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haztory · 3 months ago

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the lonely fight.

— masterlist | part one | part two — jack abbot x fellow f!reader; attending/fellow dynamic, age-gap (unspecified but reader is late 20s and up, jack is mid 40s), heavy plot, slow-burn, this is a crack/fluff followed by angst, alcohol consumption featuring the night shift team and team bonding exercises, more yearning, more wanting, escalation of tensions, city girl confronting jack's deep rooted issues, jack being a traumatized man — word count: 6.3k — summary: Karaoke night is supposed to be a morale boost for the team. It only escalates tensions even further for you and Jack.

It’s late into your shift on Wednesday when Ellis and Shen find you in the brief lull.

Saying the night has been easy is an insult, one you’re not keen on doling out without proper padding and a roll of sterile gauze clutched to your side, battle tested and ready for war. You’re down an attending, the three residents that were scheduled for tonight have been reduced to one, and two nurses have been cut early in the night due to budget constraints. Leaving only a skeleton crew to man the deck for the night.

You manage. You all do. With gritted teeth and the incessant propensity to keep moving.

Would manage even better in between putting your notes in for the girl in Room Three who got an earring stuck inside of her lobe if the network for the EHRs wasn’t experiencing a statewide slow-down. You’re one more loading screen away from punting the computer altogether when the two doctors brace either side of your work station. They settle next to you with a tired air—one not quite exhausted but close enough to know that they’re counting down the minutes until sunrise.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask the two of them, eyes locked on the buffering screen in front of you.

“We might have to go to paper.” Shen says.

Your eyes find him, quickly. “Who said that?”

”Richmond’s on the phone with admin.” Ellis says, leaning her chin into her palm. “They’re talking about it.”

You sigh, waving the white flag with the computer. “If they want handwritten notes, they’re not going to be up to standard and I don’t want to hear shit about it. I have three patients that need to get logged in and more that are going to come in soon.”

“Broken left hand. X-rayed. Fixed.” John supplies, dryly with a pantomime of his hand writing on paper. You snort in agreement. Shen bobs his head from side to side as he looks around the floor. “At least it’s quiet.”

Your head snaps to him just as Ellis’ falls into her hands and groans.

“What is wrong with you—“

“—do you ever learn—”

Shen shrugs you both off. “You guys are so superstitious.”

“We need a smarter attending on the floor.” Parker sighs, dragging her hands down her face. She looks at you, desperately. “How long before your boards, sunshine?”

You laugh at her, pitiful and flat. “Don’t count on me so soon. I’ve still got time.”

“We need more attendings who don’t play with God on the floor.” Parker pins an ugly stare at John, just as he shrugs in return.

“Jokes on you, Parker. I feel like I play with God everyday.” You tease, but you sympathy for her sorrow and continue, offering your answer as a means of consolation to her. “I take them in six months.”

Thing One and Thing Two nod slowly, digesting the words in what should be a passing understanding. But—there’s a look in their eyes. Too knowing, too conspiratorial, to be considered innocuous.

Your eyes narrow at them, “What?”

”What?” Parker parrots.

“Why do you guys have that look?”

John turns his head to Parker, then back to you. “We don’t have a look.”

”You’ll be here, right?” Parker ignores your question, giving her own. “After you pass?”

John seconds Parker. “Not going back to New York?”

”Or Florida?”

“No.” You tell them, skeptical at their line of questioning. Still, you give the truth. “Pittsburgh is home for a while.”

“It’s the winters, right?” John asks. “Keeps you coming back?”

Parker scoffs. “No, it’s definitely Eliza Furnace Trail. The smell of piss and shit, just addicting.”

“There’s reasons to stay.” You tell them, finalizing your notes on the system and returning to the home screen. A shadow moves in the corner of your eye, drawing your attention to it quickly. You spot Jack exiting North 10, speaking quietly to Anna Maria as the two head further into the hallway.

You turn your attention back to the Scooby and Shaggy, only to find them staring curiously at you. Then, with glib interest, you tack on, “And maybe it has something to do with you two.”

“Oh, sure.”

“Yeah, totally.”

Your laugh is light and the two smile knowingly. Peace settles in the air, complimented by the steady beeps of the machines in the examination rooms and the soft chatter across the floor.

Ellis clears her throat. “You’re coming, right? Friday night?”

You nod. “I am. Taking roll call?”

“Gotta make the reservation for the table.”

“Who’s going?”

“Us, Hilly, Anna Maria, a couple of people from day shift.”

“You guys ask any other attendings?”

“Basu’s doing a double, Robby gave a hell no, Walsh is on the fence and we’re fine with that. And we were going to ask Abbot, but—” Ellis’ voice trails off and she weighs her hand like a scale.

Shen cuts in, dryly. “We were hoping you would do it.”

Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum remain pointedly innocent even as your glare turns deadly on them.

“You both have to stop this.” You grit out. “Why me?”

“Because you guys got that weird telepathy thing going on.” Shen provides, simply. As if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He looks to Ellis for backup, which earns a supportive smile from her.

“He will give you the same answer that he will give me.” You insist for the hundredth time, punctuating the statement with an eye roll for emphasis on exactly how you feel about it.

They both stare blankly at you. Not that you blame them entirely. Try as you might otherwise, even you can hear the gentle deceit on your tongue when you insist on normalcy between you and the attending.

If anyone asks, it’s respect. Admiration, trust, and all the sister siblings of a well-meaning accord that force you to hold the man in high regard. Nothing more.

You keep the low pulse of hope and longing that toils within your stomach pointedly quiet.

“Just ask.”

“You guys are ridiculous.” You stand from your desk, deciding the moment has dragged on and you’d rather not be caught in the crosshairs of further investigation. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to check on my patients before Shen’s curse catches up to us.”

“Tell him we’ll cover the beer!” John calls after you as you make your way down the hall, conveniently in the same direction Abbot went down.

You wave your hand in the air, brushing the two of them off. “I know how to do it.”

They wait until you’re a safe distance away from earshot before turning to each other.

“Good work.” Parker tells John, holding her fist out to him. He bumps it in relaxed victory. “You adjusting?”

He shakes his head, his lips turning downward in a frown of intrigue. “Nah. I still think that it happens before the boards.”

“I’m switching to eight months.” Ellis supplies lowly.

“Why eight?”

“When she gets results back and passes, that’s when it happens. Abbot’s not going to fuck a fellow, too much of a power thing.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think he’d fuck any fellow, but he’d make an exception for that one.”

“My money is on when she becomes an attending. Abbot would fuck an attending.”

“So… you’re saying I have a chance.” John says and Parker shoves his shoulder with a laugh.

—

Luck is something rarely afforded to the ED. It’s sheer will power that things manage to work, human perseverance and triumph even in the moments of clear sabotage as the unit is denied more staff, denied more resources, forced into a corner to fend for themselves with bare threads of patience and the bottom of the barrel that nobody else wants to touch.

The floor isn’t lucky that the number of people waiting for care is relatively tame at the same time that the hospital's servers are undergoing an update that’s halted everything in its track. Luck implies something good, something that changes the tides for the better. The floor is just coincidentally in the eye of the hurricane at the moment. One ambulance away from teetering over the edge and plunging the unit into the swirling winds and drowning rain.

Jack doesn’t count his blessings. That’s asking for fate to be tempted. He watches the time tick on his watch and waits. Listens for the distant sounds of thunder approaching, finding only the soft squeak of sneakers on the tile floor.

He hears you before he sees you. The familiar sound of your steps, the steadied pattern, the jingle of your badge against the swivel clip on your chest

He’s standing beside the rolling cart outside of North 15, having given up on any attempt at reviewing the team’s charting notes when the screen gave its fourth error message. You lean against the door frame, watching him.

“I talked to Richmond. We’re switching to papers.”

“Medieval times.” His expression flickers with disbelief, before smoothing into one of calm neutrality. His jaw clenches, tight for a second. “We’ve been through worse.”

“Don’t speak too soon. The psych eval that was about to get sent up just got delayed because they can’t get access to his medical history. Probably going to get worse for my other three that were ready for transfer to different units that also have their records in a system that is shut down.”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.” He meets your eyes, unabashed in his displeasure.

“I wish I was. I called, tried to strike the fear of God into Psych but those people aren’t scared of shit. They said it’s too risky.”

He scoffs. “If they really want to know risk, why don’t they come down and see how the other half lives?”

“That’s what I said. I was able to pull a favor with Ortho. On the record, they’ll accept four so long as we provide them with some form of medical history.”

He raises a brow, “Off the record?”

“They said they want a sticky note, minimum, but can be convinced for oral presentation as long as we’re available for any questions. I told Shen and Parker to choose the most important to go up. Just need your sign off.”

The still nonchalance cracks slightly. He smirks. Impressed. “Done. Good work.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re scary, you know that?”

“You like it.” You smile and he shakes his head slowly, but he doesn’t deny it. And you know then that you’ve caught him ripe enough to push further. “By the way, Shen and Ellis want to know if you’re going to the karaoke night thing on Friday.”

It draws a narrowed stare your way. “You their messenger now? That’s the third time this week.” His eyebrow raises, entirely unamused at the prospect.

You take his annoyance to be directed at the invitation. He’s concerned by the fact that the two doctors know to send you.

You push past it, giving it little thought. “Are you?”

“…No.”

You catch the hesitation. Brief, but there. “Why not?”

“I deal with this place enough, I don’t need it cutting into my day off.”

“C’mon. It’ll be good for morale.”

“If I wanted to be tortured I’d pick up a double, not sit and listen to you all scream at the top of your lungs.”

You hold your hands up in surrender, “Fine, be a grouch. If you happen to find yourself free on Friday night, we’ll be at Riley’s. Eight o’clock. I’ll be wearing a blue sweater and singing ‘Single Ladies’. Can’t miss it.”

Jack looks at you from beneath lashes. “Don’t do Beyoncé like that.”

You pull your head back in amazement. “I’m surprised you even know who Beyoncé is.”

He steps towards you, his hands falling to hold the stethoscope around his neck. His gait is slow as he crosses the small distance from the cart to the other side of the door frame. You can see how he’s favoring his left leg yet makes no betrayal of that on his face. “I’m not that out of touch.”

“Had me fooled. You’re allergic to fun.”

“Our definitions are drastically different.”

“And what do you do for fun, Dr. Abbot?” Your head tilts. He leans against the other side of the frame and folds his arms across his chest. Your eyes flick quickly to the sight, tempted by muscle and veins.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” His smile slants. Hung and crooked, like a crescent moon in the sky. It creases into his skin gracefully and the urge to bask in the luster that shines from the rarity of his smile surges within you tenfold.

“I would, actually. I’d like to know what you get into on your days off. Except for building furniture for sleeping people.”

He huffs a breath, his head tucking down to his chest. Not in embarrassment, but shyness at the reminder of his good deed performed by the other side of Jack Abbot. One revealed to you in parts, with his hand lingering on your back, his eyes fixed on you, and care imbued in the small things he does.

He peers his head out of the doorway, looking over the floor before meeting your gaze. He thinks, for a moment, before deciding that disclosing is low in some kind of risk.

“I run.”

“Really?”

“Yeah really. Good for the heart.” He bats.

“Bad for the knees.” You return.

“Good thing I’m already down one.”

You hum, amused. Delighted to know more. “What else?”

“I read.”

“Yeah? What do you read?”

Jack shrugs, blasé. “Whatever catches my eye.”

“Romantasy, right? You seem the type.”

“Is that the elf shit the nurses are talking about?”

“Faes.” You correct.

“Whatever the fuck that means. Pointy-eared weirdos frolicking in flowers.”

“God, you are old.” Your laugh is soft, gently reverberating through him and he finds himself leaning into it. Watching it, letting it wash over him like a warm sip of coffee on the long shift. A sweet relief. “I’ve got some good recommendations if you want them.”

“I don’t want to read fairy porn.”

“No, I save that for the people who will appreciate that. I’ve got some memoirs, good educational reads, fun stuff. We can start our own book club.”

“A book club?” He repeats, eyebrows raised on his face in disbelief. “Now who’s old?”

“Well, the difference here is that I go out and have fun while still embracing old people things.”

A message interrupts, then. It sounds over the intercom and both your attentions are called to it. It’s over as soon as it happened, one of the nurses announcing someone’s name and instructing them to see The Hub, but it’s the disruption to the easy rhythm. A reminder to you both in your respective yet silent realizations that there is a world outside of this moment—one that was easily forgotten, for a second.

You tap his arm, voice earnest as you appeal to him, just before either of you can be called to duty. “Come to Riley’s on Friday. I’ll let you pick what I sing.”

Jack shifts on his feet, settling his lean further against the door frame. His shoulders, broad and sturdy, sway before finding stillness again. “You’re stooping to bribery now?”

“This is part of my tactic. Warm you up, bribe you, profit.” You explain. “I’ll pull out all the stops if I have to, which includes giving you the first pick of my song.”

“Your tactic needs some work.” He cocks his head at you. “You shouldn’t give someone that much power. Could land you in big trouble.”

“And yet, I’m giving it to you.”

The banter stills. Halts completely, only the low hum of the fluorescent lights filling in the space.

It’s not the first time you’ve said something to that effect—a seemingly simple declaration. Spoken as easy as you breathe, as if you haven’t further fractured the barely held boundary that lies blurred and frayed between you two. This tiny truth of yours isn’t a simple compliment. They’re windows of implications into something deeper. Something more volatile that simmers under the warmth of your skins and behind each tease.

It happens, then. The inevitable, the familiar, the expected. The song and dance that has become so routine that escape seems futile.

The induction of the soft feelings. The confusing ones.

Jack stares straight into the fire, unconvinced that you don’t know what you’re doing. Unconvinced that he should walk away.

“Beer will be on Shen.” Your voice lilts into a song, a means to diffuse the tension.

“That’s a terrible idea.” He says disapproving, but there’s no malice in it.

“Whatever gets people to come.” A beat passes and you know that, at the very least, he’s considering the offer.

“Tell Shen and Ellis to stop making you do their dirty work.” He says quietly. You shake your head softly, suppressing the want to tell him that talking to him is the farthest thing from dirty work. It’s an easy task, one you look forward to most days.

“I’ll consider it.” You say instead. He nods, knowing that the two will keep going to you for as long as the affinity he has for you is as obvious as it feels.

“So…” You kick your foot out, tapping his leg gently, “Are you coming?”

His lips curl, slightly. “…I’ll see.”

“Good.” You move from your place on the door frame, inching backwards into the hallway. Back into the rush and chaos of a world that feels so far away from this little bubble the two of you made.

“By the way, Shen said the “q” word, so prepare.”

Jack sighs, heavy and annoyed. Luck and fate tempted once more.

“Does he want a black eye?”

—

The door to Riley’s opens with a squeal at 9:15 PM on Friday. The sound is drowned out entirely by the screams that erupt from the crowded establishment when someone’s voice tilts falsetto at the opening line of Gloria Gaynor’s ‘I Will Survive’.

Jack’s eyes look to the stage, only moderately surprised to see Shen delivering the performance of a lifetime. A bottle of beer is clutched close to the man’s chest as he hits notes only a prepubescent boy could to a crowd more than supportive of his endeavors, a red flush to his cheeks.

He wasn’t going to come.

A morning traffic jam that resulted in a six car pile-up on I-279 this morning led to a late exit for Jack which led to an even later morning trying to tackle all of the things he wanted to do for the day. Grocery shopping for meal planning, a stop at a supply store to fix the rubber seal on his leaky kitchen faucet, start his week’s worth of laundry, fit in some semblance of sleep in there (maybe). Top it all off with ESPN and a beer.

It wasn’t in the plan to come. It just didn’t fit.

…but then you sent a photo.

A picture of you seated at a table with a smile so bright it could single handedly illuminate the dark and dingy bar surrounding you. Parker sits to your left distracted by something off camera with John standing behind the two of you, a peace sign thrown up as he leans down to stay in the frame. And to your right, an empty chair. Your text saying: Saving you a seat!

So he came. Because the promise of free beer and a means to decompress after a shitty week of long and trying shifts was enticing enough.

