NOT EVEN KING ARTHUR CAN PULL ME FROM BETWEEN THEIR LEGS🙏🙏
One Nice Bug Per Day

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Claire Keane

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@suchathot
NOT EVEN KING ARTHUR CAN PULL ME FROM BETWEEN THEIR LEGS🙏🙏

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The SKZ House (18+ fanfic)
Posting this for anyone specifically wanting to reblog this fic vs my Masterlist.
Summary: After a bad breakup with your ex, you need a place to live for the remainder of the school year. You see the Sigma Kappa Zeta (SKZ) fraternity ad for an "In-House Stay"; you decide to you apply and are accepted. Your duties? Cooking...cleaning...oh, and pleasing your assigned members: Hwang Hyunjin and Bang Chan.
Series Word Count: 153,021
Warnings: Oral (both m and f receiving), spanking, solo play with an onlooker, threesome, handcuffs, light dom/sub undertones, public sex, choking, orgasm denial, and angst...lots of angst.
Chapter One: Of Breakups & New Housing
Chapter Two: Of Ex's & Tesla's
Chapter Three: Of Blowjobs & Birthdays
Chapter Four: Of Pineapples & Punishment
Chapter Five: Of Mirrors & Lessons
Chapter Six: Of Joy Rides & Hot Tubs
Chapter Seven: Of Watching & Submitting
Chapter Eight: Of Drive-Ins & Wishes
Chapter Nine: Of Halloween & Hallways
Chapter Ten: Of Yin & Yang
Chapter Eleven: Of Triple N's & Multiple O's
Chapter Twelve: Of Delays & Professor Bang
Chapter Thirteen: Of Girl Talk & Berry
Chapter Fourteen: Of Surprises & Closets
Chapter Fifteen: Of Showers & Cabins
Chapter Sixteen: Of Chan & Cuffs
Chapter Seventeen: Of Futures & Flights
Chapter Eighteen: Of Beaches & Balconies
Chapter Nineteen: Of Chokers & Christmas
Chapter Twenty: Of Father's & Basements
Chapter Twenty-One: Of Rotations & Doors
Chapter Twenty-Two: Of Seungmin & Karaoke
Chapter Twenty-Three: Of You (Chan POV)
Chapter Twenty-Four: Of Changbin & Roses
Chapter Twenty-Five: Of Popcorn & Reuniting
Chapter Twenty-Six: Of Talks & Relapsing
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Of Insomnia & Revelations
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Of Notices & Benches
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Of Storms (Chan POV)
Chapter Thirty: Of Rainy Days & Goodbyes
Chapter Thirty-One: Of Vets & Contracts
Chapter Thirty-Two: Of Epilogues
FOR REFERENCE:
SKZ House Photo Book
The SKZ House Bonus Fic
Summary: For the life of you, you can't get Changbin and Seungmin to stop arguing for long...unless they're fucking you at the same time.
Word Count: 3020
Warnings: Threesome, squirting, double penetration, anal sex, deep throating, tit fucking.
One-Shot: Changbin x Y/N x Seungmin
PAPER MEN ✄ BOWERS GANG MASTERPOST
SUMMARY: All Evelyn Tozier wanted to do was make Derry High School a safer place for her kid brother. Well, somewhere between kissing Patrick Hockstetter and telling the principal to go f*** himself, things got a little off track. Now she’s stuck in the middle of a bizarre love triangle with two of Derry’s most troubled teens while her little brother and his friends hunt down a creepy, child-eating circus clown. This year, summer can’t come fast enough. PAIRINGS: Henry Bowers x Tozier!Sister; Patrick Hockstetter x Tozier!Sister WARNINGS: violence, profanity, sexual content, bullying, sexual assault, physical abuse, emotional abuse, all kinds of abuse, trauma, mental illness, implied/referenced self-harm, child death, angst, lots of angst, recreational drug use, underage drinking, underage sex, love triangles, toxic relationships, slow burn, slow build CHAPTERS: 31/? UPDATES: Slow WORD COUNT: 184K
▶️ PLAYLIST: SPOTIFY / YOUTUBE
☆ Also Available on AO3 ☆ I highly recommend reading it on this site because I’m constantly making minor edits and this is the most up-to-date version. Plus Tumblr keeps messing up the formatting, so it’s just a better reading experience.
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
don't ever put me in a room with this man. he's coming out PREGNANT

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I wanna make it (so badly)
Art Donaldson x Fem Reader
Warnings/Contains: reader is AFAB with she/her pronouns, swearing, inappropriate employer/employee relationship, dry-humping, a lot of heavy petting, implied age gap, effective-infidelity (reader tested, tashi approved), oral sex (f!receiving), art is a bit of a pervert and mega-pathetic (endearing), references to religion (worship).
Word Count: 5.8k
i white knuckled the steering wheel on the way home from this film thinking about art donaldson- this is, essentially, an ode to that
Youth tennis lessons, $20/h, call for details
Finding work was hard, keeping work was harder.
Cleaning, baby-sitting, pet-sitting, pet-walking. There was virtually nothing you hadn't tried.
Odd jobs, odd hours, and the occasional odd employer.
You'd played tennis for the last couple years of college. Nothing remotely competitive but you and your friends had looked cute in the skirts and they'd give you whole hours out of class to play.
You were above average with a good arm and better patience.
Another odd job to add to your growing list.
You'd been particular about where you'd posted the ads, the neighbourhoods you'd chosen. Only the ones with manicured lawns and white picket fences.
Tacking the paper to boards in upmarket cafes, fancy supermarkets, ladies-only gyms.
The kind of people that want their kids playing tennis and could find their way to increase your pay- if you did well.
You always did very well.
So your little car looked a little out of place in this neighbourhood, fingers holding the scribbled post-it note with the address. Your scrawling handwriting detailing the "Donaldson's" were enquiring within.
Pulling up outside the house, you had a quiet inkling that you might've been out of your depth. Whoever owned this house deserved more than an above-average-ex-college-student that only learnt the sport to spend time with friends.
But they'd requested you, you'd have to let them come to that conclusion on your own.
Your knuckles only hit the door once before it was being swung open by someone that looked destined to be a security guard, like he'd come out the womb with his future decided.
What the fuck had you gotten yourself into?
He'd left you in the "formal lounge" to sit smack-bang in the centre of a couch that wouldn't even fit in the lobby of your apartment building- let alone the apartment itself.
As you admired a painting on the wall that you'd only ever seen in books, high heels on the stone floors made you jump in your seat.
The most beautiful woman you might ever see in your life appeared before you and said your name in a way that had you standing from your seat.
Your face faltered just enough that you hoped she didn't notice. There was something about her that told you she noticed everything.
Fuck me, that's Tashi Duncan.
If you know a thing about tennis (or even just watched the news) you know exactly who this woman is. You remember her more from your childhood but you remember her all the same.
The woman that once held the world by the balls.
She apologised for her husband's absence, that he was busy. It wasn't lost on you that the "husband" she casually referred to was Art Donaldson, US Open champion.
The Donaldson's.
Ah fuck.
Tashi went on the explain that they were wanting to begin lessons for their daughter Lily. You assumed this was the one you could hear running circles around the informal lounge.
"With all due respect, am I not the least qualified person in this home for that?"
You watched a perfectly formed cheekbone lift in what was nearly a smile. Strangely enough, something in the pit of your chest was dying to make her do that again.
There was something about her that demanded to be impressed.
You were no exception to the rule.
"My husband and I have seen some of your matches, we liked what we saw."
How? Your 'matches'- if you can even call them that, were nothing of note. You don't even think faculty bothered to watch them. You weren't quite sure why they'd even recorded them.
A silly part of you began to wonder how they'd even got a hold of them- until you remembered who they were.
The Hermes and Peitho of tennis.
"You did? I always thought of myself as more of a casual player."
"And that's what we liked, we know better than anyone how brutal tennis can become. We want someone to help Lily enjoy the game."
Oh, okay then.
You'd made a quasi-college-career out of purely enjoying the game. You were sure you could foster the same spirit for the six-year-old performing the entire 'Encanto' soundtrack in the other room.
Tashi laid down a tight schedule, Monday to Friday, 3pm to 6pm. You would teach Lily the wonders of the game on the court behind their home.
Their home you'd come to find out was a luxury rental when you'd complemented Tashi on another of the art pieces that'd apparently come with the place.
You'd also come to find out they typically live in hotel rooms, but they'd settled in this area for the time being as Art had a good thing going with a regular playing schedule and a sporting-goods deal.
You nodded along like you could begin to understand a life like that.
As she showed you back to your car (the one you suddenly felt humiliated for her to see you own), she called your name one last time from the doorway.
"You undersell yourself, we'll give you eighty an hour."
She left you choking on your tongue with one foot in the car and the other on an Italian cobblestone.
You were never going to walk or sit another dog again.
Lily was going to win her first Grand Slam by ten if that's what they'd pay you.
As your peeled your car from their turn-around area, you watched a Jeep Wrangler slow as it passed you. You couldn't see through the tint but you just knew it was him.
And you knew he was watching you.
-
The minute you'd told your roommate the situation you'd come into, she'd called bullshit.
A few texts from Tashi's now saved icon and a weird little photo you'd taken from inside the guest bathroom, it'd been enough to convince her.
"Fucking hell, are you God's favourite or something?"
You'd argue you were quite the opposite, she of all people should know. She'd seen some of the states you'd come home in after your other random jobs.
Felt good to be the winner.
Even just once.
In the air of some girlish fascination, she brought up a Youtube video of "Tashi Duncan Career Highlights" courtesy of "tennisguy779."
You'd protested it, rolling your eyes while feigning disinterest. No use, the minute you caught her out the corner of your eye- you were captivated.
It was entirely possible to imagine she hovered above the court, like there was a greater force placing her exactly where she needed to be, exactly when she needed.
It was even easier to believe she was just that good.
As you watched her play, listened to the sounds the game could draw from her- you wondered if this was how she and Art had felt.
Had they curled up in their informal lounge like you were right now? Had Tashi studied your every move meticulously like you assume? Had Art passed comment on your form? Did he think you were any good?
Tennisguy779's lineup changed quickly to "Art Donaldson Career Highlights" and you felt your chest constrict. An inexplicable feeling washed over you.
Like you'd been caught with God's forbidden fruit.
Your roommate had tried to question why you'd effectively flown off the couch, only to be met with a muttered 'goodnight' as you shut the bedroom door behind you.
Thin walls meant you drifted off to sleep that night with the rhythmic sounds of Art, grunting his way through an ATP Challenger.
It was no surprise you dreamt of him.
-
The Donaldson's tennis court was down a steep set of stairs, set back into an oasis of lush greenery.
Perfect for a 6-year-old's first lessons.
You didn't know if it was the grand balcony that overlooked the court or the fact a well-manicured Tashi stood atop it, but you felt positively observed.
Lily was in the midst of showing you how she could do a cartwheel (she couldn't) when the voice in the back of your head started echoing a promise of $80/h.
"Alright, lets channel some of that into your elbow."
Give a six-year-old a racquet half the size of her and she's going to blow effective chunks, but at least she has the spirit. Maybe it's her energy, maybe it has been a while since you've been on the court-
The kid's running you ragged.
Coupled with her height, you're spending more time bent over than you are up straight and it's all going to your head. All you can hope is Tashi isn't up there watching you stumble after the ball.
But you're sure there are eyes on your back.
Lily is a quick learner and you work out a tradeoff of one tennis skill for one spinning heel kick (mandatory that you watch).
Roll on 6pm and she's dog-tired, however, she's managed to hit the ball at least twice. Surely that's earned your keep. She lays star-fished on the turf and murmurs something about a piggyback.
You know you're about to earn your keep.
By the top of the staircase, you're more than happy to hand over a Lily-shaped-sack-of-potatoes to Tashi's mother. As you emerge from behind an ornate gargoyle, your suspicions proved correct.
Art Donaldson had been watching your every move.
Left alone on the balcony with him, you're acutely aware of the fact he's standing between you and your exit, and he's just had a full show of you bent over and flitting about his tennis court.
That and you still haven't said so much as 'hello' to the man.
You dwell on it for a moment and then there's that feeling back in the pit of your stomach, like any minute you'll be caught with fruit in hand- in throat.
The Original Sin.
Luckily, Art made the decision for you, crossing the space to shake your hand. If he noticed the way your hand trembled, he didn't seem to mind.
"It's nice to finally meet you."
You wished you had more to say to him, or maybe something more intelligent. Something better than a quiet "and you."
He was the better conversationalist, thankfully. Head motioning to the court, he looked down his nose at you when he spoke.
It should've felt condescending. It didn't.
"How did she go out there?"
"Yeah, really good- not a Disney character I can't name now."
He laughed.
Really laughed, like the joke was better than it was.
Like there was a preening little flutter inside you that said "do it again!"
You shrugged your shoulders like making him happy came naturally as you squinted up at him, as if he was the sun.
"You were watching? You must've seen her picking it up?"
Because he was the expert. Because he is the champion.
He hummed as he nodded, eyes skywards like there might've been something more important behind the clouds.
"Must've been distracted."
Within an instant- his eyes flickered to your own and you were sure he watched them change. He must've seen something he liked, the corner of his lip quirked up before he spoke again.
"Come on, I'll sort your payment and then we'll let you get home."
And for whatever reason, his hand fit perfectly in the small of your back as he lead you inside.
-
And how quickly did you become a strange piece of furniture in the Donaldson's home- in their life?
An ottoman for Tashi to rest her tired feet on.
An abstract piece on the wall for Art to admire when he passes it.
A projection of constellations across the ceiling to keep Lily bright behind the eyes.
At least you belonged- there was no doubt that this was where you belonged.
That wasn't to say your tennis skill had improved any, lesson after lesson you still couldn't wrap your head around why they'd even signed you on, let alone kept you.
"Ok, don't watch that one either- maybe just do what I say and not what I do."
You hadn't nailed a single one, at this point you couldn't blame Lily for skipping around pretending her racquet was a horse.
Wasn't like she'd be learning anything if she was paying attention.
"Ok, here we go just- ok right, when your parents ask how today went, please be kind."
"Your elbow is too low."
It was a miracle you didn't scream.
Art entered the court with a swagger that you could only assume struck fear when he was your opponent.
Right now it struck pure embarrassment and Lily wasn't helping.
"Daddy, she didn't hit a single one!"
"Alright, I don't think daddy needs to know that-"
"Daddy knows, daddy's been watching."
Daddy really needs to stop calling himself that.
Lily and her racquet took off for another tour of The Grand National as Art approached you with quiet determination.
It was like waiting for impact, his eyes never wavered off his daughter as he made towards you. At the last moment, he snapped his attention in your direction- with a smile that should've felt condescending.
It wasn't.
"If your elbow is too low you lose topspin and power."
If you deserved the $80/h you were earning, you might've known that.
As Art stepped up to you, the turn of the planets on their axis slowed down and it could've been entirely possible to believe it was only you two.
And Lily upon her trusty steed.
The gallops of her tennis shoes thinned out as Art placed one hand around your elbow, lifting it higher. His other hand held your waist as he pulled your back flush to his chest.
"Lily, go find grandma."
Then it really was just you two.
Your heart hammered against the shell of your ribcage, blood rushing around your ears as you felt Art's chin perch at your shoulder.
"If your elbow is high enough," His hand lifted it up and you let it stay there. "And your hip is turned."
He didn't have to say it with the gravel in his voice, but he did. He didn't have to hold your hips as he moved them, but he did. He didn't have to stay without so much of an inch between the two of you, but he did.
With one hand in the curve of your waist, he tossed the ball into the air with the other- then he whistled.
Like the obedient thing you didn't know you were, you raised the racquet and sent the ball flying through the air without even blinking.
As the streak of green hit the court and rolled away, you found yourself lying in wait, as if you were waiting for something- your next command?
"Good girl."
There it was.
Under the all consuming effect that Art Donaldson just seemed to have on people, you'd entirely forgotten you were in a position you could be 'caught' in. By his all consuming wife, of all people.
So, you should've moved.
Quite honestly you should've straightened up and cleared your throat and thanked him and told him it was time for you to go home.
You should've moved.
But Art wasn't moving. If anything he was staying purposefully still at your backside.
Obedient thing you seem to be.
"Show me that again?"
So,
You teach Lily the bare basics of tennis for three hours and receive $80 on the hour.
