled himself downward. Anxiety gripped him like a vice, each stroke of his wings a desperate plea for your safety.

His heart hammered in his chest as he descended deeper into the murky depths, his senses keenly attuned to every movement, every shadow that flickered in the water around him. The pressure of the water pressed in on him, threatening to crush him with its weight, but he pushed on, fueled by the urgency of the situation.

"Please," he prayed silently, the word a fervent prayer on his lips as he scanned the darkness below. The faint outline of your form came into view, a haunting specter in the gloom, and his heart clenched with fear at the sight.

His Illyrian wings strained against the resistance of the water, their powerful beats driving him ever closer to you. Every fiber of his being screamed for him to reach you, to pull you from the grasp of the icy depths and into the safety of his arms.

With each stroke of his wings, Azriel descended deeper into the darkness, his heart pounding with a mixture of dread and determination. His fingers strained, grasping for your form as he fought against the relentless pressure of the water.

When he finally reached you, his heart twisted painfully at the sight of your vacant eyes staring lifelessly into the abyss. Gently, he pulled you into his arms, cradling your limp body against his chest as he began the arduous journey back to the surface.

Tell me that you need me 'cause I love you so much Tell me that you love me 'cause I need you so much Tell me that you need me 'cause I love you so much Say you'll never leave me 'cause I need you so much

As he ascended, a sense of urgency gripped him, his movements swift and purposeful as he struggled against the weight of your lifeless form. Halfway to the surface, he summoned his power and with a flicker of shadows, he winnowed to the shore, still holding you tightly in his embrace.

Your body felt unnaturally cold against his, your skin pallid and clammy as he laid you gently on the ground. Panic surged through him as he knelt beside you, his hands shaking as he pressed against your chest, desperate for any sign of life. But there was nothing—no rise and fall of your chest, no flutter of your eyelids. Tears stung his eyes as he stared down at your motionless form, the weight of his failure crushing him with each passing moment. "No," he whispered hoarsely, his voice cracking with emotion as he fought to suppress the rising tide of despair. "No, no, no."

With tears streaming down his cheeks, Azriel bent over your motionless body, his hands trembling as he began chest compressions. Each push was an agonizing reminder of his helplessness, his fingers pressing against your chest with desperate force, willing your heart to respond.

The bond between you dimmed with each passing second, a thin thread of connection that threatened to snap at any moment. But Azriel refused to let go, his mind consumed by a singular determination to bring you back from the brink. Leaning down, he pressed his lips to yours, breathing life into your still body with every exhale. The taste of saltwater lingered on your lips, a bitter reminder of the depths from which he had pulled you.

His movements were frantic, almost desperate, as he continued to alternate between chest compressions and breaths, his own breath ragged with exertion. His wings, normally a symbol of strength and power, drooped at his sides, soaked with water and heavy with the weight of his despair. In the midst of his efforts, he failed to notice the arrival of Cassian, Nesta, Rhys, and Feyre, their shocked gazes fixed upon the scene unfolding before them. They hovered at a distance, unsure of how to intervene, their hearts heavy with the weight of your precarious situation.

But Azriel was lost in his own world, consumed by the task at hand. He refused to acknowledge the fear gnawing at his heart, the dread that threatened to consume him whole if he dared to let it in. Azriel's hands moved with a desperation born of sheer terror, his fingers trembling as they continued to press against your chest. Each compression sent a jolt of anguish through his body, his muscles straining with the effort to bring you back to life. "Please," he whispered, the word barely audible over the rush of blood in his ears. "No, please."

His vision blurred with tears, the world around him reduced to a hazy backdrop of grief and despair. He chanted your name like a prayer, a desperate plea to whatever gods might be listening to spare your life. "You can't go," he pleaded, his voice breaking with emotion. "Not like this." Beside him, Cassian's heart shattered at the sight of his brother's anguish. Stepping closer, he placed a hand on Azriel's back, a silent gesture of support in the face of overwhelming sorrow.

"Brother," he murmured, his voice thick with unshed tears. But before he could say anything more, Azriel's head snapped in his direction, rage blazing in his eyes. "No!" Azriel snarled, his shadows swirling around him in a tempest of fury. Cassian recoiled, his heart aching at the sight of his brother's pain etched so clearly on his face. Feyre's sobs echoed in the background, a haunting melody of grief that underscored the desperation of the moment. Rhys and Cassian shared a look, their expressions mirroring the anguish that weighed heavy on their hearts.

But it was Azriel who bore the brunt of the agony, his entire being consumed by the terror of losing you. As he clung to your lifeless form, he felt the weight of despair pressing down on him, threatening to crush him beneath its unbearable burden. With each passing moment, he watched helplessly as you slipped further away from him. Your lips, once full of color, now turned a lifeless shade of blue, your cheeks growing hollow with every breath you didn't take.

"Please," he begged, his voice raw with anguish. "Do something! Rhys, please!" His words were a desperate plea, a cry for salvation in the face of overwhelming despair. But as Rhys stepped closer, a defeated look on his face, Azriel's heart shattered into a million pieces.

"I... I can't," Rhys murmured, his voice heavy with sorrow. "I'm sorry, brother, but..." Azriel's rage boiled over, his pain spilling out in a torrent of emotion. "You don't understand!" he screamed, his voice cracking with anguish. "She is my Mate!"

Don't go I can't do this on my own Don't go I can't do this on my own Save me from the ones That haunt me in the night I can't live with myself So stay with me tonight

The words hung in the air like a heavy fog, their significance sinking in with a painful clarity. Rhys and Cassian exchanged shocked looks, their faces a portrait of sorrow and disbelief. And as Feyre wept silently in the background, the weight of the truth settled over them. Azriel's cries echoed across the desolate landscape, a symphony of grief that pierced the night with its raw intensity.

With each failed attempt to revive you, his soul fractured a little more, the pain tearing through him like a relentless storm. He clung to you desperately, his fingers digging into your lifeless flesh as if trying to anchor you to the world of the living. But no amount of pleading or praying could bring you back, and with each passing moment, the reality of your loss became more unbearable.

Tears streamed down his cheeks unchecked, mingling with the cold water that surrounded you both. In that moment of utter despair, he felt as if his heart had been ripped from his chest, leaving behind nothing but a gaping void where you once belonged. In the eerie silence that followed, broken only by the lapping of the lake against the shore, Azriel held you close, his heart shattered into a million irreparable pieces.

His tears mingled with the water that now cradled your lifeless form, a cruel reminder of the love that had been torn from him so suddenly. "I love you," he whispered brokenly, his voice barely a whisper against the vast emptiness of the night. "I have always loved you." Each word was a knife to his soul, carving out the depths of his grief with ruthless precision.

As his tears fell upon your face, mingling with the coolness of death, Azriel felt the weight of his loss bear down upon him with crushing force. With trembling hands, he brushed a lock of hair from your forehead, his touch gentle yet filled with unbearable sorrow.

And then, with a heart-wrenching realization, the bond between you flickered and died, snuffed out like a candle in the wind. The agony that tore through Azriel in that moment was unlike anything he had ever known, a searing pain that threatened to consume him whole.

A guttural scream tore from his throat, raw and primal, echoing across the desolate landscape. His shadows burst forth from him in a frenzy of writhing darkness, swirling around him like a tempest unleashed. Rhys acted quickly, raising a protective shield to contain the torrent of emotions that threatened to overwhelm them all. Clutching your lifeless body to his chest, Azriel's whole being shook with terror and despair.

"No, this isn't true," he cried out, his voice a desperate plea to the uncaring heavens. "Don't leave me." But there was no answer, no miracle to bring you back to him. In that moment, the reality of living without you crashed over him like a tidal wave, threatening to drag him under. How could he go on without you? How could he face a world that suddenly seemed so cold and empty?

Your laughter, your smile, the warmth of your touch—all of it was gone now, lost to him forever. And as he held your lifeless body against his, Azriel screamed, a primal cry of anguish that echoed into the night, a haunting lament for a love that had been stolen away too soon.

With his forehead pressed against yours, Azriel wept, his tears mingling with the water that surrounded you both. He pressed a gentle kiss to your cold cheek, his lips trembling with sorrow and regret. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I failed you. I failed us."

The shadows around him finally began to still, their frantic dance slowing to a mournful sway. Rhys lowered his shield, allowing the others to approach, their faces etched with sorrow as they took in the devastating scene before them. Cassian stepped forward first, his expression a mixture of grief and disbelief. "Az," he said softly, his voice thick with unshed tears. "I don't know what to say."

Azriel looked up at his brother, his eyes red-rimmed and haunted. "Say that it's not true," he pleaded, his voice breaking. "Tell me this is just a nightmare and I'll wake up soon." But Cassian could only shake his head, his own heart heavy with grief. "I wish I could," he said quietly. "But this is real, Az. And I'm so sorry."

Azriel's voice cracked with anguish as he spoke, his words a desperate plea to the heavens. "Why you?" he cried, his voice raw with pain. "You were everything good in this world, everything bright and beautiful. Why did it have to be you?"

He clutched your lifeless form tighter to his chest, as if by sheer force of will he could bring you back to life. "It should have been me," he whispered, his voice thick with sorrow. "I'm the broken one, the one who's lived in darkness for so long. You deserved so much better than this."

Tears streamed down his face as he pressed his forehead against yours, his breath hitching in his chest. "I can't do this without you," he confessed, his voice barely more than a whisper. "You were my light, my reason for living. And now you're gone."

His heart shattered into a million pieces as he held you close, the weight of your loss crushing him beneath its unbearable burden. "Please come back," he begged, his voice choked with grief. "I can't bear to live in a world without you."

Don't go I can't do this on my own Don't go Save me from the ones That haunt me in the night I can't live with myself So stay with me tonight

Rhys approached Azriel cautiously, his expression heavy with sorrow. "Az, we need to leave soon," he said gently, his voice barely audible over the howling wind. "You'll freeze to death out here." Azriel's tear-streaked face twisted with fury as he turned to Rhys, his grief-stricken eyes burning with intensity. "I can't leave her here," he growled, his voice thick with emotion.

Rhys nodded solemnly, understanding the depth of Azriel's pain. "I know, brother," he replied softly. "But we can't stay here forever. We need to take her home."

Azriel's sobs echoed through the desolate landscape, his voice barely above a whisper as he pleaded, "Just five more minutes." His gaze remained fixed on your beautiful face, etched with pain and longing.

Rhys and Cassian exchanged a somber glance before silently stepping back, giving Azriel the space and time he needed to say goodbye. The minutes stretched into hours, the sun dipping below the horizon and rising again, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink. But still, Azriel clung to your lifeless form, his whispered pleas of "just a little more" echoing through the silent air. Each passing moment felt like an eternity as Azriel grappled with the reality of your absence. The weight of his grief was palpable, a heavy burden that threatened to consume him. But still, he couldn't bring himself to let go, as if leaving this place would make the devastating truth more real.

As the sun reached its zenith once again, casting long shadows across the landscape, Rhys approached Azriel with a heavy heart. "Az," he said gently, his voice filled with compassion, "we need to go." Azriel's voice was raw with emotion as he stood for the first time since arriving at the desolate shore, still cradling your lifeless form in his arms. His eyes, once filled with anguish, now held a haunted emptiness as he spoke to Rhys, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I can't live without her, Rhys," he confessed, the weight of his words heavy in the air. Each syllable was laden with the depths of his grief, a pain that seemed insurmountable in the wake of your absence. Rhys's heart clenched at Azriel's words, the pain evident in his brother's voice piercing through him like a blade. He could see the devastation etched into Azriel's features, the unbearable weight of loss bearing down on him.

"I know, Az," Rhys murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I understand. But we have to take her home. She deserves that much." His own grief threatened to overwhelm him, but he pushed it aside, focusing on the task at hand. "We'll give her a proper farewell, Az. Together." Azriel cradled your lifeless form in his arms as he followed Rhys, his steps heavy with grief. He thought of all the moments they had shared together in Velaris, the quiet nights spent stargazing on the balcony, the lazy mornings talking over coffee. He thought of the way your laughter echoed through the streets of the city, a beacon of light in the darkness.

But now, all of those moments felt like distant memories, fragments of a life that was no longer his to hold. As Azriel prepared to winnow back to Velaris, your lifeless form cradled in his arms, he couldn't shake the overwhelming sense of regret that consumed him. He would never get the chance to kiss you again, to hold you close and tell you how much he loved you. He wished he had confessed his feelings before, before the bond had been revealed, before it was too late.

You had died alone, unaware of his love, unaware that you had a mate who cherished you more than anything in this world. The thought tore at his soul, leaving behind a gaping wound that he knew would never fully heal. He would carry the weight of that regret with him for the rest of his days.

But as he prepared to winnow, to leave this desolate place behind and return to Velaris, he knew that he had to find a way to live with the pain, to honor your memory in every moment of his existence. You may be gone, but your love would live on in his heart forever.

With one last lingering look at your peaceful face, Azriel whispered a silent promise to himself, to remember you, to cherish you, to love you for all eternity. And then, with a heavy heart and tear-stained cheeks, he winnowed away, back to Velaris, with you in his arms, your spirit forever intertwined with his own.

Don't go Don't go Don't go Don't go

☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆

A/N: I'm sorry. Whew. I made myself cry while writing this. Please let me know if you enjoyed this and if you'd be interested in an alternative ending. :)

#acotar #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #reader insert #azriel spymaster #x reader #azriel angst #angst #tw death #death #loss #heartbreak #dealing with grief #grief #angst without a happy ending #cassian #rhysand

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suzukiblu · 5 months

Note

You are (not) the father! (<- spent five minutes trying to find a gif from that one tv show and then couldn't find it) for wip Wednesday? 🥰

“Her name's Kyra,” Tim says quietly, looking down into the crib at her. He keeps his voice low, but he knows she'll sleep through it. She sleeps like a rock every time she goes down. “Kyra Constance Drake-Kent.”

Kon steps up beside him. Looks down at her too.

“I named her after you,” Tim says, although it's obviously incredibly obvious that he did that. It's just something to say. Some pathetic attempt at . . . not a justification or even an apology or an excuse, because none of those things would mean anything when he'd do it all again, but . . . but.

Just–but, he supposes.

“You were the only way I could explain her,” he says, stiff and abrupt. “I said–I told everyone that we'd slept together. They all just assumed I meant that we'd been together. And I thought . . . it doesn't matter. I just–you were the only way I could explain her.”

The only way he could stand to explain her.

“I had to explain her,” he says, and his voice doesn't want to come, but it doesn't have the right not to. He owes Kon this explanation. Owes Kon the truth.

Part of him still wants to keep lying, though.

“It's not her fault,” he says, and doesn't take his eyes off Kyra's sleeping face. “And I don't–if he ever found out about her, I thought . . .”

He feels Kon's eyes shift to him. He still doesn't take his own off Kyra.

“After you died,” he says very, very evenly. “I . . . ran into him, a couple weeks after. Alone. And then he–and I couldn't–and you were the only way I could explain her. If anyone ever . . . ever looked at her DNA, or–or if she got sick, or . . . got powers, or . . .”

Tim doesn't think about the last time he saw Kon's face. Doesn't think about–

He doesn't think about it.

“You can–you can say whatever you need to say to–to everyone. Obviously,” he manages to stutter out, his chest clenching and gut twisting with nausea as he doesn't think about it. “I'll take the fall or the blame for whatever story you want to make up, I just–I just–just–just please, please don't–don't tell them that Kyra isn't . . . that she's from . . .”

“Tim,” Kon says very, very carefully. Tim tells himself–he tells himself Kon lived through having both Paul Westfield and Lex Luthor as his “fathers”, and not having Clark as one. He tells himself–he tells himself–

“I'm s-sorry,” he chokes like it means something; like he wouldn't do it all again if he thought it'd work. Like he's not a selfish, terrified asshole and a horrible person who lied about his dead best friend and let everyone else believe whatever they wanted to about it. “It was the only thing I could think to do, it was . . . I couldn't . . . c-c-couldn't tell anyone, because . . . because if I told anyone, that meant s-someday I'd have to tell her, or that he might find out about her, and . . . and you were my best friend, and the only way I could explain her, and I told myself . . .”

Kon looks at him for a long, long moment. Tim tells himself–tells himself this is Kon, and he doesn't need the contingency plans. He doesn't need any of that. Because this is Kon, who'd never hurt Kyra. Never hurt him.

Not Match, who already did.

“I told myself you would’ve said it was okay,” Tim rasps very, very quietly, staring down at Kyra's sleeping face. “I told myself you would've . . . would've let me lie about it.”

“I would have,” Kon says, his own voice just as quiet as he looks straight at him, eyes intently, inhumanly blue. “And I'm gonna.”

Tim bursts into tears like the selfish, terrified asshole he is, because he's selfish and terrified and an asshole. Kon just leans over the side of the crib and brushes the back of his knuckles against Kyra's soft little cheek with all the terrible gentleness of unfathomable superhuman might compressed down into touching some fragile, precious, impossibly delicate thing.

“Hey there, Kyra,” he murmurs with that same terrible, terrible gentleness. “Nice to meet you. I'm your pa.”

It takes a very long time for Tim to stop crying after that.