(And because you asked, but he stomps out that answer like a low broiling fire needing to be put out.)

He finds you immediately in the surge. Blue sweater at the middle table and an empty chair beside you. Just like you said.

His steps are cautious, dodging moving bodies and his own discomfort as he zeroes you in his sight. He fits in beside you just as your hands raise upward shouting a song lyric with the singing group, sliding into the seat as if he just came back from the bathroom instead of making his grand entrance. You notice the movement, your singing faltering as you look to defend the empty chair from pilfering. Your hair is loose from the usual style you have from work, strands framing your face, your body relaxed from the alcohol you’ve no doubt been drinking. There’s a scrunch to your face as you look at him that immediately peels into one of joy when you realize who it is.

“You’re here!” You shout, your excitement bringing you closer to him. Your touch is liberal, spurred by the haze of drunken inhibitions. Leaning into him, your hands fall onto his shoulders, grabbing onto him as if you were afraid he would disappear. He lets you, watching amused as you fail to contain your elation. Affected, as you bleed into him.

There’s a dry resignation on his face, like he finds this to be equal parts burdensome and amusing. But he makes no move to put distance between you two. “I’m here.”

“Do you want a beer?” You shout over the noise, “Come on, I’ll get another one too!”

“How many have you had?”

You hold his gaze for a moment, smile turning sheepish. “I don’t know.”

“Let’s get you some water instead—” He moves for the pitcher of water in the middle of the table, grabbing a plastic cup sat beside it and filling it up.

“No! C’mon!” You grab onto his forearm, halting him from pouring anymore, “I don’t work tomorrow. Let me have fun.”

“You’re going to wake up nauseous and knee deep in regret tomorrow when you realize everyone’s recording you guys.”

“I don’t care.” You laugh, earnestly. “I don’t regret the things that I want, Jack.”

As his hand hovers over the pitcher, yours falls onto his arm nearest to you. Grasping onto the breadth and holding him tightly. Even in the slur of your words, he sees the honesty behind it. How intently you say it, mean it. Might mean something else behind it all, too.

“Come on.” You begin again, a siren song on your tongue perfectly heard even in the shrieks of the bar. “Grab a beer, have fun with us. With me. You held up your end of the bargain, I’ll keep mine.”

He looks over your shoulder, relieved to find that the table is too entranced by Shen’s glorious rendition of the ballad to be concerned with the intimate moment behind them.

“I haven’t gone up yet. You get to choose my song.”

Your eyes are warm, beautiful. And close. Too close.

“I was promised Beyoncé.” He says after a second, softer than the moment calls for, softer than he intended it to be.

You smile happily at him. “Beyoncé and a beer, coming right up!”

The soft feelings, the confusing ones, slip into the narrow space between you.

Despite it all, Jack is steady. Sipping casually at his Miller watching person after person head on the stage and make a fool of themself. It’s that steadiness that has you drawn to him. Not sloppily or messily, but just teetering past a point of buzzed and into the embrace of loose.

Your thigh touches his underneath the table mistakenly. Once, twice, four times. He presses back into you, comfortingly. You lean into him when you laugh, mutter the smart quip and teasing joke at a certain performance that he shakes his head at. His arm slings around the back of your chair, only slightly brushing against your shoulders.

And it’s easy.

“This is for you, Abbot!” Shen calls over the microphone an hour later, his face flushed red with his drunken stupor as he clutches the microphone like it's his last chance. The static from the speakers blows from how close he holds it to his mouth. “This is dedicated to that epic pericardiocentesis you did the other day that I’m still thinking about, you handsome man.”

The rushing piano of “I Need a Hero” plays and it’s the first time you see Jack’s shoulders shake from laughter as he raises a beer up to Shen. The song progresses to an ensemble as the team all shout the lyrics, their fingers pointing back to Jack at each proclamation of needing a hero throughout the song. And you swear, swear, that a flush rises up his neck at the lavish attention paid his way. His head tucks into his chest, and his eyes narrow like the sound of Shen’s voice is physically causing him pain but you can see it as clear as day.

He’s happy. And it dredges up a tingle in the depths of your heart that surges like a rushing tide you can’t hold back.

It soars even higher—feels even worse—when it’s your turn. Microphone shoved in your hand, dance moves pulled out as you sing about needing a ring on your finger and feeling Jack’s stare bore into you the entire time.

A smile, free, unabashed, admiring permanently fixed on his face.

—

“Someone get Mel home!” You call over your shoulder into the bar as you make your exit, the clock just creeping past midnight. Jack’s arm sits firmly around your waist, thick and corded as it supports and holds you steady. “I want her tucked in and sung to, precious girl.”

“Easy.” Jack’s voice is husky beside you and colored with a slight twinge of amusement. Startling, almost, as you’re reminded of how near he is. It’s rough and jagged and it flares a heat within you that has you whipping your head to look at him.

“Don’t want you spilling guts all over me.” He’s firm and warm next to you, a beacon of quiet strength. You’ve always known Abbot was broad from his forearms alone. Seeing it is one thing, feeling it around you? It’s something else entirely. Temptation sings for you to fall into him.

It’s hard to recover from it, taking much longer than you’d like to admit as your tongue feels thick in your mouth and your heart pounds in your ears. You blame that on the environmental circumstances of the night.

“Don’t forget, old man.” You poke just as his arm tightens around you. Your own hand falls to his wrist held right against the front of your stomach, falling in step beside him as he guides you through the bar’s parking lot. “I’m from the city. I can handle my alcohol.”

His interest is piqued, despite all well-meaning efforts to hide it. “I know. You don’t let anyone forget it.”

“Watch it. Don’t make me mad, I can take you if I need to.”

“Yeah? Gonna go for my ankles?”

“Oh please, this again—”

“You gonna slide across the floor again for my feet?”

“He was running away with a catheter in him. If I didn’t take him down it was going to be golden showers for all of us.”

“Yeah, but going for the feet puts you in the direct line of sight.”

“Alright, then next time you stop the meth head, Lieutenant Dan.”

“And get a mouthful of urine? I’m not kinky enough for that.” He says nonchalantly and you guffaw, your hand landing a smack at his chest. His walking slows as he approaches his truck towards the end of the parking lot. Shiny and well-taken care of, the car you remember him driving you home in before.

He guides you towards the passenger side of the car, loosening his grip on you as he fishes his car keys from his pocket. “All I’m saying is that the Giants missed an opportunity in their draft pick.”

Separating from him, you slump against the passenger door, watching him pull out the key fob. “If the Giants put me on the roster, we’re coming out with a ring every year, baby.” You hold your hand up for emphasis, pointing at each of your fingers. “You can kiss ‘Single Ladies’ goodbye.”

A beat passes. Jack’s eyes bore into yours. “Nevermind, let’s call the Steelers.”

You laugh echoes around the empty parking lot. A song on the wind, a hymn in an empty church as it bounces into the night. Your head leans back in joy, resting against the side of his car. Relaxed, easy, happy.

“Tonight was fun.” You hum. Jack nods, slowly. Carefully, guarded.

You see it, even in the sway of the uncountable number of drinks you’ve had that only makes you slightly unsteady—you see it clear as day. The way he is bobbing and weaving, ducking and side stepping a truth he’s not quite ready to admit yet. Not as though it’s a particular harrowing one. Your eyebrow flicks up, curiously.

“I didn’t know Shen had that in him.” He says, pointedly neutral.

“Neither did I. You must have brought it out.” You push. “Everyone was really happy to see you.”

A grimace pulls to his lips, small yet noticeable. It confirms a suspicion, then.

Jack Abbot can banter without issue. He can do the sincerity and the comfort when it comes to someone else needing it. But in this moment, cool, confident, and steady Jack Abbot actively avoids acknowledging a truth that implies something good about him—admitting that people wanted him around and that he actually had a good time.

“Someone just needed to make sure you guys didn’t burn down half of Pittsburgh. And drive your drunk ass home.” He demeans, disguises, dissuades.

Maybe it’s not that serious. Maybe it’s just a defense mechanism he uses when near drunk people, a release of a pressure gauge but for some reason you’re not having it. Blame it on drunken fixations, but they’re the heart of sober thoughts. You’re on the crux of something, inching closer and closer to the soft center of the man. Spurned on by little more than his continued dodging and the need to know, you ask. “Why did you come tonight?”

Surprise colors his features for a second before he schools it. “Morale boost.”

“For the team or for you?”

“Does it matter?”

“I think that you wanted to come out this whole time.” You dig. He stiffens, minutely.

“You promised ‘Single Ladies’. It was too good to ignore.” He says, stilted. Almost forced.

“No, before that. You wanted to come. You’re just using that as an excuse to justify it.”

“What are you trying to say?” His gaze turns stony, his voice curt.

His lips are drawn tight as he stares the particular Dr. Jack Abbot speciality into you. You should probably feel intimidated, should probably be scared into a dynamic of hierarchy between you two, should probably heed the warning signs that crease in his crow’s feet and settle in the lines of his small frown that tell you to stop where you stand.

You don’t. You stare back, equal in your press into him.

(Because you’ve seen the softness before, know it exists. It was only a few weeks ago that he drove you home, sat at your table, talked to you like it was the easiest thing in the world. Only a few months ago Jack made it a habit to start meeting you at each of your shifts with your coffee mug in hand, a quiet check-in in his eyes. Only a few days ago the two of you lost yourselves in the safety of a bubble built by the two of you in the midst of a chaos.

You know where the softness sits, you know it will keep creeping out.

And right here, right now, you can see how he tries to lock it away. Pretends that it doesn’t exist with all of the good in him.)

“I’m saying you’re allowed to want something for once, Jack.” You tell him, honestly. “You’re allowed to want, and to hope, and to have faith that for a moment something good will happen if you let it in. You’re allowed to want something and have it, because you deserve it.”

He says nothing. Only stares. A charged silence buoys between you two, lit only by the haziness of the street lamp. A warmed yet dulled light that casts a gentle halo around the suppleness of your face—soft and angelic as you peer up at him.

To anyone else, your words would be the ramblings of a drunken woman. Let off the tongue with nonsensical meanings. Prompted by nothing, and supported by whims. To Jack, it’s something else entirely. Not the once foreboding noose— the omen of the invitation, the threat of giving in. What he thought would be a long fraying rope beckoning for the sounds of his choking is replaced instead with you. Your hands, warm, and soft, and well-meaning that wrap around his throat and squeeze until his breath gets caught in his chest. Your nails digging in the skin in search of something he has long since buried. Fingers tenderly massaging out the truth, his reckoning, his undoing.

The in-between of your words isn’t hard to make out. Something good will happen if you let it in.

If you let me in.

He wonders if you know how close you are to getting to it. He wonders if he even knows how close it is to being released.

The night hums softly. Beckoning a closeness that is filled with a hostile tensity. Like peace and war, heat and ice, fusing into one. Becoming the energy that you both fuel. That something—the one that seems to follow you two when moments like this fall, when it’s quiet and the two of you acknowledge that the air feels weird—is here.

Loudly silent. Quietly screaming.

“Well, I’m here, aren’t I?” He gives, finally.

“Yeah. You are.” You huff out a breath. Then, with the familiar sound of a door being knocked on, you say. “I’m glad you came out. It made my night better, too.”

Your eyes flick down to his lips. His do the same. A question sits in the air.

Will you let me in?

He swallows, then makes his choice. Buckles the armor up his chest, shuts the door that has been creeping open all this time, that you’ve been pushing against. He locks it, keeps you barred on the other side.

“You gonna get in?” He asks, nodding his head to the car.

The air spoils as quickly as it was heated. Now cold and void with all of the things left unsaid.

You nod, simply. Leaving well enough alone. “Yeah. Okay.”

He opens the passenger door for you quietly, his hand hovering over you slightly as you step up into the seat, but he never touches you. You buckle yourself in, silent as he enters through the other side. Then he drives you home. It’s quiet, a suffocating, choking quiet, but neither of you make any effort to break it. The radio buzzes on the lowest volume, only barely filling the void.

You thank him for the ride when he gets to your apartment. He nods his head. You go inside and he watches until you're safely inside before peeling off on the road.

He pointedly tries not to think about anything the whole way home. Puts it onto the shelf, blocks it out, does everything to not remember how earnestly you looked at him, to not remember how you were the most beautiful thing he’s seen in a long time. But it’s his luck—the old funny thing called karmic fate that this night is the first night that he dreams of something other than the tense soundscapes of agony and grief that plague him and draw short bursts of sleep.

He wakes up with his mouth dry, sweat beaded on his temple, his heart pounding, and the phantom feel of a hand on his chest.

He dreamed of you. Eternal, effervescent, you.

Shrouded in the warm hazy light of a bedroom, your laugh on the wind. A quiet moment of serenity, peace. Enjoying the stillness of you two, basking in the feel of giving in before it transformed into something else. You, then, bare on a bed beneath him, your wistful sighs in the air of his room. A prayer on your tongue, the words that fuel his desire, unlock all that he’s kept held back and that’s released something he hadn’t allowed himself to yearn for. And he knows then that the door that was slightly ajar by your gentle hand, the one he so quickly and concisely shut earlier, has now been thrust open by a gust of wind from his exhaled shaky breath.

“Shit.” He thumps against his pillows in defeat, his hands rubbing at his face harshly.

He admits, here, in the dawn of his bedroom with sunlight slowly filtering in through the curtains, the long held truth. The guilt is tumultuous; roiling and biting. Shredding through his skin, through muscle and tendon and into the marrow of his bones as he realizes, harshly, violently, with a voracious sense of betrayal and fear—

—that he liked it. He liked seeing you in the after hours with your hair down and your smile effortless. Liked seeing you in something other than scrubs and liked hearing the squeal of your laugh. Liked the way you leaned into him throughout the night. Liked watching you, liked being watched by you.

Liked, liked, liked.

For the first time in years, he laughed—truly, belly achingly laughed— and the burden on his shoulders levied just as the lowlights of the bar fell onto the sweetness of your smile. In the sanctity of a spartan bedroom lingering with the last remnants of a life long lost and hollow of his own that aches to be filled, he admits it.

The familiar something that exists everytime the two of you meet has a name.

Want.

And Jack wants you.

All of you.

a/n: imma be real i don’t love this chapter but we need it before we get into the meat and potatoes. i was second guessing myself the entire time and then i remembered this is fanfiction so who CARES

this chapter was inspired by "the lonely fight" by mk.gee :)

#jack abbot x reader #jack abbott x reader #the pitt x reader #jack abbot fanfiction #jack abbot x you #jack abbot x female reader #my writing #ask me and i'm there #jack abbot #jack abott #the pitt #the pitt fanfiction

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sreegs · 4 months ago

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there's just no sustainable model for moderation at scale for social media. we really were better off with forums.

i will acknowledge the forums heyday was a time before everyone was On Line with smartphones. You had to go sit down on The Computer or the laptop to use it. Times have changed.

there was simply a smaller chud to moderator ratio back then. and i accept that you cant go back to less people online, but that just demonstrates the issue of scale

forums were small enough that the moderator team were people who knew each other and were accountable for their moderation decisions. they werent unknown people in an offshore content moderation setup. they had an investment in being part of the community and the context to make decisions. plus the lower volume of reports to be able to dedicate time to make a more measured judgement

social networks today have a completely unmanageable chud to moderator ratio. moderators are largely contractors with no connection to the place they're moderating. and the worst part: social networks prioritize DAUs over everything else. they will go easy on banning chuds because chuds look at ads and the network gets money. who cares if they make other users miserable? they keep coming back!

look how much had to happen to twitter to get people to start leaving. the rot in that place set in YEARS before elon bought the place yet there's still holders-on.

on a forum, someone breaks the rules they get banned. you get a big fat "USER WAS BANNED FOR THIS POST" on the post that did them in and i will bet my balls that reprimand did more for keeping the place civil than any "community note" ever has

#social networks #social media

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anashins · 1 year ago

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King of the Streets

Pairing: street racer!Jaehyun x journalist!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I don’t think so.”

You were flabbergasted. “Pardon me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If only it were so easy.

____

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

“Do you want to order something else?”

“I’m good, thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Where are you going after this?”