Then Art spends three hours of his spare time teaching you to perfect your swing- in a way that couldn't ever vaguely resemble professional.
A simple transactional arrangement.
Your tennis improves on a slow but sure basis and he gets the most off-court action he's seen since college.
Even if it is just heavy petting on astro-turf.
A hand under the hem of a tennis skirt. A pressing hip against your own. A deep breath as your hair brushes past him.
You figure Art will take what he can get.
And it's never enough to raise alarm. Sure, there's that fluttering in your chest that warns you might get 'caught' but you're never quite sure what one might 'catch' if they found you out.
It's undoubted who that 'one' is though.
The one who holds the cards- holds the throat, maybe.
Tashi, who's presence precedes her perhaps more than her reputation. Even when she isn't there, she's there.
So, when Art's hand lingers too long on the outside of your thigh and you think you can feel it verging into the territory that'll change everything- it's Tashi on your mind.
You're beginning to think your conscience sounds a lot like Tashi.
-
Who are you if not obedient to the Donaldson's?
Chasing Lily around a court.
Adhering to Tashi's every request.
Being Art's fantasy.
Being Art's.
Most of the time, anyway. Three hours a week.
Something to keep him bright behind the eyes, maybe. Something to keep him happy. Something to keep him-
Winning?
He tells you he plays better with you around. The way he says it makes you giggle, a girlish little noise that sort of just slips out. He serves the ball with his eyes on you and, sure enough, it lands smack where he wanted it too.
Everything where he wants it. When he wants it.
Shy and inconsequential touches and glances shared just between you.
Until, well- until they weren't.
"Would you like a coffee?"
Tashi's mother had taken Lily off to bed, leaving you and Art separated by an island. Kitchen island.
He braced both palms against it as he watched you watch the door, wondering if you should cut and run, wondering if someone else might come through it.
Talking yourself out of it. Whatever it might be.
"Yes please."
Even he looked surprised, brows raising an inch as he turned to the Nespresso machine. You took the moment to watch his back, the muscles moving under the cool-dry fabric of his shirt.
You spent all your time pretending not to notice him that actually allowing yourself the chance to study him made you lightheaded.
Had he always looked this captivating?
He broke your focus with a coffee cup, sliding it towards you as he rounded the bench. His eyes didn't even waver off you as he took a sip of his own.
It wasn't lost on you that he managed to tongue foam off the tip of his nose.
This was the longest you'd stuck around after a tennis lesson, longest you'd allowed yourself to be in his presence. You weren't quite sure how big this thing could get.
Your mouth was opening before your brain had decided it was a good idea.
"Mr. Donaldson-"
"Art."
"Uh, Art- I really appreciate the help you've been giving me- uh, you know- with tennis."
He placed his coffee mug down, nodding as he did it. "My pleasure."
Naturally.
That brain of yours was still firing off at a mile a minute. There was a very tiny voice right at the back that said it was up to you how this night would end- you had a choice to make.
Placing your coffee mug beside his, you scanned his face to find him already looking at you. Perhaps the choice was already set.
Maybe it was fate.
All he said was your name, it could've been the way he said it- but your whole body was losing the rigidity it'd formed when he first asked you to stay longer. When he'd made the choice.
Crossing the small gap between you two, Art was careful to keep one hand on the kitchen bench as the other hovered beside you. Not touching you,
Yet.
One step closer and the tip of Art's nose was touching yours. You think you might've been able to smell the coffee off his breath.
It thinned out- leaving you with his sweat. Musk. Art.
A sudden surge of morals overcame you, your voice broke out as a gasp.
"What about Mrs. Donaldson?"
"Actually, it's still Duncan."
You screamed.
Right in his face.
Tashi's voice made you jump out of your skin.
However, Art didn't move. As you turned your head to gauge the way his wife stalked across the kitchen, you felt his nose brush against your cheek.
Tashi retrieved a tall bottle of Pellegrino from the fridge, taking a poignant sip as her eyes flitted between the two of you.
What a fucking sight.
Her husband, eyes shut and face pressed pathetically to their daughter's tennis instructor- his hands itching to close around your waist.
You, young and bleary eyed looking utterly caught. Staring up at her like she might decide your fate.
It took all your strength to find your words.
"I’m not here to teach tennis, am I?”
“No, of course not. You’re frankly terrible at tennis.”
There's the Tashi you were expecting.
Her words should've stung, but they didn't. They couldn't, not when her husband was laying his hands against your back and rubbing soothing circles down the length of your spine.
Not when his lips were mouthing wet kisses along your cheek.
Not when she was right. Spade's a spade.
"Why am I here?"
She snorted, a real dissatisfactory sound- like she hoped you were smarter than that. She was halfway to her bedroom before she cut you loose.
"Careful, he makes that sound before he cums."
-
And he had, just like she'd said.
Art had cum in his shorts, pressed up against your thigh with his face still smushed against your own.
And you'd taken it, obedience in spades.
You'd stood there and let him hump your leg like a bad dog and you'd even pat his head and whispered kind words in his ear after the mess he'd made.
Then you slipped out the front door to your car and you'd pretended not to notice that there were two bedroom lights on upstairs.
You hadn't even divulged the freaky details to your roommate when you got home.
But the showerhead knew all about them.
Visions of Art on the clouds of steam- replayed in your head the sounds he'd made right in your ear.
How he'd whimpered your name when he splashed his boxers like a fucking teenager.
It was no surprise you dreamt of him.
You even showed up next day, valiantly. You didn't run for the hills or even straight to a tabloid about how weird the Donaldson's really were.
And maybe that's why you hadn't told your roommate either.
Because telling someone what Tashi allowed? What Art liked?
That'd mean you'd have to admit your dirty little secret.
You loved it.
When you showed up, something was different. No usual chatter in the house, no shoes by the front door. You checked out the front window to see what you'd missed when you arrived.
Tashi's car was gone.
"She's taken her mom and Lily to the ballet."
At least you didn't scream this time.
You were lucky your back was to him, lest he see the self-righteous little smile that broke when the words settled.
"Oh, ok."
"I'll see you on the court."
Oh, ok.
Lest he see the disappointment that took over.
Following him close behind, you didn't know why you were effectively surprised that he still wanted to continue with your lessons. You'd half expected- hoped, he'd bend you over the kitchen island.
Tennis was fun too, you guess.
Thinking about it, something that bold didn't seem the style of the man who'd nearly blacked out rubbing up on you. Beckoning you onto the tennis court with two fingers and a wry smile did, however.
You fell into your usual position, hip turned and elbow curved on your side of the court. You waited for him to appear behind you, chest melding into the curve of your back.
It never came.
Art took long strides towards the net, vaulting it in one smooth motion. He ended up parallel to you, waiting with a ball and racquet in either hand.
The smile had left his face, a rather blank expression taking over as he sized you up. And there was that fear- knowing what it felt like to be on the wrong side of him.
This was going to hurt.
From the moment he pressed the ball to the neck of his racquet, it was all over. Your feet were never in one place for more than a second, your arms burned above you, your head permanently on a swivel.
Art didn't look like he'd broken more than a sweat.
You knew he had, you could see it in the neck of his shirt. But he didn't look it.
He looked calm, he looked in control, he looked-
Like he was enjoying himself.
For every rally that you managed, you thought you saw an inkling of pride set in his features.
For every serve that you missed, you knew you saw unbridled lust.
Not a point scored in your favour, you hit the ball towards him one last time before you collapsed to the turf. Flat on your back, reminiscent of your first lesson here.
You watched the clouds shift over your head, listening to your pulse thick and fast in your ears. Just underneath it, you could hear footfalls approaching.
No hurry, but impending.
Soon, the sun above you was eclipsed by Art Donaldson. His golden hair shone with the halo of light behind it.
Now this was God's favourite.
"You can't be giving up this easily?"
Forcing a laugh, you threw your arm up and over your eyes. "Wanna bet?"
Turns out he did- turns out Art struggled to do anything but win.
Somehow, you found it within yourself to stand back up. This time it was only a practice, you weren't brave enough to face off against him another round.
This was more your speed.
The hand that wasn't holding your elbow was curving around your front, the pleats of your tennis skirt lifting over his fingers. You felt a warm hand slowly moving across the front of your underwear.
Two fingers migrated south, pressing against the seam of you- he must've felt the pure heat radiating beneath his fingertips.
Turning your head even an inch, you found the curve of his nose pressing into your cheek.
"I didn't give up."
He hummed, the vibration rolled across your shoulders.
"Mmm, you didn't."
The hand sans-racquet dropped between your thighs to press his palm into your cunt. It was Art who flexed your fingers and cupped it.
"Where's my prize?"
There was no trophy, no podium, no medal.
But there was Art between your legs, slinging a knee over each shoulder like he might've been the real winner.
You'd never been inside the 'changing shed' behind the court, of course it was nicer than your actual home.
Your head made contact with the hard wood behind you, bench digging into your ass as you felt a hot mouth moving against the seat of your underwear.
Running your fingers through his hair, your gripped the ends of it- tugging him closer until you felt the flat of his tongue through the thin fabric.
Needy fingers tugged the ruined garment down your thighs, tucking him into the pocket of his shorts. You knew all too well that you'd never see them again.
You were sure Art would be seeing a lot of them.
His tongue ran up the split, one long stroke before you felt the curve of his nose press to your clit. The ridge of it moved as his tongue retreated back to your entrance.
With everything he had.
Your eyes had been rolling back in your head as you arched your back, the moment you were able to find a semblance of control- your gaze fell before you.
Naturally, Art was already looking up at you. Two hands splayed across each side of your hips as he pulled back to wrap his lips around your clit.
You couldn't help the hazy little smile on your face as you watched his eyes.
Utterly devotional.
The more you tugged on his hair, the hungrier he seemed. Pulling from the root seemed to spur him on, seemed to tell him 'good job' and he was responsive.
His tongue flicked beneath your clit, pressing it to his upper lip as he brought two fingers to your entrance. He stroked a couple times, making your hips twitch against him, before he sunk in to the last knuckle.
Turns out Art had a style about him. One he brought to the tennis court and, seemingly, to the floor of his changing shed.
The style was calculated.
Every move he made was engineered to get something out of you- a reaction, a whimper, a twitch. He was doing what he did best.
Playing a game.
Art struggled to do anything but win.
"Fuck- Mr. Donaldson."
"Art."
Even muffled against your cunt, you were good at following his orders. Even more so when he was the decider of your imminent orgasm.
You threaded your fingers in the sides of his hair, pulling his face flush against you so you could ride his mouth. Taking every last thing from him you could.
It drew the most pathetic moan you'd ever heard, straight out of his chest and hit you straight at your core. The burning coil tight within your stomach was unraveling quickly.
You heard the murmurings of words, among the blood rushing in your ears. Easing up just enough, you let him pull back to speak.
"Tell me this feels good, please."
Your chest thumped, the sight of Art helpless between your legs was one thing. Hearing him beg?
You might black out.
"Art- you feel so fucking good," Dragging him right back where you needed him, the tip of his tongue drove against your clit. "You're gonna' make me cum."
He whined.
A heady drawn-out sound that quite literally sent you over the edge. Your hips lifted off the bench, the heel of your foot digging into his back and making his whine turn into a whimper.
Your orgasm broke you apart until it felt like white-hot flame licking up your sides. Of course, Art never relented, drinking in everything you could give him- literally.
The moment you felt the peak begin to subside, the urge was ramping right back up. Like he knew what he was doing, his eyes locked back onto yours as he sucked at your clit.
He was going for gold.
A quick second orgasm hit, seemingly out of nowhere. Your thighs clenched around Art's head, his hands coming to each of them.
You relaxed yourself a bit, feeling like it might be too much- until you felt him pressing your thighs even harder to either of his ears.
Oh, ok.
Art Donaldson knew what he liked.
You physically had to push him off you, watching him fall back on his outstretched palms as you let yourself breathe for what felt like the first time.
Wet eyes, wet chin, chest rising and falling like he'd run a marathon- Art sat sprawled out before you like he'd stumbled upon an alter (he had).
Breathless, you gestured towards him. Your hand dropped a little as your eyes fell between his legs, wordlessly offering a deal.
A deuce.
His cheeks flushed, more so than they already were. His eyes fell an infinitesimal amount before he spoke up.
"Uh- I already have."
Of course he had. He makes that sound before he cums.
Instead, you heard him shuffle back onto his knees as he all but crawled towards you. He draped his upper half into your lap, head resting against the soft cotton of your skirt.
Coming off the other side of a high, the reality of your situation began to settle for you. Why they'd really called you here- what purpose you really served.
All you could do was gently stroke a hand across Art's head, feeling him go limp against you. Boneless, but not spineless.
He must've known you were going to speak, he must've heard the intake of breath or just felt you shift. He cut you to the chase- beat you to the punchline.
Art nuzzled his face further into your lap as you felt him mumble against your thigh.
"I can't lose- you."
i can fix him (no really i can)
puppy love
dad’s bf shane mccutcheon x fem! reader
pt2
synopsis: you’ve liked your dad’s best friend for a very long time. the time has come when you can finally have her.
cw;; +18 content! minors dni!! (i’ll hunt you down), shane is 34, reader is 18 in the first part of the fic, alcohol and drug consumption (coke and weed) (don’t do this guys!!!!), fighting, reader being mean, TENSIONNNN, puking, kissing, tattoos, piercings, teasing, praising, degradation, voyeurism (kinda), oral sex (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), cum eating, hair pulling…
you’ve had this silly little crush on your dad’s best friend since you were a teenager.
how could you not? she was beautiful, and successful and so fucking hot… she was unique. you’ve never met anyone quite like shane mccutcheon. so free.
it was innocent at first. you’d always want to spend time with her. she was the person you looked up to after all. she taught you how to skate from a a very early age. she always cut your hair when you’d need a fresh cut, and dyed it even though when she knew your dad would give her hell for it just because you wanted to (she would say sorry, but she wasn’t). she gave you your first tattoo when you turned 16 in a place where your father wouldn’t see. a hummingbird, just like hers. “my birthday present for you, kid” she had said. you could still remember the feeling of her fingertips on your thighs and waist as she tattooed your hipbone. you had tried so hard to not blush and squirm, her touch electrifying.
you could feel butterflies every time your friends would ask you about her in recess, well-known looks being shared when you’d blush. and your knees would go weak when you’d see her at the entrance of your high-school after class, waiting for you leaning against her car with her charming smile. “hey kid.” she’d mess up your hair with one of her ringed hands, hugging you close to her chest. you’d push her away, acting pissed off, when in reality all you wanted was to hug her closer and bury your face in the crook of her neck. she always smelled so nice…
but you couldn’t keep her too close ‘cause then you’d notice the hickeys on her neck, and all those butterflies would die.
your father had you at a very early age, having to raise you all by himself since your mother decided to run away and leave you. and shane had been there since the first second that she had met your father, along with the whole group, helping him push through.
so when you realized that what you felt for her was more than something platonic… your whole world came crashing down on your shoulders.
eighteen and in love with a woman twice your age… so you slowly started to drift away. you’d act busy. you’d started going out frequently, doing drugs, drinking alcohol… getting wasted and sleeping with a bunch of girls to try and forget her.
of course, she’d always find you.
“oh my god…” you groaned, turning around to face your friend with wobbly legs and your heart on your throat. “shane’s here.” you had just left the club, completely drunk out of your mind and with hickeys all over your chest and neck. you couldn’t let her see you like this. you didn’t want to see her.
“what? where?” your friend inquired and you pointed with your eyes to the side and to your back. “fuck. what do we do?”
“don’t let her see me. please, lucile.”
“okay, let’s…” but then she ducked her head, eyes shot open. “oh shit. shit. shit. she saw me.”
“fuck!” you whispered, and at the same time you heard shane’s voice coming from behind you, calling out for you. you tried to ignore her, tried to act as if she wasn’t you who she was looking for, but she wouldn’t give up.
“hey! i’m talking to you!” your whole world started spinning when you felt her hand on your shoulder, turning you around so you could face her. “do you have any idea how worried your dad is? we’ve been looking like crazy for you.” her voice sounded harsh, and she looked pissed. it was when she noticed that you weren’t looking at her, but instead hiding your eyes that she took your face with her free hand, making you face her. “fuck… you’re high?” your eyes were reddish and half lided, pupils dilated. your makeup ruined, gloss smushed. she looked at your clothes, completely out of place, bruises on your skin. “let’s go.” she grabbed onto your wrist to pull you along, but you fought her. she growled your name, slowly.