#authenticaussie #wip: the one where kon isn't the father #implied noncon #. . . I hit a groove and got carried away lol #sorry not sorry #long post

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gorgeousgreymatter-x · 1 year

Text

An excerpt from my unfortunately likely very belated birthday fic for @wynnyfryd my beloved:

It’s not like there’s a definitive set of tracks that Eddie’s on the wrong side of, but there’s something about being in Loch Nora, driving through the suburbs of these rich-y rich neighborhoods that made his skin crawl. Like he’s wearing a huge neon red sign that says I’m not supposed to be here. But there are a few things he’ll venture out to Doucheville for.

The main one being money.

Okay — the only one being money. But who was he to turn down practically double his normal rates simply because Heather Holloway was too prissy to meet in the woods? Whatever, for that much extra cash he’d throw in home delivery just this once.

Of course, because nothing in Eddie’s life is fair or easy, it backfires. Not in the lack of payday kind of way, he thinks, patting the thick roll of cash newly stuffed into his back pocket. That part had gone just fine. Heather had played her part of the stuck up cheerleader and Eddie the scummy drug dealer and yada yada everybody went home happy.

It backfires more in the almost crashed his van into a tree and died simply because he’s a horny idiot kind of way.

Because the universe apparently decided that Eddie, who’d literally promised himself that he was no longer going to be an obsessed freakazoid over Steve goddamn Harrington, must be tested, must truly suffer. Why else would right now be the exact moment in time he drives past the guy while he's clearly on a run and sporting a pair of nearly indecent length running shorts coupled with a — jesus h. christ — a Hawkins High Marching Band t-shirt cut into a crop top revealing a gloriously thick treasure trail. And muscles. So many muscles.

The universe clearly wanted Eddie to die.

And now Eddie has to sit here, rubbing awkwardly at the bruise he definitely feels blooming on his forehead from the unfortunate whack it’s taken against his steering wheel. Because, as mentioned — idiot. He has to sit here while Steve fucking Harrington peers into his open window with this unfathomably sweet look of concern on his stupid angelic face that makes Eddie, for a moment, kinda wish he was dead. Especially because his brain decides, “There was a squirrel!” is the best thing to blurt out when Steve asks if he’s okay. The hasty, “I mean, I’m fine,” Eddie adds after definitely helps sell it a lot. He can tell by the way Steve’s brow is all furrowed in a stupidly cute stupid way.

“I dunno, man,” Steve says (and Eddie definitely does not stare as he watches a single bead of sweat drip down the slope of Steve’s throat, over those pair of freckles Eddie absolutely hasn't thought about sinking his teeth into), "I kind of have a lot of experience with head injuries and that looked like it hurt. Are you sure –"

"Why do you care?"

Steve's worried expression crumples into something steely that just makes Eddie feel like even more of a dick than he knows he's already being. "I just know how shitty concussions can be, sorry for worrying about you, I guess --"

Fuck. Eddie sighs. It would be so much easier if Steve was the jerk Eddie'd always thought he was instead of what he's really turning out to be, which is such a fucking sweetheart that Eddie can't help but want to do a lot of really, really not sweet things to him. "Shit, no -- I'm being an asshole. Maybe chalk it up to that possible head trauma you're worried about?"

Steve is quiet for a moment, but then that look of cool detachment disappears, and he smiles, all gleaming white teeth, and it feels like watching the fucking sun splitting through storm clouds or some shit. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Eddie blinks and sees that Harrington's got his middle finger up, flipping him the bird with such a smug little smirk on that pretty face that Eddie can't help it. He laughs. "Cute."

"You really think so?" Maybe it's the heat. That's gotta be it, Eddie thinks, watching how Steve's cheeks flush, watches as it spreads down past his throat, past those tufts of chest hair poking up teasingly past the stretched out collar of his borrowed t shirt.

The t-shirt Steve had so clearly borrowed from Robin. Robin, who was supposedly Harrington's girlfriend. The image of Robin from earlier in the cafeteria that day wearing Steve’s letterman jacket flashes across his mind and he has to bite him own tongue to stop himself from wincing.

Eddie's gonna throw up. Maybe he does have a concussion after all.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie fic #stranger things #stranger things 4 #steve x eddie

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sunfleursgarden · 6 months

Text

us against the world - lee juyeon

inspired by taylor swift’s champagne problems.

pairings: ex! juyeon x fem! reader

genre: angst! fluff (if you squint)

synopsis: After running away from his proposal, all Juyeon could ever think about was where it all went wrong. Showing up to your house with a heavy heart is something you weren’t ready for, but Juyeon is certain that he wants you in his life, you were simply hesitant.

warnings: angst! mentions of alcohol and blood, slight fluff (if you squint), few curse words are mentioned, somewhat forbidden love, juyeon calls you baby twice

word count: 2.7k words

note: OH MY GOD! this is my first ever publish on tumblr. i’ve been pondering a lot on whether to give this story a happy or sad ending, but hey, we’ll see... and by the way!! this is inspired by taylor swift’s champagne problems!! have fun reading !! (proofread once)

“Will you marry me?”

Splashing that tightly corked bottle of champagne, the high-spirited crowd gleamed in triumph, smiles plastered on their faces as they cheered the two of you on. His not-so-receptive relatives anticipated every minute whilst you were hesitant. You were unfathomable.

“I love you, Y/n. I’d like to spend the rest of my life loving and taking care of you.”

“Juyeon... What are you doing?” You mumbled. He was still down on one knee as he held a small velvet jewelry box. Juyeon gave you a sweet smile—a smile you know you didn't deserve.

“I'm sorry.” those were the last words you said. Juyeon’s eyebrows furrowed, confused about why you suddenly acted that way. You felt everyone’s gaze, your chest felt heavy. Staring at Juyeon, you gave him an apologetic look. He still couldn't process what was going on.

You had this forethought to run. The moment you ran, no one dared to move an inch. That moment screamed in silence. Running away from the person who desired to spend their life with you, you couldn’t prompt yourself to walk down that aisle carrying weight on your shoulders instead of flowers in your hands.

Guilt filled up your petrified heart. Absurd flashbacks start surrounding you, a champagne bottle in one hand, and a broken heart in the other. You’ve never been cognizant of how things developed into this. Perhaps you perceived that instances would change the second Juyeon’s once flexible plans became too vague and secretive for you to comprehend. You were always aware that you were preparing to get down on one knee, your friends even spoiled the surprise just for you, but you simply weren’t eager and ready for it. You and Juyeon were too different. The moment you dropped Juyeon's trembling hand as you two danced the night away, you knew you never deserved any of this.

As you ran whilst having blurry eyesight due to tears streaming down your face, it caused you to fall down the stairs and leave you bleeding on the floor. You could barely recall being put inside an ambulance and merely regained consciousness after hours of being inside the hospital.

Juyeon was beside you the entire time. Yet you couldn’t stand that, knowing he's the reason why you broke down in the first place.

After you got discharged from the hospital, you never spoke to Juyeon again. You started to disregard his phone calls, block his texts, and ignore the constant knock on your door because you know damn well that it’s Juyeon.

He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve the life you're willing to offer.

But he’d rather be hurt by you over and over again than not having you at all.

Six months had gone by.

If there’s one thing that you’ve learned during your healing, it was that your feelings were like waves. At a certain point, you realize that you’ve fully moved on and the waves have subsided, albeit the next thing you know the waves become rogue, and you’re sobbing with your head in your hands, missing what no longer was.

It’s raining. The continuous pour of water droplets reminded you of your uncontrollable tears during the last six months. You had this thought creating space inside your brain for it to wander around, it kept on asking how he was. And as if the Gods have heard your mind’s calling, a knock was heard from the door.

Looking through the peek hole, it’s as if your heart stopped beating once you saw the person on the other side.

Lee Juyeon.

You swore that if this was a dream, you’d never sleep again if it meant reminiscing or recreating distant memories. Trying to pinch yourself, you cursed over and over again, knowing for a fact that this is certainly not one of those reveries.

It took everything in you to get your trembling hand towards the doorknob and open it to reveal a drenched and intoxicated Juyeon. He reeked of alcohol—which you could already tell considering him holding a bottle in his right hand. You hated the smell, you hated that his wet figure casually made the floor of your patio slippery, but most importantly—you hated having him here.

“Why are you here, Juyeon?” You asked, surprising yourself that you did not stutter. Juyeon’s eyes met yours and stayed there, he didn't even dare to move an inch.

‘No. Not those eyes. Don’t give me those eyes.’ you thought.

“Can we please talk?” You let out a sigh. If you had a dollar every time you heard those four words during the last six months, you could probably buy yourself a car.

“Stop it. Stop hurting yourself.”

“I’m not,” He responded, but his state right now tells you otherwise.

He’s been visiting you almost every week in spite of you ignoring him. He’s been texting you nonstop. He’s been showing up just when you thought that you've finally gotten over him.

It’s hard to let go of the person you love, but it’s even harder to hold onto something that can no longer render love. The only constant thing in the world is change, it’s inevitable. Who knew that along with the seasons, your feelings would change too?

Six months ago, you were still happy with Juyeon. Six months ago, you were still in this fairytale-like romance that never failed to sweep you off your feet. You never knew that things would indeed change for the worse.

That one night, that one forethought. It all turned into something bigger than you could possibly visualize. As he got down on one knee, thoughts and notions began to consume your fragile mind, drowning you in a sea of overthinking.

His parents never liked you. You would often feel his mother’s cold gaze towards you during gatherings, and his father can’t even look you in the eye. No matter how many times he tried to persuade them, you know for a fact that they despise you.

They weren’t even there when he proposed.

Who knew that it all took you a small velvet jewelry box to conclude that Juyeon was exceedingly out of your league?

You could tell that his parents were glad—no, relieved that you ended things with Juyeon. And you know for a fact that during the last six months, they’ve been setting their son up with hyper-privileged women with rich-ass companies. They were nothing compared to you and the life you have. This made your stance even stronger because ending it all was probably for the best.

“Stop making it harder than it already is, Juyeon.”

“Just talk to me. Please. Just this once.” Those disconcerting brown eyes staring into yours.

Finally giving in, you let him inside your house. Aware that his clothes were still dripping, you rushed to your closet and grabbed the sweater that he gave you, the sweatpants that he left, and a towel.

Mentally cursing at yourself for still keeping his things, you handed it all to him and pointed towards the bathroom without saying a word.

“Thank you,” He muttered.

He placed his bottle of alcohol down your coffee table and directed himself inside the bathroom. You simply watched his statuesque figure as he closed the door. You let out an exasperated sigh, wondering what may happen.

As he got out, you couldn’t stop yourself from staring at him. He looked good, but his aura screamed in agony and despair. You could tell how much he’s been through. He sat beside you, but he wasn’t too close. You cleared your throat and moved a bit further from him.

“Can we talk now?” He asked. His voice sounded desperate, the way he said it sounded more like a plea rather than a question.

“Go on. We can talk until the rain stops,” You responded, simply staring out the window as rain came pouring down.

"Where did it all go wrong?" You turned your head to face him.

“Nothing went wrong, Ju—”

“No. Something did. We were happy, Y/n. It was us against the world.” He cut you off.

“That's the thing, Juyeon,” You stood up from the couch, still facing him. “We were against the world. No one liked me, Juyeon. Not even your family. That’s when I realized that maybe I was the problem. Hell, that's when I fucking realized that maybe I was too selfish. A selfish bitch that cared only about her own happiness when in fact you were exceedingly out of my league. We wouldn’t live a happy marriage even if we wanted to.”

“And you’d really let them define us?” This time Juyeon was the one who stood up to face you.

“I didn’t want to, Juyeon. But they made it so fucking hard for me! I could barely comprehend my thoughts whenever I was around them. They made me feel as if I did not have a place for you in your life. They made me feel as if I’m some kind of phase for you!”

“Y/n, do you know how hard it is for me to hear you cry yourself to sleep every night when we were together?”

Without realizing it, tears started streaming down your face. “It hurts me so damn much. I never cared about what people had to say regarding our relationship. I just focused on our happiness.” He continued.

“I did too. But it was all too much for me. They suffocated me too much just so I could let go of you. It made me realize a lot of things—that you deserve gold yet I was penniless. That you deserve flowers, but I can’t plant them even if my life depended on it.” You told him using nonsense metaphors to claim your case.

“There are so many more women who deserve you,”

“I don’t care about them, Y/n! I just want you in my life.”

“They’re better than me.”

“If it’s not you, then I don’t want it.”

You didn’t reply.

“I wanted to run away with you, Y/n. Run away to the life we both want without anyone telling us how to live our life.” You were too silent for his own liking, but he continued to talk.

“That night when I proposed, I expected you to say yes because I thought that you’d rather spend your life with me than break things off just ‘cause other people wanted us to.”

“I bought tickets, Y/n. I bought plane tickets to Paris. I remember you telling me how much you wanted to go there. I already pictured us there, getting married and starting our new life without suffocating ourselves in people’s demands.”

Saying that you were shocked by his revelation is an understatement. You never realized that he could’ve thought all of it through. You thought that you only kept your pain to yourself, when in fact Juyeon already had the plans for both of you secured.

“Y-You really did?”

“I did,” he moved closer to you. “But instead of a flight with you to Paris, all I had was a night train home all alone.”

You started to visualize it. An audible sigh escaped Juyeon’s lips as the sound of the train tracks echoed across his head, booking the night train might’ve somehow helped his repudiating state. He must’ve sat there alone, nothing but hurt and misery filling up his bones.

“I didn't know that.” You closed your eyes, not bearing to look at him.

“That's when I got a call from your mother, saying that you got in an accident,” You finally got the courage to look him directly in the eye without a teardrop falling down your cheek. Albeit, Juyeon’s eyes started to become teary. You felt bad. You felt guilty.

“I fell. I wasn’t thinking straight. I had the urge to run away and I did.”

“I was with you during your recovery. Your convalescent body made me weak. It made me think that I should’ve done more to avoid your overthinking. I should’ve reassured you more.”

You vividly remember how your mother went on and on about Juyeon’s stay with you while you were still confined at the hospital. She kept on telling you how Juyeon would never leave the room even if your mother told him to. Juyeon would sleep whilst sitting on the unstable plastic chair near your bed just in case you woke up.

You started to regret pushing him away the moment you regained consciousness. His frown clearly displayed devastation, but you were too caught up in your own emotions to grasp the importance of having him beside you.

“I should’ve told you I love you no matter what other people say.” Juyeon cupped your cheeks, you looked at him as the two of you continuously shed tears. You placed your hands on him, caressing them. He wiped away your tears and gave you a warm smile.

That smile. That benign curve between the corners of his lips gets you every single time.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for doubting us. I’m sorry for letting other people tell us otherwise.” You started apologizing nonstop. You could feel your eyes becoming puffy, and your cheeks becoming warm. You simply held Juyeon’s hands and looked at him, not leaving his gaze.

“Shh. I don’t blame you for feeling that way. Your feelings are valid. You are always valid. You shouldn’t change your ways just because they tell you to. You should distance yourself from people who make you feel as if you don’t deserve to be here.” all you can do now is smile. Although tears are still forming in your eyes, you now feel safe.

“You’re not hard to understand, Y/n.” Those simple words were enough to make your heart melt. Despite confusion still lingering, you could care less now that you're within Juyeon’s embrace.

Juyeon wiped your tears, he looked at you with so much love. As if the last six months have been nothing but a burden to him. As you started to conceptualize the future, you came to conclude that you don't need to do that. You realize that with Juyeon, you shouldn’t ponder over anything or anyone and simply focus on each other.

“We'll make it through together, okay? I promise.”

He brought you to the couch to sit down. He then grabbed the alcohol bottle he brought with him the moment he came and simply threw it in the bin. Juyeon has your house memorized from ceiling to floor, and he can easily tell that nothing has changed. He went to the kitchen to fetch you a glass of water and soon gave it to you as he sat down beside you.

Muttering a small “thank you”, you wiped your tears and smiled at him.

“Won't it be hard?” You asked, placing the glass down.

“What will?” He asked, fixing your hair as he tucked a strand behind your ear.

“Constantly trying to keep me reassured, me getting 'what ifs', and having a hard time coping up with everyone's say.”

Juyeon didn’t say anything yet, but he pulled you into an embrace. Playing with your hair, he started to talk, “Keeping you reassured isn’t a problem, you’re my responsibility. It’s my job to keep you assured. Just tell me all of your thoughts, alright? I’ll help you get through it.”

You released from the hug. Juyeon cupped your face and caressed it gently which made you melt in his touch.

“Can we take our time?” You asked. Juyeon gave you a reassuring nod and kissed you on the forehead.

“Always, baby.” the endearment made your heart flutter.

“Wanna order something?”Juyeon nodded, “You also need to get rid of your hangover.”

“Hey! I wasn’t drunk! I didn't even finish the bottle.” Juyeon protested which caused you to giggle. You missed this. You missed him a lot.

After ordering food, the both of you cuddled with your back facing his front as his arms held you close. It was all you ever wanted.

Perhaps it had to go like this. Perhaps the distance between the both of you for the last six months was all you two need in order to breathe and grow together. Perhaps you two were meant to break and fall back together again. Whatever it is, happiness is all you ever want.