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

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

“Pscht, not so loud!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Wow!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So you headed to the industrial park.

____

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Place your bet!”

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

“Pardon?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you did.

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

“Ready, Jaehyun?”

“More than you are.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not afraid of you. I pity you.”

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

“And why would that be, Jaehyun?”

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

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

No way in hell.

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

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

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

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

No way this was your situation now!

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

This… this situation couldn’t be real.

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

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

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

“Everything ready?” A male voice.

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

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

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

“Jaehyun, do you hear me?”

You flinched when you heard another voice.

“Clear and loud.”

“Only ten seconds left.”

“Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

“One!” You closed your eyes.

“GO!”

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

____

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I was waiting for you to come home.”

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

“Jaehyun, are you currently racing?”

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

The driver repeated, “I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

“I’ll come home safe.”

“Promise?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We have a problem.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll navigate you the best I can.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, thanks radio-guy.”

“Welcome, uhm… intruder-lady?”

“I did not intrude!”

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

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

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

“Screw it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up, Taeyong.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Neither did you. “Ready.”

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

____

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

What were you supposed to answer?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright, I’ll come downstairs.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait!”

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

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

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

“Are you nuts?”

“You see, I’m a journa-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

Then, he continued his way.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_____

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s me.”

You furrowed. “Who?”

“Me.” Pause. “Jaehyun.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t write anything!”

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

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

“What is it?” he grumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes widened. “Now?”

“Now,” he repeated.

You hesitated.

“Your last chance,” he pushed.

“I’ll get changed.”

____

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

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

“Tell me what?”

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

“Navigate what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So I’m not just… observing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sighed. “What do I have to do?”

“Take this.”

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

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

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

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

“I can’t do this, I’m sorry!”

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

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

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

“I’m going home!”

“And why would you do that?”

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

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

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

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

You faltered. “Hm… okay, yes… but…”

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

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

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

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

This time though, genuinely. And perhaps partly relieved.

____

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Yeah, I wonder why.”

You gasped. “Excu-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Exactly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

____

“He is very popular,” you remarked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because the job is illegal and hard?”

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

“... I can relate.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll get the drinks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

____

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

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

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

“Just take this free ride, will you?”

“Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How old is your sister?”

“She’s fourteen.”

“So, in middle school.”

“Exactly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

____

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

____

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frowned. “But didn’t you-”

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

“But your mo-”

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

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

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

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

“For my sister? Or for your story?”

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

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

____

“There is nothing personal in this story.”

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, then make him.”

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

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

“I already plan on doing that.”

“So what’s the problem?”

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

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

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

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

____

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, I think she’s their navigator!”

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

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

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

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

“Hey…”

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

“Hey!”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll show you the truth.”

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

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

“Yes.”

“Did I say something wrong earlier?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is this…?”

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

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

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

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

“I believe you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jaehyun…”

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

____

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

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

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

“Our ways will part here and now.”

You thought you had misheard. “Pardon?”

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

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

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

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

“No,” you refused. “I will stay.”

“I SAID GO!”

“AND I SAID I WILL STAY!”

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

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

“You’re afraid to hurt me?”

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

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

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

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

“Friends?” he suddenly croaked.

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

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

You had just hoped…

Cherry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

____

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

… but what could it be?

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

Patient was heavily intoxicated.

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

____

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

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

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

“Okay, sorry? Jeez.”

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

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

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

“Yeah, but-”

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

In unison, they both said, “Fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t you need to go home as usual?”

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

“Okay, then let’s go!”

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

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

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

“I love it!”

“And I-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You responded, quite confidently, “You do.”

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

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

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

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

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

____

“Close your mouth and suck.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know what?”

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

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

He didn’t need to ask twice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But his expression remained serious. “No.”

You didn’t know what he meant.

____

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

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

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

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

So you had written another version of this story.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

____

“Are you nervous?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes?”

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

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

“Of course.”

“No, I mean it.”

You frowned. “Mean what?”

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

“Of course!” you replied happily.

“No! I mean... shit.”

What did he want? “I don’t get it.”

“I love you.”

You were stunned.

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

“You guys ready?”

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

“Then get ready.”

____

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

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

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

“Shit, we didn’t see this coming!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trust, friendship and even love.

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

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

____

And you did.

Jaehyun crossed the finish line first.

Jaehyun won against the Cheetah.

Jaehyun was crowned King of the Streets.

…

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

Only eight hours.

____

“King of the Streets”

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

____

“Congratulations.”

“Pardon?”

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

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

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

“Pardon?” you repeated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It is.”

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

“I have to go,” you said.

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

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

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

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

“Jaeh-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

____

“Jiyeong?”

“Can I come in?”

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

“Sure.”

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

“I’ll be going away.”

“Where to?”

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

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

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

“Next week.”

“I wish you all the best.”

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

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

“Why would I possibly hate you?”

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

You were confused. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Jiyeong…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he never came.

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

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

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

You wanted to move on, too.

____

2 years later

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

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

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

Overall, life was going pretty well for you now.

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

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

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

But you knew better.

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

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

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

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

“I thought he hated me.”

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

That he loved you.

“I will never forget.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, thank you.”

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

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

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

“Good morning, I-”

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

“Good morning.”

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

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

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

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

____

Jaehyun wanted you to publish a story.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Which is…?”

“Letting her go.”

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

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

“Yes?”

“Have you married yet, Mr. Jeong?”

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

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

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

You had never stopped loving Jaehyun.

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

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

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

“Then, I’ll go wherever she goes.”

3K notes · View notes

phantomknight25 · 2 months ago

Text

It Was Your Idea Babe, No Really You Came Up With It.

Morty- "Y/N, why does Rick always take you to fun places?"

Y/n- Oh, that's because I use subliminal messages.

Morty- What do you mean you use subliminal messages? There's no way that works on Rick.

Y/n- Of course it does Morty, how else do you think I got him to take me to Choco Fun Land.

Y/n- What you think I asked nicely? Rick needs to think he came up with the idea, if he doesn't then no matter how much fun he's having ,he's going to act miserable just out of spite.

Morty- So how do you do it exactly? I mean I've never seen you bring up these places or like leave out brochures.

Y/n- No no, that's to upfront. You have to be really subtle with Rick.

Morty- OK so how do you do it? I want to learn so I don't have to be dragged around to all those awful place.

Y/n- OK, well first off you have to be ready to spend months doing it.

Morty- Months!

Y/n- Yeah months, if you act to eager about a place then he's gonna pick up on it and you can kiss whatever fun adventures goodbye.

Morty- uuuuuuhhhh fine so months of work.

Y/n- So first thing your gonna do is scroll around on your phone for awhile and half heartedly mention whatever place you want.

Then you don't bring it up for a week or two, unless a commercial or something about the place pops up organically.

If that happens just say something like "Oh that was the place I was telling you about."

After that two weeks bring up something that you find interesting about the place.

Just do that for awhile and look up stuff about it on his computer or cell so he gets ads.

Morty- OK so act casual, wait awhile in-between bringing it up, and leave a digital trail so he gets advertisements.

Y/n- Yup that's pretty much it. Eventually he'll start to bring it up so you won't have to work so hard on being subtle.

Mort- Wow thanks Y/n, I can't wait to start tricking Rick into taking me places.

Rick- Y/N!

Y/n- Why are you yelling I'm right here.

Rick- DID -Uuuurp- YOU TELL MORTY TO SUBLIMINALLY MESSAGE ME!

Y/n- No, why would I tell him to do that? that is such an awful thing to do to someone.

Rick- He said that yo-uurp-u do it to get what you want so he should do it to.

Y/n- Rick you know I'm not OK with manipulation and subliminal messages is a form of manipulation.

Rick- Yeah your right he probably picked it up from Jerry.

Y/n- He definitely did.

Y/n- Anyway on a completely different note, did you know that the Ezon network had a massive botanical garden?

#rick and morty #rick sanchez x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader #morty smith

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commodorez · 2 months ago

Text

Start Me Up: 30 years of Windows 95 - @commodorez and @ms-dos5

Okay, last batch of photos from our exhibit, and I wanted to highlight a few details because so much planning and preparation went into making this the ultimate Windows 95 exhibit. And now you all have to hear about it.

You'll note software boxes from both major versions of Windows 95 RTM (Release To Manufacturing, the original version from August 24, 1995): the standalone version "for PCs without Windows", and the Upgrade version "for users of Windows". We used both versions when setting up the machines you see here to show the variety of install types people performed. My grandpa's original set of install floppies was displayed in a little shadowbox, next to a CD version, and a TI 486DX2-66 microprocessor emblazoned with "Designed for Microsoft Windows 95".

The machines on display, from left to right include:

Chicago Beta 73g on a custom Pentium 1 baby AT tower

Windows 95 RTM on an AST Bravo LC 4/66d desktop

Windows 95 RTM on a (broken) Compaq LTE Elite 4/75cx laptop

Windows 95 OSR 1 on an Intertel Pentium 1 tower

Windows 95 OSR 1 on a VTEL Pentium 1 desktop

Windows 95 OSR 2 on a Toshiba Satellite T1960CT laptop

Windows 95 OSR 2 on a Toshiba Libretto 70CT subnotebook

Windows 95 OSR 2 on an IBM Thinkpad 760E laptop

Windows 95 OSR 2.5 on a custom Pentium II tower (Vega)

That's alot of machines that had to be prepared for the exhibit, so for all of them to work (minus the Compaq) was a relief. Something about the trip to NJ rendered the Compaq unstable, and it refused to boot consistently. I have no idea what happened because it failed in like 5 different steps of the process.

The SMC TigerHub TP6 nestled between the Intertel and VTEL served as the network backbone for the exhibit, allowing 6 machines to be connected over twisted pair with all the multicolored network cables. However, problems with PCMCIA drivers on the Thinkpad, and the Compaq being on the blink meant only 5 machines were networked. Vega was sporting a CanoScan FS2710 film scanner connected via SCSI, which I demonstrated like 9 times over the course of the weekend -- including to LGR!

Game controllers were attached to computers where possible, and everything with a sound card had a set of era-appropriate speakers. We even picked out a slew of mid-90s mouse pads, some of which were specifically Windows 95 themed. We had Zip disks, floppy disks, CDs full of software, and basically no extra room on the tables. Almost every machine had a different screensaver, desktop wallpaper, sound scheme, and UI theme, showing just how much was user customizable.

@ms-dos5 made a point to have a variety of versions of Microsoft Office products on the machines present, meaning we had everything from stand-alone copies of Word 95 and Excel 95, thru complete MS Office 95 packages (standard & professional), MS Office 97 (standard & professional), Publisher, Frontpage, & Encarta.

We brought a bunch of important books about 95 too:

The Windows Interface Guidelines for Software Design

Microsoft Windows 95 Resource Kit

Hardware Design Guide for Windows 95

Inside Windows 95 by Adrian King

Just off to the right, stacked on top of some boxes was an Epson LX-300+II dot matrix printer, which we used to create all of the decorative banners, and the computer description cards next to each machine. Fun fact -- those were designed to mimic the format and style of 95's printer test page! We also printed off drawings for a number of visitors, and ended up having more paper jams with the tractor feed mechanism than we had Blue Screen of Death instances.

In fact, we only had 3 BSOD's total, all weekend, one of which was expected, and another was intentional on the part of an attendee.

We also had one guy install some shovelware/garbageware on the AST, which caused all sorts of errors, that was funny!

Thanks for coming along on this ride, both @ms-dos5 and I appreciate everyone taking the time to enjoy our exhibit.

It's now safe to turn off your computer.

VCF East XX

#vcfexx #vcf east xx #vintage computer festival east xx #commodorez goes to vcfexx #windows 95 #microsoft windows 95

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sweetheartsocks · 16 days ago

Text

BLUE SCREEN OF DEATH.

Aaron Hotchner x IT support!reader

genre : office romance, cute and flirty banter, raging about your job, s2 Hotch (no haley for obvious reasons), i pretend to know things about tech, too many references to Jersey Shore

summary : A history of your relationship with Hotch through computer bugs. Or alternatively, Aaron Hotchner v. Technology. Computer print "Hello world!".

notes : in celebration of me finally graduating yayyy!!!

word count : 3.2k

Did you know that we started referring to computer errors as 'bugs' after computer pioneer Rear Admiral Grace Hopper found a literal insect (a moth) causing the Harvard Mark II computer to malfunction in 1947 ?

By now you practically qualify as an entomologist. In the past 3 days, your help has been requested a total of 87 times. Problems ranging from "the Central Processing Unit is letting out smoke" to "I forgot my email password, again".

Agent Eckert from the FBI Academy has started calling you 'The Exterminator'. You almost told him that you're considering a career change to pest control and that your first order of business would be to deal with him. Almost. (Un)Fortunately, years of experience in customer service and dealing with people who should be in a retirement home but aren't, have programmed you to instead say "Good one" with the best 'I'm not about to put in my two weeks' smile you can muster.

But if he keeps calling to ask how to add images in Microsoft Word, you might as well say it. What is he going to do ? Ask to speak to your supervisor ? Please. Your supervisor doesn't know what's going on and doesn't care to.

As far as IT support requests go, the BAU is the least infuriating unit. Current score board :

Dr Reid : 4 requests total. Mostly printer related. The only guy under the age of 50 who still insists on working with paper files. He's nice though. He's the one who told you about the bug story.

Emily Prentiss : 2 requests. One time for software incompatibility issues. Another time because the network wouldn't allow her to google 'Is goth fashion making a comeback ?'

Derek Morgan : 1 request. He only called you because Penelope Garcia wasn't there.

Jennifer Jareau : 2 requests. System overload, both times, from the ungodly amount of files she gets sent.

Jason Gideon : 5 requests. For a senior citizen, he's actually doing pretty good. Although the last time he called you, at exactly 8:21 PM for a log-in issue, he said "I can't believe they have you working this late," sounding all surprised. This obviously irked you. Why do you think I'm still here ? For the fun of it ? It's because of you, Gideon. I have to stand here so you can grumble about computers instead of going back home. Plus he still doesn't remember your name.

Aaron Hotchner : 9 requests. All legitimate to be fair. Maybe his fingers are so thick that he has trouble correctly typing out things on his keyboard. But you suspect that he asks for your help even when he can troubleshoot the issue himself.

Bug 1 : Accidental file deletion — Vanishing File Beetle, Filevorax deleticus.

Your supervisor wouldn't let you take the day off. Apparently, you're supposed to find someone to cover for you. Isn't that supposed to be his job ? You know, actually supervise ?

So now, as a form of petty retaliation, you're doing the strict minimum amount of work necessary.

"Have you tried turning it on and off?" and "Maybe try clearing your cache?" when you feel like switching things up.

When Hotch calls you 30 minutes before the end of your work day, you don't find it in you to blow him off. He's nice to look at, smells nice and has a nice desk chair he lets you sit on. His problem is simple enough — he deleted a file by accident — so it shouldn't take that much time.

This makes it your 10th trip to his office. On your way there, you fill the most ridiculous mug you can find (it's hot pink, it says 'JERSEY SHORE' on the front and 'GTL' which stands for Gym Tan Laundry on the back. you’re the one who brought it into the office) with plain black coffee.

You knock twice before coming in. Hotch is sitting at his desk. His suit jacket hangs at the back of his chair. The sunlight coming through his office window makes his eyes look like honey. Brown and warm and sweet.

His tie is loosened, well loosened as he much as he can allow himself while still at work (which is not that much). But it's enough to let you study his neck. The skin is a bit red, it almost looks flushed. Probably from how tight his tie was sitting. And probably from how shamelessly you're staring at him.

He stands up and makes his way towards you. You hand him the hot pink coffee mug.

"For you."

He frowns slightly. He obviously looks very… confused by it. You can't tell if it's the color or the fact that it's Jersey Shore merch that's throwing him off.

"What's the special occasion ?" he wonders.

"It's officially your 10th request," you reply as you make your way to his desk. He follows you. "After this one, I'm going to have to start charging, Hotchner."

He chuckles lightly.

When you sit down, his suit jacket brushes against your back. It's like he's hugging you by proxy. He leans against the desk, next to you. You can smell his perfume. Almonds, fresh linen, citrus. He's wearing his summer scent. It's nice.