“i’m not going anywhere. i’m having fun.” you slurred, taking a swing of the bottle of alcohol on your hand. your vision was blurry, and your heart was beating too loud. “hey!” you whined when she took it from you and threw it aside, making the glass break. you whistled at her pissed off look. “somebody needs to have a little bit of fun…” you muttered.
“you’ve had enough, i’m taking you home.” her voice was stern, green eyes angry.
“you’re not my dad.” you said, and she smirked.
“yeah. thank god i’m not, ‘cause if he saw you like this, he’d kill you. move.” you rolled your eyes. “don’t be a brat with me. i’m not putting up with that shit. car, now.” she ordered, and you finally moved, walking towards her car.
you hadn’t shared a word on the whole way and you frowned when she kept going straight instead of taking a turn when the street of your neighborhood came to your view. she noticed. “i’m taking you to my house. can’t let your father see you like this.” your stomach jumped at the thought of being alone with her on her beautiful house. you could still remember how soft her bed was, how everything smelled of her. it was making you nervous. you didn’t want to be alone with her. not when she looked this good and you were this drunk and high.
she parked right outside, turning off the engine and getting out of the car. you followed her up the stairs and inside her home, groaning when she turned the lights on and it hit your eyes.
“fuck.”
“what did you take?” she inquired and you giggled.
“what did i not take?” she crossed her arms over her chest and you rolled your eyes. “i don’t know. some weed. cocaine…” she rose one of her hands to pinch the bridge of her nose.
“jesus christ. why the fuck would you do that! are you insane?”
“oh, don’t act as if you hadn’t done it before… we all know shane heart breaker mccutcheon’s reputation.” you scoffed, and she squinted at you.
“and now you want to follow my steps?”
“maybe i do.” you shrugged.
“you’re acting stupid.” she sighed.
“and you’re acting fucking annoying.” you retorted, grabbing at the sides of your head when it throbbed. “ugh you’re making my head hurt.” your legs wobbled and if it weren’t for shane grabbing you, you’d have probably fell onto the floor.
“woah. are you okay?” you shook your head.
“i think… i’m going to…” you clasped your mouth shut with one of your hands and shane’s eyes quickly shot open before she was hurriedly guiding you to the toilet. you fell on your knees, puking your guts out. she grabbed your hair on a make-shift ponytail to make sure that it wouldn’t get dirty. she rubbed your back with her free hand.
“it’s okay, let it go. that’s it.” you groaned, feeling your stomach hurt. you didn’t want her to touch you, not on this state, but at the same time, you just wanted to lean on her touch and forget about everything.
“sorry.” you apologized, not really sure about what, maybe everything. she hushed you.
“it’s okay. don’t worry about it, okay? let it all out.” after a couple of minutes, you felt your dizziness subside, although you were still pretty high. “stay here, alright? i’m gonna go for some clothes you can change into.” you nodded, resting against the cold wall as you took deep breaths.
“fuck.”
you were cringing at the thought of shane seeing you like this, a complete fucking mess, just when she came back to the bathroom with some clothes on her hands.
“come on. let’s get you up.” she offered you her help to get up, hands on your hips to stabilize you as you took off your heels. “do you need help with-“ you shook your head.
“i’m fine.”
“are you sure?”
“shane. i’m fine.” you repeated, harshly, and she nodded. she wanted to understand. if you were acting like this it had to be due to something.
“alright… i’ll… i’ll be outside if you need me.” she nodded, and left the bathroom.
you sighed, leaning on the counter. you looked at the pile of clothes she had left you, and you took them. they were soft, and just as you imagined, they smelled like her.
you pulled over your head your dress, feeling the cold of the bathroom slide into your bones. your skin rose in goosebumps when you slid her shirt on, feeling caged in her and at the same time so free… you were surrounded by shane. and you were ashamed of yourself. you were supposed to be getting over her, not thinking about how much you liked having her on you. you were deep in thought when she knocked on the door. you had already pulled up your legs the shorts she had lent you.
“you okay in there?” she inquired through the other side, and you opened up for her.
“do you have some makeup remover i could use?” you inquired her, shying away from her green deep eyes.
“oh, yeah.” she passed through you, pulling it from the drawers of the sink along with some cotton wipes.
“thank you.” you muttered when she handed it to you.
“no problem.”
there was this… awkward tension in between the two of you. shane didn’t know what to say. she had noticed how lately you’d gone off the rails, but she didn’t really know why. it was your last year of high school. maybe you were just trying to have fun before college…? she was just worried about you.
you took off your makeup, and she stood there with you, cautious in case you felt like getting sick again.
you were still pretty high, although the dizziness of the alcohol had disappeared once you’d gotten it out of your system. suddenly, you felt this knot in your throat. shit. not now.
“hey… are you…? what’s wrong?” you shook your head, wiping away the first tear that fell from your eyes.
“nothing.” you muttered, but she wasn’t having it.
“come on, something must be going on for you to be like this. talk to me, sweetheart.” she pulled you into her arms, rubbing your back as you hid on the crook of her neck. “hm?” she took your face in between her hands, thumbs caressing your cheeks.
“i love you.” you said, and she smiled.
“i love you too, kid.” you shook your head, interrupting her, your hands surrounding her wrists.
“i love you, shane.” she frowned, eyes shooting open in shock when she felt your lips on hers. your eyes were squeezed shut, heart beating harshly against your ribs. it was just a mere touch, two seconds of contact before she was softly pushing you away, breath fanning over your lips. your forehead collided with her chest. “i’m sorry.” you muttered, and shane hugged you, rubbing your back in soft circles. oh, sweet thoughtful shane.
“why don’t we get you in bed, hm?” she inquired, tenderly. she didn’t think too much of it. you were drunk, high and sad. this had all been a slip. a mistake. she had surely had many before. you nodded, and let her guide you to her bedroom. she always let you use her bed when you’d sleep over, using the sofa instead or sometimes sleeping with you when you were younger and would get scared.
“shane?” you inquired her as she made her way to the door.
“yeah?”
“do you think maybe…you could stay?”
she stood silent for a couple of seconds.
“yeah, sure.” she answered, and you moved to make some space for her. she laid on her back, and looked at you. “come here.” you got closer, and leaned on her chest, right above her heart, where you could hear her heartbeat. her hand laced on your hair, rubbing your scalp and brushing it for you to relax —something she has always done since you were little and helped you sleep—. you had to bite down on your lip and swallow your tears.
“good night, shane.” you whispered.
“good night, kid.” she answered.
the next morning. you were gone. and shane didn’t see you again.
-
4 years later…
“there’s my baby girl fresh out of college!!!” you chuckled at your dad’s excitement. you thanked the taxi driver who waved goodbye and started the car to drive away. “oh god, you’ve gotten so big!” you rolled your eyes, hugging him back as he squeezed you against his chest.
“dad… you saw me a couple of months ago!” you laughed and he grunted.
“kids grow so fast…” he sighed, shaking his head and you copied him, rolling your eyes. “come on! let’s get you inside!” he took your suitcase, pulling from it.
four years had passed since the last time you’d stepped on your city, even your house. that night after telling shane you’d loved her, you’d taken the offer one of your friends had given you to work for her during the summer in NY and left LA, later on having enrolled on the local college to continue your education. it was your dad who would come visit you on the holidays, since you’d promised yourself not to come back after you’d finally finished your degree to… disconnect. you needed change. needed to find yourself. and in reality, all of it was a simple excuse. you just needed to get away from shane. you couldn’t look her in the eyes after that night, couldn’t act as if nothing had happened and you hadn’t kissed her. couldn’t ignore the way your whole body had filled with euphoria and your stomach had blown up in butterflies.
so you ran. and did everything in your power to forget all about it. you had made new friends, met new people, dated, broke up, fucked, partied… you’d lived a brand new life away from her. and somehow…, it still felt like something was missing.
“dad… what’s all of this?” you inquired at the amount of snacks and beers decorating the isle of your kitchen. he guiltily smiled and you rose your eyebrows.
“i may of may have not invited some people to throw you a… comeback party?” you groaned.
“dad!”
“i know! but you know your aunt alice! she’s missed you so much… and angelica wouldn’t stop asking for you to bette and tina. so i thought that a little gathering wouldn’t kill anybody…” you sighed. “we’re just happy to have you back home, baby.”
you felt the itch. the need to ask about her. to say her name out loud after all this years. but you fought it.
“you’re right. i’m sorry. i’ve missed them too.” he hugged you again.
“why don’t you take a shower and get ready, hm? i’ll bring your luggage up your room for you. they’ll get here in an hour or so.” you nodded.
“okay. thanks dad.”
-
shane had been shocked to hear the drastic decision you’ve made in moving to new york. you’d packed and left the same day without even saying goodbye. she had tried calling you, of course she had. at least to try and get to know how you were doing over there in that immense city. but it’d always go straight to voice mail. your dad would tell her that it’s because you were real busy with school and your work. so she’d given you space. she had enough knowing through your father that you were alright. though she missed you. you were important for her. she adored you.
the years passed by quicker than she thought. she had taken over a couple of hair salons that now had her name, and sold her photography to great prices, giving her the chance to move to a better apartment. she hadn’t noticed the change that this years supposed for you ‘till she finally got to see you again, four years later.
you weren’t the same little teenager girl she once knew. you had grown up into this beautiful woman with radiant smile and vibrant eyes. you’d gotten a couple more tattoos, she could perfectly see the tramp stamp peeking from your low rise jeans, and outline the bars on your nipples though your tight top. jesus christ. when the hell had you gotten those?
you were wearing a beautiful lip gloss that made your lips pop, and black eyeshadow and waterline in your eyes. your nails were done in a deep shade of red, yet short.
shane had to take a deep breath when you finally noticed her, walking into your house as you took a beer from the kitchen. your dad and the group was outside by the pool, getting ready to eat some meat fresh out from the grill.
she looked good. why did she look so fucking good? and why was your heart going this crazy? for god’s sake, it had been four years already. you were sure you’d finally gotten it under control, but one look at her and those stupid butterflies were back, along with the memory of her soft lips and electrifying touch.
“well if it isn’t new york’s sweetheart…” she said as she finally reached you a smirk on her lips as she leaned on the isle, to what you scoffed. “it’s nice to see you, kid.” her voice was low, and silky. you wanted to groan. she sounded better than you remembered. but instead, you rolled your eyes, leaning on the other side of the isle to get closer.
“i’m not a kid anymore, shane.”
“yeah, i can see that.” she chuckled, eyes training on your body, eyeing you up and down when you turned around and asked:
“want a beer?”
“please.” you opened the fridge once again, bending over to get them from the last shelf, giving her the perfect view of your tattoo and ass. it read: heaven. “thanks.” she said when you handed it to her.
“no problem.” the two of you took a swing form the bottles, fresh beer spilling down your throat. somehow it didn’t help with how hot you were feeling.
“so tell me. how has new york treated you?” she inquired and you shrugged.
“it was alright. kinda busy with college.”
“oh yeah… as if college were everything you’ve been up to, huh?” she teased you, and you chuckled.
“what do you want to know, shane?” you squinted your eyes. “that the parties are amazing there? that the girls are hot?” she smiled.
“yeah, that’s more like it…” she drank again. there was this easy-going atmosphere in between the two of you. you liked it. you thought it would be harsher to face her. but she was shane. how could it be? she always made you feel safe. “see you’ve gotten more tattoos…” her eyes eyes your arms, where some of them stood. “i like them.”
“oh, yeah. have this friend back in the city that would do them for free if she could practice on me.” you laughed, showing them to her. she took your arm, soft fingertips drawing over their lines .
“well, she’s got talent, i’d give you that.” she whistled.
“yeah. taught me how to stick and poke and everything.” you laughed at her shocked expression.
“no fucking way… you tattoo?” you nodded.
“yeah, so if you ever want a new one just hit me up, i still owe you one.”
“true. the hummingbird. how’s it holding?” you pulled down your pants and panties to show it to her, soft skin in display. “might need a little ink.” she hummed, and you pushed your pants back to their spot. you might need something else.
shane tried to ignore the little speck of ink that she saw more towards your center when you pulled your pants down, but it left her with curiosity running through her veins.
you stared at each other, green eyes on yours for a couple of long seconds before she looked away, beer on hand. she couldn’t.
“where’s your dad?” she inquired, and you sighed.
“she’s out by the pool, getting the grill ready.” she nodded.
“see you later?” you nodded, and saw her go outside, being welcomed by her friends.
well… you were fucked.
-
summer in LA was hot. really hot. and shane prancing around your house with one of her wife beaters and tight jeans wasn’t of much help. you could see her arms bulge as she helped your dad put up a new relaxing space on your garden, where he’ll build a wooden ceiling and put up a few couches for you to relax by the pool.
you were currently taking a swim, small black bikini accentuating your perfect body. it was hard to say shane was having a great time.
“hey kid. enjoying the pool?” she inquired, wiping the sweat off her forehead. it was already almost night, the sunset already had been engulfed by the ocean.
you looked up at her, resting against the edge, cleavage on full and exposure.
“really. the water is so refreshing…” you smiled.
“shane!” your father called out for her. “i’m going out to buy some bear. want anything?” he inquired.
“marlboro reds?”
“got it.” she thanked him as he took his keys and left through the main door, leaving the two of you alone. you bit down on your lip at the thought of it.
“hey shane?” you muttered.
“yeah?”
“can i tell you something?”
“anything.” she nodded.
“bend over.” you whispered, and she followed, kneeling on one knee by the pool so she could get closer to you, and just as you were about to part your lips, your wet fingers gripped on her shirt, pulling her inside the pool. she was gasping for air as she came back up to the surface, wiping the water out of her face as you laughed so hard your stomach hurt. “oh god! you should have seen your face!!!”
“oh yeah? you think this is funny?” she chuckled, pointing at her wet clothes. the white wife beater let her nipples show now. you tried not to state too much.
“totally.” you nodded, taking a step back when she step closer.
“com’here.” she ordered, waving her hand.
“nah, i’m cool here.” you laughed, and shrieked when she jumped at you. “no!!”
“oh, so now the princess is begging for mercy, huh?” you sputtered as her fingers tickled you, grabbing at your sides. “how’s that? who’s laughing now, hm?” she muttered as you begged her to stop, trying to get rid of her hold. “yeah, that’s what i thought.” she left you breathless when she finally decided to let you go, although you two were close, your back against the wall of the pool.
you looked at her, and chuckled slightly at the messy state of her hair, which now stood completely drenched hiding her eyes and getting all over her face.
“what?”
“your hair. is… wait. let me.” your soft fingertips made contact with the skin of her face, pushing away the strands and behind her ear.
“thanks.” she muttered.
“you’re welcome.” you two stared at each other, realizing just how close you were. your eyes drifted to her chest, which rose and lowered in deep breaths, her perky nipples hard against the white of her tank top.
she stared at you. at your long eyelashes, flushed cheeks due to the lack of air and laughter and your glossy plump lips. somehow you two just ended closer, the hands that had tickled you still on your hips, burning your skin. your eyes met, and after a couple of seconds she looked away, clearing your throat and letting go of you, leaving you freezing.
“fuck. now i’m completely drenched.” she looked at her clothes.
“you could borrow some of mine.” you shrugged, and she scoffed. “what? i’m sure some of my clothes will fit you, shane. or do you want to get your leather seats wet?”
“fuck no.” her nose wrinkled up, and you chuckled.
“just what i thought.” you muttered, swimming towards the stairs and dipping your hair underneath the water one more time before getting out the pool. shane tried really hard to not stare at the perfect view of your ass. your dad would kill her. your dad will kill her. why was she even staring at you this way? for gods sake she had seen you grow up…
you turned around, and she quickly looked you in the eyes. “you coming or not.”
oh for sure.
“yeah.” she said before following after you.
-
“are you sure you know how to do this shit?” she inquired for like the eleventh time, and you rolled your eyes. “hey, i just want to make sure you don’t fuck it up, alright? i’ll live with it for the rest of my life.”
“shane, i’m positive. you’re not the first person i tattoo, alright?” you promised, getting the needles and ink ready.