And your happiness meant being with Juyeon regardless of the ridicule and hatred your relationship got from people surrounding the two of you.

“What if the rain stops now?” You joked, looking back at him.

“You won’t be able to get rid of me, baby. I’ll always be with you.”

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fakesimp · 11 months

Text

Unfathomable Future, With Ver Vermilion

Warning !

Angst/ Slight Comfort ; Mentions of Ver's 2.0 Lore ; Mentions of nightmares, death

A/n !

I've watched Ver's second Lore last night, at 2 am to be exact... I'm okay I swear I am (⁠•⁠ ⁠▽⁠ ⁠•⁠;⁠)

➶◜◝➴

Dark,

Endless void,

Nothing.

There's nothing in your future, he was your acquaintance, numerous times he had saved you from life and death situation, you're more than thankful for what he did.

If it weren't for his help, you're probably won't be here standing before him talking with him.

The last few days, you noticed how he's often spacing out staring at you and then down to your hand. Blankly staring at it, and every time you called out to him he'll whip his head up to you and apologize sheepishly.

And one of them is today.

"Ver." He look up to you, his eyes, seems tired. "Are you alright? You know, you seems, tired the last few days.." you let out your worry as you stare at him, he blinked multiple times before letting out a small chuckle, "Do I now? Sorry about that.. It's just," he paused for a moment, letting out a deep sigh. "..I haven't been able to sleep well" you furrowed your brows in concern. "If you need help, you know you can ask for one right??" You pat his shoulder gently, making him look back to you giving you a tired smile.

His fatigue is hitting him hard, as if he could just fainted any moment by now. "Don't push yourself too hard.." you gently rub his back, trying to give him comfort. "You want to talk about it?" A moment of silence for both of you when you asked about it, he then shook his head. You nod your head, "Okay, do you need anything else?" He stared down at his hand for a moment, then he look up to you.

"Uhm.. can you, maybe.." he trailed off,

"Hold my hand?"

. . .

Every time he closed his eyes, all he can see is your dark soul, that he have tried to change, so many, many, times. But it always changed back to the first state he found you. Dark.

In his dreams, you're always there. In the middle of the dark void, back facing him, slowly walking away from him. He tried to chase you, but it seems like he's not going anywhere, you're going further, and further.

And further.

Till you're no longer be seen, and then voices start echoing in his head. Saying 'You failed' , 'You couldn't save me' , 'Why didn't you save me?' , 'save me' repeatedly, again and again. Making his head spin, his ears ringing.

It hurts.

Waken up abruptly from his sleep, breathing ragged. It's frustrating how you keep on appearing in his dreams, and yet he couldn't do anything about it.

. . .

And now you're here, in front of him, holding his hand oh-so-gently. His breath stuttered, as he slowly tighten his hold on your hand. "I'm, ..sorry" he sighed out, his eyes fluttered shut. You gently rub your thumb along his knuckles as you watch him closing his eyes, not a minute later, you notice his breathing have soften. His body slowly leaning towards you, you decided to gently push him down the couch.

You watch him sleeping peacefully, but soon after his face turn into a grimace, you then hold his hand again by instinct. And soon after his face soothes back, you let out a small chuckle as you watch his face softens. Watching his chest goes slightly up and down, you rub your thumb along his knuckles.

"I'm sorry, it must be hard for you.. not being able to change my future.." you whispered as you stare at his hands, "..It must be, difficult to accept that." You tighten up your hold against his hand slightly. "But thank you for trying, Ver." You smiled softly at him.

You then out of the blue, just had the urge to kiss his forehead, and you did. But when you tried to pull you hand away from Ver's hold, he tightens it. You look at him, wondering if he had waken up from his sleep but he' still asleep.

"Don't.. go.." you heard a faint whisper, almost sounded like a whimper. Your eyes soften, and the guilt slowly building up in you, "... I'm sorry," you trailed off for a moment—

"But, I will try to stay by your side while I'm still,

...Breathing, alive."

©fakesimp . 2023

A/n !

It's, pretty interesting, the Lore I mean.

#nijisanji en x reader #nijisanji en #nijisanji x reader #nijisanji #xsoleil x reader #xsoleil #ver vermillion x reader #ver vermillion #luxiem x reader #luxiem

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mariposa-writes · 7 months

Text

Shattered Bonds

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader

Word count: 2.6k

Overview: In the aftermath of your brother's mysterious death, a shattered bond of trust separates you from your closest friend, Simon.

CW: Grief and loss, substance abuse, mentions of death, mild violence, mental health.

Author's Note: Thinking about doing a second part to this. Let me know if I should make it a happy or sad ending. Please like, comment, and REBLOG.

Your deepest nightmare had manifested itself into reality. You were completely and utterly alone.

Although, to be fair, your residence was currently bustling with individuals. Some were acquaintances from high school, while others were mere strangers. Nevertheless, none of their presence held any significance.

For in that very moment, you were truly alone in this world.

Your brother, confidant, partner in mischief, your lifeline—had passed away. You grappled with the daunting prospect of life without him. The idea of moving forward, devoid of his calls, embraces, or even his woefully bad dad jokes, was unfathomable.

You sat on your couch, surrounded by well-intentioned individuals attempting to offer solace, their words often fading into a distant murmur.

"He's in a better place now."

"He'll always be with you."

"Your brother was a great man."

_______

A month had crawled by since the funeral, each day stretching out like a lifetime. From the moment you woke up to the departure of the last guest from your home, time moved at a glacial pace, as if it had forgotten how to flow.

The ache in your heart remained as profound as ever, a constant companion through these long, lonely weeks.

Your nightly routine had undergone a transformation, abandoning its structure and order. Instead, you settled for a quick shower before cocooning yourself in the familiar embrace of your sweatpants and a t-shirt that had once belonged to your brother. The fabric still carried his scent, a faint trace of his presence that offered a small measure of comfort in this new, uncertain reality.

The kettle on the stove reached its boiling point, its shrill whistle slicing through the heavy air just as a knock echoed at your door. You took the kettle off the burner, wondering who it could be at this late hour of the night.

"What are you doing here?" You questioned, your gaze drilling into the man before you.

"I came to make sure you were okay," he replied.

"Cut the act, Simon. You ignore my calls, don't bother with my texts, and now you think you can just show up out of the blue?" You huffed, your indignation evident.

"I know, I'm sorry," he admitted.

"Sorry?" You questioned incredulously. "This has been the most excruciating month of my life, and you were nowhere to be found!" A tear welled up in your eye, and you sniffled. "I needed you," you admitted weakly, your vulnerability surfacing in the midst of your anger.

He stepped closer, his hand gently resting on your waist. "I'm here now," he whispered, his voice filled with genuine remorse. With a tender gesture, he pulled you into his chest, enfolding you in the warmth of his embrace as his arms wrapped around your weeping form.

You had the impulse to resist, to push him away, but the exhaustion of the past month had drained you of all resistance. Instead, you surrendered to the solace of his arms, seeking the comfort that had been absent ever since you'd received the devastating news about your brother.

The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the occasional sniffle or a quiet sob that escaped your lips. Simon held you tightly, understanding that words couldn't mend the pain, but his presence might provide some respite.

As time passed, you both remained locked in that intimate embrace, sharing the weight of your grief. The world outside seemed to fade away, and in that moment, it was just the two of you, united by loss and the fragile bonds of friendship.

Eventually, you pulled away, wiping away your tears with the back of your hand. "It's cold, come in. I was making tea." You offered, feeling calmer than you had all month now that Simon was here.

You led Simon into your cozy living room, the scent of tea already permeating the air. The familiar surroundings of your home offered a sense of security, and you found yourself beginning to relax, the tension in your shoulders easing.

As you settled onto the couch, you couldn't help but think about the history between you and Simon. He had always possessed a calming presence, a quality you had sensed from the first time your brother had brought him home, introducing him to your family as his best friend.

Since that day, Simon had become a constant presence in your life. You struggled to remember a time when he wasn't there, a reliable and steady companion through the ups and downs of life. His absence during this difficult month had been a stark departure from the norm, but you were determined to cherish the connection that had endured for so long.

Simon nodded appreciatively as you handed him a steaming cup of tea. "Thank you," he said softly, his eyes reflecting the depth of his regret.

______

Simon stayed around after that, choosing to sleep on your couch instead of returning to base. You didn't protest; in fact, you found comfort in his presence.

The days were a mix of tension and familiarity, with the occasional awkward moments, especially when you couldn't help but recall how Simon had left you when you needed him most. However, there were also moments of ease and comfort.

Growing up, you, Simon, and your brother had practically been inseparable, spending weeks, if not months, together in your house. So, in some ways, this situation wasn't entirely new.

As time passed, the two of you settled into a natural routine. Simon would depart during the days, his destinations often a mystery, while you worked from home, only venturing into the office when absolutely necessary.

This morning, like many others, Simon had already left before you had even gotten up. It was a pattern you had grown accustomed to; he usually went to bed later and rose earlier.

While preparing a cup of tea, your gaze happened upon the calendar magnetically adhered to your fridge. Today's date stood out, encircled and embellished with doodles, marking your brother's birthday. You hadn't forgotten what today was; in fact, you preferred not to dwell on it. The weight of his absence had made every reminder a poignant stab at your heart.

You found your gaze fixated on the calendar for longer than you'd like to admit, your thoughts mired in a swirl of emotions. Finally, you abandoned the idea of making tea, pouring out the water, and instead retrieved a twelve-pack of beer and a bottle of vodka from the fridge.

Slamming the fridge door shut, you felt a surge of frustration as that date continued to taunt you from the calendar. Placing the bottle of vodka on the counter, you decided to take matters into your own hands. You yanked the calendar off the fridge, crumpled it up, and forcefully deposited it into the trash can, as if by doing so, you could erase the painful reminder of the day.

With your work computer carelessly stashed into your bag, you abandoned the day's responsibilities. Instead, you reached for the TV remote, its familiar weight comforting in your hand. You powered on your favorite show, seeking refuge in its distraction.

Taking a deep breath, you grabbed the bottle of vodka, uncorking it with a swift motion. Without hesitation, you lifted it to your lips, taking a shot. The fiery liquid burned its way down your throat, and you welcomed the sensation, hoping that the alcohol would soon numb your senses to the point where you wouldn't remember the day of the week, let alone the painful date etched in your memory.

______

The sun had begun its descent on the horizon when Simon finally returned home. He anticipated finding you either at the table diligently working on your tasks or perhaps sitting on the couch, engrossed in a show or book. However, the sight that greeted him sent a pang of sorrow through his heart.

There you were, sprawled out on the couch, your form limp and vulnerable. Empty beer bottles lay scattered on the floor around you, and a half-empty bottle of vodka sat ominously on the coffee table, a stark testament to the attempt to drown out the pain that had overwhelmed you.

Simon let out a heavy sigh, the weight of the situation pressing upon him as he dropped his bag on the floor. With a sense of determination, he made his way over to you, gently picking up the empty bottles and disposing of them in the kitchen trash. The half-empty bottle of vodka found a new home in a cabinet that he hadn't seen you use before.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice filled with both worry and understanding. "Let's get you to bed."

With gentle strength, he carefully lifted you from the couch and carried you to your bedroom. There, he assisted you in changing out of the alcohol-scented clothes and into a clean t-shirt and a pair of comfortable shorts, maneuvering your body with utmost care. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, his actions were marked by a deep sense of compassion and an unwavering commitment to helping you through this difficult time.

He tucked you snugly into bed, making sure you were comfortable before reaching for the cord on the lamp. Just as the room dimmed, your hand reached out and gently grasped his wrist. Your voice was groggy as you asked, "Can you stay with me tonight?"

"Of course," he answered without hesitation. He got into bed beside you, providing the reassuring presence you so desperately needed.

You wasted no time, curling up in his side and laying your head on his chest. His arm circled around you, keeping you securely tucked into his side.

You lay there in silence, desperately attempting to coax yourself into slumber, yet sleep remained elusive. Your mind had become a battlefield ever since Simon had unexpectedly appeared at your doorstep, relentlessly tormenting you with a single, haunting question.

No matter how hard you tried to move past what Simon had done, it proved to be an impossible task without an explanation. His abrupt disappearance from your life continue to baffle you, leaving a gaping void that couldn't be filled. In the quiet of the night, you summoned the courage to confront him, unsure if he was already asleep.

"Simon?" you whispered hestantly.

"Hmm?" came his drowsy response.

Taking a few deep breaths to steady your nerves, you pressed on. Asking the question that had relentlessly gnawed at your thoughts ever since Simon had taken refuge in your home. "Why didn't you come to the funeral?" Your voice was barely louder than a mouse's, laced with uncertainty

"I was working," Simon repeated, but you weren't convinced. you knew him too well. His voice had that ever-so-slight elevation that only someone intimately familiar with him could detect.

You leaned in closer, your eyes narrowing in the dim light of the room. "Simon, we've been through too much together for me not to know when you're lying. What's the real reason you didn't come? Why didn't any of the task force come?" Your words carried a mixture of frustration and hurt, a reflection of the years of friendship that seemed to be unraveling before your eyes.

Simon let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration. His reluctance to meet your gaze was evident as he finally confessed, "I was investigating your brother."

Startled, you sat up abruptly, putting some distance between yourself and Simon. "Investigating my brother?" your voice trembled with a mix of confusion and concern. "Why? Did he do something wrong?" The thought of your brother being involved in something illicit or dangerous sent a shiver down your spine.

The weight of Simon's revelation hung heavily in the air, and tears welled up in your eyes as you absorbed the shocking news. Your brother had dedicated himself to the military, pouring his heart and soul into his service. The idea of him being labeled as a "dirty officer" by the very institution he had sacrificed so much for was a painful blow.

Reluctantly, you found the strength to voice the question that you dreaded to ask. "Do you think he's dirty?"

Simon's silence spoke volumes, confirming your worst fears without a single word. The truth lay heavy between you, a bridge burned and a bond strained by the shadows of doubt.

With a heavy heart and a mind clouded by a whirlwind of emotions, you rose from the bed, determined to put some distance between yourself and Simon. The betrayal and uncertainty weighed on you, and you needed space to process it all.

As Simon made a move to approach you, you whispered, "Get out of my house," your voice barely audible in its initial plea. When he remained rooted in place, his expression confused and lost, you steeled yourself and repeated the command with a firmer resolve. "Get out of my house, Simon," you gritted through your teeth, your eyes reflecting the pain and anger that simmered beneath the surface.

His voice, pleading and full of desperation, called your name, "Please, we can talk about this." But you remained unmoved, consumed by a potent cocktail of hurt and betrayal. How could Simon, the one person who knew your brother as well as you did, lack faith in his innocence? Your brother was a beacon of integrity, and you couldn't fathom that he would ever betray his country.

Simon continued, his words slipping into your thoughts like a venomous serpent. "All the evidence-" It was as if a red mist descended upon you, a sudden surge of anger and frustration. In a fit of overwhelming emotion, you grabbed the nearest object, a lamp on your nightstand, and hurled it towards Simon. He reacted with lightning reflexes, narrowly avoiding the projectile, which shattered against the wall where he had been standing just moments before.

"The evidence doesn't matter!" you yelled, your voice filled with raw emotion. "He's innocent, and you know it! Stop lying to yourself!" No amount of evidence could sway your unwavering belief in your brother's goodness. It pained you deeply to see how easily Simon had been influenced, how easily the whole task force had been swayed, by what they had seen or heard, casting doubt on the man you knew your brother to be.

Simon, concerned for your well-being, moved closer and gently restrained your flailing arms, preventing any further outbursts that could lead to harm. "Listen," he implored, his voice earnest, "I'm trying to prove his innocence. It's just that everything I uncover makes him look worse. I can't keep going down this path and risk further damage to his reputation."

"Sounds like it's already been ruined," you retorted bitterly, your gaze filled with a mixture of frustration and contempt as you looked at Simon. The weight of your brother's tarnished reputation hung heavily in the air, a painful reminder of the chasm that had grown between you and the person who had once been one of your closest confidants.

Simon gazed at you with a mix of determination and remorse in his eyes. He nodded solemnly, understanding the depth of your pain and the importance of the task ahead. "I'll do everything in my power to clear his name," he vowed.

With a heavy heart, you replied, "Keep looking. Don't come back until you clear his name. I don't want someone in my house that doesn't believe in him."

Simon nodded once more, silently accepting your terms. He turned and left your room, his resolve renewed to uncover the truth and restore the faith you once had in him.

#simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #Simon ghost Riley x reader #simon riley x you #cod #modern warfare ii #modern warfare fanfiction #soap cod #john mctavish #captain price #gaz mw2 #john price #kyle gaz garrick #koing

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joyflameball · 4 months

Note

*Please* tell me what don't starve is about I wasn't even aware it had characters

OH GOOD I GET TO EXPLAIN THIS TO YOU. YOU WILL REGRET THIS

let me be clear upfront: i don't know everything. i'm just neurodivergent as fuck please correct me on any misinformation. And any DST fans in the tag right now, hi prepare to see me infodump about Don't Starve lore and I am so sorry this is so long

So lemme start at the very beginning. The year? 1901. The man? William Carter. Moving from Liverpool (becuase of course there's a british man named william in an indie game who does crimes against nature) to New York City. He's doing magician shows and he just he sucks so bad at it. No one visits his magic shows. He's in literal debt. He gets no wins. He was born in a wet cardboard box all alone etc etc

Anyway in 1904 Willy Boy tries to go to Cali gets in a train accident and dies. WHOOPS the end

Okay that's a lie. He did not in fact die unfortunately (/j). However, he did get in a train crash and was pinned under a train car, but was saved in part by a strongman named Wolfgang, who really desperately wants to be the strongest he can be (he'd recently had an embarrassing failure at the circus).

But, well... I say "in part." For there's more to how Wolfgang saved him.

See, somewhere around this time, William had found a book. The Codex Umbra. This book was filled with secrets about a land known as The Constant. And more than that, it allowed William to use magic. Not the cheap magic tricks he'd been doing up to this point, the ones that'd given him nothing. Real, actual, tangible magic. Summoning shadows creatures from this mystical realm, ones that would linger for a moment before vanishing.

This was power. True, actual power. And to a man as rejected as William had been by the world, a man as desperate for fame, attention, power... well, who wouldn't be bitter? Spiteful? Who wouldn't be tempted by the allure of unfathomable knowledge?

Of unknowable, uncontrollable power?

What'd happened during the train accident was William had briefly imbued Wolfgang with strength from dark magic, allowing him to throw the train car off of him. William had fled with the Codex Umbra shortly afterwards, and was presumed dead. However, he wrote a letter to his brother, Jack Carter, basically saying "Hey, I'm alive, I found this weird book, I'll cya soon."

(Side note, Jack Carter has two daughters, Wendy and Abigail Carter. We'll revisit them soon.)

William continued deciphering the Codex Umbra, learning more shadow magic. And in San Francisco, he reentered showbiz, reinventing himself into someone new. A new act, and a new name. The Amazing Maxwell.

This time, his shows were appreciated. Adored. His magic acts were magnetic, and horrifying, and beautiful. After all that failure, he had finally managed to get something for himself.

(additional note: maxwell really likes referring to people as "pal." this will be important remember this)

Around this time, he put out an ad to hire a lady assistant for his magician shows, wanting someone with "a curious demeanor and a keen interest in the mysteries of the universe."

And he got her.

Let us snap our attention now to two sisters in the dreadful state of Ohio- Winona and Charlie. Winona was, to at least my knowledge, a fairly tough little girl who was always a bit boyish (take with a grain of salt i'm a bit silly). She loved tinkering from a young age, and she loved her little sister intensely- maybe too intensely.

There's a thing in the game I'll go into more later that shows Charlie's perspective on everything, and from it we can glean that Charlie felt like Winona was, to use a metaphor Charlie uses herself, putting Charlie into an unbreakable suit of armor so heavy she was unable to move. Overprotective to a suffocating degree.

We're not completely certain on that, but it's quite likely and incredibly interesting.

And Charlie... we know painfully little about her. Most likely she fit the description Maxwell wanted. She'd go camping with her sister. She may have been annoying, as a lotta little siblings are. She had a flair for the dramatic. There's a line implying she used to playfight with Winona. And Charlie loved roses.

Charlie was scared of the dark.

So Charlie became Maxwell's assistant. And they were more than coworkers, they were also good friends. They'd hang out and laugh together. Charlie at least may have had a crush on Maxwell, as in her letter to him she writes a heart after her name, and she always calls him "Maxy." Maxwell cared a lot about Charlie- I don't personally see it as romantic on his end, due to my epic aroace swag and belief in the importance of deep platonic bonds, but he did care for her, deeply. They had a sweet friendship, both caring about each other intensely.

But of course, it couldn't last. It never could.

It's 1906 and Maxwell's doing fantastic mentally. Just kidding he's losing his fucking mind

Maxwell was losing control. The Codex Umbra was driving him insane, little by little. He was losing control over the book, over the powers of the Constant. It was growing too powerful, too angry. He was taking too much from it, and it wanted something back. He started pulling away from Charlie, growing snippier with her. And fucking understandably, she was concerned.

One night, after she hadn't seen him in days, she visited his apartment to get his costume for their last performance. He wasn't there at the time. So she investigated, desperate for an answer as to why her friend was drawing away from her.

She discovered a secret room in Maxwell's apartment- the room in the image above. With all those scrawls. And... we think she discovered something else.

I personally think she discovered Them.

I'll explain Them later.

She was terrified, and fled the apartment. Maxwell later discovered she'd been there, and was clearly fucked up over it. Evidently, he didn't want Charlie to discover all this.

She left him a letter, basically begging him to communicate with her. Saying they could take a break after their final show, her older sister had a cabin they could go to if they wanted to get away. Charlie wanted answers, and she wanted them to take a break.

They never got that, though.

April 17th. 1906. The Amazing Maxwell had his final show.

youtube

Maxwell's final act was meant to be pulling shadows out of the Codex Umbra. It was meant to be simple. A last trick before they take a break. Neither of them expected it to go this horribly wrong. I don't see how either of them could have. Especially not her.

Maxwell reached into the book. Something reached back. They reached back.

They tried to grab him, tried to drag him into the Codex Umbra. He fought back though, for a moment, clearly weakened by it. Charlie tried to help him, to ask if he was okay, not understanding what was going on, desperate to help, to know how she could help.

She couldn't.

Shadowy hands erupted from the book, grabbing them, pulling them in, and Charlie and Maxwell were gone.

Let's snap our focus away for a while. We're remaining in the real world for now. Don't worry, we'll come back to them.

In due time.

Let me introduce to you a hugely important player to the plot, Robert Wagstaff. Now he's frustrating, because we (or at least I) know very little about Robert Wagstaff. He was studying the Constant, he founded Voxola and created these radios that Maxwell later communicates through (i'll explain later), he bears a suspicious resemblance to Wilson, he may have met Maxwell at some point, and he may have intentionally sent himself to the Constant to investigate it. He's currently a hologram and may be SOMEWHERE. God knows where.

Anyway forget about him because it's time for MY FAVORITE NONBINARY ROBOT WITH REPRESSED TRAUMA AND EVIL PLANS

Meet WX-78, an automaton with a fairly vague backstory who I love so so dearly. They're evil. They're canonically nonbinary (Maxwell even refers to them as "Mx" which makes me very joyful). They lack empathy. They love bees. They love the moon. And somewhere in like the very early 20th century they became a robot and chose NONBINARY VIOLENCE

What exactly happened to WX is left vague, but here's what I believe happened. WX and Wagstaff were working on a consciousness transference experiment, which turned out to be successful. WX transferred their consciousness into a robotic body. Yaaaaaaay :D

Well hold your horses there, not "yay" yet. Because it turns out transferring your whole mind into a robotic body has negative side effects. Namely, the way WX sees themself has become... fractured. Sometimes they see themself as who they were before, their human self, but sometimes they see themself as what they are now, their robotic form. A comment under the short described it as their entire body being basically a phantom limb.

WX started wanting to create more automatons, possibly roboticize humanity, but without the heart (it's called an empathy module in canon but i'm calling it a heart because it's designed with a heart on it, and it hits harder if i call it that). The heart, where WX's memories as a human reside, where hypothetically their emotions are. Take that out, there's no pain related to once being one, right?

Wagstaff was completely against this. Consciousness transference for a single scientist is one thing, but this? To roboticize everyone in the world and take out their heart, their memories, their humanity? Absolutely not. It'd be too dangerous. Leaving humanity as cold intellectual machines would destroy everything, removing a beautiful piece of humankind. He and WX had a fight over this, and Wagstaff ended up burning all of WX's research and sending them into the Constant.

Somehow after that, WX's heart module was disconnected, and the memories were gone. They became a spectacular evil little gremlin of a thing and I love them so much

This whole explanation comes from this excellent comment under the short:

I usually resent these sorts of "explanation comments," since they try to intellectualize horror, but this one doesn't it centers it all on the EMOTIONS and also is correct

And by the way, the short where this is revealed is SO UNBELIEVABLY DISTRESSING TO WATCH (POSITIVE). See, Winona repairs the wiring to WX's heart module, causing WX to suddenly remember everything, having flashbacks to what all happened, and it's horrifying. WX flashing between who they were as a human and who they are now, the snippets of whatever happened, the vagueness, the BANGER MUSIC, it's all so hard to watch, and yet so hard to look away.

And at the end of it, after remembering Wagstaff sending them into the Constant, WX lets out this agonized wail and RIPS OUT THEIR FUCKING HEART, before they just SHATTER IT IN THEIR HANDS. They fucking HATED remembering what happened, hated it so much that they RIPPED THEIR HEART OUT AND BROKE IT so they could STOP FEELING. Whatever exactly happened HURT and they didn't want to FEEL.

And evidently, IT DIDN'T WORK. Wagstaff appears as an NPC later in Don't Starve Together, and every single quote WX has related to him is full of this raw, painful, intense rage. It's genuinely heartbreaking.

WX fucking DESPISES Wagstaff for what he did to them. For sending them to the Constant. And like- they say a LOT they have no emotions. But very clearly, THAT IS A LIE. IT'S FUCKED UP. IT'S HORRIFYING.

It's the opposite of so many robot emotion narratives- a robot who wants to feel real emotions, who wants to be human. But with WX, that is the last thing they want. They're illustrated to have at least had distaste for organic life before their roboticization, they don't want to be human. And very obviously, they don't want to feel real emotions. They don't want emotions.

They hate being human so much, they hate the connection to human pain so much, they hate their memories of being human so fucking much, that they rip out their FUCKING HEART and SHATTER IT just so they can shut off the painful emotions of their repressed memories. They don't want to be human, they want to be a cold unfeeling machine, but they clearly can't be that even though they're trying because despite everything there's a part of them that's clearly human and just- JUST WATCH THIS SHORT IT'S SO HORRIFIC

youtube

GOD I LOVE EVIL NONBINARY AUTISTIC ROBOTS WITH REPRESSED TRAUMA

Aside from that horrorshow of a backstory WX is very silly. They love bees and the moon. They hate humanity and all organic life. They say shit like "NOW THE OUTSIDE MATCHES THE INSIDE. EVIL" and "[name] IS CAUSING NEEDLESS DESTRUCTION. GOOD." I love them so much I can't believe I just slept on how funny they are when I was a young lad hyperfixated on DST

Okay let's go down the list of characters. Remember I mentioned Jack Carter has two daughters, Wendy and Abigail? Let's focus on them.

Wendy was more cautious than Abby was, preferring to live in the world of books and fantasies. Meanwhile Abigail was an adventurer, loving to spend her days climbing rocks and jumping around. Despite their differences, the twins were inseparable. The best of friends, with a love so strong it could transcend death.

And it did.

We're not quite sure how it happened. It doesn't really matter. What matters is that somehow, one day, Abigail died. And this death absolutely shattered Wendy. She became morbidly depressed, obsessed with death and tragedy. She refused to move on from her sister, believing if she did, her memory would fade. (There's specifically a few lines that really fuck me up /pos but it may be triggering so i won't bring em up.)

Wendy turned to the occult to try and get Abigail back. To try and at least talk to her. She tried everything to communicate with her again, and nothing was working. And she was just about to throw in the towel, to give up, to accept that maybe she would never see her beloved sister again, to fall into complete, total despair, when...

A ragtime tune started playing, and a voice on the radio began to talk to her.

Meanwhile let's snap our attention to WILLOWWWWW WILLOWWWWWWWW MY GIRL MY BELOVED I LOVE HER SO MUCH SHE"S INSANE AND I LOVE HER

Willow had a rather difficult life. Her parents either died or left when she was incredibly young, and she was left in a cruel orphanage with caregivers who hated and mistreated her. And understandably, this took a toll on her mental state, and this attracted shadow creatures.

What exactly shadow creatures are is unknown- they're what Maxwell was pulling out of the book and using for his magic tricks, and they appear in game when your sanity is low, so my personal hypothesis is that shadow creatures are drawn to misery, insanity, or in Wanda's case, Women's Wrongs. also misuse of magic

Anyway, when Willow was a little girl, shadow creatures fucking wanted to kill her, drawn to her declining mental state. Willow took comfort in her teddy bear Bernie, the only thing that seemed to drive the shadows away. But one night, after being nearly killed by one of those things, her caregivers, upset at her being awake in the middle of the night, confiscated Bernie and locked Willow in a closet.

And while she was trapped in there, shadow creatures approached again, with the intent to kill her. Willow was backed into a corner, about to die, with no defenses...

Except for a lighter.

That night, Willow burnt down the entire orphanage, managing to save herself, and left with just her lighter and her Bernie.

This moment defined every fibre of her being. From that day on, Willow became completely obsessed with fire. Flames became calming for her, letting her breathe and relax. She's burnt her life down to begin again more than once, like a phoenix with more collateral damage. Fire protects her from the monsters in the dark, lets her stay sane. And- there's this one line from her that implies she's embraced a type of nihilism.

"Why worry about the past or future? It'll all go up in flames eventually."

That quote's actually really interesting to me you could use this for a character arc about her learning to embrace one place/one group as home and her accepting that unfortunately the survivors are her found family and she loves them and- GOD I love her so much she's a menace

Alright, who's next? Ah yes, Wigfrid. This one's really tragic.

Wigfrid was an actress whose debut role was as a noble badass Valkyrie warrior, slaying monstrous beings, being a true hero. And she embodied the role, capturing the public, being launched to stardom with just that.

But after that? Nothing she did seemed to capture anyone like the Valkyrie had. Every performance she had after that fell flat. She was completely rejected by the public.

(this could be a maxwell parallel oh my god)

And so, she retreated into that role- the role of the Valkyrie. She fled into fantasies of being her, taking comfort in them. It consumed her life, her very being. Whoever she was before was destroyed, completely lost. She would give anything to be the Valkyrie Wigfrid again.

And one night, a shadowy figure told her she could get to be that role. Forever. Her name in the newspapers again. Everything she'd ever wanted.

"What do you say, pal?"

...A few weeks later, she was in the newspapers as the latest in a string of disappearances.

Who next? Ah yes- Webber. THIS ONE FUCKS ME UP.

So when Webber was a little lad, his father, a scientist, received a gift from Wagstaff, something for his experiments. And whatever it was, Webber's dad was incredibly fascinated with experimenting on it.

But as a result, he sorta started... neglecting Webber. Webber wanted his dad's attention, wanted his dad to spend time with him and play with him, but his dad just... wouldn't. He was completely absorbed in his work.

Over time, Webber became furious that his dad was ignoring him. He started acting out, trying to get his father's attention in any way he could.

And one night, Webber broke into his dad's workshop, again trying to act out for his dad's attention. And when there, he tipped over the glass case holding whatever his father was experimenting on, shattering it on the ground.

But as it turned out, this thing was a spider- a massive one too, one from the Constant. And it was radiating with dark energy from its experiments, and it lunged at Webber to eat him.

But he survived.

Instead of being devoured by the spider, Webber was fused to it. Its consciousness may be in there somewhere (#system), but Webber's definitely is. But he's been turned into a humanoid spider thing.

This is the most fucked part to me. When his dad saw him, he didn't recognize him as his son. Why would he? As far as he knew, the spider had mutated. So his dad fucking chased his own son out into the night, under the assumption that he was a monster.

In the middle of the night, in the pouring rain, Webber (who btw is like ten) broke down sobbing, promised he'd be a good kid, and desperately wanted something to fix it, no matter the price.

That was when the shadowy figure started talking to him.

ANYWAY TIME FOR WOMEN'S WRONGS WITH WANDA

Wanda is an INCREDIBLY interesting character to me. Her whole conflict is basically- do you ever think about the fact that everyone is going to die one day? That no matter what we do, the passage of time will storm on, and eventually everyone you know and everyone you love will just die? That even if you don't get killed in an accident or by medical problems or through society's neglect, your body will eventually fail and crumble away? That time will eventually claim you, as it claims everyone, and you can do nothing to prevent it? That everyone and everything is already running out of time?

Sorry for giving you that existential crisis! Because Wanda's CONSTANTLY going through that. She's been running from her future for god knows how long, creating timepieces to make herself younger and prevent herself from dying of old age, and doing. Legitimate time travel!! Good for her!!

However, this doesn't come without a price. See, we've learned from Maxwell that toying with dark magic will get the Shadow Creatures hunting your gay ass down. And with how much Wanda fucks with time, she is CONSTANTLY being hunted by shadow creatures that want to kill her and take her away, to the point that her death animation has her body be pulled into the ground by shadow hands.

And one day, she was cornered. One of her timepieces was broken, the others recharging, she couldn't get away. And so she made a split second decision, trying to on the fly repair it, and what did this result in?

SHE BROKE THE SPACE-TIME CONTINUUM AND WAS SUCKED IN TO THE CONSTANT

(and the music in her short at that moment gives me chills don't starve together's music is so banging)

Wanda is a rare case of someone being sucked into the Constant not through someone/something tricking her or dragging her in, but through her own actions. From what we know, only one other person has done that. And he did it intentionally. But Wanda did it by complete mistake.