"So, what file did you "accidentally" delete ? Nothing scandalous I hope," you ask him.

He glances down at the mug in his hand. He's trying to figure out what 'GTL' means. You don't tell him. You'll let him discover the joys of Nicole 'Snooki' Polizzi by himself.

"It's a performance evaluation draft," he finally answers. He takes a sip of his coffee and then puts the mug down on his desk. It looks hilariously out of place next to his shiny Unit Chief plaque and the fancy pen stand. "And for the record, it was an accident."

A performance evaluation draft ? This couldn't wait until tomorrow ?

"Of course", you reply. You spin the chair towards him. Your elbow lightly hits his thigh. The material of his pants is really soft. "Just like when you accidentally used Comic Sans on that one report," you remind him jokingly.

He looks at you. He's doing the signature 'dead pan, scary and stern, do not mess with me' Hotch stare. You can tell that it's because he's embarrassed (and he should be. the report looked ridiculous) and is trying to gain back some semblance of dignity.

"That was a formatting error," he justifies. He sounds both amused and exasperated at the same time.

You turn back towards the desktop. You let your fingers lightly glide along the keyboard. To be fair, the system the FBI uses is a real nightmare. To describe it as 'ancient' would be generous.

"Sure. And you somehow didn't notice the error until you already sent the report?"

"Are you this unprofessional with all the agents you help ?" he counters.

You grin, letting your fingers pause their typing.

"No. Just you."

That earns you another chuckle. He looks pretty when he smiles. His eyes crinkle softly, his lips stretch slightly. You want to poke his dimple.

"Good," he says. "Some of them might try to get you fired."

You let out a sigh. Half from fatigue and half from hopefulness.

"I wish. If that's the way to free me from email password purgatory. Who do you think is my best bet ? Eckert from the training academy looks like he can whip up a mean complaint."

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him shake his head. He's still leaning against the desk, his arms are crossed against his chest. His biceps look very enticing, even through the dress shirt. Crazy that he's whoring himself out like this just for a performance evaluation draft.

He exhales through his nose. Almost despite him. Like he's trying his best not to encourage you.

"Don't let Eckert get you fired," he says.

You finally recover the file. You can officially clock out in 9 minutes.

"That would be… inconvenient", he admits softly.

You know that's not exactly what he means to say. Still, this is Hotch. He's not going to outright say that he'd miss you. But you can tell.

"You're just saying that 'cause the other techs aren't as fun." You smile at him.

He smiles back.

"Maybe."

Bug 2 : Network connectivity issues — Wandering Signal Gnat, Connectivorus packetdropii.

You finally come back to your desk after your government compensated break (sure it was longer than the general consensus on what 'a short break' counts as. first of all, you don't care. second of all, there's nothing that says that you have to agree with the consensus. third of all, you really don't care).

You find Hotch waiting for you there. He looks ridiculous sitting in your chair. He's all bent and twisted, like a contortionist. The sitting arrangements for IT support techs and Unit Chiefs aren't exactly on the same level…

There's your hot pink Jersey Shore mug and a pastry (blueberry muffin, safe but ultimately boring choice) sitting in front of him.

"You brought bribes, and you're here in person… Should I be worried ? You didn't "accidentally" blow up a computer did you ?" you greet him.

He gets up from your chair and glares at it. Like it was actively insulting his spine. In comparison to his chair, it probably was.

"I wouldn't rule it out," he replies dryly. "There's a network issue in my office. The internet keeps dropping."

You sigh dramatically, and drop your jacket on your chair.

You take a sip of the coffee. It's a lot better than the office one. Does he bring his own?

"Lead the way captain."

When you get to his office, the router seems to be working just fine. You narrow your eyes at him.

"The signal flickers in and out," he anticipates.

It sounds more like an excuse than an explanation.

You sit down at his desk. Or more accurately, you reclaim it. Like it's yours to take. He doesn't seem to mind how comfortable you make yourself in his office.

You give the monitor a quick glance, open the terminal to run a few commands, check the network diagnostics.

Green.

Suspiciously green.

"Wow, would you take a look at that. Not only is everything working, your office has the fastest internet speed out of the entire building."

He's peering at the screen over your shoulder. His left arm is bracing against the desk. His chest is basically touching your back. It's like he's engulfing you. He feels warm, so warm. You're not even touching. You glance up at him. His face is so close to yours, you can count every frown line, every mole. You can see that his lips are slightly dry. He wets them just as you lift your eyes back up to his.

He leans back.

"Not bad right ?" he asks in an almost smug tone. Like the fact that his internet is fast is all his doing. Like you called him the fastest or maybe he interpreted it as 'the biggest'.

"What exactly are you bragging about ? The fact that your network isn't bugging ?" you fire back. You can't have him getting too cocky all of a sudden.

He shrugs. He looks entirely unbothered by the fact that you're calling him out.

"Reliable connection is a rare thing," he says.

You squint at him. "Was that supposed to be a tech joke ?"

"Would it work better as a dinner invitation ?"

That shuts you up for once.

You don't even have to think about it. Yes, yes, yes.

"Only if I get to pick the place," you say.

He gives you a smile. It looks boy-ish, almost shy. He nods gently.

"And you can't wear a suit," you continue. You like the suits, they look real nice, but you're hoping for someone more… slutty ?

"And you have to do four shots of SoCo lime with me. Meatball style. Without throwing up."

He blinks. He looks vaguely alarmed. "I'm sorry… what ?"

You grin. "You'll see."

Bug 3 : Software failure — Frozen Window Moth, Glitchonoma unresponsivea.

The Bureau's latest failed technological venture is the 'Virtual Case File'. This system is somehow even worse than the previous one. And that's saying something, seeing as its predecessor dates back to the literal 80s. Not only are the bugs worse, the intended features that were supposed to justify a $100 million investment of tax payer money don't even work.

You're already 5 agents deep in troubleshooting hell (and it's not even lunch yet) by the time you make it to Aaron's office.

You only knock once before coming in. He cut his hair shorter the other day. Well, more like you cut his hair, and you made it shorter than planned. It still looks nice, he just doesn't have the little bangs anymore.

He's wearing the gray suit today. With the red tie. Just for you. Because he knows you think he looks ravishing in it. And, because he knows it's your favorite suit to take off of him. Whore.

"Please say that this is one of your fake requests to see me and that you don't actually need help," you complain.

You're tired and irritated and running dangerously low on fucks to give.

For once you're the one frowning.

"Hi sweetheart," he says gently. He's smiling, soft and warm and stupidly sweet. He takes your hand in his (warm, always warm) and leads you to his (your) chair. He leans down, brushes some of your hair back and fixes the collar of your shirt with so much care it's making you want to kiss him.

So you do. Because you can.

Just once. One little peck. We're still at work.

Alright, no, another one.

And a third one. For luck.

You can feel him smile through the kiss. Or maybe you're the one smiling.

"Better?" he asks sweetly.

You poke his dimple with your finger.

You nod.

You pull away just the tiniest bit. Your hand's on the nape of his neck, playing with the short hairs there.

"So, what exactly can I do for you, Agent Hotchner ?" you ask with a suggestive eyebrow wiggle.

He gives you a little chuckle. Sometimes when he laughs it almost sounds like he's giggling. But again, we're still at work…

"I actually do need your help this time," he says almost sheepishly.

You groan. "Of course you do. You're like a damsel in distress."

Still, your thumb brushes his cheek and you give him one last peck.

"It's the new system isn't it?"

"It completely freezes when I try to upload attachments," he explains.

"Have you tried throwing your computer out the window ?" you offer. "That usually works."

"I figured I'd call you before escalating to that."

You turn towards the computer. You're already pulling up the terminal and checking the system logs. He's watching you work, almost lovestruck. You can feel his eyes tenderly following your every movement. It makes you feel warm.

"What would I do without you?" he asks. His finger lightly caresses your ear.

"I don't know. Probably Comic Sans again ?"

He lets out a half-annoyed half-fond groan.

You laugh. Pleased with your joke, with how annoyed you can make him and still have him be sweet to you. You're a lot less grumpy than you were when you came in.

"What do you want to have for lunch?"

Bug 4 : Cybersecurity phishing test — Inbox Lure Wasp, Phisherix simultan

You almost don't believe it when the report comes through. You double-check the logs. Then the email header. Then the simulated domain redirect path. Then the logs again.

Nope. There's no two ways about it. Aaron Hotchner, BAU Unit Chief, your Aaron, clicked on a phishing link.

You sit back in your chair (still no lumbar support), stunned.

You feel slightly disappointed at first. But then an idea forms in your head and you start grinning.

When you walk into his office, he's in the middle of reviewing a case file. He looks up, about to tell off whoever it is that dared to just barge into his office, but softens when he sees it's you. Except he then actually sees you, sees the smug smile and unholy glee that are clear as day on your face.

"Why are you acting weird towards me?" (this somewhat softens the blow of having your boyfriend fall for a phishing link. he's in so deep that he's quoting Snooki. the other day, he called one of the police officers he was working with 'a grenade'. it's not exactly right but it’s still disgustingly sweet that he tries. for you.)

You put down the report on his desk. "You failed."

He frowns. He picks it up. There's a very faint teeth mark on the top knuckle of his index finger (don't ask).

Slowly, his expression shifts from confused fondness to quiet horror. You perch yourself on his desk.

"Aaron, honey. It said "autovrify" in the URL. And you still entered your password. Twice."

He exhales, clearly mortified. You're doing your best not to start laughing.

He resorts to doing 'the Hotchner glare' again. You know the one. It hasn’t worked before and it's not about to now.

"I have to send you to retraining," you start, as sweetly as you can. "Mandatory. Two hours."

He groans and leans back in his chair. Throws his head back. Closes his eyes. This position looks vaguely familiar…

"Please tell me this doesn't go in my permanent file."

You pause. You can't hold back the smile that's making its way onto your face. Of course he would be worried about that. "I'm not at liberty to say."

He glares. You blow him a kiss.

"Also," you continue, all innocence, "since I have your password. By the way 'RingoSavoyTruffle1965', seriously ?"

You shoot him a look. He shrugs his shoulders.

"I did a quick sweep. Purely for cybersecurity purposes of course."

His eyes narrow instantly. His thumb starts rubbing his finger. He's nervous. He doesn't look that different outwardly but you know him.

"And what did you find ?" he asks, trying to seem unbothered.

"Oh, you know" you say casually. "The usual. Tax reports, newspaper subscriptions, grocery lists. And—"

You run your finger lightly along his chest. Your nail scratches against the fabric of his tie.

"—a very interesting folder labeled 'personal reference material'."

He sits up. And grabs your hand to stop its descent.

"You opened that ?"

You laugh and you squeeze the hand that he's holding. You use it to drag his chair closer to where you're sitting on his desk.

With your free hand, you brush back some of the strands at the front of his head that got messed up. It's getting long again. Not that you're complaining.

"How could I not?" You laugh. "You labeled things like it was evidence. With subfolders and—"

He kisses you to shut you up.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner fluff #hotch x reader #hotch x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch x you #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader

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iwillstabyou · 5 months ago

Text

TMAGP 31 - A Computer Nerd’s Breakdown Of The Error Logs

It’s round 3, bitches! (tumblr crashed twice when I was writing this so I’ve had to start again multiple times. I do in fact see the irony, considering the subject matter)

I was listening to TMAGP 31 and as a computer nerd, oh my god those error messages just HIT DIFFERENT. There are so many subtle details hiding in those lines that a typical non-computery person would probably miss, so I feel it is my duty to explain them and their possible implications. So that’s why I’ve decided to fully break down each part of the error report, complete with what they could potentially suggest — think of this as “the TMAGP theorist’s guide to deciphering Chester’s yapping”

So without further ado, let’s get this party started…

(NOTE: lines from the transcript are in red, ‘translations’ are in purple, jmj specific stuff is is green, explanations are in black)

Starting off with Category: fatal programmer error, notice it says programmer, not program. There is nothing wrong with the code - the user has truly fucked up. Uh oh, Colin has made a big mistake…

Also, clever double meaning here with the word fatal. Obviously we know it was fatal to Colin (RIP king 🥲), but error logs also typically have a criticality level describing if immediate action needs to be taken. There are 6 commonly used levels, with the most critical being, yep you guessed it, ‘fatal’ - this means that whatever Colin was doing was a critical threat to the system. In other words, Colin had figured out the problem and was dangerously close to fixing it so Freddie just went “oh shit, we need to deal with this guy quickly or we are in serious trouble.”

Then we’ve got the next line, attempted host compromise (the Errno611 isn’t significant - error codes vary from system to system). When it comes to network terminology, a host is basically just any device on the network, so in full this line basically means “somebody’s tried to damage part of the network.” Importantly, “host” seems to suggest that the computers aren’t the source of this evil but merely a vessel for it. Freddie is just the mouthpiece for these supernatural forces - a bit like a non-sentient (as far as we know…) avatar. Whatever these forces are, they didn’t come from within/they weren’t created by Freddie.

(NOTE: I will come back to jmj=null in a bit)

The program traceback, Traceback <module> by extension BECHER, is rather interesting. A network extension is a way of providing network access to remote users (think along the lines of a VPN) by creating a personal direct ‘route’ to the network. Therefore if it’s the subject of an error report, it means there’s been an issue with data transmission along that path. So this bit means “there’s a problem with this specific network route that’s allocated to Colin.” However, the darker implication here is that Colin is an extension of Freddie. Although he wasn’t initially a part of all of this, he’s become tangled in the web (no pun intended) to the point that he and Freddie are inseparably intertwined. The OIAR employees may be able to quit their jobs, but they’ll still be a part of Freddie…

There isn’t much to say about Host=self.host in this context. It’s just convention when it comes to object oriented programming. Not important here.

Extension BECHER compromised isn’t just saying “there’s an issue here.” It’s saying “there’s an issue here that is a serious threat to network operation.” In other words, Freddie’s going “uh oh. Colin needs to be dealt with.”

The next bit is pretty self explanatory. I really don’t think I need to explain what <hardware damage_crowbar> means for you guys to understand. This bit made me laugh so hard. One thing that’s interesting though is that it gave it a DPHW, so Freddie processed this like it was an incident… Perhaps this fully confirms that the ‘thing’ controlling Freddie is of the same origin as the cases - it’s not something else entirely?

And now onto Administrator privilege revoked. This was the moment when I fully realised “oh no. Colin is fucked,” because any control that Colin may have had over the situation is now gone for good. Freddie’s basically just said “fuck you Colin. You’re not in charge anymore. I am.”

As you can probably guess, Unexpected data isolated/resolved just means that the crowbar’s been dealt with and the program can run as usual. Similarly, the Colin threat is fixed now he’s not an administrator i.e. he can no longer control the system. However, it then gets weird with Independent operation permissions revoked… It’s not saying Colin can’t use the network independently, it’s saying that Colin can’t be used independently of the network. Remember what I was saying earlier about Colin being a part of Freddie? Yeah, well now he purely is a part of Freddie. They’re turning our boy into data!

NOTE: I know in the audio it said everything was discarded but I’m going by the transcript. Idk why they’re different

You know it’s a bad sign when you hear Re config: self.host - Freddie’s evolving. The network is literally reconfiguring itself to now include Colin. And then Freddie goes through each of his alchemical elements one by one and fucking deletes them! How rude. You go and eat this man only to spit everything out!? I guess he’s feeling generous though, because he decides to keep the sulphur, which in alchemy, refers to the soul… If this isn’t just a coincidence, then that means Colin’s actual soul has been uploaded to Freddie. That could be really cool. And messed up. But mostly cool.

Starting with the final line, everyone knows what New administrator permissions assigned means, but we don’t know yet who they’ve been assigned to. Maybe it’s Gwen? Maybe it’s a new character? Maybe there is no system administrator anymore? It’s a mystery.