“cool. cool.” she nodded, laying on your bed. your room stood frozen in your teenage years, full of books and pictures and posters. you even had your favorite music records (at least the ones you’ve had to leave behind for college). it gave you this nostalgic feeling that you couldn’t shake off your bones. your father was out with some of his friends, and you and shane had ended up meeting up to tattoo each other. “but-“ she tried and sit back up, but you pushed her down, pointing one of your fingers at her.
“shut the fuck up.” you ordered, and she rose her hands.
“okay.”
she was going for a simple design. a scorpion on her forearm. you’d done some before, so it would be easy. you’d also made a stencil for her, so you would be fine.
you prepped and disinfected everything, putting on your gloves. “okay. where do you exactly want it?” you inquired her, and she pointed at the place where she thought would look best and you nodded, placing the stencil there to let her see if she’d like it.
“yeah, i like it.” you nodded once again.
“alright. then i guess we’re ready. it won’t take a lot, if it hurts too much just let me know and we’ll take a break.” she scoffed.
“who do you think i am?” she sassily inquired and you rolled your eyes.
“hope you choke on your words, mccutcheon.” you shook your head, taking her arm and leaning over to start tattooing her.
“huh, you wish.” she smirked, taking a glimpse of your cleavage. she breathed deeply, squeezing her eyes shut. come on shane. focus.
those fucking nipple piercings… shit. no. don’t think about that.
you noticed her silence and you decided to check up on her.
“you alright?”
“hm?” she seemed distracted. how couldn’t she be? “oh yeah. don’t worry.” of course it wasn’t like she were thinking about your tits. absolutely not. “so… had any girlfriends in new york?” yeah, let’s change the subject.
you sighed and shrugged. “i mean… not really. messed up around but never got serious, you know what i mean?” she smirked, surprised.
“do tell…” you chuckled, playfully hitting her on the arm.
“what about you?” you inquired, trying to not sound so interested. although you were. you truly were.
“could say the same. you know me.” you nodded, and hid your excitement. so she was single.
she stared at you as you worked. fuck. you were so beautiful. new york had changed you so much. you had always been, but now, there was this… something about you she couldn’t put her finger on. she just knew she couldn’t pull her eyes away from you. and that was no good.
“okay. i’m done.” you smiled, wiping over the tattoo to stare at the end result.
“now that’s amazing.” she whistled, taking a look at it. it hadn’t hurt at all.
“told you…” you muttered and she scoffed.
“oh i’m sorry for being scared, you’re the first kid i let near me with a needle.” you rolled your eyes. there was that nickname again. kid.
did she really still looked at you like one?
she noticed your silence.
“hey. you okay?” you pushed away her touch, nodding.
“yeah, i’m fine.” no you were not. what the hell did you have to do for shane to look at you? would it always be like this? will you always be running after her? “so… you up for retouching my tattoo?” you asked and she nodded.
“yeah, sure. could i borrow your gun, though? i’m not that good at stick and poke.” you gave it to her, along with some ink, gloves and new needles.
you got up from your seat, unbuckling your pants. shane tried to not look at you as you pushed them down your thighs, leaving you in a pretty lace pair of panties. her eyes continuously drifted from you to the tattoo gun as you sat on your bed, legs spread as she sat in front of you. there was no comfortable way she could tattoo you in your room, and having her in between your legs, leaning over and so close to your barely clothed center somehow felt more intimate than the first time around. she looked at you as her fingertips made contact with the skin of your hip bone, carefully pulling your panties down just the slightest to disinfect the zone. your cheeks were burning up when her soft low voice caught your attention. “you ready?” you nodded. “alright. if you need me to stop just say the word.” and then there was the buzzing of the tattoo gun and that burning feeling of the needle breaking your skin. you hissed. you knew it was a sensitive spot, but you always forgot how sensitive.
you thanked god the tattoo was small, ‘cause you couldn’t really look at shane too much without thinking about things you shouldn’t be thinking about. she looked so good in between your legs, hair falling messily in her eyes, tongue sticking out and glossing her lips in concentration. the things you’ve thought about that tongue, the nights you’ve imagined her in this same exact position but with less clothing. this was turning you on. it shouldn’t be turning you on.
“fuck.” you groaned. and she looked at you.
“you’re doing good, just hold on a little bit more for me, alright?” you almost moaned. fuck. and now she was praising you. one particular harsh swipe of the needle almost had you gripping her hair. you could feel her breathing against your skin.
this was all too much.
“shane…” you sighed, your hips twitching upwards involuntarily due to the pain.
“i know baby, i know. i’m halfway there.”
you tried to hold in the need to move, but it hurt, and you were getting horny. there wasn’t much you could do. at one particular point, she had to harshly grip your hip with her free hand, pushing you against the duvet. “don’t move.” she ordered, and you bit down on your lip. holy fuck. this looked so much like those dreams you’d have about her…
you could feel your pussy throbbing.
shane was trying her best to keep her composure. but jesus christ, you were writhing under her, letting out this little pained sounds and you were just in a pair of panties and a tank top. it was making it hard for her. you were making it hard for her.
the room was sticky with tension. she could see the peeking of your pubic hair since she had pulled your underwear down, and your skin was so soft…
focus. focus. focus.
but then…
fuck. you were wet. you were soaked.
her green eyes met the wet patch forming on your panties, and she forgot what she was supposed to be doing. hell, she even forgot the fact that you were her best friend’s daughter.
you perked up at the feeling of her stoping with the tattoo.
“shane?” you called out for her, and then you were letting out this sound in between a moan and a gasp when you felt her fingers pushing in between your lips and over the cloth, slowly, teasingly. “oh fuck. what are you doing?” you gasped in a whisper, your hips rutting against her touch. she smirked.
“me? i’m not doing anything.” she looked at you, and slowly leaned closer to you, leaving this soft peck on your thigh. you shuddered. “tell me to stop…” she whispered. it was more like a begging. she needed you to tell her that this was wrong. that she shouldn’t be touching you right now. that it was a really stupid idea. she was your dad’s best friend. and yet…
“i can’t…” your hand laced on her hair when she started softly kissing your skin, lip in between your teeth. you wanted her. you’ve wanted her for so long… “please…”
you whimpered when her fingers bumped against your throbbing and sensitive clit, your hips bucking against her touch. “what’s this, hm?” your cheeks were beet red, thighs trembling under her green stare. “tell me baby, this all for me?” she inquired, leaving a wet kiss on your thigh and you nodded, muttering a ‘yes’ that had her short of breath.
your back arched when she kissed you on top of your panties, her tongue licking the arousal that dampened the lace. at the same time, her hands grabbed at the seam of your panties, slowly pulling them down your hips and thighs. that’s when she finally caught a glimpse of that tattoo that she had barely seen the day of your party. it was above your mound. and it said: ‘lucky you’.
shane smirked, chuckling. “lucky me…” your cheeks reddened, but all shyness and embarrassment disappeared when her fingers dipped in between your drooling folds, connected by strings of your arousal. shane felt her mouth watering. “such a pretty pussy.” you felt so exposed, but at the same time you just wanted to open up your legs for her, let her see every little crevice of you.
you let out this pornographic sweet moan when her tongue draw a long fat strip from your entrance to your clit, softly suckling on it and making your thighs squeeze her head, what made her groan and bury her face deeper into your pussy.
“fuck…” you cried out, your hands meeting her short messy dark hair, tugging at it. why did it felt so good?
she pushed your legs over her shoulders, her warm hands on your thighs as she sucked on your clit, sticking her tongue out for you to ride her face when you’d hump against her. that was until you felt one finger prodding against your hole, easily pushing inside your tight and warm walls due to how wet you were. “that’s it. open up for me, doll.” she hummed when you whimpered, starting to thrust it in and out of you, your arousal thick and white on her knuckles as you thrusted yourself on her finger and mouth.“taste so good…” she couldn’t get enough, eating you like a starved woman.
“shane.” you whined when she added her ring finger, stretching you out. and how could she resist when you sounded so sweet moaning her name? she just wanted to get more of those sounds out of you, make you cum over and over again until the only thing you could remember was her name.
she groaned. “look at you, fuck. so fucking pretty. what would your dad think, hm? her little girl letting his best friend fuck her like this.” you moaned, pulling from her hair. “oh you liked that, huh? like the idea of your daddy catching me with my tongue on your cunt, baby?” you blushed, embarrassed to like the idea of it, the adrenaline rushing through your veins making the pleasure enhance. her fingers constantly hitting your g spot had you so close to the edge… “of course you do…” she smirked, sucking on your clit. you cried out her name, your hips pushing against her mouth. “you close, princess?” you nodded, biting down on your lip. “cum for me, baby. cum on my face. i’ll clean it all up for you.” she muttered, licking at your folds before latching onto your clit. your back arched. that encouragement being all you needed to fall apart, thighs shaking as your high hit you like a tidal wave with a high pitched moan. she groaned at the taste of your white creamy cum on her tongue, lapping at it in need, the wet sounds of her tongue pushing into you and licking in between your lips filling your room. she kept finger-fucking you to help you ride off your orgasm, sucking at your clit to extend it.
you swore you could see stars on your room’s ceiling, thighs shaking and breathing ragged. it had been the best orgasm of your life.
shane finished cleaning you up, swallowing every last bit of your cum before pulling her fingers out of you and pushing them inside your mouth. her green eyes met yours as you cleaned them for her. and you could just think about the fact that you had just fucked your dad’s best friend.
and how much you wanted to do it again…
-
a/n; 😶🌫️
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.”
boyfriend material.
jung jaehyun x gn!reader genre: fluff, fake dating cliche, strangers to lovers, slight angst wc: 6.2k warnings: sensual tension/implications, sfw kiss scene
Although you and Jaehyun had never spoken a word to each other before this class project, he asks you to be in a fake relationship in order to prove to his longtime crush that he is boyfriend material.
“What if we fake dated?” Nearly choking on your spit, you peer up at the dimpled boy in mostly shock, but also curiosity at why the hell he would be desperate enough to ask such a bizarre request from you, his project partner.
The maximum amount of time you have known this man is probably less than 48 hours and despite being in the same class for the past semester, yesterday is the first time you two have actually exchanged words.
“You have to be out of your mind.” The question was a follow up to the story of his unrequited love, which you had been way too interested in from the start because anything is better than working on school work.
Being paired with Jaehyun for one of the biggest group projects of the year had not been your first pick, but you didn’t have much of a choice since your professor used a random generator to assign partners.
Jaehyun barely knew of your existence two days ago, though, you really can’t blame him for your lack of attendance and participation. All you knew of him was that he was the guy with dimples and his name started with a J. But, that’s college. You don’t get to know much of anyone in your lectures or discussion classes.
This is one of the only classes small enough for a partner project, being that it is a seminar class counted toward your major in order to graduate. You really could have gone through all of college without a single group project on your loop, but the universe tested you.
“Think about it, we could be killing two birds with one stone.” Jaehyun gleams, trying to close your heavy textbook to garner your attention. “I can prove to Rose that I am boyfriend material and you can prove to your friends that you’re not chronically single.”
“I really shouldn’t have confessed that I was chronically single. It gives you leverage to use it against me.” Sighing deeply, you narrow your eyes at this man that wears an innocent smile on his face.
The chance to shut your friends’ chatter about your love life is incredibly tempting and Jaehyun is the perfect visual to introduce: charming smile, glossy eyes, deep dimples, tall, nice build. You just know all your friends would be smitten over a man like him.
“Say I agree to this ridiculous idea, how would we break up?” Your interest is captivated now, as you set your pen in the middle crease of the textbook and cross your arms over the table.
“It could be a mutual split. If you want to spice it up, you can dump me or I can break up with you and I’ll cry about it to Rose. She’ll comfort me, realize I’m so boyfriend material and grow feelings for me.” Jaehyun claps his hands together as if he made the most brilliant idea ever.
Scoffing, you roll your eyes at how silly it sounded. Though, a part of you really wanted to show someone off so that your friends would stop trying to set you up with their weird coworkers or their desperate mutuals.
As if you never thought you’d agreed to something as absurd as fake dating someone, you lean back in your seat and ask the one question that causes the moon crescents to appear on this handsome man’s fluffy cheeks:
“So, what’s the game plan?”
THE GAME PLAN: BOYFRIEND MATERIAL
Meet Cute: Jaehyun asked to borrow a charger and never gave it back. Professor does a random name generator for a partner project. You and Jaehyun are paired. The charger made its way back to its original owner in a fateful way.
Who liked who first: you fell for that sexy baritone voice.
How he asked you out: A dozen roses and a candlelit dinner.
How long have you been dating: three weeks.
Favorite thing about one another:
Y/N: cute stationary
Jaehyun: dimples
“Cute stationary?” You squint at his answer with disgust at how lame it is. “That is the best answer you could think of? People are really going to think we’re head over heels for each other.” The sarcasm in your tone is distinct, not going unnoticed by Jaehyun.
“Says the one that said dimples. How original.” Jaehyun fakely yawns, rolling his eyes at the hypocrisy.
“I’m not going for uniqueness. I’m just making these answers easy enough for me to remember if asked.”
“And we’re making me the forgetful one in the meet cute?” Jaehyun pretends to be offended. His hand rests on his chest, followed by a scoff.
You’re growing to understand Jaehyun’s banter, finding that his question does hold some amount of irony. “Whatever, I have class in 15 minutes. Let’s quickly establish the rules and go on with our day.”
RULES: BOYFRIEND MATERIAL
No kissing on the lips.
Don’t tell anyone about the fake relationship.
Sunday Recaps.
Go to one social event with friends for each person.
“That should be good for now.” You electronically sign your name on the document, sharing access rights to Jaehyun’s email. “We’ll add to it if needed.”
“Do you think it’ll work?” As you rush to pack your things into your backpack, you’re quizzically staring at how concerned Jaehyun looks asking his question. “Like, is it going to convince Rose how good of a boyfriend I’d be?”
“Well, you have to convince me first if you’d even be a good boyfriend before you start thinking about impressing your crush.” Zipping up, you wait for Jaehyun to make a move. Anything, this was essentially a cue. Nonetheless, he remains kicking his feet underneath the table and drifting off into space.
“Seriously?” You ask, arms crossed and weight barred on your left leg. Jaehyun’s eyebrows knit together in confusion, unable to read the bewilderness of your expression.
“What?”
This is going to be harder than you expected. What the hell did you just get yourself into?
“This is your cue to say you’re going to walk me to my class.” Your palm lands on your cheek, rubbing away the forming frustration you have for this man. He is far, far, far from boyfriend material. “Forget it.”
“No, wait-” Jaehyun clears the table of his things, shoving them carelessly into his backpack and hurrying to catch up to you. “I guess I forgot to mention that I don’t know the first thing about impressing someone.”
You can’t help the laugh that slips from your lips, “oh, you clueless handsome man. It is such a good thing you’re attractive or else, it would be much harder for you.”
“That is a very backhanded compliment.” Jaehyun’s laugh is so robust that it rumbles your chest. It is your first time genuinely hearing it, as he has been stoic the whole day you two worked on your project.
“We’ll get there,” you pat his shoulder and head toward the lecture doors, “I’ll send you a calendar invite for your first social event next week.”
Jaehyun stands still, eyes scanning the floor and then back up at your fading figure. “Why are you so willing to help me?”
You stop, hand holding the handle to the door. Looking back at him, the smile on your face shocks him. “Because now I feel responsible for making you a good boyfriend.” With a wave goodbye, you disappear into the building.
Jaehyun puts his hands into his pocket and the white clouds float above him in the blue sky. A small smile creeps on his lips as a simple thought causes it to arise. “Favorite thing about y/n is that smile.”
“I feel like this is so abrupt. When did you two even start talking?” Your friend starts with the questioning. You had warned Jaehyun previously about the million questions you two were going to get tonight and told him to be prepared. Remember the game plan.
“A little over a month ago. Jaehyun and I talked in class for the most part.” Stirring the straw in your drink, you’re wondering if your friends can see past your facade.
“Y/N really likes to play hard to get.” Jaehyun takes control of the narrative, you’re perked up to hear what he has up his sleeve. “I asked for their number three separate times. The first being when I asked to borrow the charger, twice before the midterm, and the third when we were assigned as partners.”
“No wonder why you didn’t get your charger back for the longest time.” Another friend jokes and Jaehyun agrees so naturally. Your eyes scan his whole demeanor and he looks completely relaxed. A part of you had expected that he would flounder and be a nervous wreck in front of your friends. Nonetheless, he is doing great at his first social event.