And her mistake resulted in her past starting to "catch up to her." Thanks to her time fuckery, she now ages twelve years every single day, and has to constantly fuck with time and deage herself in order to stay alive. She's spent years most likely terrified of the idea of aging and dying, and now she's been cursed with aging at a horrifically fast rate. It's incredibly interesting. God I love her so much she can do anything she could commit war crimes and I'd support her. Wanda Did Nothing Wrong

WANDA ALSO HAPPENS TO BE REALLY REALLY HOT LIKE UNBELIEVABLY GORGEOUS

HNHGNHBHGHBGHHHH PLEASE GOD JUST GIVE ME ONE CHANCE I WOULD TREAT HER RIGHT

Anyway who's next to talk about? Ah yes IT'S WORTOX TIME

Note, I'm gonna kinda start going through these faster because I'm close to the image limit and wanna tell you everything

Wortox is actually FROM the Constant. He's basically a little imp man who was best friends with. uhm. Krampus. And they'd go around playing silly pranks together! However eventually, Wortox started to realize that. Hm. Krampus's pranks are actually kinda mean. Like genuinely malicious at times. And Wortox really didn't wanna be mean, didn't wanna hurt anyone. He just wants to be silly and goofy. The prank's no fun if it actually hurts someone. So he tried to put his foot down and stop Krampus, but ended up whoopsiedaisy taking his soul and fully becoming an imp. And now he eats souls and is still silly but has just. Guilt. So much guilt.

Next up: WURT! Wurt, too, is from the Constant, and SHE'S JUST A LITTLE BABYYYYYY. SHE'S ADORABLE. I LOVE HER. She's a little Merm (fishy creature from the constant) and is pretty small and scrappy, and she hates pigs, and is vegetarian, and loves the swamp, and loves candy, and loves fairy tales, and wants to be a Merm princess. I love her she's adorable my beloved little guye

And now, WORMWOOD! Wormwood is basically a piece of rock fell down from the moon and gave a bundle of plants and vines life and he's the cutest little plant ever. He's ADORABLE. I LOVE him.

That's everyone FROM the Constant. Now let's speedrun through those who aren't from the Constant!

WICKERBOTTOM: To be completely honest she doesn't interest me that much lol. She's basically a librarian with a lotta knowledge, including knowledge of the CONSTANT, which she REALLY SHOULDN'T HAVE. Anyway Willow burned down her library at the request of the Nightmare King and Wickerbottom got pulled into the Constant. By the Nightmare King

WOLFGANG: Brought him up earlier- we're not sure how exactly he got into the Constant, but he's just. He is a himbo. The quintessential himbo. He's a silly man. He loves his friends so much. He has the brawn, but no brains. No thoughts. Head empty. Pure of heart, dumb of ass. I love him.

WARLY: ohhh boy more tragedy. Cw for this point: dementia. yeah. Warly's mom had dementia, and she didn't recognize him most days. So he'd play her favorite music and cook her favorite foods in hopes that she'd recognize him. And she did, occasionally. But only occasionally. And he was so desperate for her to just know him, to remember him, to get that spark of recognition in her eyes... And around that time, he started to hear the voice on the radio.

WALTER: BABYYYY HE'S JUST A BABY HE'S JUST A LITTLE GUY AND HE HAS A DOGGY AND A SLINGSHOT AND IS ALLERGIC TO BEES AND DOESN'T CARE ABOUT FASHION AND I LOVE HIM SO SO MUCH

WOODIE: Woodie is an enigma. He's Canadian. He has a curse. He turns into a goose sometimes. He was forced to eat logs when he was 32. His beard might not be hair. He's canon objectum and is in a loving and healthy relationship with his axe Lucy. I love him.

here is him and lucy he goes with stanley and the bucket for number one objectum couples

If you're noticing a theme with the names: Congratulations! We've noticed it too. We have no fucking idea what it means either. Charlie's last name might start with W. Maxwell's name starts with M (upside down W) and his previous name was William. If you have a name that starts with W in the DST world you're completely fucked lmao

Anyway thatsss everyone! So I think we can move on and cover the plot! I mean, surely there's not someone I'm leaving out. Surely I have covered everyone. Surely I've talked about everyone. Surely we can move on and have full context. Surely this is not an overly long gag in order to make the inevitable person I'm leaving out's reveal hit harder.

Yyyyeah let's talk about Winona.

On April 17th, 1906, Winona's little sister Charlie vanished off the face of the planet, along with the man she was working with, the mysterious Maxwell. And Winona is three things: stubborn, determined, and willing to do anything for her family.

And so she searched for her. She refused to let Charlie's mysterious disappearance fade into obscurity, to let Charlie just vanish without a trace. She searched everywhere for her. She pulled on every thread. Tracked down every tiny clue. Questioned anyone who may have the smallest connection to the case.

For over ten years.

Finally, it started coming together. Everything was pointing to Voxola and its secretive, genius founder, Robert Wagstaff. If anyone would know anything about whatever had happened to her sister, it'd be him. So she started working there.

But not for long. Fairly soon after she did, an accident happened at the factory- a fire breaking out, and a malfunctioning portal. Wagstaff vanished that day, vanished into the Constant.

Winona refused to let him. She had searched for over a fuckin' decade for someone who could have a connection to Charlie's disappearance, and her biggest lead was right there, and she was not gonna let him just vanish like that. So armed with duct tape and her knowledge of engineering, she singlehandedly managed to repair the portal, turning it on, and-

...Whose face would appear but her beloved sister's?

Barely aged a day. Drenched in shadows. A rose in her curls.

She was disappearing into the portal, but Winona grabbed her hand, started trying to pull her back, trying to save her. She had been searching for over ten fucking years for her baby sister, and she wouldn't let her go now, refused to let her go.

But... Charlie was different. Horrifically different. And something took over her. Something with ink-black eyes and hair that moved like a shadowy flame. The monster of the night.

She pulled Winona into the Constant. The portal fell apart. Winona was presumed dead.

...

And now. I will answer a question you must've had for a while.

What the hell happened to Charlie and Maxwell?

In 1906, they were pulled into the Constant by the Codex Umbra. And Maxwell was placed on The Nightmare Throne, and given full power over the Constant. He became the Nightmare King, all-powerful ruler, chess master of the world.

Whether he wanted it or not.

Once he was sat on the Nightmare Throne, he was trapped. He couldn't get up, couldn't move from the throne, couldn't move to turn off the gramophone sitting so close to him.

He was simply sitting on the throne. Unable to be free. For eternity.

In his final speech in Adventure Mode, Maxwell says there was barely anything there when he arrived. "Just dust. And the void. And Them."

What exactly "Them" is is unknown. My personal theory, given a play telling the story from Charlie's perspective, is that "Them" is the power of the Constant. And Maxwell constantly using that power for himself angered Them. So They pulled him in, and imprisoned him on the throne. He took from Them. And in return, They now trap him.

From there, the throne- or maybe Them, or maybe the Constant itself- compelled Maxwell to pull more people into the Constant. Trap them, use them as playthings, force them to go through the wringer of everything the Constant had to offer, and eventually watch them break under its barrage of dangers and finally die.

That's what happened to everyone. How they got into the Constant. Maxwell's strategy was to communicate with someone in the real world, usually through a Voxola radio, and make a deal with them so they are dragged in. Usually they're at a low point in their life and desperate for a solution to their issues, and he gives them that.

(Interestingly, he does follow through with his promises. Just neglects to mention the whole getting-dragged-into-Constant part.)

And everyone he drags in serves their purpose, they all serve as fun playthings for a while, providing him some level of entertainment.

But he's not happy. How can he be? He's trapped in an eternal game that he cannot end. Bound by its rules that he can't bend or break. He's tried everything. Nothing has ever worked. He's trapped, for eternity. In his own words, "Even a King is bound to the board."

The Constant demands a ruler.

And he serves that role. He must drag more people into this world's trap, let it spiral in on itself forever and ever. He can't put the game to an end. He can't get off the Nightmare Throne. He can't even turn off the gramophone right next to him.

All Maxwell can do is sit on his throne, and observe whatever survivors remain, and listen to that little ragtime ditty. Forever, and ever, and ever.

And Charlie...

God. Charlie.

One heartbreaking thing about what happened to Charlie is that we still don't know exactly how it happened. With Maxwell, we can make a very strong guess- he was stuck on the Nightmare Throne, and became king of the Constant, and dragged people down with him from the real world.

But with Charlie... we know how her fate ended up. We know what she became after that. But we don't know how she went from the sweet young woman she was to... to that.

From how she tells it (in her biased view, but it's all we've got), after being dragged into the Constant, she was either grievously injured or straight-up died. But she was brought back by Them. Back to life, but not as herself.

There was something new inside her.

Now, the way canon has it, it's a split personality pop-culture-Jekyll-And-Hyde thing. However, that's fucking dumb and pretty ableist. So here, my explanation diverges from canon, because I feel it's better, and stronger writing-wise, and I am better than Klei. Here's how I personally see what happened to Charlie.

It was like a garden being taken over and destroyed by an invasive species. Like black ink seeping into a bright and colorful shirt, spreading outwards, hiding- no, destroying the colors underneath.

They gave Charlie immense power, but at a great cost. Something dark grew inside of Charlie, transforming her from the sweet young woman she'd been, into something... monstrous.

The way I see it, it wasn't a split personality thing. It was more like a virus, infecting every cell of the body and multiplying into infinity until there's nothing left. Slowly erasing who she was before, destroying her humanity and turning her into something else.

Something more.

More powerful than Charlie had ever been, than she could've ever dreamed.

In every dark shadow, Charlie is there. In every pitch-black cave, she watches you. When dusk falls, she begins to awaken. And when the moon has risen, when the stars are out, when you can barely see your own hands in the dark, she is there. Everpresent. Watching. Waiting for you to walk into her arms.

There are shadow monsters all around the Constant. But most of them can only hurt you when you've lost your mind. Charlie, though, Charlie is different. No matter how much of a grasp on yourself you have, no matter how much sanity you've held onto, she will still be able to kill you, if you're outside at night with no way to see her.

Charlie is the most powerful shadow monster of all. She is everywhere. She has been everywhere. She can be anywhere. After all, there is nowhere the dark will not eventually be. And where the dark is, she is.

Charlie is the night.

Charlie is the darkness.

Able to kill a human with a few swift blows. Unfathomably strong, unfathomably dangerous, unfathomably powerful. It's hard to believe her humanity has held on this long, considering her omnipresence. It's incredible that her mind hasn't collapsed yet.

Because her humanity has held on. The virus in her mind has consumed so much of her, yes. But she's held on. Her humanity is surviving.

However long that lasts.

You wanted to know what happened to Maxwell and Charlie.

This. This is what happened.

Maxwell was imprisoned on the Nightmare Throne. Charlie was turned into the Night Monster. Both gained unfathomable power.

And both are trapped by it.

AND NOW. AFTER ALL OF THAT. WE FINALLY GET TO THE ACTUAL PLOT OF THE FUCKING GAME.

The year? Somewhere in the 1920s. The man? Wilson Percival Higgsbury. Lover of puns. Hater of spiders. Has a skeleton under his floorboards for some reason (skeleton might be wx-78's old body). Guy with the weirdest hair ever. Wannabe scientist who's terrible at science. The very first shot we see him in he blows himself up

He's a complete dumbass and he has stupid hair and he makes dumb puns and he's pathetic and he's in his thirties and he knows how to do amputations (according to him). What more could one want in a man. He's insanely confident in himself and has this attitude where he can do anything, when really he's kinda in over his head. He's a bit of a fool and he's got a good heart and a cheerful spirit. Not to mention he's wearing a vest, which in the rule of fiction means he's trans according to me and me alone.

So he's sad about his experiments always going wrong and he also sits down on a chair that looks like a throne hope that's not foreshadowing anything. Anyway Wilson's just like "Oh Voxola radio I'm just feeling real low" and his Voxola radio is like "SAY PAL I CAN GIVE FORBIDDEN KNOWLEDGE" and Wilson's like "Oh shit for real???" This is exactly what happened don't fact check this

So Maxwell hijacks his Voxola radio to be like "Hey hey hey you wanna do science shit right. Well guess what I can give you knowledge if you think you're ready." Wilson, of course, jumps at the chance, and Maxwell instructs him to create a machine of sorts. And Wilson works tirelessly away at it for some time, including SLICING HIS WHOLE HAND OPEN TO GET ONE DROP OF BLOOD, BECAUSE HE'S SO UNBELIEVABLY DRAMATIC I LOVE HIM

Anyway, Wilson throws the switch, thunder crashes, Maxwell laughs evilly, and

OH NOW YOU'RE JUST SHOWING OFF ANIMATORS

(seriously the don't starve animation and artstyle is so charming i love it. i think the framerate of the characters' animation should be lower again and the sketchiness should be more visible tho it was so much more charming than ultra smooth in my opinion)

Anyways, Wilson gets dragged into the Constant and cements himself as the greatest isekai protagonist of them all. Somehow he keeps his fairly cheerful attitude even when going through The Horrors, which is so very silly of him. He makes dumbass puns. He calls evergreen trees "piney." He hates spiders. His one perk is growing a magnificent beard. I love him. So much. He's not the deepest character, but god DAMN if he isn't endearing and lovable and so very silly.

So that- ALL OF THAT- is the setup to Don't Starve. From there on out, the plot goeth thusly:

CHAPTER ZERO, SANDBOX MODE. Maxwell greets Wilson like "Say, pal, you don't look so good," and proceeds to fuck off to watch Wilson go through it. Wilson however is a stubborn bastard who refuses to die and will literally make meat effigies of himself to not do so.

...actually that's really interesting. Hey wait that's really interesting. HEY DST FANFIC WRITERS ARE YOU UTILIZING WILSON'S STUBBORNNESS TO NOT GET KILLED TO THE POINT WHERE HE BUILDS EFFIGIES OF HIMSELF TO REVIVE HIMSELF IN YOUR FANFICTIONS BECAUSE THAT'S REALLY INTERESTING. "BUT IT REFUSED" LOOKIN ASS

UHHHH ANYWAY. THAT'S A PRETTY INTERESTING INSIGHT INTO WILSON I JUST FIGURED OUT. GO USE IT WRITERS.

So eventually, Wilson finds the scattered pieces of a portal Maxwell has, and activates it, getting dragged into Adventure Mode. LET'S GOOOOO

CHAPTER ONE, A COLD RECEPTION. And I should note here- the chapters are not in order, the order can get shuffled around. I'm gonna present them all though because it's funny.

So Maxwell is like "Wow :/ you're a dumbass :/ you REALLY think you woulda learned your lesson about activating mysterious portals :/ Anyway the seasons will be changing very fast now good luck" which is prrobably a nightmare for the ecosystem but what ever Anyway Wilson's stubborn ass doesn't die.

CHAPTER TWO, KING OF WINTER. Maxwell sends Wilson into eternal winter because he's being annoying. However, Wilson's stubborn ass STILL REFUSES TO DIE. And thus he continues.

CHAPTER THREE, THE GAME IS AFOOT! Maxwell is like "Uhm. Pal. Buddy. Why are you still alive. Please stop going onwards" and tries to feed Wilson to hounds. Wilson's silly ass is not fed to the hounds though because he is too silly.

Now. In Chapter Three, there's a chance you may find a strange setpiece, where there are these clockwork statues, trapping a strange mime. Creatures and gentlemen, allow me introduce you to the FUNNIEST FUCKING CHARACTER in Don't Starve. Wes.

Now, where do we begin with Wes? Well, let us begin with his backstory. His whole life has been plagued by a hilarious string of bad luck. He's French. He has the worst luck. He would get pied in the face. When he bites into a crepe all the filling falls out. He was born in a wet cardboard box all alone. He is a silly and sad clown mime man. And yet, he simply dedicates himself to making everyone happy.

Now, how would a silly little failure such as Wes get into the Constant? Hilariously, of course. You see, he was buying a crepe one day and gave half of it to a silly monkey guye when he saw a little girl drop her doll from a window and tried to return it to her with a balloon but the wind blew the balloon away and he chased it all throughout the town and saw it'd gotten stuck on a clothesline and managed to balance on the clothesline to get it but unfortunately the clothesline snapped and Wes fell down though he managed to grab the balloon and save a falling nest of eggs and was chased by crows while trying to get the girl's doll to her and he ran into an alleyway where he accidentally knocked someone else out of the way of getting dragged into the Constant and Maxwell accidentally getting Wes pissed him off SO MUCH that he put him in a special prison just for him and Waxwell's quote upon seeing the imprisoned Wes is "He displeased me."