Now that’s out the way, let’s get on to the real juicy stuff…

The top few lines are pretty simple - it’s Freddie’s way of saying “Colin was a problem. We ate him. Now he’s not a problem anymore.” The next line, however, is a reminder that none of this is simple” - .jmj error not resolved. There it is again. The infamous jmj error. What does it mean? Jon? Martin? Jonah? Is that you???? Nobody knows. One thing we do know though is that jmj=null (from the start of the error log). Now when it comes to interpreting values, null is weird. It’s not zero, it’s not empty, it’s sort of nothing but it’s not nothing. It’s just null. It means no value, but it doesn’t mean that the variable doesn’t have a value (if that makes any sense to you guys???). Ooh I think I know how to explain it?? Imagine you’re Jonathan Sims, head archivist of the Magnus Institute and you’re digitising some archived ID photos when you find one without a name. The recorded name in the database would be null - you can’t put anything in particular, but that doesn’t mean the person in the photo doesn’t have a name. I guess null means unknown or missing here. So basically, what jmj=null means is that the jmj is unknown and that is a problem because it can’t get ignored/it is important. So what it’s basically saying is that jmj is a mystery not only to us, but also to Freddie.

Take a look at Data integration cycle ongoing <0.02%> - Data integration is the process of combining data from multiple sources into a single source of truth. There are 4 stages: data ingestion, cleaning, transformation, and unification. Thanks to the whole Colin ordeal, I’m sure you are all quite familiar with these stages by now (and that, students, is what we call a case study!). The peculiar thing here though is that we’ve just witnessed most of the data integration cycle - surely it should be higher than 0.02%? Yes, that’s correct. It should be far higher than that. It makes no sense. UNLESS this isn’t about Colin. Most of Colin’s data has probably already integrated. This is something else entirely - something so much bigger and foreign than these computers were designed for (the only comparison I can think of is trying to run the sims 4 with all expansion packs on a 15 year old laptop. It really shouldn’t work, and it probably won’t, but it’s gonna try regardless). This seems to follow on nicely from the jmj=null comments above, because Freddie is clearly struggling to integrate something (hence System function margins down to 82%), and when you try to read data that hasn’t been fully integrated with the system, you end up with a lot of missing & unknown values. Sound familiar? Yep, that’s right - until more data is synchronised, many values will be null, like our good friend jmj. Why is it taking so long to integrate jmj? We don’t know. Perhaps its origins are so supernatural and otherworldly that it’s simply not tangible enough for Freddie to process it? That’s what I think at the moment, at least.

So yeah, that’s my line by line analysis done! Hope you found that helpful/interesting. This podcast is so well written I’m actually going insane! Jonny and Alex, you are the guys of all time! As I’ve already said, feel free to expand on any of this - I’d love to hear your theories

Signed, your friendly neighbourhood computer nerd who is very autistic about TMAGP :)

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gyeomsweetgyeom · 3 months ago

Text

[12:17 pm]

(cw: wife!reader)

With yours and CEO!Johnny's schedules, it could be pretty hard to match up your schedules for small moments together. Sure, there were your nights spent together, the slow mornings, sporadic calls during the day. It was a schedule you'd both gotten used to and didn't complain about simply because you both knew that there were periods of time that could be worse. Like when Johnny had to go on trips to other countries, when either of you had long meetings, conferences that took you away from home.

All that to say, when one of you had unexpected free time, you were spending it with each other. That's why you were happily walking across his office with a bag of food in your hands and a happy smile on your face. You waved at his employees as you walked across the floor, smiling and asking how they were, how their kids were, and how Johnny was treating them.

You stopped in front of his secretary's desk, "Hi, how are you? Johnny has his lunch hour free today, right?"

His secretary smiles up at you, looking at the calendar on her computer before her eyes find yours once again, "always nice to see you Mrs. Suh. Yes, John has about an hour and a half free, two hours but you know he has me schedule his itinerary down to the minute. He'll be very happy to see you. He doesn't tell me a whole lot, but I can tell when he misses you. Enjoy your lunch."

You smile sweetly at her, making a mental note to make sure she gets a very good Christmas gift from your husband. You knock on his office door, peeking your head in with a cheeky smile, "Mr. Suh, your lunch meeting is here."

"Lunch meeting? I didn't see that on my calen-" Johnny starts to say before his eyes finally fall on you. His shoulders relax at the same time his gaze softens at the mere sight of you, "my love. This is the best surprise ever. What are you doing here? I thought you had a conference."

You close the door behind you meeting him half way with a kiss on the lips and a smile, "it was a networking brunch. I'm free for the rest of the day, so I figured there was no better way to spend my time than lunch with my wonderful husband."

"Well, I'm just the luckiest guy alive, aren't I?" He smiles as he takes the bag of food from your hand.

You both settle onto the leather couch of his office as you both begin to open up the containers of food from one of your favorite, g to, restaurants. Johnny stares at the food hungrily, "I didn't even realize how hungry I was. Thank you, my love."

"Good think your wife knows you better than you know yourself, huh?" You wink, kicking off your heels before grabbing your salad off the table and getting comfortable on the couch.

While you both eat, you make small talk. You tell Johnny about your event, he tells you about his day, and the frustrating call he'd started his day with. He sips his drink slowly, his eyes find yours and then he asks, "you used my card for lunch, right?"

Your eyes glint with mischief, "...no."

"My love!" Johnny cries out, dragging his free hand down his face, "how many times do I have to tell you to not spend your money? You don't use your money for anything, alright? You use my money— our money for everything. Got it?"

You laugh, setting your own food aside as you crawl across the couch and cup his face in your hands. The wedding rings on your finger feels cool against his skin as he stares into your eyes. You lean in, pressing your forehead against his own, "if you'd have let your wife finish... I'd have told you that I used the cash you snuck into my purse this morning. Happy?"

He smacks a quick kiss against your lips, "very happy. I could never be anything but happy with you."

#kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #nct #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct timestamps #nct x reader #nct drabbles #nct blurbs #johnny imagines #johnny x reader #johnny blurb #johnny timestamps #johnny fluff #johnny suh imagines #johnny suh x reader #johnny suh fluff

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sightseertrespasser · 3 months ago

Note

"I have a whole other tangent I could elaborate on about Tacnet specifically" Staring at you with big HUGE eyes. I would love to hear the tangent

Alrighty then.

First things first, what is Tacnet?

Sometimes also referred to as a Battle computer, Tacnet is short for Tactical Network and its ostensibly the worlds most demented excel spreadsheet.

In more literal terms, Tacnet is a type of supercomputer.

Supercomputers are incredibly useful pieces of technology. Able to run simulations, predictive algorithms and utilizing real world statistics to essentially speculate the past, present or future. The bottleneck for a regular old supercomputer is that someone has to sit down and manually input all the information necessary for those calculations.

You want to know what kind of gun made that specific bullet hole?

Well first the supercomputer needs the ballistics data off as many kinds of guns as possible, then it needs data on the material that was shot, and it also needs as much information as possible on the bullet hole in question.

You skip out on any of that input and the odds of the supercomputer being correct gets progressively lower.

Problem is, the supercomputer can’t actually think, and therefore can’t estimate how accurate its own calculations are. A computer works in total binary. If it only has the ballistic data for three kinds of guns, it doesn’t matter how much the bullet hole doesn’t match the data sets its been provided, the supercomputer will select whichever of the three matches the hole the most closely.

A computer, no matter how advanced, is incapable of knowing when it doesn’t know something.

But people on the other hand. . .

We turn now to an ambitious young R&D developer many millennia ago.

Once upon a time, this member of Research and Development was on the team responsible for designing new Cold Constructed mechs for Sentinel Prime. And they had a GREAT idea.

“I’ve got it!” They say, unaware of the ominous music rising in the background.

“The great powers of the supercomputer cannot be realized within its current limitations! Its greatest flaws are that it must be stationary, it must be manually fed information and all calculations it does generate must be reviewed by a thinking mech!”

Their coworkers groan. It’s too early in the morning for this shit.

“Therefore!” The mech says, quickly sketching out a box full of smaller boxes that is supposed to be a computer and the miserable approximation of a mech.

“We simply remove the separation, and make the mech itself the data intake for the supercomputer!”

Lightning crashes in the distance, someone tiredly gets the fire extinguisher. Again.

It’s not a hard sales pitch for a totalitarian government to go “Yeah we want super-cops. Here’s the money, make it happen.”

And in a tale as old as capitalism, an untested feature was rolled out with catastrophic consequences.

If you’ve read my tangent on how Crashes work, then you already know about logic cascades.

Tacnet is a supercomputer. A tool. Like any tool, it’s only as good as the person using it, and someone who really doesn’t know what they’re doing is liable to hurts themselves.

So what can Tacnet really do in the hands (or processor) of a master?

Some psychic-type level nonsense. Anyone who’s gotten the hang of their Tacnet, in their own fields of expertise, are able to know exactly what will happen before anyone else.

Let’s compare Smokescreen, Bluestreak and then Prowls Tacnets and how they’re used.

Every Tacnet starts the same, but can be developed and trained to excel at different things.

Smokescreen - Place Your Bets

Smokescreen has trained his to work best for gambling. “Training” can be anything from downloading tables of statistical analysis to personally observing the phenomenon and making notes.

Let’s look at rolling dice. If you rolled a six sided die, any number is equally likely to be rolled. Or 16.67 % odds for each.

So if 3 dice are rolled, then every total value outcome from 3 to 18 must be equal odds as well, right?

Nope! If three six sided dice are rolled, there is a 12.5 % (or 25% if you combine them) chance it’ll be a 10 or 11. And that’s out of sixteen possible outcomes.

So if you know the difference but your opposition doesn’t, then suddenly you have a huge advantage while betting. And this is just the most simplified example I can think of.

If you’ve got the time, statistics are absolutely wild and there’s a mathematical equation for pretty much anything.

All Smokescreen has to do to get good at a game is learn the rules and then plug in the numbers. You know how card counting will get you banned from most casinos? Well Smokescreens worked that out too. Talking to other players (collecting preexisting data points) he can find the average of how much he can win in a night before people get too pissy.

Another thing Smokescreen has going for him (especially over Prowl) is that Smokescreen is much better at reading people. He doesn’t just have statics on the games, but the players.

Mapping out the connections between individuals and taking personal motivations into account, Smokescreen at his peak can not only predict who the winners will be, but he can also predict who will loose on purpose, who will bet the most, who will cheat and who will seek to take their winnings by force.

Experience, experience, experience is the golden ticket.

Also, it’s Smokescreen himself who has to craft the profiles of his victims gambling buddies. Once fleshed out, Tacnet can do wonders mid game, giving Smokescreen room to focus on his social schemes instead.

Luckily, after the burning of Praxus, most people don’t really know what a Tacnet is truly capable of. So Smokescreen looses just often enough to keep folks from realizing that he always knows how every game will play out before they even start.

Bluestreak - Shoot Your Shot

Going in the opposite direction of utility, Bluestreaks Tacnet is all about kinetic calculations.

This fucker is doing the type of math that’s more letters than numbers. Constantly.

Air resistance, velocity, acceleration, gravity, weight, density, temperature, vector, displacement and time.

There’s equations that call for each and every one of those factors, usually in combination.

Your average sniper, even a good one, is usually considering wind speeds, the pull of gravity and the distance from the target when lining up a shot. Bluestreak is taking in all that and then working out the influences of about 15 more factors on top of that. Even before he’s picking where exactly on the target he’s going to hit. Since remember, if he’s got data on not just his own weapons but his enemies defenses, then it really becomes as simple as “would you like them disabled or dead?”

Aim is no longer a question of ability, but an equation to be solved.

Still, physical capabilities does play a part since a steady hand goes a long way towards realizing those calculations.

Tacnet may crunch the numbers, but Bluestreak is the one who has to find all the details relevant to the shot and pick which ones to feed to the machine.

Additionally, Bluestreaks Tacnet in particular has the experimental feature of massively increasing the amount of sensory data he can take in per second, effectively causing him to perceive things in slow motion. This is less something Tacnet is doing, and more a case of Bluestreaks own processor utilizing the bandwidth normally taken up by Tacnet.

Tacnet itself takes a substantial amount of power to run. Normally, it causes problems by siphoning too much power from other systems to do its job (see logic cascade crashes). But Bluestreak has the funny little quirk of somehow doing that in reverse. So when his sense of time dilation becomes maxed out, Tacnet isn’t running the formulas to help him shoot anymore, it’s just Bluestreaks own skills at that point.

Outside of that rare circumstance, Bluestreak is effectively playing with aimbot in real life.

Prowl - Know Your Fate

So we’ve established that Tacnet is powered by mathematical formulas and data collection.

What would happen if someone just, kept going? Kept feeding it? Building up more and more infrastructure for Tacnet to grow around until it has a point of reference for almost anything?

You get an oracle.

Prowl puts the Tactical back into Tacnet. He’s essentially the Jack of all Trades and Master of several of those subjects actually.

Sure, Smokescreen has him beat for behavioral analysis, and Bluestreak is leagues beyond what Prowl can calculate for trajectories. But no one has doubled down on what Tacnet can really do like Prowl has.

You know that (not actually true) statistic about how humans only use 25% of their brains? That’s your average Tacnet user.

Prowl just happens to be insane.

He is constantly taking in new data. He is constantly taking notes, making observations, stripping it down to the raw numbers involved and packing it away into monumental resource centers for Tacnet to refer to.

You ever see someone who’s really good with excel sheets and then see them do some shit you didn’t know excel sheets could even do?

It’s kinda like that.

If you’ve ever read the classic Sherlock Holmes stories, a lot of what makes Sherlock so effective is having such a detailed knowledge of the world around him.

Let’s go back to the bullet hole analysis.

Prowl could look at the bullet hole and tell you after two minutes: “It was this specific Cargo vessel at this time with an illegal weapon.”

From the outside, this looks like a baseless guess. But to Prowl it looks like this:

a) The gun must be a new imported weapon as nothing he currently has on file matches the marking its made in that kind of material.

b) The shooter not only missed their shot, but was shooting downward at an excessive angle. Indicating this was a very large mech firing downward at a much smaller target, likely a mini bot.

c) The shooter can be exactly tracked by looking at the local registry for recent out bound flights, specifically ones with no cargo.

Why? Because the shooter is most likely a transport shuttle. Easy access to imported goods, very large but not a war frame (hence the missed shot) and having failed to kill their victim, would flee town immediately without waiting to take on cargo.

Of those two minutes it took, he spent 1:30 waiting for the flight records to load so he could look up the name of the shuttle.

Scale those skills up to a war room, and Prowl not only knows why an enemy troop is retreating, but where they’re retreating to, what losses they must have taken and whether or not it’ll be worth it to finish the job.

Prowl isn’t smart because he has a Tacnet. Tacnet is OP because Prowl is that smart.

When I write his perspective, Prowl often has an accuracy percentage attached to his calculations. Tacnet isn’t the thing making those estimates. Prowl is the one judging how accurate Tacnets suggestions are.

Dudes just a freak.

—————————

In summary, Tacnet is like if you had every kind of calculator in your pocket and the only limit was how many equations you’ve added on and the amount of information you can feed it.

That last bit is the biggest challenge for Tacnet, as conflicting or flawed data can cause. . . Issues. Aka Logic Cascades. Aka “Why can’t I make it make sense.” Disease.

Let’s just say there’s a reason not many people know what Tacnet is capable of, as a lot of early Praxian Enforcers could be taken out by confusing emotions, plot holes, and particularly well executed magic tricks.

Doesn’t exactly inspire confidence when your new shiny police force can be hospitalized by watching Back to the Future 2.

Being one of the first Cold Constructs built with a Tacnet, Smokescreen figured out how to mostly get around that glitch early on and taught Prowl and Bluestreak how to do the same. In this particular setting, Tacnet is poorly understood and best kept mostly secret for those reasons.

(Bizarrely, between Tacnet and the radar uses of doorwings, Prowl and his brothers would actually be really good at predicting the weather.)

———————————————————————

Bonus bit: Good fucking lord it would absolutely terrifying if you could somehow combine Smokescreen, Prowl and Bluestreaks skills into like a Tacnet hivemind or something.

Though with wing speak, to an outsider that’s probably what it already looks like.

———

The three brothers look at the same bullet hole, silently communicating in a way the local non-Praxian officer couldn’t pick up on.