It is your good friend’s birthday celebration at a more upscale bar downtown. The formal attire was mandatory and you had spent the last hour picking up a last minute outfit for Jaehyun at his apartment.
The two of you had already begun planting the social media seeds over the week. Random roses on a Tuesday afternoon. Dinner with a man’s hand holding the glass near the right side of the picture. Your scrunchie around his wrist as he takes his daily gym selfie.
Your friends bombarded you with eye emojis, acting like detectives to figure out if you were seeing someone. Before you knew it, they were all telling you to invite him to the birthday celebration, which you already knew he’d get the invite for. Your friends were dying to meet him.
The moment you two had stepped in, eyes were instantly on you and watching your every step with Jaehyun in your arms. The attention made you sweat, mostly because you didn’t know how tonight would play out and because you’ve never been seen with a partner.
However, as the night went on, Jaehyun was a real crowd pleaser. Truthfully, you had no idea how Jaehyun is as a person. You two barely know each other’s last names, but the impression you had of him was of a more shy and reserved man. Maybe it was the lack of talking you two shared in the first hour of your group project, but he was so enjoyable to be around.
“Hey, you doing alright?” Jaehyun wraps his arm around your waist, causing you to slightly cease action. He notices, leaning down to whisper into your ear. “Is it okay for me to touch you?”
His hot breath and deep raspy whisper against the shell of your ear actually made your knees weak. Your mind takes you to unimaginable places, scenes that you shouldn’t be thinking about with Jaehyun. The grip on your glass tightens and you’re nodding subtly. “Social battery is depleting. I think we should leave soon.”
“Yeah, it’s getting pretty chaotic over there. We should flee the scene before we get trapped in it.” He points to the small crowd forming near the barstools.
One of the mutuals of another friend is hunched over, gripping his stomach and practically dry heaving in the middle of the area. His face goes completely pale and you just knew he was going to projectile vomit in nearly ten seconds.
“Yeah, let’s go.” Your hand finds his out of instinct, maneuvering the both of you through incoming flocks of friends trying to get another word in. You’re saying your goodbyes while rushing out as fast as you can.
“It was lovely meeting you, Jaehyun!” Some call out and he is waving, bidding his goodbyes as if he is a celebrity to his fans.
One push and you’re out the door, into the chilly night that brushes a breeze on your arms. Finally, there is no one else around and no more small talk, you can breathe. “Wow, that was incredible.”
“I’m used to getting out of situations as fast as I can.” There goes that smile that Jaehyun likes, heart racing and all just by looking at you. “Especially with my friends. They’ll talk your ear off if you let them.”
You’re fully aware that your fingers are still intertwined after escaping. Jaehyun’s hand is a bit rough due to the calluses on his palms from heavy weight lifting, but it feels nice. To be held, to be felt, to share warmth – your heart is running a marathon all on its own.
“Sorry.” Mumbling, your hands separate in seconds. Jaehyun sheepishly puts them in his pockets and averts his gaze awkwardly. For a moment, you forgot where your boundaries lie.
“Can I drive you home?” Jaehyun kindly asks. He beckons over at his car parked on the curb and hopes for you to follow.
“But I live the opposite way.” The reluctance causes your body to freeze up, standing in place. At the end of it all, Jaehyun and you were barely friends. Possibly, your mind is still very much aware of that.
Jaehyun almost starts with a whole thing about it being dangerous at night, but he realizes you really didn’t need to hear all of that. It would’ve been an earful anyway and he just needed you to get into the car without feeling bad.
“I know, but I don’t mind.” He says, opening the door to the passenger side for you. Taken aback, you’re wondering if something happened to Jaehyun overnight for this sudden charm he is exuding.
Perhaps the stars in the night sky are playing tricks on you, but you’re beginning to see Jaehyun in a new light.
“So, you’re completely over Rosie?” There seems to be a pattern amongst yours and Jaehyun’s group of friends. Both sides seem skeptical about the two of you dating, often questioning details about how legit this relationship is.
It’s going to be the 4th week mark – one month of keeping up these charades, but making your very fake relationship just shy of two months. No rules have been broken and you’re building your friendship very well with all the time you two spend together.
You’re at the first social event for Jaehyun. Unlike him, you aren’t one to control a crowd and his friends aren’t like yours where they’d talk endlessly. The anticipation of finally meeting Jaehyun’s crush also dawned on you, her name being mentioned very frequently.
“It would be really weird if I wasn’t.” Laughing dryly, he brings you closer by the waist and into his side. To any outsider perspective, it would look as though Jaehyun is trying to non-verbally reassure you like a good boyfriend would. It doesn’t draw much attention, it’s a light-hearted response to an awkward question. He is learning very well.
To you, it feels very staged and you’re trying your best to hide the warmth you’re feeling from how intimate you two look together. “I don’t mean to offend you. Rosie was Jaehyun’s previous fling and it felt very unfinished.”
The way that Jaehyun had described their relationship didn’t seem like a fling, though you know how people use that word quite loosely nowadays. “It’s hard when you’re each other’s firsts.”
Suddenly, a chill runs down your spine and your heart drops to your stomach. This feeling washing over you is foreign, but familiar all at once. The grip on your waist retreats and Jaehyun looks like a deer caught in headlights. A crucial detail seems to be left out and the way your body reacts to it is a surprise to you.
His friends seem to understand the situation, without any exchange of words. They clear their throats and Jaehyun looks about ready to kill someone. “It was a while ago though!”
“Yeah, they barely ever see each other anymore.” His other friend tries to put a bandage on the situation, chuckling nervously at the shift in atmosphere.
Jaehyun's social event is turning out quite terribly.
“Jae?” A voice calls for everyone’s attention. It’s a sweet and delicate cadence, you would believe it if it came from a princess or fairy of sorts. When you all turn to face the owner of that gentle voice, you’re met with someone even more beautiful.
Something deep inside told you that she had to be Rosie and Jaehyun affirmed it with the look in his eyes. “It’s been awhile.” He gravitates toward her, tunnel vision where she stands at the end of it. Jaehyun speaks to her as if there is no one else in the room, including you.
And although you two aren’t actually dating, the needles in your chest are causing you great distress. Watching him walk toward another person with hearts in his eyes doesn’t exactly make you feel joyous. It is even worse knowing that you’re supposed to be his pretend partner and you’re too stunned to make a move.
Having to remind yourself that she is the sole reason this arrangement exists in the first place, you collect your emotions and breathe deeply. You follow behind Jaehyun, strutting up and wrapping your arm around his. However, Rose doesn’t notice and her wide eyes look at you in excitement.
“We haven’t met, I’m Rose.” She is quick to pull you into a hug. It startles you, patting her shoulder lightly at how harmonious she is. You didn’t have much of an image of how she was like, but it wasn’t this.
Starting with your introductions, her facial expressions are incredibly expressive: a mixture of enthusiasm and surprise. “Jaehyun mentioned that he was bringing a special someone.” Dang it, even her attitude is super cheery. “You are absolutely stunning, I hope Jaehyun is treating you well.”
Here is your cue. “Jaehyun has been the best. I feel like I can’t live my life without him now.” Look over. Loving eye contact. Smile. “I feel like I got really lucky with him.”
Jaehyun knows you’re playing your part, but the churning in his stomach has to be butterflies making their rounds. He hasn’t felt much affection in a while and so he can’t tell if these feelings stem from lack of affirmations or because it's coming from you.
“Aw, you’re the cutest.” Rose gives you the lightest touch on your wrist, an electrifying buzz that you want more of. A fleeting feeling. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds to chat because I am totally being a third wheel right now.”
Rose makes her exit before you two could protest. Turning toward Jaehyun, you’re mumbling underneath your breath, “I can see why you’re absolutely in love with her.”
“More of a mild infatuation, I would say.” He leans up against the wall, pulling you into him so he can hear you better. Your hips touch as he lazily wraps his arm around your back.
“Way out of your league, I would say.” You cross your arms, scoffing. “We have our work cut out for us. It’s probably going to be harder than we thought to convince her you’re the perfect boyfriend.”
Somehow Jaehyun looks even hotter rolling his eyes, paired with a small smirk on his lips and a dimple on his right cheek. “I just love chasing people out of my league.”
There is a brief moment of silence between the both of you, staring into each other’s eyes with an unknowing gaze of understanding. In this suffocating intimacy, you could kiss him, open mouth and completely devour him. He could do the same, tasting your hot lips coated in your expensive lip gloss.
So why don’t you?
Why doesn’t he?
No kissing on the lips.
Nonetheless, you break the intense gaze and ignore all the pent up lust you’re feeling in your chest. Bringing your hand to lightly brush away Jaehyun’s loose strands, he catches your wrist mid way.
You watch as he does the unpredictable: soft lips puckered up against the inside of your wrist. Your heart is pounding in your ears, unable to pull away from how much you’re craving him.
All these impure sensual feelings for Jaehyun came to the surface. It’s easy to admit that he is very attractive and if only he knew how to use his charm, he could have anyone in the palm of his hands. The only thing keeping you from falling for him is the sheer fact that he wouldn’t like you back.
No rules against developing feelings for one another, but that doesn’t mean that you should. It was a mental note you kept for yourself to save you a chance at heartache.
“There aren’t any rules against kissing you anywhere else.” Jaehyun whispers against your skin and slowly drops your hand back to your side.
You can’t let it show how much that affected you, how it practically almost caused you to backtrack on this fake dating situation and to jump into his arms. “I didn’t think there was another part of me you’d kiss.”
“Trust me, there is.” His words could have a million different implications, but somehow you knew just what he was referring to. It shakes your core, bubbles your insides. You’re left without any response and no other thoughts in your head besides ripping his clean linen shirt off of his body.
“Hey lovebirds, come and join us for a toast.” Saved by the bell. Jaehyun takes you by your hand, intertwining your fingers.
You send him a quick glare, “we will be talking about this during Sunday Recap.”
“Oh, I plan to.” Jaehyun chuckles, full of soul and banter. As he leads you to join the rest of the crowd, you’re bewildered at the heightened emotions that stick to your chest.
“I think it’s working. Rose asked me if I was free to hang out with her sometime next week.” Jaehyun ever so nonchalantly plants himself on your plush couch. “She never asks me to hang out first.”
“Mhm, that’s great.” You’re partially listening, as you’re fixing up a story to post on your social media of the flower bouquet that Jaehyun bought on his way to your place. “Have fun.”
“Are you actually listening?” He scoffs. Watching your figure walk toward him, you lean down to show him your phone. The image of flowers displayed on your marble countertop with the note very visibly showing who they’re from. Jaehyun nods in approval, hitting the post button before you could triple check yourself.
“Yeah, I’m listening. You and Rose are hanging out next week, I’m glad this charade is working out for you.” There is a small edge in your tone that doesn’t go unnoticed by Jaehyun. He eyes you from the side, trying to decipher the attitude that laces your words.
Something about your demeanor feels off and he’s gotten to know you enough to know that something is bothering you for your lips to turn into a frown. “What are we recapping this Sunday?” He finds that it’s probably best to move on to another topic.
“Why didn’t you tell me that you guys were each other’s firsts?” Sitting next to him, you face him with frustrated furrowed brows and an annoyed expression.
“I didn’t think it was important to mention.” You hated how carefree Jaehyun could be. It makes you feel like you’re overreacting, and in this instance, you could be.
“It’s a bit important. This entire time I thought Rose didn’t like you because you were some lame loser that couldn’t pull someone like her.” Your honesty doesn’t fall short today. It’s as if the more you think about the issue, the more annoyed you get.
Jaehyun, quite offended by that statement, sits up from his normally relaxed position as he is ready to defend himself. “You thought that lowly of me?”
“You made it seem that way.” Throwing your hands in the air, you try to control how loud your voice is growing.
“Or maybe that is just how you perceived me.” He pauses, “Rose and I dated very briefly, three months at most. She broke up with me because I was a bad boyfriend.”
The news of them dating seems to piece all the clues together. The way that Jaehyun looks at Rose makes more sense, it was a look of longing and regret. Rose approached him with full control of the situation, affirming that her decision to break up with him is justified.
“I didn’t buy her flowers, even when she asked. There was a night when it rained and I knew she was on campus without an umbrella, I left her out there because I fell asleep. When we hung out with our friends, I would ignore her.”
You’re taken aback at how negligent Jaehyun had been. “So why did you act that way if you like her so much?”
“I took her for granted and I didn’t know how to be someone’s boyfriend.” It is obvious how long Jaehyun had thought about this. He is too self aware to not have. “She wasn’t going to take me back after I fucked up like that, so I thought it would be good to show her through someone else. How I’ve changed.”
“How do I know it’s not all for show? As if you’re only doing these things to convince everyone you’re boyfriend material until she takes you back and you revert back to your ways.” Your eyes dart to the vase of flowers on your kitchen counter. “There’s no heart in what you do.”
“Are we talking about me and Rose or me and you now?” Jaehyun hits you where it hurts – right in your chest. You’re too stunned to speak, the realization falling on you like heavy bricks.
“Why don’t we talk about us?” You clear your throat, flashback of Jaehyun kissing your wrist entering your thoughts. “What was that the other night?”
Jaehyun doesn’t bother playing dumb. “I was really in the moment.” He rests his elbows on his knees, leaning forward and rubbing his hands together. “Looking into your eyes… they’re so mesmerizing, like you understand me with just one look. It causes my heart to swell for you.”
“You like Rose.”
“I do, but I’m not blind.” He shoots you a glare. “You’re really going to think that I don’t find you attractive the entire time we've spent together, being intimate with you even if it's fake.”
“It’s not that, Jaehyun.” You sigh, “I find you attractive too, but you have to remember the original reason we’re doing this.”
“And I do. But I can’t help the feelings that surface when I’m with you.” Visibly frustrated, you both take a second to pause in the conversation to recollect yourselves. His chest heaves up and down, trying to process these feelings now that he has finally admitted them out loud.
You are trying to keep your composure cool, but it’s hard to bite your tongue from every tight restriction in your heart. You might actually like Jaehyun and it’s not something you are prepared to face.
“I think we dug our heels a little too deep.” Breaking the silence, you look up at Jaehyun with a kinder and more empathetic expression. The heat in the room is suffocating, all the tension filling the crevices in the walls.
“Perhaps, but I wouldn’t have done this with anyone else.” Jaehyun sits up, facing you with a marvel in his eyes and adoration flooding his pupils. “You’re absolutely incredible, in every way.”
It’s your turn to hold his wrist when he reaches to brush your cheek, “Jae, I think we might have to call it quits.”
“What? But we didn’t break any of the rules.” The sheer sadness in his eyes is painful to witness. It’s like watching a young boy learn how to sacrifice something for the greater good. Jaehyun didn’t want to lose you.
“I broke the one rule I kept to myself and it was not to develop feelings for you.” His wrist drops from your grasp. “I can’t do it anymore, Jaehyun.”
“You fell for me?”
“How could I not? You’re such a great boyfriend to me, even if it was fake.” Sighing, you ponder if you should continue. “I’m irritated at how you’d buy me flowers, but it’s a bouquet of my favorite ones. I can’t take it every time you’re so insistent about driving me home to ensure I make it back safe. You get along with my friends like you’ve known them forever. When you look at me in the midst of a crowd and it’s just us two.”
You’re biting back tears that threaten to form at the rim and gripping tightly at the end of your shirt. This is all a tough pill for the both of you to swallow. It’s almost as if Jaehyun didn’t consider this a possibility when he had asked you to fake date. He thought that since he was so infatuated with Rose, he wouldn’t feel anything for anyone else. On top of that, he knew you saw him as some loser.
“I think we need to just step back from this for a second and take some time to ourselves. I’ve been seeing you every week–”
“But I want to see you every week.” Jaehyun doesn’t mean to be so difficult and in fact, he is usually one to just agree and follow through another person’s decision. However, something within him wants to fight for you.
“I can’t keep ignoring how I feel for you and it’s unfair to all three of us moving forward.” The hope and joy in your face is evidently depleting. Jaehyun can’t do anything to fix it.
“What does this mean for our project then?”
“Well, there isn’t any more group work for us to need to see each other. We can complete our individual parts and upload it to the sheet.” It’s like you’ve already thought this through all on your own and prepared for all the counterarguments he was going to have.