I mean it when I say that Wes is one of the funniest characters in the entire game. In fact, you go through all the trouble of saving him from the prison, and when you do, he immediately DIES, and you unlock him as a character, and he has the WORST STATS IN THE GAME. His hunger drains hilariously fast. His attacks are laughably weak. His only special power is balloons that do nothing but cost him sanity. He was born in a wet cardboard box all alone

okay anyway you free wes and go onwards

CHAPTER FOUR, ARCHIPELAGO. Maxwell is like "UM. BITCH. PAL. TURN BACK. OR I MAY HAVE TO MURDER YOU TO DEATH EVEN MORE." However Maxwell has clearly not realized that Wilson is so stubborn that he will BUILD MEAT EFFIGIES OF HIMSELF SO THAT HE'LL JUST REVIVE FROM THE DEAD. GOD THAT'S SUCH A FASCINATING INSIGHT INTO HIS CHARACTER MAN JUST REFUSES TO DIE

Anyway Wilson goes onwards. CHATER FIVE, TWO WORLDS. Maxwell's actually nice to Wilson for a sec like "Heyyy :) Say pal :) Friend :) My best friend Wilson Percival Higgsbury :) Let's make a deal :) Here :) I made you a lovely little island :) Special for you :) It's got food :) And pigs :) And gold :) And whatever you need :) You can settle down here :) Have a life :) Just PLEASE :)) you ANNOYING BITCH :)) can you GIMME A TRUCE :)) and PLEASE :))) STOP :))) GOING :))) ONWARDS :))) I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD :))) :)))"

Wilson does not stop going onwards

CHAPTER SIX. DARKNESS. Maxwell is PIIIIIIISSED, like "BITCH. YOU BITCH. YOU TINY PITIFUL INSIGNIFICANT BITCH. I AM GOD. PLEASE DIE." And so he sends Wilson into a world he will surely not survive- a world of eternal night. Surely, with Charlie all around, with Charlie being the literal night monster who I feel an immense sense of grief over, surely Wilson will not survive this. Surely Wilson will die of darkness. Surely.

But as I have been stressing, Wilson is stubborn. He refused to give up on his dream of doing science even when it was clear he was bad at it. He refused to sit back and let Maxwell win by staying in the world Max made for him. He is so stubborn he refuses to die, making effigies of himself so he can resurrect from death. Wilson is the most stubborn bastard you've ever fucking met.

If Wilson decides that he will make it through something, then by god, he will make it through.

And he does.

Epilogue: Checkmate.

After all his struggle, Wilson finally, finally gets to Maxwell, to the man who's tormented him this whole time.

Only to discover him. Trapped on the throne. The all-powerful king, and he is weak. Pitiful. Listening to a hellish ragtime melody that won't stop repeating, over, and over, and over.

You can turn off the gramophone. He thanks you, saying he's been listening to that song for an eternity.

Maxwell has this honestly excellent speech about what happened to him. How They changed him over time. How he's completely powerless, despite being in control of everything. He mentions how time moves differently in the Constant, which is a really nice touch- it's not specified how it moves differently, letting the soft magic of the Constant stay soft. We just know it moves differently. How so is left up to us.

Wilson takes pity on the Nightmare King, and unlocks the Nightmare Throne. And Maxwell stands up, stands for the first time in an eternity, pure happiness on his face, free of the Nightmare Throne, getting up for the first time in god knows how long-

...And he screams, his body rotting away into a skeleton, before he crumbles to dust.

After everything, he just fucking dies.

...The Constant demands a ruler. And well, it's got a lovely candidate right there.

Shadowy hands erupt from the ground, grabbing Wilson. Lightning strikes where the Nightmare Throne was, building a new one, and Wilson is dragged onto it as the gramophone resumes. The new Nightmare King of the Constant.

Ruler of everything, trapped forever, with no control, listening to that hellish song.

Honestly, watch this playthrough of Checkmate. It really captures how just amazing this end is. (amazing = horribly fucked)

youtube

There's something so utterly horrific about how Wilson is dragged onto the throne after watching Maxwell rot into a skeleton and turn to dust, only for the ragtime melody to resume.

This end is already horrifying to watch. But the music resuming, refusing to stop, is what turns it into a pure nightmare for me.

A melody of eternal torment, never to break. No matter what.

The cycle continues. More will be dragged into this trap, right? And Wilson has become trapped. He can't move. Can't turn off that stupid fucking gramophone.

Doomed to the same fate as Maxwell. To sit there for god knows how long, as They watch him, until someone else frees him and he dies, trapping them.

Right?

..................

SO TURNS OUT YOUR BODY ROTTING AWAY INTO A SKELETON AND TURNING TO DUST IS LESS DEADLY THAN ONE MAY HAVE THOUGHT, BECAUSE MAXWELL IS STILL ALIVE. SOMEHOW. APPARENTLY.

Anyway so Maxwell's alive. Falls out of the sky into the Constant, still got the Codex Umbra, but is no longer all powerful. He learns this upon getting ambushed by a gang of Creatures and realizes he is powerless, and immediately does the brave thing and runs away like a little baby

Anyway night is FALLING and Charlie will wake up soon. And Charlie fucking HAAAATES Maxwell. She HATES him. DESPISES him. And honestly? GIRL'S VALID. Maxwell turned her into The Shadow Creature, hating him is completely fair. And yeah Maxwell's got guilt over the fact that he did that to her. BUT LIKE. HE STILL DID DO THAT TO HER.

Anyways, Maxwell sees smoke in the distance. And where there be smoke, there be fire, which he needs if he is to Not Die. And so he makes his way over.

btw this part is told through a fantastic comic here it is

So he gets to the fire and OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE

BITCH JUST. DOES NOT DIE. MAN GOT OFF THE NIGHTMARE THRONE. SOMEHOW. STUBBORN FUCKING BASTARD. THIS GUY MADE MEAT EFFIGIES TO CHEAT DEATH, PERSISTED PAST SEVERAL HORRIBLE TRIALS TO TRY AND GET TO MAXWELL, GOT STUCK ON THE NIGHTMARE THRONE, AND IS STILL KICKING. KING SHIT. FRISK KINNIE. DETERMINATION SOUL. UNDERTALE

Anyway Maxwell is like hmmm maybe it is best to not approach the guy i tried to feed to hounds and tries to leave but the idiot steps on a branch because of course he does. Wilson assumes it is a Creature and grabs his axe to Kill, only to discover it is not a creature and is instead Maxwell. (who ig is a type of creature)

AND UPON DISCOVERING IT IS MAXWELL, HE ROLLS UP HIS SLEEVES AND STARTS TO BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF HIM. WHICH IS HILARIOUS GOOD FOR HIM GO WHITE BOY GO KILL HIM

Anyway shadow hands put out Wilson's fire which freaks him out because of The Creature (charlie), so they run over and get the fire started up again. And unfortunately, the two must team up in order to not die. Look how thrilled they are about this arrangement

Anyway there's these panels that together are absolutely HILARIOUS of Maxwell and Wilson just sitting there glaring at the firepit over several time periods. I understand it's probably meant to show several days passing, however I find it funny to interpret it as "they just sat there glaring at the firepit not saying anything to each other for a whole day" because it's objectively hilarious.

Anyway Wilson offers Maxwell food since they're stuck together they should make sure neither of them die and he's like "Hey didn't you Die. You Died. Like turned to dust. In front of me. I saw it" AND MAXWELL'S PRETTY MUCH LIKE "death is a social construct. how did you get freed from the scary throne and how come i didn't think of it sooner"

And so Wilson explains. See, Wilson was freed from the Nightmare Throne, but he didn't manage to get off of the throne through his own sheer force of will (shockingly enough for this stubborn bitch).

He was freed by Charlie.

For her own reasons, she let Wilson out of the throne and let him free. But she also took all the powers he might have had as the Nightmare King, rendering him the ordinary survivor he was before he was trapped (though many people give him claws and/or blackened hands as a result of the nightmare throne which i find to be very cool and awesome). Charlie sent Wilson back to the Constant and Definitely Nothing Happened With Her And The Throne Afterwards Please Believe Me I Would Never Lie About Anything

So a little bit later, Wilson and Maxwell start trying to build a portal, most likely to actually get out of the Constant, since GOOD FUCKING LORD. That, or to connect to the other survivors in the Constant, which also makes sense! Pooling together the knowledge from the Codex Umbra and Wilson's own blueprints, they manage to build said portal.

The survivors manage to get to them.

Before the portal is destroyed and reshaped.

Shadow hands erupt out of the ground, pulling pieces of it into the ground, black thorny vines wrap around it, the wood is replaced with marble, shadowy flames erupt out of it, red curtains on top, making it resemble a stage.

And all around it grow roses.

The Florid Pastern is created, and above all of them, they see a strange apparition in the sky.

The Constant demands a ruler.

And Charlie, absorbing Wilson's power as the Nightmare King, became that. The monstrous part of her, the part that is cruel and dark, the shadow monster of the night that demands to be fed with hot blood and flesh, fused itself with whatever scraps of her humanity and kindness that'd not been fully consumed.

She became the virus in her mind, fused with it, merged into a whole being, rather than a fractured one.

The Shadow Queen of the Constant.

also here's an exhausted looking Wilson good lord when was the last time he SLEPT

ALSO. BEFORE I FINISH OFF. LET ME TALK ABOUT CHARLIE'S SILLY PLAY.

In Don't Starve Together, you can find a stage, with costumes for you to act in. If you put on the right costumes and choose to start acting, shadow hands briefly control you, and you start acting out a story that is pretty obviously a thinly veiled allegory for the events of Don't Starve.

Charlie is cast in the role of the Doll, and later The Queen. Winona is in the role of the Blacksmith. Maxwell is cast in the role of the King. We THINK that Them is cast in the role of the Mirror. And Wilson- I'LL GET TO WILSON.

What's interesting about this play is how obviously biased it is. The King is cast as an obviously evil man, hoarding magic to himself, shattering the Mirror and taking its power away. I mentioned this earlier- the Blacksmith loves the Doll dearly, but loves her too much, and puts her in a suit of armor that is protective, yes, but is so heavy she can't move, which god damn if that's not an effective metaphor for overcontrolling overprotective siblings.

The insight into Charlie's motives is also interesting- it's shown that the reason she didn't take Maxwell off the throne (aside from maybe spite and wanting to see him hurt which good for her) was because she legitimately didn't know where he was. And she sorta followed Wilson as he traveled so she could find the throne.

And more interestingly- Charlie is an unreliable narrator here, so her perspective is to be taken with a grain of salt, but- according to her, Charlie's motivations are to heal Them. They're broken currently, according to her, and They gave her the power she has now. And she wants to repay Them for what They've given her. Which is INCREDIBLY interesting.

AND. THE FUNNIEST PART ABOUT THIS PLAY. IS WILSON.

So, everyone's cast in different roles, right? Charlie's the Doll, Winona's the Blacksmith, Maxwell's the King, and the Mirror is probably Them, right?

WELL. WILSON. IS CAST IN THE ROLE OF "THE FOOL." HE'S CAST AS SOME FUCKIN DUMBASS WHO ACCIDENTALLY KNOCKS THE KING OFF HIS THRONE AND KILLS HIM BY MISTAKE. AND IT'S ABSOLUTELY HILARIOUS.

What's funnier is that WILSON HAS ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO SAY ABOUT IT. Winona comments on the scene where Charlie casts her as suffocatingly overprotective, saying "Is there something you wanna tell me, sis?" Maxwell comments on the scene where the Doll finds the Mirror, asking if this is how she really sees him and remembers what happened.

BUT WILSON. HAS ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO SAY ABOUT BEING CAST AS "THE FUCKING IDIOT DUMBASS WHO TRIPPED OVER HIMSELF AND KILLED THE KING ON ACCIDENT WITH HIS MERRY FOOLERY." Meaning either he DOESN'T realize that's meant to be him, he DOES realize and is just silently fuming, or he DOES realize and just ACCEPTS IT. Like "okay yeah fair." No matter how you slice it, HILARIOUS.

Anyway, here's the play, it's an interesting watch and the video's only 15 minutes long.

youtube

god the fool costume even looks like wilson if his hair was looser

Aaaaand that's the lore thus far! There's other stuff that's happened- Charlie got a new outfit and became EVEN MORE beautiful, Wagstaff is a hologram, Maxwell teamed up with Charlie as a double agent which I think was a stupid writing decision because I don't feel it makes sense for Charlie but Fine Whatever I don't care Encore isn't canon to me I'm resisting a full rant about this, Wilson has a skeleton under his floorboards, something else may be trying to get people into the Constant, Wilson looks tired as shit, WX ripped out their heart because feeling emotions was painful I'm not over that short I'll never be over it ever and don't get me started on how Don't Starve feels like it has this intense unending grief woven throughout it and

Uhm. Anyway. I'm normal. I'm SO sorry this got this long my beams got me. This is 8k words long and I spent the whole time listening to Ragtime (the song that plays on the gramophone that maxwell had to listen to for eternity)

#asks #dst #don't starve #long post #cassie rambles #i did not mean for thsi post to get THIS LONG good jesus christ

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randomshyperson · 2 years

Text

Destiny of Madness - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Reimagining and fixing of Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness (again) or Wanda Maximoff is your destiny in every world and no one will keep you from her, not even the God of Chaos.

Warnings: Brief mentions of insinuation of smut, making out, a lot of violence (canonical and not), language, dark magic, dark(ish) fic as well || Words: 8.255k

A/N-> I disappeared for weeks because I was being audited at my job, and in cleaning the computer I ended up doing the same with my drive and discovered some stories practically complete and abandoned or forgotten. This is one of them. I'm not writing anything right now, so I'll post these stories I found.

General Masterlist || AO3 || Wattpad

--//--

“The Scarlet Witch is a being of unfathomable magic. She can rewrite reality as she chooses, and is prophesized to either rule or annihilate the cosmos.”

As Wong's speech came to an end, the nervousness and anxiety of everyone around were palpable. Strange hesitated.

"There has to be something, someone capable of standing up to her." He inquired the Supreme, who also seemed equally nervous. Wong gestured around.

"We can turn this place into a fortress. You can try talking to her, you fought side by side after all."

Strange shook his head, moving closer. "She wouldn't listen, the darkhold controls her completely. And even if the mages could hold her back, gaining a limited amount of time, she would still win. Please, Wong, try to think, to remember something. Don't we know anyone who can stand up to her?"

Wong was silent, thoughtful. It was not he, but another master who approached, and whispered something in his ear that made him grunt: "This is just a legend."

But Strange was interested, and Wong sighed in defeat before narrating the room, "The Scarlet Witch's magic belongs to Chthon, the God of Chaos. And for every absolute singularity, there is a counterpart. Oshtur, the benevolent goddess of truth, gifts warriors with her magic of order every millennium. I have never heard of one in this world, not even when the Ancient One was alive. It's just a myth."

"So was Wanda." Strange cuts in. He hesitates when the next moment, the Kamar Taj's alarms sound, and Wong beckons everyone to go to battle position.

Before they join the courtyard, Wong pulls his friend by the arm.

"Legend has it that these warriors travel the multiverse, cutting chaos off at the root. Not the kind of person you send to face a friend."

Strange looks up at the black fog that is beginning to cover the palace and sighs. "She is no longer a friend. Stand your ground, and let's protect that girl. The Scarlet Witch can not control the multiverse."

–/–

"I'm not a monster, Stephen. I'm a mother."

The conversation turned into a fight almost as fast as America could blink.

She had heard the whole conversation from Strange and Wong, and when Wanda's magic electrified her body, burning its way into her powers, some part of her must have focused on that.

It was true that she couldn't control the portals, but that didn't stop her subconscious from doing so.

Strange jumped in, pushing the two of them inside, and everything spun. Worlds vibrated between them until they landed together, rolling through a dark hall.

"Hey, kid you okay?" Strange questioned worriedly as soon as he managed to get to his feet. America had done so the second before and merely nodded, her gaze focused on the figure on their back further ahead.

Strange tugged on her forearm gently, preparing for a conflict.

"You there. Friend or foe?" He questioned the figure, and when you turned around - your clothes covered in blood, which clearly came from the body you had just stabbed - America exclaimed in fright, hiding behind Strange.

Your serious expression softened immediately. "Shit, so sorry about that! They were the bad guys, I promise." You clarified almost bashfully, running the dagger through your clothes to wipe away the blood as the body fell to the floor. "Forgive me for the mess, I wasn't expecting an audience." You comment with a chuckle, putting the dagger away, and as you begin to move your glowing fingers to wipe away the blood and vanish the victim, Strange understands that you are some kind of sorceress.

The symbol of the Sanctum Sanctorum hanging around your neck makes him breathe lighter.

"What did he do?" the sorcerer asked towards your victim, receiving a weary sigh in return.

"Murder of course. We always pay in the same coin." You clarify approaching, and despite having just killed someone, your look is one of the kindest he has ever seen. You look embarrassed with America still cowering in fear, "I didn't mean to scare you, child. See, I'm just doing my job, and there usually aren't any little girls watching."

America frowns. "I'm not a little girl. I'm already 14!" She defends herself almost indignantly, and it's clear to Strange that you had said that on purpose, to at least get her to talk to you, by the smile that plays on your lips.

"Oh, my mistake. You are not a child, indeed." You comment gently and offer your hand to Strange first. "Sorry for the odd introduction. I'm Y/N L/N."

"Doctor Stephen Strange." He introduces himself back. "Are you some kind of mage?"

You smile. "Yeah, sorceress. Not so different from you, I imagine." You say pointing to the symbol he carries. Stephen smiles softly, introducing America before adding:

"We are facing a threat and need to get home. Perhaps the sorcerers of this world can help us."