“Oh yeah, looks like Rotor didn’t like Brick cutting into his half of the dirty money. Slippery little guy but you can find both their hideouts here and here.” Smokescreen, the eldest, pulls up a map for reference.

Prowl is already out the door, Bluestreak is lining up a shot through the window.

“What is he. . ?” The other officer looks from Bluestreak. Then to Prowl, trailing off, “Where is the other one. . ?”

“Oh Prowls off to arrest the shooter.”

“But he’s a grounder, can’t Rotor fly?”

A shot rings out.

“Not anymore!”

#asks #fun times #Tacnet you strange strange thing #world building #the Datsun brothers are out hear like the thre Fate Sisters #except they all got scissors #Prowl is basically Cassandra

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beetlejuicyy · 1 year ago

Text

Eraser | Ryomen Sukuna x reader

1. Ultimatum

Summary: modern!Sukuna has a tattoo of your name on his chest that he wants to get rid of. Can he, though?

Word count: 2,2k

Masterlist | AO3

Notes: this idea popped in my head very randomly while I was listening to a song and it screamed modern day Sukuna so here it is

“I want it gone.” Sukuna said, already irritated.

“Are you sure? Covering it up would be way easier.” If this bastard kept talking, Sukuna would rather cut his own skin and get the job done faster.

“I want it gone from my skin.” He growled and the guy quickly went back to the computer to search for an appointment date.

“Any other guy wouldn’t have treated you as well as I did!” Sukuna spat back as if that was supposed to fix something.

You sat down on the floor of your bedroom, back resting against the bed. You were tired of yelling and screaming. He would never allow himself to articulate the word love, not even in this fight that was about to end your relationship for good.

“Really? What else is there to be done? Fuck another girl in my own bed?” You replied sarcastically and he groaned in frustration.

You just couldn’t understand. He warned you that the wasn’t he goodie two shoes compliant man going to a 9 to 5 and talking about finance or computer science like your previous flings. He was running an underground illegal business and networking was the most important thing if you wanted to end up on top. Sukuna reiterated these things many times, as if they could overcome the indescribable magnetic pull you felt towards him. He shouldn’t have flirted with you so confidently and insistently if he never planned to let you in. But you eagerly nodded, dismissing all his warnings, all of Yuuji's, his little brother’s warnings that predicted exactly this moment. When you would find out he made out with another woman in a random club at 1:30AM while you obediently ate your vanilla ice cream and binge watched netflix.

“For the last time, woman!” He yelled, his hoarse voice coming from his throat filled the quiet room. “I didn’t fuck her!”

He was sitting in the doorframe of your bedroom, looking at your pathetic form on the floor. Head supported in your hands, your tangled long hair falling over your face. He had been banging on your front door for half an hour before you agreed to open it. He had smoked cigarette after cigarette, trying to relieve some of the stress. When you finally opened the front door to let him in, all the snarky remarks he had prepared faded away. Your eyes were swollen because of crying, the hems of your sleeping t-shirt, his t-shirt, wet with tears. He followed you back to your room, but he couldn’t bring himself to walk in, seeing you like this. Yelling and cursing at each other was easy, but resisting the sight of your pain was harder than anything he had ever done.

“Oh, yeah sure.” He couldn’t see your face because it was covered by your palms but he knew you rolled your eyes. “First you make out with her and then wait until she throws herself at you. Funny thing, worked on me.” Your voice was strained from all the yelling. Your energy had been used up almost entirely. Now all that was left was a bitter, quiet tone.

“I knew that little brat was too young to get involved in these things.” He mumbled more to himself. He pulled at the knot of his black tie. It was already lose enough. He was suffocating.

“Yuuji didn’t tell me.” You laughed. You were so tired of all of it. Your head fell back on the bed and you looked at the ceiling, as if the answer to your problems was written there for you to read. You didn’t need to see his handsome face to know one eyebrow was cocked in surprise. Damn his face and his black shirt and his perfectly tailored pants and his tattoos. “A private number sent me a video.” Sukuna’s tongue pushed against the inside of his cheek in frustration. “You could call it networking.”

He sighed. It was on video. All he could do was walk up to you, crouch down on the floor and try to resist the urge to touch you. You looked so beautifully devastated at 3:42 AM, only in your panties and one of his t-shirts, pretty legs sprawled on the floor, neck exposed just waiting for his teeth to sink in. But you already thought he was disgusting. It would only make things worse to admit that this sight of you turned him on.

“They’re trying to get to me, can’t you see?” Sukuna’s voice had never been so calm, so quiet. It was deep and throaty, coming from the utmost effort and consideration he held in his large body. “They know how important you are to me.” You only half smiled, as if he said something supposedly funny.

How come you didn’t know how important you were to him? How come he never told you how he felt about you? How come anytime you would seek reassurance from him you would end up in a sexual circumstance? He would tell you that you’re pretty, beautiful, sexy. He would make you feel like a goddess when he would touch you. And you would fall for it most of the time. But never, not once, express his feelings, his sincere and most vulnerable feelings towards you. You couldn’t do that for the both of you anymore. Sukuna seemed to understand the lack of trust from your silence, from the curled corner of your mouth forming a sad half smile, from your empty eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.

“I needed information, y/n.” The sleeves of his shirt were folded up to his elbows, a strong smell of cigarettes deeply impregnated in the fabric. You raised your head from the mattress to look at him, bloodshot piercing eyes staring at you closely. “It’s the easiest way of doing it.”

“Yeah, actually you’re right. I need a Prada bag I’ll just make out with the security guy and he’ll give it to me.”

“I can buy it for you.”

Slap.

Sukuna didn’t expect it. The stinging sensation your palm left across his cheek burned deeper than the surface of his skin. It burned inside his heart. He didn’t look back at you. He kept his face turned away, so you could see how the skin changed into a pinkish color, more vibrant than the pink of his hair. Sukuna took a deep breath, licking his lips, trying to find a way to contain himself.

“I knew you had been a manwhore before. But I really thought, I really wanted you to respect me.” Your words cut sharper than any slap could. Your voice was getting louder and shakier with every word, anger and misery mixed in a pitiful sound. “I was stupid to think you would really care.”

“I do.” He said between his gritted teeth.

“You don’t. You just proved it tonight.”

“I told you multiple times.” He placed both of his hands on either side of your frame at the edge of the bed. The smell of his musky high end perfume mixed with cigarettes and a slight scent of alcohol as he spoke intoxicated you. You couldn’t avoid him. “This is what I do, take it or leave it. You said you’re fine with it.”

“You’re saying it’s my fault?” Suddenly you became very aware of the fact that you were covered in minimal clothing and the way he was looking at you, that mix of anger and frustration, his clenched jaw, his soft lips, they all made you want to stop fighting.

“I’m saying you’re exaggerating.”

“You really want me to slap you again.”

“Only if you can bear the consequences.”

You pushed your knees against his body, trying to break away from the cage of his muscular arms at your sides, keeping you prisoner. He didn’t even flinch. You kicks became stronger and more desperate, fighting against him while he did absolutely nothing to you. Sukuna looked at you in surprise, not expecting to be pushed away like this. Usually it took him a few intimidating looks and some sugarcoated words to make you forget that you were mad at him.

No more gaslighting.

No more forgiveness without an apology.

No more loving by yourself for the both of you.

“What the fuck are you doing, y/n?!” He asked in a raspy voice, placing large hands on your bare thighs and forcing them flat against the floor. But now you pushed him away with your arms, although your hands weren’t sure if they should cling to his shirt and pull him close or push him away from you.

“You don’t love me!” Your voice broke and you started crying, salty tears rolling down your flushed cheeks.

You just did it. You said that one thing that had been eating you from inside out for so long, that thing that you were so afraid of voicing out loud. You stopped struggling altogether. Sukuna’s heart broke. He always thought he could get away with his way of living, even after getting into this relationship. You would understand. You would forgive. You would know nobody else meant shit and you were the most important person to him.

“I have you right here, silly.” He said, his hand gesturing to his chest. He was referring to the tattoo he got a couple months ago, a small addition to his collection, your name right above his heart. You were never into this kind of things but he came up with the idea and you guessed you were important enough to him to be part of the story on his skin.

“You can always cover it up.” You said, unable to understand that this was his way of saying I love you, his way of carrying you in his heart at all times. “But what about my heart? I can't cover that up.” You brought your knees to your chest, hugging them with your arms, resting your forehead on top of them. You were so small, so frail. Sukuna used to think you were a strong soul but it seemed that you were more vulnerable than you showed. He had just broken you. Continuously hit your seemingly indestructible outer layer, like a glass that cracked more and more with time, until it shattered completely tonight. He wanted to hug you, to comfort you, to reassure you. But you only wanted one thing. He knew the only thing that would give him a chance would be to say three simple words. And he couldn’t bring himself to say them. So he just sat there on the floor with you, while you sobbed your pain away. The strong and mighty Ryomen Sukuna whom so many people feared was reduced to silence by a woman.

“Go away, Sukuna.” You said when your sobs quieted down, your tears ran dry and your mind started to clear out. You rose your eyes to look at him, still standing in front of you. “Go away!” You said, louder this time, like trying to get a dog to stop following you.

“Do you really want me to leave, you brat?” He asked, hoping that you would change your mind in the last minute.

“Get the fuck out!” You yelled, grabbing whatever your hand found closest to you and throwing it in his direction. It was his pack of cigarettes that was now half empty. It hit him right in his chest before falling miserably on the floor. He didn’t even feel it.

Sukuna had been trying to get in contact with you for the past two weeks. Work had him busy and exhausted all the time but not enough to forget that you weren’t answering his calls, weren’t replying his messages. You even got rid of the airtag he had given you to know your location at all times for safety. He pestered his little brother Yuuji to talk to you but he kept saying you weren’t answering him either. The brat was lying, he knew it. These two weeks had passed excruciatingly slow for Sukuna. It seemed like you had given up on him completely. In an attempt to tend to his shattered ego, given that all hope was gone for his broken heart, he decided to get rid of the tattoo of your name on his chest. He wasn’t going to cover it, like you said. He was going to remove it for good.

“You have to sign here aaand here.” The guy at the reception handed him a pen for the paperwork. Sukuna was just about to sign when his phone rang. When he saw the picture of his little brother on the screen his heart skipped a beat. He was so pathetic. He really hoped Yuuji had some news about you.

“I’m busy, what is it?”

“Uhm, it’s about y/n.” Yuuji’s voice was hesitant, like he still wasn’t sure he was supposed to share this information.

“What about y/n?” Sukuna was growing impatient.

“I think… I think she might be going on a date.” Sukuna’s vision darkened. The grip on his phone was so tight his knuckles turned white.

“Not on my fucking watch.” He muttered between his teeth. “Send me the location.” He turned on his heels in a second, walking out of the building with rushed angry steps.

“Uhm, sir? Your appointment?” The guy at the reception yelled, confused.

“I ain’t removing shit!” He yelled back as he reached his motorcycle. Yuuji had already sent him your location.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna #sukuna jjk #jujustu kaisen #sukuna imagine #sukuna angst

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xomakara · 11 months ago

Text

Office Secrets

SUMMARY | You're in a relationship with your boss, Yunho. Except no one in the office knows that you're together.

PAIRINGS | Yunho x Reader

RATING | Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+

GENRE | Manager!Yunho, Employee!Reader, non-idol au, established relationship, smut, secret relationship,

CONTENT/WARNINGS | profanity/strong language, unprotected sex (wrap it up ya’ll!), fingering, dirty talk, oral sex (female giving/male receiving), praise kink, pet names, office sex, bedroom sex, creampie

LENGTH | 8,502 words

TAGLIST | --

NETWORKS | @illusionnet @atzhouse @cromernet @wonderlandnet

@othersideoutlawsnetwork @k-vanity @ksmutsociety

AUTHOR’S NOTE | Hi there. Linda here. Here's another Yunho fic lolololol. Thank you @aaagustd for the beautiful banner~ And now I'm going to cry in a corner. Don’t forget to like, comment, reblog and show some support. Love you all 💚

ATEEZ Main Masterlist

You pushed away from your desk, rolling your eyes as the girls from your team excitedly talked about Head Manager Jeong. They discussed that he is handsome, single, and looking.

It was like they were shopping for him. You were sure one of them was planning to try and snatch him up. You couldn't blame them, but it didn't matter anyway. They would never find out about your relationship with Yunho because no one knew. It was the reason why he wasn't your emergency contact or anything. You didn’t have pictures of him on your phone, and he didn’t have any of you either. You didn’t do couple-like things together like going to a restaurant or seeing a movie. It was always back and forth between each other's apartments.

Your attention was brought back to the present when one of your team members asked if you agreed with the sentiment that Yunho was attractive. You looked around the room, the women waiting for you to answer.

The truth was yes. He was beyond attractive but you couldn't exactly tell the other women that you've fucked him on every surface of both his and your apartment.

"Yeah. I mean he's cute, I guess," you answered before turning your attention back to your computer screen.

"Just cute? Have you seen his face?" One of the women asked.

"I mean I see him almost every day, so yeah. I have."

"That's right, you guys are friends, right?"

You were not going to call your relationship with Yunho a friendship. It was too complicated.

"I don't know, we have mutual friends. So I see him at group outings sometimes," you explained.

It was the truth, but not the full truth.

You saw him all the time, but not in the way these women were imagining. You saw him in the shower. On the couch. His bed. Your bed. You saw him without his clothes on, panting beneath you. Above you. You saw him in ways you were sure they could never imagine. So yes, you would call your relationship a friendship, just not the type these women were assuming.

You continued with the work on your computer, ignoring the chatter about the rest of the company's team leaders and managers. They were all young and handsome and single, so it made sense that you all had been a hot topic at work lately.

Yunho had become the new target now that some of the others had been spoken for. Hongjoong was already married, and you had heard that he was going to be a father. Yeosang had recently gotten into a relationship. San had a girlfriend for the past few months and Seonghwa had just announced his engagement to his longtime girlfriend.

It was the reason why all the women in your department were so focused on the remaining four single men in the company.

Yunho, Mingi, Wooyoung, and Jongho were the only ones who were still available.

But even then, the relationship you have with Yunho wasn't conventional.

No one knew that the two of you were together.

Not a soul.

The secret had been eating away at you.

It had been going on for months now and you were sick of it. You just wanted to be able to hold his hand or kiss him in public. To let the world know that the man is yours.

It was frustrating.

Yunho wasn't just some fling or casual boyfriend. You cared for him deeply and the idea that people would think of him as being available and on the market made you uneasy. He is yours and you are his.

"Team Leader?" One of the girls spoke up, "Are you listening?"

You nodded, "What were you saying?"

She laughed, "We were wondering how you would rate Manager Jeong. He's single, so it wouldn't hurt to let us know. We could put in a good word for you if you wanted."

Your eyebrows furrowed. You did not need the girls to put on a good word for you when he was already yours. The sex was great, his dick was great. Everything was just great.

"Uh," you were about to respond but you were cut off.

"Manager Jeong, you're here."

You looked up and watched Yunho enter the room, nodding his head in acknowledgment. "Ladies, can I borrow Team Leader Y/L/N for a second?"

"Of course. Take your time."

He smiled, before walking towards your desk.

"Is everything okay?" You asked as you got up and followed him into the hallway.

"Everything is fine. I just need you to come with me," he explained as he walked down the hall.

You were confused, but you continued to follow him anyway. Opening the door to his office, he gestured for you to go inside. He closed the door behind you, making sure it was locked before he pulled you close to him.

"Why did you want to see me?" You asked as his lips moved down to your neck.

"I heard the girls talking," he began. "They think I'm handsome."

"I never said you weren't," you responded, tilting your head so he had better access to your skin.

"What would you rate me? They were asking."

"I think you'd know the answer to that question," you smirked as he kissed along your collarbones.

"You're right. I already know." He pulled away, a small smile on his lips. His hands rested on your hips, pulling your body closer to his. "But it would be nice to hear it, wouldn't it?"

"Fine," you could feel his breath on your skin. "You are a 10. Satisfied?"

He chuckled, "It's a start."