Jaehyun scoffs in disbelief and starts grabbing his jacket. “I understand where you’re coming from, I’ll give you the space you need.”
You can’t even look at him, knowing that you’re not brave enough to face the hurt and pain on his expression. It’s all already in his voice. “Thank you, Jaehyun. I hope you have fun with Rose.”
With that, he makes his exit from your apartment. The weight on your shoulders is lifted and despite the hole in your chest, you feel like this was one of the better options. The other being that you just suppressed the feelings until they finally got together, but you realized it may have caused you more harm than ease.
In the midst of Rose talking, Jaehyun finds himself wondering about how you were doing. He hasn’t been able to stop this sinking feeling in his chest since he left your apartment. The lingering thought of you remains well intact, every little thing makes him want to reach out.
“Jae, are you here or did I lose you somewhere else?” Rose chuckles at the stunned boy.
Perking up, he focuses back on the conversation that he had tuned out of a while ago. If you had asked him two weeks ago how excited he was about this hang out with Rose, he would’ve said that he was through the roof. Now, he isn’t sure how he’s feeling.
“I’m sorry, Rosie.” That’s all he could do, Jaehyun knows this too well. “I’ve just got other things on my mind lately.”
“Are things not going well between you and y/n?” She tilts her head and her eyebrows furrowed together, lending a friendly ear.
Jaehyun shrugs, completely unsure how he could explain the situation with you. “We got into a fight. A lot of feelings became involved that I didn’t know how to handle or react to.”
Rose sighs, “we used to fight a lot and one thing I hated was that you never came back for me.” Her fingers lightly dance around the rim of her glass. “I know you take time to process your emotions, but the other person will never know how you’re feeling or how you felt if you don’t tell them.”
He remains quiet, absorbing the advice that Rose is giving. This hangout was supposed to be one where he got her back with him, not one where she consoles him on his current fake relationship with you.
“I think y/n brings out a side of you that I didn’t get when we were together.” Rose admits, giving a soft and knowing smile. “However, I feel like they’re the only person that gets to have that side of you. I don’t want you to lose that shine that they bring out of you. You’re absolutely radiant together.”
Jaehyun seriously cannot believe what he is hearing. She asks the waiter for the bill and is packing up her things. “Wait, Rose. We’re done here?”
“Jaehyun, you and I both know that we were done a long time ago.” Rose gives Jaehyun a light squeeze on the wrist. “You should see the way you look at y/n, it’s full of want and excitement.”
There is a brief moment of realization for Jaehyun. The overwhelming emotions overtake him and before he knows it, he’s running out the door of the restaurant and on his way to the one place he’s been holding back from heading to: the flower shop below your apartment.
You’re typing the last bit of your part of the project, nearly trying every way to not engage with the thought of Jaehyun. The take out boxes of dinner scatter your counter as you speedily work your way through long paragraphs.
The one thing you knew was that Jaehyun had been out with Rose and the pain from that discovery stuck to your heart like glue. You were better off with numerous distractions than thinking about how heavenly of a time he must be having with the literal love of his life.
The sound of your doorbell halts your ruthless typing. With curiosity, you approach the door. You weren’t expecting anyone tonight, so it was strange that there would be someone looking for you. Through the peephole, Jaehyun stands there in all of his glory.
You’re practically tearing down your door at the sight of him, bewildered and slightly annoyed at the sight of him. “What are you doing here?”
“Something I should’ve done that night at the party.” Before you could fully process his presence, Jaehyun dives into you with lips firmly pressed against yours.
His hot hands cup both of your cheeks, dropping the bouquet of your favorite flowers he had picked up on his way here. But none of that truly mattered more than finally kissing you.
Your heart swells at the passion that Jaehyun kisses with, it’s loving and strong. Something about it suits him perfectly, like a puzzle piece that completes the picture. Kissing you confirmed everything that Jaehyun had been feeling up to this point.
Fireworks exploding in his chest, he feels an abundance of endorphins lighting his system. Jaehyun has been into you all along. He couldn’t pinpoint why it had been so easy with you, like there were no expectations held against him to be someone extraordinary.
He found himself buying you flowers, but not just anything simple or generic. It had to be your favorite, just so he could see the way your eyes light up at the sight of them. He had to be the one to take you home, making sure he got to spend every second he could with you and that he was the one that got you there safely.
He wanted to impress your friends, knowing how much they meant to you. And when he looks in the midst of a crowd, all he sees is you.
Your grip on his shirt almost makes him not want to let go, like you’re so afraid of him going away again. Nonetheless, he takes your hands into his and pulls away. The look of pure shock on your face makes him chuckle, a full robust laugh from the chest. He could kiss you again right then and there.
“You’re so cute when you do that.” Jaehyun smiles gently, holding you in his arms so lovingly like he has done so before. This feels incredibly familiar to him, but it no longer feels like a show. This feeling is very real and the swelling in his chest is very much aching at the sight of you. He wants to give you the world.
“We broke our first rule.” Your mind draws a blank after the kiss and Jaehyun smiling before you as if you two hadn’t ended things a week ago. He picks up the bouquet of your favorite flowers, handing them toward you with inviting eyes.
“No more rules, no more fake dating. I want the real thing.” Jaehyun swallows his spit, noticing how dry his throat had gotten at his confession. You’re staring at him as if he was seriously out of his mind. “With you.”
And you didn’t think that at the end of all of this, Jaehyun would be at your door with a bouquet of flowers asking you to be his. You proved to Jaehyun that he could love another, while being a better person for them. You truly brought out his boyfriend material, proving to the whole world that Jung Jaehyun is only boyfriend material for you.

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Cruel Summer
synopsis In the Outer Banks for summer break, you happen to cross paths with the one boy you know you shouldn’t. And there may not be any rules in breakable heaven, but you know it’s going to be a cruel summer with Rafe Cameron.
warnings cursing, angst, smut i.e. minors please DNI!
wc 8k
Fever dream high, in the quiet of the night
You shouldn’t be walking the streets alone.
It’s the first thought Rafe has when he spots your figure from a distance, smooth legs exposed and pretty face hidden. Above him, the argent moon wanes, a half-crescent of silver light that does little to illuminate your features. A lone star twinkles further north of the horizon.
He begins to slow down and squints hard, pupils sharp and thick eyebrows furrowed. You have your head down as you walk along the path ahead of him, worn sneakers kicking up loose bits of gravel from the asphalt.
Of the paltry details he is able to discern, perhaps most valuable to him is your thready, white singlet and raw-cut, denim shorts. Glowing inches of bare skin. Rafe’s gaze skates along the poorly-defined edges of your silhouette, taking careful note of your slender limbs, the shadows created by the column of your throat. His pulse does something strange. You really, really shouldn’t be walking the streets alone, especially not looking like that.
He’s frozen in place, a conspicuous few feet away, when you do finally lift your head and meet his gaze.
You startle as his figure registers, stumbling backward in surprise.
“Fuck,” you curse, clutching your chest with adrenaline-weak fingers. Underneath them, your poor heart staggers forth in quick surges. “You scared the shit out of me.”
The street lamp overhead stripes your face with lemon-yellow light. A thick band of kiss-able cheek, a soft corner of parted lip. You must be a touron. There’s no other explanation for why someone as pretty as you has evaded him until now.
“Me?” He asks, mostly joking as he raises his eyebrows. “What about you?”
You lift yours in tandem, the rate of your pulse acquiescing a little. Through the inches of velvet night that fill the space between your figures, there’s enough solid torso for your eyes to find purchase. Shadowing light defines his chiseled jaw, the strong biceps that become stronger, forearm muscles.
He’s hot. You almost forget that he’s also the stranger that’s blocking your path.
“What about me?” You return, faux-indignant.
“I’ve been walking this path since I was a kid,” he answers easily, taking a step closer. There’s something woody—vetiver, maybe, warmer notes of crackling musk—in his cologne that draws you in. “And never before have I seen you walking it, too.”
You shrug. “Maybe you’ve just never bothered to notice.”
“Trust me.” Rafe pauses, his voice low, gravelly around the edges. “When it comes to girls like you, I always bother to notice.”
You feel your pulse leap. The summer air presses into your skin, an all-encompassing heat, but it’s the sincerity in his tone that really has your warm cheeks burning.
“Girls like me?” You ask quietly, more bashful now.
He steps even closer still, the tips of his sneakers making contact with yours. And maybe it’s the stillness that twilight tends to bring, the way that dead of night suburbia warps time into something meaningless. But Rafe swears, in that moment, that you’re definitely not real. There’s a thin film of sweat that shines over your bare skin, and Rafe swears, bathed in dim moonlight, it looks honest-to-God iridescent.
The way his train of thought is veering toward Jane Austen prose is perplexing. His hand twitches toward yours without meaning to, an absent-minded action.
“Yeah,” he says, his heavy gaze falling over your features slow, agonizingly slow, like he’s trying to commit all of you to memory. “You’re the whole reason I’m out here so late at night in the first place.”
Lie. His father’s stern instruction about taking care of family business was the only thing capable of bringing him back to the Banks in the first place.
He’d only docked at the anchorage near Tannyhill a short while ago, the sky bleeding burnt ochre, dusk his only accomplice. And though he’d managed to sit down at Ward’s desk and get started, the restless whir in his brain had prevented any meaningful progress.
All he’d needed was some air. Clearly, your presence had given more than he’d bargained for.
“What?” You narrow your eyes jokingly. “Because I’m easier to kidnap in the dark?”
Rafe cocks his head to one side, his roguish grin cracking through. “Like… in a sexual way? Or…?”
“Oh my god,” you admonish, breathing out an exasperated laugh. “No way you’re trying to pick me up right now.”
“That’s the whole reason you’re out here, right?” Rafe asks seriously, furrowing his brow in feigned bemusement. “God’s put you in my path because he knows how much I need it.”
You raise your eyebrows appraisingly. “It?”
“You know,” Rafe answers vaguely, waving his hand in the air. His signet ring glints as the street light folds over it. “Beautiful girl with an end-of-summer deadline. Something to live for until the shit I’m running from catches up with me.”
This gets your attention. Your expression falters as the weight of his words wash over you, parenthetical tone with an allusion to something deeper.
And it makes Rafe’s chest ache, the concerned crease between your brows, pretty lips he wants to kiss pulling down into a frown. He’s even about to call it quits on grounds of your worry alone, when he realizes, questionable motive or not, you’re a touron that’ll be leaving in two months.
There isn’t time enough for you to wind up in his fucked-up orbit. He can still have you, he attests, he’ll just have to keep at arm's length; resign himself to touching, not marking, letting the bruises he leaves fade away.
Amongst other things. He adds, definitely overcompensating, “Don’t look at me like that, it’s nothing serious, yeah? I just mean the boring family business I’m supposed to inherit from my dad.”
“Oh,” you say, features relaxing it a little. You cock your head to one side and regard him for a moment, the moon’s glow bringing light to the mirth within your gaze.
When you’d first moved into your grandparent’s quaint beach house a few days ago, never once had you imagined stumbling into a no-strings-attached arrangement.
Not that there was any harm in one, especially not with a boy with as much small-town charm as this one. He’s just enough brash to make this fling a forgetful one, maintain a safe enough distance to ensure your heart remains unharmed.
You blink. Would-be fling. “So I’m something to live for, huh?”
“Worship, even,” Rafe murmurs quietly, his gaze dropping to your lips.
Your eyes widen in surprise, his rough voice rousing something deep in your stomach. “Little excessive, don’t you think?” You ask weakly, clearing your throat in an effort to regain your composure.
“Probably.” Rafe shrugs. So close now, you can almost feel the rustle of his polo as he does so. “Working though, isn’t it?”
A pause. You hate how right he is about that. Trying for more fire, you answer, “Maybe it’d work better if I knew who you were.”
“Fair enough,” Rafe says through a roguish smirk, pressing his tongue against his cheek. “Rafe Cameron.”
“Cameron?” You echo slowly, brow furrowing in thought.
Of the slew of unfamiliar names your grandfather had mentioned on his Outer Banks tour, Cameron was one of the few with enough significance to consolidate for good. The details were a little hazy — something about a powerful patriarch, a Pogue on Kook war gone awry. You’re sure the island slang would rouse more concern if you knew what any of it meant in the first place.
“Like…” you pause, looking up at him in astonishment, “…Ward Cameron who owned all of Tannyhill estate?”
Rafe makes a face. “Of course you’ve heard of my dad and not me.”
“Rafe Cameron.” You say his name slowly, soft eyes widening as they skate over his features. It makes Rafe’s chest ache. “The family business you’re inheriting is Cameron Development?”
Rafe could get used to this. Not often does he come across strangers—let alone pretty strangers—who correctly identify him as the big deal he is. He raises his eyebrows playfully, returning, “You sure you’re a touron, Polaris?”
“Pogue, kook, touron,” you list, shaking your head exasperatedly. “Why do the people that live here speak another language?”
Rafe chuckles appreciatively, strong arm swinging forward as he runs his hand over his buzz cut. Goosebumps bloom as the air shifts. “It’s a superiority complex thing.”
“To hold over tourons?” You half-admonish, mostly tease, the sticky heat of night pressing over you in waves.
Rafe doesn’t miss a beat. “To impress them. You.”
You balk, frowning bemusedly. “Why would you want to impress me, Rafe Cameron?”
“Are you kidding?” A gust of wind lifts your hair from your shoulders, exposing a smooth canvas of bruise-able neck. He could definitely get used to this. “You’ve gotta know that you’re the most beautiful thing on this Island right now.”
“This thing has a name, you know,” you say indignantly, your traitorous cheeks warming. “And it’s not Polaris.”
“You’re sure?” He grins easily, placing his hands on your shoulders, a soft-on-rough pressure that has your skin burning. In one, swift motion, he pivots you on your heel, stretching an arm above you to point out a lone star that's twinkling. “It was right above you when I spotted it, you know that?”
His broad torso folds over you easily, a blanket of vetiver and musk body heat. “The North Star?”
“Yeah,” Rafe says, his head above yours, chin this close to your hair. “Pretty, huh? Sure your name’s prettier.”
A pause. You can feel his chest wall lifting with every breath he takes, a barely-there force that pushes against your back.
“Guess you’ll never know,” you say with a shrug, pulling away slowly. Charming as he is, you’ll be damned if you make the chase that easy. You step out of his sphere of influence and turn back around, regarding him warily.
“Anyway,” you add, beginning to walk past him. “I better get back before my grandparents realize I’ve left.”
“Hey — wait,” Rafe says in a hurry, reaching out to clasp your wrist. Hold you in place. He squeezes gently, jolting fire along veins that are already half-singed. “I can’t let you go alone.”
Your gaze drops to the fingers encircling your wrist, the way his thumb swipes over the skin of your forearm. You blink. “Of course you can.”
“No I can’t.” Rafe pulls ever so slightly, just enough force to return you to his side. “Not in good conscience, at least.”
“Seriously, Rafe,” you argue, drawing your hand back. The phantom of of his touch lingers. “I’ll be fine.”
Rafe frowns, looking over your features carefully. “Why’re you out here this late, anyway?”
Your lips pull down in tandem, a little meaner, a little more defensive. “Why’re you?”
“I know this neighborhood inside out,” he answers, raising his eyebrows.
“So you’ll know that the Clarence Lane cul-de-sac is only two streets away,” you return, folding your arms across your chest.
“Uh-huh.” He beckons you forward expectantly. “Won’t talk very long to walk you there.”
You frown down at his calloused palm, all the rough grooves and ridges that he’d pressed into your shoulders. “Alone.”
“Not on my watch.”
“If you’re trying to be chivalrous —”
“Would it help if I wasn’t?” Rafe interrupts faux-solemnly, splaying his large hard across the center of chest. “If I was only offering to walk you home as an excuse to get your number?”
“No.” You pause, the corners of your mouth twitching despite your feigned disinterest. “Maybe. Yes.”
“Alright then,” he says, nodding soberly. “I’ll be a total fucking douchebag from here on in.”
“From here on in?” You echo, raising your eyebrows playfully. “What? Because you weren’t being one of those when you scared the living daylight out of me ten minutes ago?”
“Shit, I know right?” He agrees apologetically, resting his hand on the small of your back to guide you forward. “I’m such a fucking tool. You’ve gotta make me pay by forcing me to walk you home.”