You are surprised, absorbing his word for a moment, and then sighing a little.

"Sure, I can take you the Supreme. Just, don't mention that they are not from here. Not everyone trusts multiverse travelers."

"How can you say we are not from this reality?" Strange asked, to which you gave a chuckle.

"You need to be a traveler to recognize the other." Is your answer, and he widens his eyes in surprise, but you continue leading the way out of the room then past a door with glowing vents that when it opens, leads to a busy street. It was clear to Stephen the door was enchanted with teleportation magic. Once outside, you put on your hood.

"Not all worlds are friendly, Stephen Strange. And rule number one is that no one can be trusted." You tell them.

Stephen looks around, this world looks like his, maybe a little more advanced in technology. America crosses her arms while looking around the city. "We're not supposed to trust each other, then?" He questions you, but you chuckle again, checking on your watch.

"I trust you, Stephen Strange." That's what you told him, and then a group of people crossed your path to pass through the light. By the time Stephen tried to look for you, you had already disappeared.

He turned to America in confusion, but the girl was looking straight ahead.

"Dude, that's you over there." She pointed to a large statue across the street. Stephen's eyes widened.

"Come on." He grunted softly before pulling America to follow him.

–//–

“Oh, we can handle your little witch if she decides to Dreamwalk.”

If Strange could break both chains and immobilize Mordo somehow, he would make it to America in time. But the alarm was still ringing, and he was getting desperate.

Just as Mordo was about to hit him, something wrapped around the mage's neck and pulled him backward.

Stephen let out a huge sigh of relief when he saw that it was you - The golden thread came straight from the clock he saw you checking hours ago. Mordo fell to his knees, struggling for air as he tightened the item around him. But you didn't let go, waiting for him to pass out before releasing him.

"I told you not to trust anyone, and the first thing you did was warn them that you were from another reality!" You accused as you pulled the rope back, and prevented Mordo, now unconscious, from hitting his head on the ground as he fell.

"Hey hey hey, it's not my fault! The Strange of this world is dead. He knew as soon as I showed up."

You rolled your eyes. "Never heard of disguise magic huh? And if he was someone you knew from your world, caution has to be doubled." You guided as you moved closer, without any difficulty to free the man from his handcuffs.

"And why is that?"

"Affection can influence your decisions. If you find a friend in the multiverse, you need to remember that it is not the person you knew." You explain shrugging your shoulders before looking around. "Come on, I think I can track the girl."

As they ran, Strange asked:

"What have you gotten yourself into anyway?"

But you only checked your watch again before looking at the doors down the hallway, continuing to lead the way at high speed.

When you came to a crossroads, and two equally desperate women bumped into you, Strange was almost surprised at the way you checked America for bruises.

"Are you sure you're okay?" You asked with a face streaked with concern, both hands on her shoulders. She blushed, nodding.

"Yeah, I'm fine." She said clumsily. "But Wanda, she's coming and-"

Your puzzled expression made Strange sigh. It was Cristine who spoke up. "We don't have time, we'll explain it to you on the way."

You started to run, but as soon as the words Scarlet Witch echoed, your steps stopped.

"What are you doing, we have to-"

"Go." You interrupt Strange with a determined look. "I'll stay behind."

"N-no, you can't." America said in shock. "She killed everyone! You won't-"

"Kid." Stephen interrupted, understanding. "She's a Warrior of the Order, like the legend of Wong. It's her duty."

You force a reassuring smile at America and nod to the mage. "Find the book, Strange. Take America to safety, I'll take care of Wanda." You tell him before heading off in the opposite direction they were going to run.

–//–

“This isn’t what your children would want.”

As soon as the witch reached them, they deduced that you lost.

Strange tried to put up a fight, easily being subdued and pushed into another world with Cristine through the portals.

America was exhausted. She hadn't stopped running for a minute for the last few weeks, and now, it seemed, she had lost for good.

She was thrown in, but the impact with the ground never happened. Instead, someone holds her by the arms.

"All right there, little girl?" you asked. And she was fine, alive, and safe. She looked up in complete shock, and you smiled playfully, eyes scanning her face.

"H-how you....?"

"Shh, just trust me." You whispered, and America grunted a little at the way you grabbed her arm tightly and turned to the Witch breaking dreamwalking behind you. Once Wanda stood again, you cleared your throat. "You have America as you wanted. Now keep our deal."

The girl looked at you in a mixture of indignation. "N-no, but you are our friend-"

But you squeezed her arm gently, and as Wanda began to speak, America fell silent.

"I didn't kill him, as you asked. Now, the girl." She demanded, but you frowned.

"But where is he?" You insisted, and Wanda grunted impatiently.

"The girl, Y/N!"

"Wanda." You repeated and she lost patience, a red burst leaving her fists in your direction. America imagined you would go flying off on impact, feeling you let go of her arm, but when she looked back, you had your hand raised at chest height. Wanda's magic was restrained until it was gone, and you shook your hand as if you had just caught a baseball. "I knew you were going to do that eventually. You've been dying to attack me ever since you saw me, haven't you Witchy?"

Wanda, instead of answering, attacks again, and America exclaims in surprise as she is pushed away from the line of fire. She watches the fight - if you can call Wanda's frustrated attempts to hurt you that - completely stew. Until you stop resisting completely, and Wanda realizes that her magic simply won't hurt you.

She puts her hands down, looking at you in disbelief. "What are you?"

But you draw your dagger. Wanda tenses, ready to strike again, but she is not the one you hit.

America screams as Wong falls to the ground, the dagger wedged into his leg as he grunts in pain - You having stopped an attempted attack on the witch.

"I am a worshipper of Chaos, and you, Scarlet Witch, are my deity." You declared surprising both girls there. Wanda stammered in shock, but America shouted indignantly.

"You lied to us!" She accused. "Strange trusted you! You said you were a warrior of the order!"

You laughed tiredly, moving toward the supreme who was bleeding enough to only be able to grumble in pain.

"There are no more Order Warriors, America. You saw me kill the last one." You begin to count neutrally and ignore Wong's protests when you touch him, busying yourself with stopping the bleeding. "I killed all of them, actually."

America shakes her head incredulously. "N-no, you carry the same symbol as them..."

You laugh again, moving your hand to the necklace on your neck and pulling it off with a simple motion. You throw it at the feet of Wong, who, although still wounded, is no longer in danger of bleeding to death.

"Coats of arms mean nothing in this vast multiverse, America. You, of all people, should know that." You retort by moving closer again, and though she struggles against it, you lead her to the stone table without difficulty. Soon, it is Wanda's magic that is holding her.

You sigh deeply, placing your hands on the table and closing your eyes for a moment. America notices for the first time that the item on your wrist is not really a watch, but looks more like a small computer, full of graphics and numbers, like the ones she saw at the Illuminati headquarters.

Wanda seems uncertain about approaching. "I want to talk to you." She says to you, but you laugh, taking on an aggressiveness that no one there had seen yet.

"If you want to talk, tell me where you sent him then." You retort, and Wanda sighs.

"I don't know." She replies truthfully, and you seem conflicted about yelling at her or not. "I used the girl's powers and sent him to some other universe."

"What about the book?" You ask straightening up. Wanda hesitates. "The book, Wanda."

"I destroyed it." She replies and you sigh impatiently, shaking your head. "He was going to use it to stop me-"

"No, he was going to help you." You interrupt, starting to sweat a little and leaning your body as if in pain. "Fuck, why do you have to be so stubborn in all the worlds."

Wanda swallows dryly, shifting her weight between her feet. "Have we met?"

Your eyes grow sad, but you smile. "Many lifetimes ago." That's as you reply, before turning your attention back to America, still in shock at the whole thing. "Forgive me for not being honest, Miss Chavez, but I told you not to trust anyone. Take this as a lesson."

America had no way to respond, all that came out of her mouth were the grunts of pain as her magic began to be drained. You looked away, and Wanda looked back at you.

"I have to do this. I need her powers to get to my children."

But to the witch's surprise, you chuckled, falling to sit on the floor with one hand on your stomach and the other on your face. Wanda was moving toward you before she could think about it, concern on her face.

"What's wrong?" She asked, but you gasped softly, shaking your head.

"There's more, Wanda." You began, practically pleading with her as you looked at her. "Our worlds are prisons. Kang controls everything, he needs to be stopped-argh" You cut yourself off in a groan of pain, and Wanda frowned in desperation, her hands on your shoulders trying to find some injury. But there is nothing, not even blood. "Look into my mind, find my truth. I need to..." You gasped helplessly, your forehead falling on her shoulder.

"You're burning up with fever, Y/N." Wanda grumbled. "Show me how to help you." She whispered, her eyes turning red as she let her fingers wrap around the strands of your hair, and her magic pierced your mind.

–/–

“The Scarlet Witch is a being of unfathomable magic. She can rewrite reality as she chooses, and is prophesized to either rule or annihilate the cosmos.”

A smile played on your lips at the legend, but you waited until class was over and the students all left before you entered the room.

"You didn't have to wait for me, Professor." The male figure says without turning around, finishing putting away the items in his bag.

You laugh. "Come on, Stephen, I need some company to gossip with at lunch." You retort, making him laugh.

It doesn't take long for you to make your way out of the room, through the busy halls of the university. Stephen had just finished telling you about his and Cristine's upcoming wedding anniversary when the subject came back to you.

"Miss Maximoff seemed quite happy this morning." He commented with a hidden intent that made you laugh softly, your cheeks slightly flushed.

"Yeah, I proposed to her last night." You confess, receiving an exclamation of excitement at the same minute.

"Y/N, that's great! Harkness didn't tell me, that old hag." He complained making you laugh. "I'm very happy for you two, really."

You nodded embarrassed, unable to stop smiling. Strange sighed, checking his watch.

"If you run, there's time to invite her to lunch with us. Agatha might complain about someone stealing her company later."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course, Professor. You can have lunch with boring old men whenever you want, but the company of your fiancée will make everything easier."

You slapped him gently, saying something about him being a friend and not a nuisance, before walking away toward the rooms again.

The floor was empty because of the lunch break, and when you opened the door to the penultimate room, you were surprised by signs of a fight.

The body on the floor took all the air out of your lungs.

"W-Wanda?" You choked, dropping your backpack and running to meet her. Shaky hands hugged her. "No, no, no. Wanda! Sweetheart, I'm here, open your eyes..."

Your sobbing was interrupted, the room was not empty. A man came through the door, wearing a black uniform. He seemed surprised to see you but didn't react with more than a tired sigh. He raised his hand to his ear.

"We have a variant, sir." He informed, not giving any thought to the two figures in the other corner. "No, not the Nexus Potential. I've already eliminated the witch, no other divergences. I was checking the area, but we had a slight change in events. Yes, the bride and the lunch option. Right, sir."

You only had time to roll out of the firing range, using the table as protection to avoid being killed.

The memories vibrated - speeding up and twitching. You were taken into custody to a place of temporal surveillance, and Wanda could feel your anger transcend those memories. The thoughts merged among other memories - flashbacks of your escape between worlds with the theft of one of the small pads the TVA used to travel the multiverse until your capture and killed.

But if you’re dead, how could you be here?

–//–

"I'm not a monster, Stephen. I'm a mother."

You were staring at yourself in the mirror. Wanda knew immediately - from the size, color of the hair, and different arrangement of the dots that you were not the same person she had seen in past memories.

Struggling with the tie until hands wrapped around your shoulders, making you laugh.

"We can't go back to that sweetie, I'm already late." You tried to negotiate, but couldn't resist the soft lips that met yours. When a hand slid into your pants, you gasped, "Wands, come on, it's our graduation..."

"Five minutes." She bargained, and you laughed softly, letting yourself be carried away as she pulled you by your loose tie to the bed.

Wanda fell in first, lying down and with her hair sprawled on the pillow. You bit your lips as she adjusted herself, your hands lifting the party dress so she could slide the panties between her legs, never breaking eye contact with you.

When the item fell, you grunted but it was from pain. You fell to your knees, with your hand on your head, and Wanda watched as her version immediately rushed to your rescue, trying to figure out what was wrong.

The Scarlet Witch looked into the mirror, able to see the cosmic entity possessing you. Sharing the memories of the life you just lost.

An exclamation of surprise made Wanda turn her attention back to the two teenagers in the commode, and she was surprised to see you grab your girlfriend by the neck.

"Who are you?" you questioned evidentially confused, and the witch variant gasped in fear and confusion.

"Babe, it's me, Wanda-"

You let out, blinking in confusion, and bringing your hands to her cheeks as if seeing her for the first time. "My god, Wanda, look at you. You're so young..."

"Y/N, you're scaring me."

But you stood up, returning to the mirror and groping your face as if you could hardly believe you were really there. "It worked, honey. I remember everything."

"Babe, what are you talking...?"

You turned back to her, helping her to her feet and placing her in a sitting position on the bed. "Forgive me for the scare, I've never had a subjugation before. I am not the Y/N you know, I will never be again. This is painful, and I hate that you lost her, but there was no other way. We are all trapped, living in a sick little game of someone who thinks he is a god. I'm going to set us free."

Wanda denied with her head, concern in her expression. "Babe, did you hit your head somewhere? What are you talking about..."

But you offered her a sad smile, holding her cheeks. "God, you are so young. My memories are merging, this variant was so lucky to meet you in school, you two had so much fun. She, I, love you. Deeply, and in all universes apparently." You commented with a tearful laugh. "Forgive me for taking this away from you, but it will be safer this way."

Wanda blinked in confusion, but soon, her eyes went dark. You were erasing your existence from her mind.

The Scarlet Witch tensed as your gaze met hers, just inside the memory.

"You're in the wrong place, Wanda. Look deeper, don't mind the pain." That's what the memory - or your conscience - told her.

When the scene changed again, she expected everything but the twins.

Wanda choked, but they couldn't see her. Still, she was crying.

"Man, you're cheating!" Billy complained, elbowing his brother sitting next to him. They were older than Wanda had ever seen them, almost sixteen, and both were playing video games. Tommy rolled his eyes, a smile playing on his lips.

"Don't be such a bad loser." He retorted, but they began to push each other until a golden light separated them.

"I said no more fighting!" Your voice rang out, and it had evidently been your magic that separated the boys, who grumbled loudly.

"Sorry, Mom!" they spoke in unison, but you only muttered something about teenagers, busy climbing a small ladder from the bookcase.

Wanda was not so surprised by her variant's presence next - leaving the kitchen and kissing you against the bookshelf before starting to help you with the organization of the items. No, what took the air out of her lungs was the black figures coming through the garden that she could see through the window.

She tried to warn, despair filling her chest even though it was useless to wave at a memory.

And soon, she was staring at bodies.

A soldier grabbed you by the hair, and you faced your murdered family for the next few minutes until they were cleared by the TVA to report in.

The Scarlet Witch was crying too, and when the memory switched to the TVA base, this time you didn't run away like the first time. No, this time you took your time to make a massacre.

And Wanda believes that you were right.

–//–

“Oh, we can handle your little witch if she decides to Dreamwalk.”

Wanda was in an open field. And even though it was a memory, the magic there was so strong that she felt her body shiver with cold.

It was dark magic. Very powerful, very filthy. Cursed, if you can put it that way.

Following the sounds of fighting, she ended up in a more private area, like a camp. But the vast majority of the soldiers were dead, leaving only one pair.

Armor suits you, Wanda thought when she saw the variant. But she pushed the thought away at the same second.

The third figure was out of the fray. It was a hooded man, and he was hurrying away with the items on the table.

You won the fight, and as your opponent fell, you turned to the other.

"Kang, enough running away." You warned, but he ignored it, wasting no time in trying to hit you with magic, which you used a shield to block.

"Killing me doesn't change anything!" He shouted back, and despite the fear on his face, there was confidence behind his words that made Wanda shudder. He spread his arms, gesturing to his surroundings. "I am just one of many. You can't stop us!"

He ran, but you hurled your sword at his thigh, and he fell with a cry of pain. You approached him breathless from the struggle.

"I am saving these people, Y/N. Try to see." He rants, getting an incredulous laugh.

"If these people stay within your plan, of course." You mock, taking off your practically ruined armor. Kang grunts in irritation.

"They make sure the multiverse doesn't break. You don't understand what I am doing here. The greatness of my work!"

But you sigh wearily, pulling a dagger from your belt. Kang shakes his head.

"Please, mercy."

"Mercy? Are you fucking with me now, Kang?" You retort angrily, hitting his face with the hilt of the dagger so hard that he falls to the ground. "You killed my family in 182 different worlds. All because they stepped out of what you thought was right for your ideal timeline. I had to watch my wife die in 72 different lifetimes, and then my children. And you have the audacity to ask me for mercy?"

Kang gushes blood on the floor, looking at you with neutrality.

"The multiverse needs order." He says, but you laugh, hitting him hard again.

You grab him by the collar of his shirt next, your face full of fury. "I'm going to destroy every stone in that place, and when I'm done, I'm going to hunt down every version of you. You won't live, Kang, anywhere. You have lost the right to exist."

He grunts in pain as you slowly dig the dagger into his chest. He uses his last strength to place his hand over yours. "If you love chaos so much, worship it. I cursed you."