You rolled your eyes before he leaned down and kissed you. His tongue slipped into your mouth, the feeling causing a fire in the pit of your stomach. His hands moved down from your waist to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze. He lifted you up onto his desk, your legs wrapping around his waist. His lips traveled down your jaw to the sweet spot on your neck, sucking the skin into his mouth. Your hands moved up to his hair, tangling in his soft locks.

"Fuck," you breathed out as his lips moved further down your chest.

"Tell me how much of a 10 I am again," he teased as he nipped at the exposed skin.

"10. Fuck, a 100."

"Mmm," he hummed against your skin, "Good."

"Baby, we're at work."

He didn't care. He moved his hands up the skirt of your dress, grabbing a fistful of the fabric and yanking it up to your waist.

"Don't care," he said as he kissed down your neck and onto your chest. His hands moved to your bra, unclasping it with ease.

"Yunho," you whined. "Someone could walk in."

"I don't care," he repeated. He pulled your bra off, tossing it onto the ground. "Maybe it's time to show everyone that I'm yours and that you're mine. I think the rumors about me need to be addressed and quenched," he stated as his hands roamed across the expanse of skin.

"And how do we do that, Team Leader Jeong?" You looked up at him.

"Oh baby, it's very simple. It's called teamwork. Team Leader Y/N, would you please allow me the honor of helping you and me fuck in my office for the first time? You see, this is something that has been on the to-do list and we can finally cross this out. Not only is this to prove to everyone you're the love of my life, but it also shows everyone that I'm your man," he said softly against the column of your throat before kissing his way to your ear. "Also I want to see what face you'll make with your coworkers only meters away. What about that, Team Leader, will that please you?"

A soft moan escaped from your parted lips at the thought.

Yunho pressed his hips to yours. His clothed bulge was hard, hot, and ready for you, but he didn't give you that right away. Not yet.

His tongue dipped to the top of the neckline of your dress.

"Wait..."

"Please? Be a good girl and let me take care of you, I will take such good care of my pretty girl."

"Did you at least lock your office door? What if someone hears?"

"Already locked it, babe." He pulls your dress lower until your breasts pop free. "As far as your pretty noises, can you try to be good and keep yourself quiet, pretty? Or do you want me to stuff your panties in your mouth? Or do you want my fingers in your mouth to keep you quiet?"

"I'll be good. I'll be good."

Yunho smiles, happy. As much as he would love to hear your moans and screams, he's going to have to wait for that later. He's already excited at how your hair and clothes would look disheveled once you two are done with fucking like rabbits.

He drops a peck onto the crown of your head as he nudges your legs apart. His fingers crawl into the soaked panties, drawing lazy circles into the folds that make you gasp his name.

"Remember, stay quiet," Yunho whispered in a teasing tone. "Unless you really want the entire building to hear you."

You tried your best not to moan. It was a losing battle when his thumb teased your clit, circling it.

"Look, Team Leader, your team is in the area outside this door," he murmured in your ear. "They'll know for sure what we are doing here."

"Yunho." You mewled. "I don't care. I want everyone to know that you're mine. I don't want the rest to think that you're the perfect dream that they can chase," you whimpered.

"You know I only have my eyes on you." He takes your chin between his thumb and finger, raising it to lock eye contact. "You're the perfect dream of mine and I intend on spending every day making you happy. You're my pretty, my baby, mine."

The praise has you whimpering under his touch, pleading for more and more.

It doesn't take long for your slick to drench your panties and it's amazing how wet Yunho can get you within a matter of minutes. The cold air makes your exposed breasts ache but the thought of having sex with Yunho, in his office, is sending you into a heated state.

"My beautiful," Yunho whispers sweet compliments, leaning in to kiss your lips before he sinks into the valley of your chest.

His mouth feels wet and his lips are cold against your skin, nipping and lapping his tongue out for a taste. You clutch your fingers in Yunho's locks, pulling his hair softly in your grasp. The more your sensitive nipples are played, the hotter your body feels.

He's marking your flesh with his hands, tongue, lips, and teeth, claiming you. He sucks and laps his tongue against your nipples while his other hand draws circles with your swollen clit.

"You look so gorgeous," Yunho hums, "All these hickeys look so good." He pulls his hand from between your soaked lips, and he pushes a couple of his fingers into your mouth.

Your eyes lock. You both stare at each other with blown eyes. You taste and lick and moan for his fingers and he curls them around your mouth as a gesture, swiping his thumb over your bottom lip.

"Spread your legs for me, babe. Can you be a good girl and let my fingers make a mess of you?"

You nod. Your throat is tight, and it takes all of the willpower you possess not to rock your hips when Yunho pulls your underwear to the side.

Your heart hammers away when you catch the hungry look in your boyfriend's eyes. He dips a digit to the knuckle into you, his fingers cold to the heat between your thighs, and you bite his fingers to muffle your moans.

"Shh," he chides in a husky whisper. His middle finger sweeps along the slick of your walls and curls to rub against the spot inside that sends your back arching and fingers clawing onto Yunho. "If you're loud, I will have to take my hand away and who would take care of your poor pussy?"

You try your best to stay quiet despite Yunho adding more fingers. The fingers of his other hand was still in your mouth and his thumb was stroking the column of your throat. His gentle kisses pepper over the salty skin of your cheeks and chin and along your jaw.

"That's it, my sweet girl. You're so perfect. This pussy is just fucking perfection," he moans lowly and adoringly into the crook of your neck, "you're mine, yeah? Every last gorgeous part is mine to love."

His hand quickens and he drives his digits in further. His own erection was hardening to painful proportions in his pants. You're clamping hard on his hand, but Yunho manages to slip a fourth finger in and curls them perfectly against your spot.

Pleasure winds up at the base of your spine and belly. You moan around the fingers in your mouth, the fingers in your pussy, and you reach out blindly to grab at anything of Yunho.

"Suck my fingers, baby," he coaxes. He watches the saliva-soaked digits sink and vanish down your throat. He revels at the way you're taking his thick, long fingers. He has all his fingers shoved in your mouth, your pussy, and he loves the wet and hot feeling of you taking everything he gives you.

"That's my pretty baby, my good girl," his words are thick with fondness and desire. He can see you're losing your composure; Yunho presses a smile and kisses against the curve of your throat, "You're being so good for me. Cum, I have you, baby girl."

His hand in your mouth retreats to replace your lips with his own. You scream for Yunho into his mouth, the force of your orgasm hitting you like a bus.

Wet and sloppy sounds come from his digits fucking into your pulsing heat. You twitch, and then relax, going limp in his arm.

Yunho releases the suction of your lips. "Feel better?"

You swallow and nod. A flush heats up your neck and your face and a sweat beading against your neck and collar bones. "Your turn now?"

"Anything you want," Yunho removes his fingers from your hole with a soft, squishing sound and smirks at how your inner walls fluttered around his hand's absence. "But first, clean my fingers, baby. They're filthy from your cum."

You don't even protest and just put your boyfriend's cum covered digits past your lips to lap it up and suck the remnants. Yunho growls, not because his fingers are still sensitive to the suction, but because he loves the picture of you devouring the wetness of his hand.

"Good job," he praises and you mewl, knowing he loves to play and praise you in bed. "Good fucking job," he leans down for a filthy open-mouth kiss to swipe a lick into your mouth, to have a taste himself. "Now you can suck me off, babe. And then when we go home, you can ride the hell out of me. How's that?"

"Sounds perfect," you say as you lick your lips, sliding off the desk only to sink unto your knees, hands already working at the belt of his trousers and undoing the button and fly.

"So eager," he chuckled in a low tone, hand petting your hair and lightly taking a hold to angle your head upwards to look him in the eye. "Suck me off, baby. Suck it off nicely so I can come in your pretty mouth."

It takes only moments until your hand grabs around his hard cock and slowly jerks him off, his pre-cum slicking the tip. Then, Yunho is letting out a pleased and shuddery groan when he sees you lick his slit. The soft tip of your warm tongue slides against the heated length.

Your soft, pink lips look absolutely stunning on him. The way you close your eyes to really get the best feel as you bob up and down his length makes his balls tighten and his hips buckle for more. You moan on his dick and the vibrations drive him wild. You begin to focus on his slit again with soft presses, kissing and caressing before taking the full length into your hot and velvety mouth.

When the head hits the back of your throat and you feel your lips against the base, you manage to look up. The way he looks at you with loving, darkened eyes, you just want him to come so hard and messy inside your mouth.

Yunho calls you a good girl, how amazingly gorgeous you are for him and no one else, and the praise makes you ache to please him.

"Such a good job, you're such a sweet girl for me." Yunho coos as he brushes his hands against your cheek. "Ready for me? Fuck, ready baby?"

You feel him throb hard and warm cum shoots out onto your awaiting tongue, and Yunho grunts as he holds himself from slamming hard in your throat. You eagerly drink him and make soft noises as the taste coats your taste buds. You just wanted to savor his essence. He tastes fucking delicious.

"Should we just leave early today, baby?"

You let his dick go with a pop and wipe the excess wetness that had leaked out the corner of your mouth. "We have an appointment with our PR team later, remember?"

"Shit, really?"

"Yeah." You got up from the floor, pulling his head down for a small kiss. "But we can always finish at your place when we are done. You did say that I can ride the hell out of you."

"I did say that, didn't I?" Yunho chuckles.

Both of you straighten up your clothes and made yourself as presentable as you can. Yunho picks up your bra, which lays forgotten on his office floor and tucks it into the inside pocket of his blazer.

"Until tonight, babe," Yunho whispered into your ear as you leaned up to give him one last kiss before unlocking the door and slipping out of your boyfriend's office.

You return to your desk where your coworkers sit gossiping amongst each other.

"You were in there for a while, Team Leader."

"Did Manager Jeong yell at you? Did you get in trouble?"

"What happened there?" They asked.

"Just a lot of boring things, you know?" You lied as you sat down at your desk. "Just some marketing strategies and all that boring stuff you don't wanna hear about. Super uninteresting."

"Nothing exciting, then? Too bad."

"Definitely," you said, grabbing a pen. "Nothing exciting at all."

A few days later, you're sitting at your desk again working late on some data analysis for next month's projected sales. Everyone has gone home for the night so Yunho sits on the corner of your desk.

"Let's go out for dinner. Are you almost done here?"

"Mhmm, a few more reports and then we can leave," you responded. You rolled back the sleeves of Yunho's white button-up shirt as you looked at the reports. It was a little big on you, the shirt hanging off a single shoulder. It seemed like no one knew that it was his.

"I can't believe you wore one of my shirts to the office, baby," Yunho smirked, the sight of his clothes hanging off your lithe frame making his dick hard.

"Whose fault is it that I don't have any of my clothes at your place?" You laughed, leaning up for a quick peck and tugging the ends of his hair gently. "Besides, I only wear the shirts that you don't wear to the office. The girls would die to know that I get to wear your shirts."

"Fair," He kissed you once again before getting up, fixing the collars of the shirt and kissing the top of your head, "Maybe we should just move in together, baby. After all, you do spend more time in my bed than yours."

"Maybe..." You looked over your computer and bit the top of a pen, thinking over the suggestion. "If you give me like seventy-five percent of your closet space. If not, I will need more than fifty percent of space."

He chuckles at your demands. "I think you can just take up all my closet space. So let's move in together, yeah? You and I. One place, all of our stuff."

Your face softened and he found himself falling a little bit harder for your cute expression. "Sounds wonderful. But I expect lots of quality cuddles from the very handsome Manager Jeong."

"Only from Manager Jeong? Not from your boyfriend named Yunho?" He lets out a little pout, one that has you swooning for this big man's charm. "But I'll give you all the cuddles. The highest quality cuddles that one could ever ask for, babe."

"I never realized that the serious, stern team manager was this big baby behind closed doors." You rolled your eyes and snorted a giggle.

"This big baby has a lot of feelings for you," he snickered and grabbed your face in between his two hands to pepper kisses across the soft expanse. "You're stuck with me," he mumbled, then kissed your forehead. "Can't get rid of me that easily. We've been together for a few years, babe."

"What a scary thought," you hummed.

"In all seriousness though, moving in together? Be my official roommate?"

"What a ridiculous man you are." You stuck your tongue out teasingly at him. "I'm all up for it. Yes, yes, a hundred times yes. I'll move in with you. You're stuck with me too, silly."

"Then it's settled." Yunho swooped in to kiss you. "Now finish that report so that we can finally get out of this godforsaken office and eat dinner."

"My hero." You replied, kissing him a few more times. You turned towards your screen once again, cracking a smile to yourself.

After finishing the last few minutes of work and packing up your items for the night, you left your desk.

The company parking was nearly empty except for a handful of people who stayed behind, leaving Yunho and you alone. Your car is parked by his.

"Got everything?" he asked and took your hand, playing with your fingers and rings absentmindedly while waiting for a response. "Are you sure you don't have a toothbrush or underwear or anything else you might be forgetting in there? I don't want any emergency midnight bathroom runs, baby girl."

"You'll buy it for me, Yunho. That's what boyfriends do. Now come on, I'm hungry, aren't you?" You tugged on his hand with a whine.

"You're a brat, babe. I have spoiled you too much, I see," He pressed a gentle peck on the crown of your forehead. "Let's drop your car off at your place and then grab dinner and spend the night at mine? No work, just us together in my bed. Yeah?"

"Hmm, how about dropping off my car, going to your place and ordering takeout, and watching movies in bed, snuggled up and warm under the sheets until we both fall asleep, because it sounds kind of like heaven and I've worked so, so hard today." You mumble with a sulk into his shoulder.

"You got yourself a plan, baby. A very nice plan, too. Let's do what my little darling wants for a change," Yunho, now leaning against your car, opened the door for you and you slipped in, a big smile growing across your face.

You clicked your seatbelt into place and started the car. You roll down the window when Yunho knocks on the glass, pressing a kiss onto your temple.

"I'll be right behind you the entire drive, okay?" He leaned in for a quick peck before fully withdrawing to his car.

"Make sure you do," you shouted, before rolling the window up and reversing out of the parking lot, heading towards your apartment to drop off your car.

From your wing mirror, you can see him pulling out too. The evening sunset catches the windscreen in a glare, but you see his figure behind the steering wheel.

He looks damn good. And all yours. You couldn't wait til you dropped off your car so that you can be in his, feel his long fingers on your thigh as he's driving.

And he does just that minutes later after dropping off your car and making the drive to his place. As the sun sets further in the sky, casting its reddish hues through the driver and passenger windows, Yunho has his free hand on your knee, stroking a soft, reassuring pattern into your skin and sometimes gripping or caressing gently.

And there you were, reclining back in your seat with a little smile, playing with his fingers and tracing random designs as he drove and occasionally holding the tips of his fingers to your lips and smiling shyly at him when the light would turn green again.

When the two of you step into the apartment building and walk towards the elevator, he presses his lips gently against your cheek. You sink into the touch as you both make your way up to his floor.

You slide his keys into his lock to unlock the door and open the entrance to his flat. Yunho sheds off his shoes and blazer, revealing his strong arms and neck in his perfectly fitting button-down and slacks.

You lean back into his chest and kiss the skin where the second to last button is left undone.

"Baby, if you keep doing that, there won't be any cuddles and takeout. I'll just end up fucking you the moment we get into the apartment," Yunho's voice rasped, and his hand curled around your neck.

"Cuddle first, fuck second. Got it," you giggled, tapping his arm for him to let you go so that you could wander his room and rummage into his drawer to grab a black t-shirt. He's so big compared to you, so his shirts practically drape over you and cover your butt and thighs. It feels like a dress and makes you want to prance around his flat and slip and slide on the wood floors and laze on his couch and his king-size bed.

With his shirt on and comfortable panties on, you made your way back to his living room and collapsed on the couch, exhaling with happiness as you smelled his musky and forest-scented laundry detergent that clung to his shirt. You threw your phone on his coffee table and grabbed the TV remote.

Yunho is in the kitchen getting the delivery menus to decide what kind of food to order for you. A few moments pass before he walks to the living room couch.

He sighs, taking the remote from you and muting the show that you had started.

"Hey, I was watching that," you complain, but your complaints turn to happy noises when his hands wander to hold and knead your hips.