The warmth of his palm filters through your singlet, a spiderweb of heat that unfurls over your skin. You hadn’t realized, until now, how much comfort you’d find in his presence. It makes your pathetic pulse lurch, heart racing in juxtaposition.
“A five minute walk hardly counts as a punishment,” you say.
“You know what else you could do?” Rafe’s thick brows furrow as he pretends to think. “You could… wait, I know — you could let me take you out. I hate doing that shit. Fucking hate taking out pretty girls. Especially hate paying for them, bringing them home with me for another drink —”
“Fucking hell,” you interrupt exasperatedly, laughing despite yourself. “You know how creepy this’d be, Rafe Cameron, if you weren’t as hot as you are?”
“And rich,” Rafe supplies unhelpfully. “You forgot to mention my lord of the manor shit.”
His large hand sinks lower, a little less chaste and a lot more firm. You turn a corner in tandem and kick up more loose gravel, your grandparent’s large beach house growing in your line of vision.
“Cocky, too,” you return with a shake of your head, shying away from his touch. “Not used to people saying no.”
“Is that what you’re doing?” A few houses away from yours, now. The quaint cul-de-sac ends at a shortcut to the beach, suburbia beginning to thin as you near the trail. “Saying no to me?”
“If I am,” you say, raising your eyebrows at him. “It’s mostly just because I want to knock you down a peg.”
Rafe pretends to look affronted, his bright eyes full of mirth. “After I’ve taken the time to walk you all the way home?”
“Five minutes,” you remind him.
Rafe shrugs. “Feels longer.” His palm makes contact with your skin before drawing back, the rectangle of bare waist that’s exposed between hem and buckle. The heat of his touch lingers. “Actually, no, feels shorter. Five insanely short minutes where I still haven’t got your number.”
“Or your name,” he adds significantly, looking over you with a frown.
“Shame,” you say evenly, slowing to a stop as you near their gate. It’s paneled with driftwood and rustic bamboo, still quietly unlatched from when you’d snuck away before.
This time, when you step away from him, Rafe Cameron doesn’t catch your wrist and stop you. You walk backwards and nudge it open with your hip, trying to ignore the way your bones ache in protest. A phantom of his clasping touch folds over your forearm.
“So…” Rafe trails off helplessly, running his fingers over his buzz cut, “...shit, I mean, that’s it?”
“I don’t know, Rafe Cameron,” you say softly, slipping through the gate and closing it on him. “Is it?”
“Fuck.” His pathetic heart lurches. “I hope not.”
“Hm,” he only just catches your silhouette shrug, any definable features shrouded by velvet night. “I guess all you can do is just keep hoping.”
Bad, bad boy shiny toy with a price
It’s a week before you see Rafe Cameron again.
The sky is a seamless, periwinkle blue, the sun shining over the horizon, a yellow bulb of light. Tepid seawater glimmers below it.
As you roll along the Island Club green in a golf-cart, the coastline dances in and out of sight. You veer to the right as hole nine comes into view, your grandfather and his old friend, Judge Thornton, close behind you.
You don’t recognise him at first. His buzz cut is hidden under a regal, white cap, a salmon-coloured polo stretching over taut biceps. He’s in the process of loosening the Velcro straps of his glove, and as he slips his fingers free, a signet ring glints in the sun.
An identifiable signet ring, with a flat surface of buttery gold. You swallow down the beating heart that’s bounding into your throat, trying not to think about the implications of him being here.
You being here. There’s something about the looming proximity that’s making your chest whir.
When the cart is close enough to cast his figure in shadow, he straightens and looks over, deep, blue eyes squinting hard. Acquiescing. He’s able to recognise you without any extra thought.
The whir in your chest grows deafening. It replaces the golf cart’s ignition as you slow, stopping just short of his figure by the hole.
“Looks like all that hoping’s paid off,” he says by way of greeting, grinning down at you as you climb out of your seat.
“All that hoping, huh?” you return playfully, folding your arms across your chest.
Rafe’s gaze drops with the action, an absent-minded gesture, and he catches an eyeful of cleavage that has him balking. You’re wearing a tighter singlet than you were a week ago, a black skirt instead of denim, shin-high socks with embroidered sunflowers. More gloss on your pretty lips, a sunscreen shine to your tired complexion.
And a visor. Rafe gives it a careless, little flick before responding.
“Think we can make a deal, Polaris?” He asks blithely, cocking his head to one side.
You raise your eyebrows. “Depends on the deal.”
“Alright,” Rafe says, gesturing to the tee below him. “I get this hole below par, and you let me buy you a drink.”
“And if you don’t?” You return with a frown, looking over the green assessingly. The low rumble of Judge Thornton’s golf-cart grows louder.
“I will,” Rafe answers confidently, not missing a beat.
“That wasn’t my question, Rafe Cameron.”
“I know.” Rafe grins handsomely, strapping his golf glove back on. “That is my answer, though.”
You let out a defeated sigh, shaking your head exasperatedly. “What’s par for this hole, anyway?” You ask, obliging as he motions you backward.
Rafe doesn’t answer right away. He steps up to the tee with strong shoulders hunched, a punishing grip on the club that brings his knuckles to a blanch. When he swings, the metal heel clips the golf ball neatly, its trajectory through the air a majestic, half-crescent. It lands just short of the putting green, a few feet from a hole-in-one.
Behind you, your grandfather wolf whistles appreciatively. You blink.
“That was a beautiful shot, son,” Judge Thornton says then, stepping past you to give Rafe’s back a firm pat.
“Beautiful shot for a beautiful girl,” Rafe says smoothly, flashing you a quick, roguish wink as he straightens.
The compliment roars through your traitorous cheeks, a burning heat. You say, fighting hard to maintain nonchalance, “Par, Rafe Cameron.”
“Four,” he answers through a smirk, pressing his tongue against his cheek. “Does two under mean two drinks instead of one?”
“Woah there, country club,” you return playfully, trying not to smile. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Your ball’s on the putting green, you haven’t even got it in yet.”
“C’mon,” he faux-chastises, raising his eyebrows. “What did I say before?”
“Something fucking cocky, I’m sure,” you snort out, shaking your head exasperatedly.
“Cocky or not,” he returns, plunging the club back into his bag, “I was right.”
“Not quite.” You watch him jog it backward with raised eyebrows. “Not yet.”
He grins devilishly before turning around and quickening his pace, the heavy bag gathering grass stains as it trudges along behind him.
There’s no denying the mild amusement on your features as you watch him, though it’s only once Rafe’s well out of earshot that someone addresses it.
“Ward’s kid, huh?” your grandfather says, raising his eyebrows appraisingly. Rafe’s poised and ready on the putting green, now, his strong forearms flexed, the sun’s shadow making them ripple. You swallow instinctively. “How do you two know each other?”
This gets your attention. You tear your gaze away from Rafe as he taps the ball forward, just enough force behind his mallet to make the ninth hole in two. “Hm?”
“Your acquaintance with the Cameron boy, my dear,” your grandfather repeats, regarding you with steely-eyed disapproval. “How long has this been going on for?”
You grimace abashedly, looking equal parts helpless and defensive. “We aren’t… well, I wouldn’t say we’re acquainted, per se —”
“Now listen,” your grandfather interrupts sharply, his gruff voice austere. “That boy may come from a very reputable family, but there’s no denying that trouble seems to follow him everywhere he goes.”
“Grandpa,” you groan, burying your head in your heads. You do not want to be having this conversation with him right now.
Or ever, for that matter. It isn’t as though this fling with Rafe Cameron is capable of turning into something serious.
Right? You add, your quiet voice muffled weaker by sweaty palms, “I’m not — I mean… we aren’t –”
“And that’s not to say,” he continues grimly, more to eschew an argument than anything particularly paternal, “that I forbid you from seeing him. God knows he’s still far better than the pogues your mother would bring home.”
Your diffidence eases a smidgen, head lifting again and pretty smile shining through. Through the corner of your eye, you catch a smug-looking Rafe Cameron with his putter raised above his head, thick biceps stretching.
“You think so?” You ask absently, a little distracted now. Rafe relaxes his shoulders and jerks his thumb toward the Island Club, mouthing, through a satisfied smirk, “Come find me when you’re done, yeah?”
A terrifying emotion sears through you. You send him a playful glare before turning away, meeting your grandfather’s weary gaze with something akin to embarrassment.
“Sorry,” you say sheepishly, grimacing again. “You were saying? About Rafe?”
A pause. Something within his stern features softens. “You’ll promise me one thing?”
“Anything.”
“You’ll take everything he says with a grain of salt?”
“C’mon, grandpa,” you chide, elbowing him playfully. “You really think I’d fall for his little douchebag act?”
“My dear,” he returns sagely, raising his eyebrows. “You can’t blame me for worrying. It’s a tale as old as time. How else do you think I got your grandmother?”
—
Rafe’s already ordered you a Mai Tai when you find him.
He’s drinking whiskey neat, the deep colour of thick molasses, lounging back against a chair that overlooks the yawning green. When he spots you, he’s quick to lean forward and straighten. The front legs of his chair slant down and strike the ground with a thud.
“What?” You fold your arms across your chest, pretending to look affronted. “I don’t come across as someone who also likes straight whiskey?”
“D’you want to swap?” Rafe offers with a grin, sliding his low ball across the table.
You raise your eyebrows dubiously, sidling into the seat opposite his. The drink in front of you is sunset tangerine, a heady mix of tropical citrus and sweet, orgeat syrup. “That easy, huh?”
Rafe presses his tongue against his cheek, regarding you with mild amusement. “Anything for a name, Polaris.”
“And what if I say no?” You return, taking a long sip of your drink. Remnants of sticky Curacao hang back as you acquiesce, mixing with saliva to make your full lips shine.
“I mean,” Rafe says, his voice lower now, more gravelly. His eyes drop to the column of your throat as you swallow, soft inches of bare skin that are waiting to be marked. “There’s nothing I can do about that.”
He leans forward and swipes his thumb over your bottom lip gently, just enough pressure to gather the glossy, Mai Tai film. When he brings it to his own mouth, his heavy gaze holding firm, it’s sweeter than he remembers it, more you than the orange liquer of his youth. “But I’ve realised,” he adds after pause, pulling away. “That a need-to-know basis doesn’t have to be so bad.”
Your eyes widen in surprise, hand lifting to your chin on instinct. The pads of your fingers press over your bottom lip, feeling the phantom of his touch, the soft nerve-endings he singed.
“Exactly,” you agree after a beat, swallowing thickly. “If anything, it’s better if you don’t know my name.”
Rafe cocks his head to one side, an imperceptible something flickering over his blue irises. “How so?”
You don’t miss a beat. “Makes things more interesting.”
Rafe picks up his wide-rimmed glass, taking a generous pull of whiskey. “And the other way around?” He asks, the auburn liquid burning as he swallows. “Am I less interesting as Rafe Cameron to you?”
“Not at all,” you answer honestly, shaking your head. “My name doesn’t carry the same weight that yours does.”
“Bad weight,” Rafe infers, a funny ache in his chest.
“Mm-hm.” A pause. There’s no way you’re thinking straight right now. “So bad that it’s good.”
Killing me slow, out the window
You’d decided against providing Rafe with any means of contacting you.
Save knowing where you live and your affinity for moonlight trysts, you’ve given him little over nothing to work with since he’d bought you a Mai Tai.
Not that it mattered. Somewhere between your first meeting and now, he’d made a habit of sneaking through your grandparent’s driftwood gate and waiting below your window for you.
Admittedly, there’d been a hankering in his chest since your Island Club rendezvous. Though you’d politely declined his offer to walk you home that day, the promise of more had permeated the air between you.
Harder when you’d pulled him closer. The kiss had been quick and fleeting, soft lips tinged with longing, and his rough hands had only just found purchase when you’d broken it.
“Later,” you’d said in cryptic yearning, ducking away from his figure and disappearing through the exit.
And of course, he’d taken you up this on this offer, finding his way to your grandparent’s front porch that night, rough heat in the stillness of suburbia.
Another kiss to seal your fate. His was doomed the second you’d slipped away.
Tonight, the air is thick with honeysuckle and the trill of cicadas.
You unlatch your window and push it open fully, the thick heat of June curling over you unrelentingly. You duck your head through the opening and peer into the back garden, a canopy of indigo dusk overlaying the perennials. No Rafe within the flowers. Your traitorous heart aches.
It’s as you’re preparing to pull back that a rustle of movement catches your eye. It crawls along the dimly lit path until it’s right below you, a vague form with broad shoulders that you recognise, strong forearms.
“Waiting for me, tonight?” He asks quietly, raising his eyebrows up at you. “I’m touched.”
“God, shut up,” you bite back, smiling despite yourself. “What are we doing tonight?”
He shrugs cryptically. “You’ll see.”
It’s how you find yourself in a secret alcove on the edge of the beach, two towels splayed out with a bottle of French label connecting them.
You’re sitting opposite each other, cross-legged, the tips of your knees touching, jolts of electricity that hold you in place.
You reach for the bottle and take a careless swig, the bottom of your singlet riding up from the action. Rafe’s eyes drop to the taunting rectangle of exposed skin, silvery moonlight making it glow iridescent. He swallows thickly.
“Okay,” you say, handing it over to him. “Truth or dare?”
Rafe presses his tongue against his cheek mirthfully, still looking over at you as he tips back the bottle. “Truth.”
“How’d you find this place?”
A pause. Rafe looks over the weathered walls of the alcove, his eyes lingering over familiar ridges, the grooves his mother traced over when she’d first brought him here.
“I didn’t,” he says after a beat, the revelation searing through his chest like a knife. “My mom did.”
“Oh.” You regard him for a moment, your mischievous smile faltering a little. “Do you think about her often?”
Rafe hesitates. He takes another steely pull of the wine before thrusting it toward you, quick to avert his gaze. “That’s two questions, Polaris. It’s my turn.”
“Right,” you say, frowning slightly. You accept the bottle and take another long sip, your soft lips stick with saliva and warm liquor.
“Truth or dare?”
“Hm.” You pause, turning toward the poorly defined coastline in the distance, inky night descending over a slurry of dark waves. “Dare.”
“I dare you,” Rafe says deviously, swiping the bottle from your grasp, “to go for a swim.”
You tear your gaze away from the horizon, raising your eyebrows. “That’s it?”
“Naked.”
There’s only a moment where you falter, a split- second of uncertainty. Had you not already consumed half a bottle of expensive wine, you probably wouldn’t have had it in you to go through with something so brazen.
There’s a blur to your vision that has Rafe liquefying around the edges. You nod curtly and stand up, a coy smile dancing over your features.
“On one condition,” you say, voice smooth and saccharine sweet.
“Anything,” Rafe answers, and means it, too. He discards the near-empty bottle and pulls himself onto his feet, your gaze lifting up as his shadow folds over you.
“You count to five before following me.”
“Fuck,” Rafe groans, reaching forward and pinching your hip indulgently. “Fine. Alright. One —”
You break free from his grasp and tug off your thready singlet, throwing it into his chest before turning around and running forward. Rafe watches as articles of clothing fly onto the warm sand, watches the soft curves of your silhouette, the way you shrink as you grow bare.
By the time he’s counted to five, you’re already submerged in the water. Your exposed limbs glisten in the moonlight as you wave him over, and as he follows your fabric trail, Rafe feels a strange pull that makes him falter.
He’s a few feet away from you, now, and the pulse in his wrist isn’t capable of bounding faster.
“It’s warm, I promise,” you say, running your fingers through your wet hair.
“Fucking hell.” It’s an unrelenting rhythm, and his fingers shake as he fumbles with his own clothing. “You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?”
“In a good way?” You ask. You watch as his arms muscles ripple in tandem with the waves, almost balking at the ease with which he wades through the water.
He’s in your space before you can so much as blink, his rough hands skating along your bare back. “The best way,” he murmurs, pressing you against him indulgently.
“Guess that makes two of us, huh?” You mumble back distractedly, wrapping your arms around his neck. He nudges the slant of your jaw with his nose, coaxing your head to fall back, column of your throat exposed. Wet, hungry kisses sponge the skin he finds there.
“Hm?” He hums, the sound reverberating through your skin.
“You’re the best kind of bad weight,” you breathe out, a little distracted. His tongue is this close to rolling over your hard nipple. “And I’m the best kind of death.”
There’s no coming back from making love in the middle of the ocean.