You jumped away from his touch with a surprised sigh, and Kang fell backward, dead. A smile on his face nonetheless.

Wanda saw you shudder as if you were seeing a ghost, and begin to hug and scratch yourself as if you were sick, despair in your eyes.

The color of the sky changed to a vibrant red, and Wanda immediately recognized the same atmosphere as in her own home. The ground began to rot beneath Kang's body, but the roots reached toward your ankles.

"N-no, please...." You tried to whimper, fighting against the restraints and reaching for the dagger. But no matter how hard you cut, the roots wouldn't let go, and the crater that opened up and swallowed the enchanter's body was getting closer by the second. You cried but shook your head before forcing the dagger against your own chest.

When you died, Wanda was pushed away.

–//–

“This isn’t what your children would want.”

Blood. Everywhere, from the ceiling to the floor, from the tips of your shoes to the last strand of your hair.

Your mouth also tasted iron.

Golden chains glittered amidst the slaughter, and you dropped the dagger to the floor, the sound of an electronic alarm clock blaring in the room.

But it wasn't a clock you looked at. It looked like one, it was the same shape at least, but when you ran your hand over it, holograms became visible, and because Wanda couldn't see in the reflection of anything in the room, she knew immediately that only you could see that information - and now so could she, from within your memories.

It was a timer in reality. And it had just restarted.

You started to cry, but moved to the bodies one by one, tearing the chains or golden rings off the victims.

Wanda watched as you gathered them all up and knelt down as if to pray. You closed your eyes and whispered in a language too ancient for her to recognize.

Runes appeared on the wall, burning and destroying like fire. The rings and chains that you had placed in front of you drifted to the ground until they disappeared. You opened your eyes, sighing wearily.

"I did what you asked, my lord. Now free me. I beg you." You choked on a sob, lowering your face to recover.

At first, Wanda thought maybe you were talking to Kang - another version that was more powerful. But when the room shook, and a low, demonic laugh filled her ears, she knew better.

You shuddered like the witch watching your memories.

"Free you? Why would I do that when you are such an obedient pet?" Mocked a male voice, the runes vibrating with his words. Wanda held her breath. It was suffocating, like the ones she hears in the darkhold.

You sniffled. "I-I did what you asked. Please."

But the demon laughed again. "It wasn't me who conjured your curse, sorceress." He reminded in a provocative tone. "Don't act like I'm not merciful to you. All those walks between the worlds. I could have turned you over to the Living Court, but I accepted you as a servant in spite of everything. Don't forget how many crimes you committed..."

"They hurt my family!" You tried but grunted in pain afterward - Wanda understood that the demon could also punish her physically when it wished.

"Puppets, Y/N. You know that." He retorted more calmly. "All those variants in the service of a man, a pathetic human who thinks he can play god. You know my limitations in this dimension my siblings cursed me to, I need warriors like you, willing to break the order for me."

You whimpered a little, massaging your stomach before raising your face to the runes.

"Chthon, please." You pleaded, and there was a pause.

"It was good service, child, I admit." He says. "I will be merciful again, given your exceptional competence. I have never had such a talented warrior, not even Mephisto with his Riders are so efficient. I will promote you."

"B-but you told me you were going to free me!"

This time, whatever he did made you scream in pain and fall to the ground. As you recovered, trembling in a fetal position, Wanda felt a presence materialize behind her.

"Apparently, your new boss is already here."

Wanda froze, not having the courage to look back and confirm if there really was someone behind her. She could feel it, but when she risked looking into the mirrors, there was no reflection. If Chthon was here, he wasn't really there.

"I will present you with the most honorable position you could ever imagine, child." Says the demon. "And believe me, you will like the Witch I have chosen."

You squirm softly, fighting the pain to sit up again. "Don't make me kill anyone else, please."

Chthon laughs, with delight. "Why do mortals fear death that much? I've never understood it. It is what you were created to do."

"Please, my lord." You repeat with your head down, and Wanda can hear the demon sigh impatiently.

"You will not kill unless she asks you to do so, I promise."

You blink in confusion, looking up. " D-don't you want me to kill the witch?"

Chthon laughs indignantly. "What, my Scarlet Witch? Of course not. She's precious, she's... merchandise. My most powerful toy, and so her collar breaks easily. That's where you come in, little one. I have ways of keeping her under my command, the demons imprisoned in my teachings can affect anyone. But witches less powerful than her have already resisted the influence of my darkhold, after all, you can't keep poking the same wound and have the same effect forever. If there's one thing your kind does annoyingly well, it's adapt."

You wipe your face, breathing wearily. "Where should I find her and when should I bring her to you?"

The commode goes silent until you sniffle again.

"You are hers, Y/N, not the other way around." Chthon clarifies making you shudder. "You stay with her until she gets bored, I imagine."

You deny with your head, sobbing before pleading:

"I did what you asked! Why are you doing this-"

But the room shudders, and you fall silent in an exclamation of pain.

"You are insolent, girl. It angers me deeply. I have been benevolent to you all this time, and you are never grateful. Get back to work, I just increased your debt. You don't stop until every trace of Oshtur is banished from this dimension, and when it's over, I might consider telling Wanda to have mercy on you."

You raise your head immediately at the mention of the name, confusion stamped on your face. "W-Wanda? What about her?"

Chthon's laugh is even more sinister. "Oh, did I forget to mention? Funny thing, fate. No matter how much Kang alters things, trying to make sure that in the worlds he thinks he controls you and Wanda never met, things always go back to how they're supposed to happen." Narrates the demon mysteriously. "Wanda Maximoff is my scarlet witch, my queen of chaos. And you are to be her worshipper."

For the first time, the gleam in your eyes is one of fury, not fear. "How dare you involve her in this, Chthon? That's dirty, even for you."

Chthon laughs, and the room shudders, but this time, the pain only makes your expression falter a little. You bear it.

"Your mistake was underestimating how important she is to me, you old demon. I hope you rot in your forgotten kingdom." You warned, getting up with a little difficulty. Chthon continued laughing until you reached the door.

"You cannot contradict the mark of the curse, Y/N. Even death won't rid you of me."

Wanda knew it was hurting. The blood coming out of your ears was fresh, and you were limping. But you kept walking.

"She will come to you in four winters, be ready to kneel." It was the demon's last warning before the runes disappeared.

The memory breaks, transforming into one that Wanda was present.

"I'm so sorry Peggy." You whispered before sliding the dagger away, holding your friend’s of other lifes body as she falls dead to the ground. It was a quick death, at least. Captain Marvel was next, Wanda almost thought it was you actually, but she lowered her hands when she saw that you were fighting alongside her, and not the other way around.

Maria didn't even have time to understand what was happening properly before she felt the blow.

Your hands were shaking, but you took a deep breath.

"Who are you?" Wanda asked in a thick accent. You put the dagger away.

"A friend, if you want me to be." You answer, and as you approach, she tenses, her serious face analyzing you. You don't lose your ground. "You won't be able to read my thoughts with a variant, Wanda. I'm as strong as you are."

"Hard to believe that." She retorts almost cockily, and you can't help the smile that fills your lips.

"I guarantee it, but I don't want to face you. I didn't come here for that."

"And why did you come here for?"

"You." You answer bluntly. "I know more than you can imagine, far beyond what darkhold says is the truth. I will tell you everything I know if you will do one thing for me."

"I could rip the truth out of you." She retorts without hesitation, but you take another step forward.

"Not when you can be reasonable." You say and she locks her jaw, but you chuckle softly, taking another step toward her, now close enough to touch. "Let's make a deal. You want the girl, but not the sorcerer. Let Strange live, in another life, he was a friend. Someone who set me free, allowed me to see the truth. I owe it to him. You will go through that door, and you will have the girl as you wanted, but Strange will try to get a book, which you must not destroy. Promise."

"I won't promise anything, we don't even know each other-"

"I'll do anything you want." You cut her off pleadingly. "Your plan is to stay in another world with your children? I know the multiverse, I know how worlds work, in-depth. I can guide you wherever you want, I can even help you drain America's power properly. Just-"

"We have a deal." It's her turn to interrupt you, and you sigh in relief. You swallow dryly then and give her passage.

"They went in that direction." You say, and Wanda hesitates just before she starts walking.

"Aren't you coming?" she asks, but you give her a small smile, your eyes hiding a sad gleam.

"My loyalty does not belong to this variant of you." You said, and when Wanda turned around, you returned your attention to the clock on your wrist. To the timer ticking in a few minutes.

The ground disappeared because you teleported.

–//–

“You ever had that dream where you’re falling as if you’ve been pushed off a tall building? That was probably me.”

Wanda helped you sit up properly until you support your back on the wall.

"Tell me how to help you. Please." The witch asked with her hands on your cheeks burning with fever. You gasped in pain, trying to check your watch again.

"Command." You muttered weakly, to which Wanda only frowned in confusion.

"What?"

"Chaos time. I need to... obey." You tried to respond beyond pain, but it was enough for Wanda. She nodded and looked around, trying to think of something.

"D- does it need to be an action, or can it be anything? "She asked and you almost whimpered in pain, only not falling to the ground because Wanda was holding you up.

"Anything, Wanda." You sigh. She swallows dryly, determined.

"Tell me how to get my children back."

You gasp in pain before forcing yourself to answer, " You can't, not this way... They control everything. If you don't have them, it's because the TVA wanted it that way. You can't steal them from somewhere else, they'll come after you. Believe me, I already tried. You didn't see it, but the memories are here, of the lives I tried to own. Worlds break like glass when we do that, Wanda. There can only be one of us, or we can't stay."

Wanda shakes her head, refusing to believe it. You can adjust a little, "I can make it work." She stubbornly says. "My magic is powerful enough."

But it's your turn to deny it with your head. "No, Wanda, don't you see? This is what he wants you to do. Break the multiverse, destroy worlds for him. I did that, and Kang can sell my soul to Chthon with a simple call. I don't want you to be his puppet too."

Wanda swallows dryly, trying to control the urge to cry. She puts her hands on your shoulders. "Tell me how to free you, we'll do it together."

"I don't know how, I don't think it's possible. If it is, I don't know that answer." You retort, panting a little but breathing better now that you have obeyed two orders. "Your pain, Wanda, he uses to blind you. Doesn't rewriting reality allow you to see how much bigger things are? I need to free the worlds Kang imprisons, if not, nothing matters because he will keep changing all events to his liking."

Wanda sighs, leaning her forehead against yours. "I can't give up on them." She whispers, and it is her turn to sigh.

"Ask me." You say, and she pulls away a little just to look at you. "Ask me to take over the influence."

"W-what?"

"That's why I wanted you not to destroy the book of the Vishanti. In it, there were counter-spells for the darkhold. I wanted to rewrite what is stated in the sacred timeline, I believed that as a Nexus being, you could. But apparently, Kang is still in front of me." You say with a sad laugh. "The only reason he doesn't hunt me down like he does all my versions now, is that this one here belongs to Chaos. Kang can play god, but he's not a real one, and even he knows that. The curse was a backfire because I learned to move beyond it. Every day, I have shifts of obedience, where the chaos becomes too strong for me to ignore. When I must comply, I work for Chthon, but when I am free, I work against Kang. It's hard and tiring, but I've freed worlds from his command this way. It worked for a while until Chthon got you involved."

Wanda swallowed dryly but did not interrupt. Her body shuddered a little.

"I belong to Scarlet Witch now, but before...I was once only Wanda's. My friend, my wife." You counter with a sad smile. "And I cannot watch you continue to hurt yourself. Ask me to take over the darkhold's influence, and I will make all voices that are not yours disappear from your head."

Wanda hesitates. "I can't do that to you."

"Yes, you can." You insist, offering her a tender smile. "I'll be fine, I promise. It won't be even remotely the first time I've had to face demons." You joke, but just from the weak smile, there is a pang of guilt on her face that you cannot ignore. "Please, Wanda. It hurts me more to see you lose yourself."

She sniffles a little, looking away. Wanda takes a deep breath and takes your hand in her lap. "I want you to take the influence." She commands, and with that, she feels as if a weight is being lifted off her back. You, in return, grunt in pain and squeeze her hand. Wanda sniffles again, holding you back. "Hey, I'm here."

But you sob, letting your face fall onto her shoulder, your body shaking in spasms. She holds you close, stroking your back gently.

Strange appears in battle mode - and undead - only to find the Witch he came to face embracing someone he figured to be dead. America, free of her powers since Wanda was rid of the book's influence, was kneeling beside Wong.

"You took your time." Ironized the Supreme to the Zombie, but Strange only made a confused expression.

"What...?"

"It's a long story, but I think Wanda will explain everything when Y/N feels better. They're kind of wives, you know? It's pretty cool." America commented, helping Wong to stand. She noticed the zombie's hesitation. "Yeah, Y/N tricked us. But it was for a good cause. Apparently, there is a war going on in the multiverse that we know nothing about. But don't you think we'd better take Wong for medical attention first?"

With that, Strange comes out of shock and nods. As soon as he realizes his real condition, however, he calls America. The girl laughs softly. "Don't worry, I'll find you." She assures him before Wong conjures a portal to the Kamar Taj.

–//–

A familiar smell of food filled your senses as you began to undress, and because it had been god knows how many universes since you first smelled it, you practically jumped out of bed.

The exertion made your body complain, but you ignored the pain and followed the aroma, not recognizing the cabin you were in but appreciating the beauty of the place.

"Wanda." You called out to her as soon as the figure became visible, and the woman made a surprised expression.

"Y/N, you shouldn't be standing!" She tried to ration, leaving the pans to approach you, but you swallowed dryly, shuddering when her hands touched your arms.

"How did you...?"

"It's okay, sweetheart. You're safe." She assures you sweetly, caressing your body and then bringing her hands to your cheeks. "Don't think too much, you need to rest first. And eat, if you're feeling well enough to do so. Come, I made your favorite."

She tries to drag you by the hand, but you keep your ground.

"How do you know it's my favorite?"

Wanda sighs, taking her gaze from your joined hands to look into your eyes. "I looked. Everything, from the very beginning. I needed to know if I could trust you."

"What about me, Wanda?" You challenged. "How do I know if I can trust you, if you're not another one of Kang's puppets?"

Wanda released your hand only to bring it to her face.

"I'm not. I promise." She says with her strong accent. "And you can guarantee that."

You frown slightly, but she smiles, smoothing your cheek.

"Teach me the consciousness transfer spell." She asks. "That way, it will be me. All the versions you've ever known and lost, in one. But come eat first, we'll have time for that later."

The food was delicious, it was like tasting a memory. You almost cried with longing for a home you could never step inside again.

Wanda understood the feeling.

"You are uneasy." She comments a long moment later, her fingers tracing a drawing on the table, and her eyes watching for any reaction from you. "Your head is noisy."

"It's not me." You retort almost between your teeth, half gasping, and startling her. "It's the God of Chaos and his circus of demons."

Wanda swallows dryly, moving her hand to yours in your lap.

"Tell me how to help you."

And that makes you give a small, tired laugh, entwining your fingers in hers. "That's my job, Scarlet Witch."

But Wanda doesn't smile, squeezing. "Then I command you to let me help you." She says seriously. "I don't want you to get hurt because of me. I don't deserve-"

You interrupt her with a kiss. Firm and passionate, and needy. Wanda chokes in surprise, pulling back but you hold her hand in yours and she doesn't pull away much further than that. She blinks between confusion and doubt, and only meets your devoted irises, letting out a shaky breath before sinking in once more, kissing with intent now.

She has never felt the sensation before - not in her own experience at least - and it is intoxicating. She remembers the feeling from watching your memories about variants of herself that you kissed, made love to, and fucked, but nothing counts as the actual experience. Your lips feel as it should, your tongue explores her mouth with experience and familiarity. You bite a little just the way she likes it.

And it's too much.

Wanda hasn't had real intimacy in years, and it overwhelms and frightens. She pushes your shoulder, panting and clumsy as she stands up, babbling about too fast, too new.

"Forgive me." You interrupt as soon as you find a gap. She swallows dryly as she turns her expression to you, finding her equally affected but evidently exhausted as well. "You've seen my head, Wanda. I know it's too much. You know how much I've lost, everything I've done to get this far. All the way to the version of you that could put an end to this sick cycle." You say, your eyes filling with tears. "But baby, I've traveled a thousand worlds to be with you. You are my only destiny in this vast multiverse, Wanda. And you need to know that I will want to kiss you whenever I get the chance."

She gives a tearful laugh, moving closer again and kneeling at the height of her chair.

"First tell me how to make the pain stop." She asks again, and you sigh, moving closer to kiss her forehead, one hand smoothing her hair.

"Don't worry, witchy. Pain only makes us stronger."

"Y/N, please-"

"It's a pleasure to take it for you." You interrupt seriously. "If chthon wants a chat, he'll get me, not you. And that's final. Would you like to help me, dear? Start with Kang, help me free these worlds and stay with me." You say looking into her eyes. "Will you do that, Wanda? Stay?"

A smile forms on your lips, and Wanda leans in, mere centimeters from your face.

"Of course, darling. You are my destiny too."

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #marvel imagines

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