In that moment, though, alcohol in your veins and Rafe everywhere, you realise, as the needy ache sears through you, that you couldn’t care less.
Control is overrated. For Rafe Cameron, you’d pick cruel over safe anyday.
And it's new, the shape of your body
“Shit, Rafe,” you breathe out, awestruck, staring down at the vintage bottle of champagne that he’s holding. “No way you just happen to have 1990 Cristal lying around.”
A dim row of wall sconces bathe the scene in yellow light.
The air feels stale as it bears down on you, thick and untouched, every bottle you disentomb exhaling a fresh cloud of must.
“What?” Rafe furrows his brow in mock thought, swiping over the chalky film of dust on the label. “This old thing?”
“Shut up,” you chide, swatting his chest playfully. “You have to know it’s worth like, $10,000, easy.”
Rafe’s blue eyes lift to yours, a glimmer of mirth painting them softer pastel. “Good enough to open, you reckon?”
You balk. “You’re kidding.”
There are a torturous, few inches between your figure and his, a little less when you consider the champagne bottle’s width. A faint, yeasty scent, some vetiver, a little bergamot, enough emanating body heat to rid the air of your alcohol-heavy lungs.
Rafe’s long retired the baseball-style shirt he was wearing when you’d first arrived, the mood lighting etching every line on his torso. His shorts hang low on his hips, belt free, revealing the devastating V that defines his lower abdomen. He passes the bottle between his hands absentmindedly, strong shoulders square and thick biceps tensing.
“C’mon, Polaris.” He raises his eyebrows faux-appraisingly, holding the neck away from your face. “Do I ever kid when it comes to expensive shit?”
He holds your gaze as he peels away the aureate foil, uncorking the screw and releasing wisps of white smoke. No brilliant spurts of foam, no deafening fireworks, and yet — you still feel that quick flurry of hope.
You reach for the bottle just as he pulls away, nimble fingers swiping still air instead of Cristal. He tsk-tsks softly before bringing it to your mouth, the cool rim bruising the pillow of your lips as he slants it forward to permit a pull.
It’s all effervescence and a hint of citrus, candied fruit and truffle within the melange. Rafe’s gaze skates along your neck as you swallow, his pupils dilating as he takes a gulp himself.
“More?” He murmurs absently, more an ulterior motive than anything particularly gallant.
“Mm-hm,” you answer, lips parting obligingly. He pinches your chin between his forefinger and thumb gently, tilting it up so he can tip more in. The wetness on the bottle rim leaves your soft lips shining.
Rafe stares down at them, all pupil now, with something akin to reverence. “Can I have a taste?” He asks quietly, setting the bottle on a table beside him.
Your breath hitches. The criss-crossing shelves of the wine cellar press into your back, a firm pressure, though the heat of his gaze feels far heavier. He cages you in by placing his arm on the wall adjacent your figure, bicep to ear. And he’s so close, his head ducking to yours, lips a hairsbreadth away and yet still so far.
You lean in first.
There’s a tentative press of your lips on his before he gathers his bearings, pushing into you fully. The weight of his torso holds you against the shelves, a sloven, almost discomposed air to his movements. Like he’s desperate, memorising your mouth through rough, teeth scraping kisses.
His lips drag along your jaw, the smooth expanse of your neck. And when he finds the sensitive spot beneath your earlobe, bruising it amaranthine, you have to bite down on your soft cheek to suppress the moan it elicits.
“Don’t do that,” he murmurs into your skin, like he’s worshipping you. “Wanna hear you, sweetheart.”
There’s a mess of warm limbs and discarded clothing as he paws at your layers, eager to feel you fully.
And though you’d never once imagined you’d make love in a wine cellar, the way Rafe Cameron rocks into you, slow, agonisingly deep, makes you feel as though you’ve been missing out on a whole avenue of sexual misdemeanours.
He’s in tune with your body in a way you didn’t think possible. Every thrust of his cock has your tender clit swelling, the stale air filled with the lewd sound of your wetness. And he’s a man starved as he fucks you, his needy tongue swirling over your nipple, rough hands groping every inch of soft skin.
“Fuck, you feel unreal,” he grunts out, a thin sheen of sweat making his chiseled torso shine.
“Mm,” is all you can manage in response, fingers gripping his broad shoulders, a needy ache at your core. “K—Keep going —”
“Yeah?” He encourages, his own orgasm close to apex. “You going to cum for me, angel?”
And when you do, hot pleasure shaking through you in waves, it isn’t the first time, nor the last, that Rafe’s made you finish since you’d arrived.
There’s something about being around him that tends to charge the air with hungry static.
A little later, when you’re lying in his bed, details hazy, you turn your head and look over his vaguely obscured features. A lone band of silver moonlight spills through his slightly ajar, bedroom window.
“Rafe Cameron,” you whisper, angling your body toward his.
He shifts in tandem, his vivid, blue eyes like glow-in-the-dark stars. “What’s on your mind, Polaris?”
There’s an ache in your chest that’s difficult to explain. It enfolds the heart within your ribcage and squeezes, a heavy, cloying pressure that’s fairly unrelenting.
If only you knew that you aren’t it’s only victim.
“I don’t know.” A pause. Rafe reaches out before he can help himself, tracing over the planes of your face with his forefinger. Along your cheekbones, the pert tip of your nose. The Cupid’s bow above your lips. There’s a soft on rough juxtaposition that he’s trying to commit to memory. “Summer’s ending in a month.”
“I know,” he murmurs softly, barely audible. He thumbs over pillow of your bruised bottom lip, faltering.
“I’m leaving in a month,” you say quietly.
“I know.”
Another pause. You reach up and clasp his outstretched wrist gently, squeezing the pulse within it that’s staggering. “How come I only feel like this when I’m meant to be sleeping?”
“The same reason you were out that night that we met,” he answers, coaxing your fingers free to intertwine with his. “Easier to think when the world isn’t listening.”
“I feel like,” you hesitate, exhaling carefully, “like this is going to end badly.”
Rafe moves a little closer, his hip brushing against your thigh. “Probably.”
“But hey,” he adds, bringing both of your hands down. He leans in and presses a kiss on your lips, harder, more pressure, his figure bearing down. “Let’s leave worrying about that for when it comes, okay?”
It's cool, that's what I tell 'em
Polaris: my grandparents aren’t home tonight btw
“…and — eh! Hey now, country Club,” Barry rebukes, his metal crown glinting as he bares his teeth. “I ain’t got the time to say this shit again.”
Rafe peels his gaze away from his phone screen forcibly, feigning a cool sense of disinterest. “What?”
Barry pauses, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “Who you texting?”
“Shit, relax, no one, alright?” Rafe answers in a hurry, locking his phone and sliding it into his back pocket. He raises his arms in placating surrender, trying to ignore the restless whir of his insides.
“Now I know that ain’t true,” Barry throws back, waving his weathered pocket knife at his face knowingly. “You ain’t been in this room for a while.”
Rafe swallows evenly, leaning back into Barry’s dirty couch and spreading his thighs against either armrest. “I’m listening.”
“No you ain’t,” Barry snorts back, shaking his head. “You been texting since you came. What…Mrs Country Club asking you where you went?”
The taunt makes Rafe’s face crumple, if only for a split-second, and the realisation that dawns on Barry’s features tells him he’s lost this battle.
“Well, shit,” he goads, wolf whistling lewdly. “A Mrs Country Club, huh. Didn’t even know that you had one of those.”
“I don’t,” Rafe answers, gritting his teeth.
“Why you getting your little panties in a twist then, eh?” Barry smirks smugly, regarding Rafe with mild amusement. “Where you two meet? Brunch, or some shit?”
“There’s — it’s not like that, okay?” Rafe responds wearily, running his fingers over his buzz cut. “We’re just fucking. No strings attached.”
“Shit, doesn’t look like no strings,” Barry raises his eyebrows, gesticulating with his knife. “You been off your game for a while now.”
Rafe balks, frowning bemusedly. Sure he’s had to cut a few business meetings short, cancel a trip or two to Barry’s because he didn’t want a date to stop.
But it isn’t as though he’s with you every second of every day, is it? Thinking about you within these parameters of time is different to your physical presence.
Right? He says, voice hoarse and unconvincing, “Whatever, bro. You’re full of shit.”
“And you, Rafe,” Barry returns, scoffing exasperatedly, “ain’t listening to me.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Rafe dismisses frustratedly, a muscle in his jaw ticking. “What were you saying? I’m fucking listening.”
Barry ignores him. He walks forward and squats just short of the couch, face to face now with his brown eyes narrowed. “She the reason you been avoiding these parts the last few weeks?” He accuses, cocking his head to one side.
“I’ve just been busy, alright?” Rafe answers gruffly, keenly avoiding the question.
“Huh.” Barry runs his tongue over his metal crown, his own jaw tight. “With Mrs Country Club.”
Rafe feels his phone vibrate with another text through his linen shorts. It’s as though, when the urge to check it surges through him, when the forefront of his mind works furiously to place his absence elsewhere, that he realises he needs to give in and stop fighting it.
You. Brazen as his taunts are, there’s some truth to what Barry’s saying.
Every spare moment Rafe’s had in the past few weeks, he’s wanted to spend in your presence. Sunset walks that end in moonlight trysts, endless hours of pillow talk, skinny-dipping at the beach. He’s tasted more champagne through your lips than he has a bottle, marked more of your soft skin with purple bruises than he thought possible. A criminal amount of touching. Don’t even get him started on the looking. Rafe thinks, the course of the cruel summer coming to fruition, that he’s done more memorising of you than school’s taught him. God, he’s in love with you, and the revelation is dreadful.
This wasn’t part of the plan. You’re leaving the Banks in a week or two.
“There,” Barry says after a beat, tapping the sharp edge of his pocket knife against Rafe’s forehead. “Shit’s clicking, ain’t it?”
“Yeah,” Rafe answers in a rush, straightening. “I need to get my priorities straight.”
“And what might they be?”
“Not this.” Nothing else has ever felt more obvious. “Not any of this. Listen, Barry, I’m done.”
I'm drunk in the back of the car
You aren’t quite sure what set you off.
The pair of you were a few drinks deep when you’d felt it, that deep, cloying ache that’d been plaguing you since you met him. It was a sudden blow to the system, this ticking time-bomb of an arrangement, and the Island Club clamour in your ears was only heightening your emotions.
It was the same timbre of obnoxious as on your first rendezvous, a reminder of the day he’d used a Mai Tai to covet you. Frightening to think that that was a mere two months ago, the whirlwind of a summer romance with him feeling far longer.
Moments from ending. You were forty-eight hours away from being fully packed up and leaving.
So when that stupid, Taylor Swift song blares through the car radio, the same one you were listening to when he’d startled your midnight walk, you forgive yourself for the thick, hot tears that well to the surface.
Rafe’s struggling with his own hankering heart as they surge forward. He’s been stealing long, wistful glances at you throughout the car ride home, selfishly driving the scenic route in an attempt to avoid what’s coming. The fact that your skin glows in silver moonlight—a neck that he’s marked with a bouquet of bruises, smooth legs that he’s felt encircling his torso—is but an added bonus to an otherwise excruciating end to summer.
He isn’t sure when exactly it happened, but somewhere within the haze, you begun taking precedence over his father. He stopped thinking about retribution, his dauntless greed ebbed, and the situation with the cross and the pogues meant far less. Almost nothing, as he registers the falling tear on your cheek. It sears him with a fresh swell of longing, car beginning to slow as he pulls up beside your grandparent’s beach house.
He unbuckles and leans forward, placing his hand on your thigh and squeezing gently.
“What are you doing?” You ask in a strained voice, shying away from his touch. You turn away lest he see you cry, scrubbing your cheek in a hurry.
“Polaris.” Rafe reaches up to cradle your jaw, feeling his chest tighten when you flinch. “You’re crying.”
“I’m drunk,” you mutter, looking away from him. A fresh steam of tears flow down your face, creating a trail of hot fire that makes you ache.
“Talk to me,” he tries again, sounding more desperate than he wants to. He moves his arm around your headrest, the other finding purchase on the centre console. An all-encompassing figure in your periphery, the way he’s always been, the way you’re doomed to remember him.
“About what?” You ask, voice breaking as it rises.
“What — what’s on your mind?” Is it the same as what’s on mine?
“What do you think, Rafe Cameron?” You let out an exasperated sigh, muffled weaker by the sound of a strangled sob. “I’m leaving in two days.”
A pause. You turn toward him bravely, the whites of your eyes tinged red with a spiderweb of tears. “You’re staying.”
Rafe swallows. The pads of his fingers brush over the bare skin of your shoulder. “I thought that’s what we agreed on.”
It comes out all wrong — Rafe didn’t mean it like that. He grimaces when he catches the way your face crumples, cruel buzzcut a little longer, almost swaying as he shakes his head. “That’s not — I mean — I’m not saying I’m happy with —”
“No… I, whatever, I get it,” you interrupt languidly, swallowing down another sob. “We… it was no-strings-attached for a reason.”
“I’m bad news,” he reminds you quietly, honest-to-God yearning.”
“And don’t even know my name,” you agree, equally as quiet, a touch more subdued.
Rafe feels his own eyes burn, the unshed tears in your making them vague and glossy. “Not for lack of trying,” he murmurs.
“Glad I held my ground, anyway,” you whisper back, biting down on your cheek roughly. “It’s better this way.”
Is it?
Rafe doesn’t think so. His gaze falls to the same lips he’s memorised with his kisses, sometimes soft, something hard, and he really doesn’t think so.
“If you say so,” he allows after a beat.
“I do.” A pause. “I’m fine.”
Rafe forces himself to draw his arm back to his side. “You’re sure?”
“Of course I am,” you answer with a nod, averting your gaze as you click open the passenger’s side door. “Listen. Thank you. For… for showing me around, for taking me out, for making this summer so fucking incredible.”
Too fucking incredible. There’s a sad voice in your head that’s screaming in protest, growing louder, more desperate, with every inch of added distance.
“Hey,” Rafe calls, clasping your wrist as you pull away. “I — wait. That’s it?”
You look down at the rough fingers as they encircle it, wide-eyed and fairly close to acquiescing again. “That’s it,” you echo, forcing yourself to meet his gaze.
“Well,” he retrieves his hand, running his palm over his buzzcut distractedly, “Now it’s my turn to talk
You exhale slowly, watching him. “About what?”
“Shit, Polaris, maybe the fact that I’m in love with you?” He says incredulously, torso over the center console now. He’s looking up at you with enough intensity to revive burning embers, dry the tears on your cheeks until your skin feels vulnerable.
You balk, frozen in place as your eyes widen. “What?”
“I love you,” he repeats, sighing defeatedly. “And I know that I’m meant to keep that shit to myself, it wasn’t part of the plan and —”
“Rafe Cameron,” you interrupt, your warm cheeks burning. “I love you too.”
A pause. The confession makes the hankering dissipate, so quick Rafe almost doesn’t notice. His lips pull up until he’s sending you that sweet, devilish grin.
“Huh.” He reaches for your wrist again, tugging hard. “Well ain’t that just the worst thing I’ve ever heard.”
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big thank you to eddie munson and steve harrington living in our minds rent free.
andrews peter finally getting the attention he deserves is a blessing cause i’m loving all the fics and edits, you guys are doing gods work 😩
i don’t want to live twilight so i can have guys fight over me i just want to live in forks cos it’s so fucking peaceful and rainy and i want to exist in the blue filter and also cook lasagna like bella and live in the cullen house for simply the view and just exist and dress and have a flip phone like it is 2008 where things were simpler
ok and also maybe a sexy mythical boyfriend just for the lols
He had been in more fights than I could have imagined, and he’d never lost. His tawny eyes blazed and his stance exuded the barely contained violence of an angry lion.

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Everyone’s talking about wanting to date Heisenberg, Donna, and of course Dimitrescu.
...But you know that somewhere out there, there are people who have the hots for Moreau.
4. If the car pulls up to you run in the opposite direction.
5. Walk with your keys in your hands and keep a key between each finger
6. If they put you in the trunk kick out the headlights
7. If you get lost find a woman with a child. Never ask a man for help (this one was drilled)
That scream fire piece of advice is literally life saving
8. Watch your shadows and reflections, especially if someone is walking behind you. A split second notice is better than none and will help you.
Yes this last one really saves lives y'all I do it all the time