"What do you want?" He hummed, dipping his face close to nip at the junction where your shoulder and neck met.

"Hmm?" Your brain had already started to become a little hazy from his attention. His tongue felt like heaven against your skin. You brought a hand up to twine into his hair and arched your back to rub up into his body.

"I asked what you wanted to eat, sweetheart," he chuckled. "What are you hungry for tonight?"

"Ummm, oh," you hummed. "Aren't you just delicious?" You said with a sassy wink.

"You're so cheesy," Yunho scoffed, his eyes softening when he looks at your face, lit up with an unreserved grin. He kissed your nose. "Want to order something spicy and pick a movie so we can snuggle and have you in my lap for the night, beautiful?"

"Yes please. You are always the best snuggler," you nodded. "Get out of your work clothes so we can snuggle to full capacity!"

"Alright, alright, I'm going!" Yunho laughed as he pulled away and disappeared into the other room. He changes, emerging minutes later in a black t-shirt and shorts. He plops on the sofa next to you and you reach out to curl into him.

"Which movie are we going to watch tonight?" Yunho asks as you wrapped your arm around his midsection.

"I wanna watch something scary."

"Of course you do. You love being a little scaredy-cat with my arms around you knowing that I don't get scared easily, huh? You can even play the cliché 'there is something outside' line just to cling onto me tighter," Yunho hummed as he scrolled through his streaming device to find a scary movie. "Scary movie it is."

You stick your tongue out and lay down with your head resting on his thighs. "Someday, I'll pick a horror movie that would scare the heck out of you. I'm going to team up with Wooyoung and Jongho to get you."

"In your dreams, beautiful," Yunho leaned over and flicked your forehead playfully. He settles back on the couch and drapes a blanket over your form before grabbing the remote and pressing play. "Enjoy the movie, cutie. Scream in terror for me." He chuckled.

"Fuck you, Jeong Yunho." You laughed as the title card flashes across the screen and the intro begins.

Halfway into the film, there is a jump scare and a scream from you makes Yunho roll his eyes. You're no longer resting on his lap, instead clutching at his abdomen and clinging to his toned body with the blanket tugged over your head.

You were shaking with fright, although you tried and failed to hide it.

"I told you it was a bad idea," he chuckles. Yunho holds out an arm and pulls you closer until you are tucked into him and his hold. You gasp and squeak each time the main characters react in fear as they are chased down, and even Yunho finds it funny how you squirm at every scare.

"Hate you," you squeak, slapping a hand on his chest. He mumbles that he is sorry and then kisses the top of your head, causing you to forget whatever had you in a momentary fit of irritation.

"Next time, pick a film less terrifying. Maybe one with action scenes and comedic undertones and pretty boys, hmm?" Yunho gives you a teasing smirk and then presses his nose into your hair. "Something to take our minds off of work. That sounds okay to you, princess?"

"Yeah." You sighed, squirming even deeper into his side. "Although, no promises that I won't cling to you more tightly."

He smiled into your hair and you settled down for the duration of the movie, hushed quietly and bundling yourself in the blankets you've wrapped around you.

Once the movie has finished, he sits you both up and stands with the phone. "Now, about that takeout. Do you still want it?" he asked. "I have the delivery service app pulled up. I can order if you like."

"Chicken," You blurted quickly. "Chicken and beer."

He laughs, swiping through his phone screen as he heads into the kitchen and flicks on the oven's dimmest light. You crawl down the sofa and lean to rest your chin on the countertop, admiring him as he leaned over his phone screen and flicked through, scrolling and selecting your favorites, tapping his fingers along the counter, before setting his phone aside.

He turned back around. His mouth widened into a smile at the sight of you looking up at him with a smile.

"How'd I get lucky to have you, baby girl?" Yunho smiled back.

"Duh, you asked," You teased with a roll of your eyes, sticking your tongue out. "Asking me out wasn't so scary, was it?"

"I thought you would've said no. Not that I was asking you out, of course, I was a bumbling fool at the start." He shrugged, ruffling his hair. "Too nervous around you, babe."

"So whipped, this guy," You mused, grinning so widely. "My big bad Yunho got so soft for me."

"Just for you," He blew a raspberry into his hand. "Just for the prettiest woman around."

"Did I mention that you're cheesy? That's right. It is also a full-time occupation and your one true calling, to make me cheesier than the most delicious, aged parmesan in all the lands and oceans."

He snorted in laughter. "You knew well enough that I was cheesy ever since college, baby. But in a good way."

"Your cheese will only keep on impressing and satisfying me. I can't live without your cheese, Yunho. You are a regular gold-star, straight A-cheese. The crème de la crème," You said.

"You're just as cheesy, baby. Even if you want to deny it," He booped your nose and you both laughed.

"Yunho?" You pouted.

"Yes?" Yunho perked up his brows at you and paused to look you directly.

"Can we finally tell everyone that we're together? I'm tired of just our friends knowing. And I'm tired of hearing all the girls talk about you. It's just getting annoying and tiresome, hearing them day and night and...they look at you," you babbled, mumbling, and not really finishing the last part of what was eating at you, as you looked down.

He envelopes you in a hug. "Why didn't you tell me you felt this way earlier, baby?" he whispered as you burrowed your head into his shoulders.

"Wasn't sure when or what the right time was to ask," you mumbled back into his chest.

"I have been waiting for your permission to tell all the people in the department to fuck off because you were mine," Yunho muttered as his hands rested on your lower back and he peppered butterfly kisses into your crown.

"So can I finally tell all the other girls to fuck off when they look at you? Can I finally walk around holding your hands and cuddling you in our lunch breaks? Can you hold me like this at the workplace and give me all of your sweet affections freely?" You murmured, tugging on his sleeve.

"Of course, baby." His answer made you look up at him and smile so brightly and it made his heart melt in the love and adoration he held for you. "Tell everyone you like that you have the sexiest and most handsome boyfriend in all the world. Because it's the absolute truth, darling."

"Love you, love you, love you. Thank you," you giddily hugged and squeezed him tight and he giggled a deep rumble as he rubbed up and down your back, his nose burying into your hair, inhaling deeply.

"I can't believe how whipped this man is," Yunho whispers affectionately. "Falling deeper and deeper in love with you, every day, baby."

"And does this man Yunho know how he will show his love?" You murmured with a cheeky smile, pressing a kiss at the base of his neck.

"How about I let this man make love to his girlfriend and he will show his love so deeply tonight?" His voice dropped as he grabbed your chin and tilted it to make eye contact. "Will that please and satisfy my baby girl?"

He didn’t give you a chance to reply. You moaned into his mouth, body pushing up to meet his touch. He huffs and presses kisses along your jaw. His mouth and tongue trails the smooth column of your neck.

He marked a hickey on the curve of your shoulder and his grip on your hips becomes slightly tighter. You heard him whisper your name between grunts, hands tangling into your hair and pulling at it slightly.

You smile and giggle at him with a smirk, cheeks slightly flushed as you trail your hand up to rest on his chest.

"Eat first, fuck later. You promised," You gave him a teasing smile as you shook your head and put your finger up to his lips.

The doorbell rings and the delivery man is here with your chicken dinner and Yunho lets out a string of curse words. "You're really evil, baby, making me wait." He mutters.

"I need to be fueled and filled first to satisfy my hungry baby and to give him all the pleasures and orgasms, yeah?" You coo.

He breathes. "Damn right you're gonna get filled," he promises darkly, "so don't complain if your legs give out tomorrow. It won't be my fault, baby. It won't."

"Hurry and get the food, Yunho." You whined, shoving him away.

Yunho quickly makes the trip to get the food, paying the delivery man extra and sending them on their way.

He returns back to the couch, sighing with frustration at you. "You know, you're gonna pay for that."

"Pay for what? I'm just hungry!" You smirk with a lilt of sass. "Aren't you? Feed me, please. Then you can have whatever you want after you feed your hungry girlfriend."

"What I want is already in front of me."

You woke up in Yunho's arms the next day, your head on his chest and tucked securely under his chin. It was only Saturday, but somehow, it felt nice to wake up, knowing that there wasn't much to worry about at work. Just staying with Yunho at his apartment and getting comfortable together in the warmth of his covers is a win-win and well-needed for the weekend.

Yunho shifts, his arms circling your waist and tucking you deeper in, the covers nearly tucked over your head.

It's so warm and you sighed with happiness into his chest, a smile blooming on your lips, nose nuzzling into the crook where his neck and shoulder met.

He stretched, yawned, and groaned, a husky growl escaping his lips as he grabbed you by the waist and dragged you up so you're nose to nose with him.

He squints his eyes open and they brighten when they make contact with you. "G'morning, cutie pie," he rasps, his voice deep. "Sleep well last night?"

"Best sleep ever. Especially in the arms of the best cuddler ever in the universe."

"Anything you'd like to do today? Let's eat breakfast."

"You know what I want for breakfast?" You murmured, your hand reaching for his already semi-hard cock and pumping it slowly.

"Are you asking me to feed my hungry baby for a morning meal of protein, huh?" Yunho's lips curled, one brow raising and his eyes half-lidded, lust creeping into his expression.

"It's the best thing to ever wake up to and eat," you purr as your hand moves to the hem of his boxers and dip your hand inside, gripping him and feeling him in your palm as it twitched at your touches.

Yunho growled and pushed your hand onto his hard length.

"Gimme what I want. I'm hungry, baby. Please." Your voice is low and needy. He throws his head back and it was just such a sight seeing his Adam's Apple bobbed up and down.

"You and your 'morning snack,' princess. Of all things to be greedy with." Yunho grunts when you let go to pull at the waistband of his boxers, shoving them down and his erect member springs free, bouncing upwards.

"Just hurry up and feed me. Please, sir."

His gaze darkened.

"Call me sir again. I want you to." He smirks.

"Please, sir. Let me lick your thick meat popsicle," you muttered into his ear and he lets out a soft noise, chest rumbling with an amused sound of arousal.

"When have you gotten this lewd, baby?" he smirks and his large hand pulls you closer, his fingers flexing at the swell of your ass.

You kneel at the edge of the bed, eagerly taking his length in hand and leaning forwards to lick a line up the underside. Your tongue teases his slit before swirling around the tip, taking him fully into your mouth and bobbing your head. His large hand cups the side of your face and tugs gently on your hair.

He is lost in the sight. Your fingers curl around the base of his cock, and you work it in conjunction with your mouth to take in as much as you can. He twitches against the inside of your cheek.

"Fuck." You whimper when his hand tugs at your hair harder.

"More, beautiful. Let me hear you choke more around my dick. Love to hear your little noises." He chuckles darkly and you are keen.

Your throat is relaxed now, accustomed to the fullness, the thickness of his heavy cockhead sliding deep enough to bump the back. You gag, swallow, and take him further, hearing the strangled moan leave his throat, as his head drops back and his hands find their way into the back of your head. His hands tangle through your hair, twisting in it gently. He breathes a ragged sigh, and tugs your hair, thrusting into your mouth.

You sit there, blinking up at him with your doe eyes, your mouth full, so stretched and sore.

It is one thing to see his face in his daily life, where he is nothing more than a strict superior, handsome beyond words. Another thing entirely, you think, to have this incredible man fisted in the palm of your hand and shivering at the ministrations of your skilled mouth. He looks good like this, in disarray.

"Fuck, I need to be in you. Your mouth isn't enough, pretty girl." He mumbles.

He helps you up, giving you a soft look when you turn away with a flush on your face as you wipe saliva off of your face. He can't help tugging at his lips and chuckles, pressing a wet kiss into the column of your neck and holding you back into the nest of blankets, pinning your legs around his waist, and wrapping your arms around his neck.

His hands splayed across your backside, the other sliding between your bodies, stroking down your abdomen, leaving you a shivering mess in the way he pressed and touched every sensitive spot you had. Your legs tighten around him, your moans encouraging his touch to grow rougher.

"Fuck...hurry," you pant as you rut against him and he coaxes a moan out of your lips when his tongue twists around your nipples. He laps, sucks at one nub, then the next, switching from breast to breast until the pink buds stand perked. He grinned smugly up at you when you mewled helplessly into his neck. "Yunhoooo~" you pouted.

His hand was in between your bodies, thumb at your clit, index teasing your drenched lips, his other arm curved and pulling you even closer.

"Let me fuck you so deep," he murmurs, and slides the tip of his fingers along your slit. "I'll fill you, so, so deep," and he slips one finger inside, and you moan. "So very good, my sweet baby. So wet and needy," he sighs when he takes his digit away.

He stops, breath panting, staring deep into your eyes. He gives a brief, lazy smirk before the corners of his lips curve down into a soft, genuine smile. He leans to press a gentle kiss onto your forehead before whispering a husky 'I love you, babygirl."

"Love you, sweetheart," you exhaled and took in another sharp breath when he rolled his hips, grinding his thick cock along your folds, coating his length in the arousal of your pussy.

He positioned himself above you and he didn't even hesitate to slide his thick cock into your swollen lips.

"You're so fucking hot," he groaned, wrapping both of your legs around his waist, gripping your ass to lift you, burying himself deep inside you.

"Oh God." Your head slammed into the mattress and you panted, gazing up at him with furrowed brows and glazed eyes.

"Do you feel me, baby?"

"I—Yes..." you moaned, and Yunho grunted softly, thrusting into you. He pumped inside of you, kissing along the curve of your shoulder.

"F-fuck," you moaned out. "Fuck, fuck, oh, fuck, yes. Keep going,"

"So demanding," he growled. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against your collarbone, his warm tongue flicking out briefly to graze the soft skin.

You squirmed beneath him. The steady slapping sounds of wet skin echoed throughout the room. Your eyes fluttered shut at the sensation.

Yunho's cock pounded into you mercilessly. He groaned out, loud and deep in pleasure, one hand stroking the softness of your curves as he gazed at your naked form.

"You're fucking amazing," Yunho muttered against your skin. His eyes focused on you as he continued to push inside of your heat. "The best fucking view to wake up to."

The fire in your stomach tightened. Yunho could tell your legs were beginning to feel weak from being wrapped so tightly around him and he slid his free hand to your ass, pressing you deeper against his body.

You wrapped your arms around him and grasped at the smooth, toned planes of his back. You bucked wildly as he brought your body flush with his, his cock reaching as deep as it could go.

"God, just fucking cum inside me. Mark me. Fill me up." You whispered, staring at him, into the depths of his chocolate brown eyes.

Your body was slick with sweat, you were becoming more and more lost in a trance. You loved him and that was all you cared about, right at that moment.

"Baby." Yunho gripped your thighs roughly, leaning forward so his lips ghosted across yours as he breathed. "Gonna cum."

You took his lower lip into your mouth. You nibbled lightly, kissing and tugging at it while you moaned.

Your heart was swelling from the amount of affection flowing through your veins. You released his lip, staring deep into his eyes. "Me too. So close," you panted.

"I'm—fuck! Baby, I'm so close." He whimpered out and squeezed his eyes shut.

"J-just fuck me deeper, deeper." Your legs shook against the curve of his waist. He nodded and smashed his lips against yours, muffling your loud scream with his mouth.

"Agh, baby, I'm cumming," Yunho huffed in his final few thrusts. His hot seed spurted inside of your womb. His deep and low groans joined your breathless whimpers and squeals.

When Yunho pulled his soft cock out, a heavy stream of white spills out of your cunt. Your whole body tenses with pleasure, a heavy wave of orgasm washed over and sent you shaking as you whimpered out.

Yunho groaned and pulled your into a tight embrace, tangling the sheets and blanket messily around you as he clung onto your body to keep you warm.

"Baby," He mumbled softly, planting soft kisses all over your cheek as his fingers slid gently into your hair, and traced little circles on your scalp, making you giggle a little.

"Did you feel satisfied now, love?"

"Mmm yes," you smirked happily and returned his kiss with another little kiss on his nose.

Yunho pulled the sheet up and around you both, laying on his side and pulling you towards him as he pulled the covers and pillows towards him, you both got comfortable and cuddled in each other's embrace, no sounds save the sound of you both breathing and inhaling in your lover's scent and enjoying your little pillow talks and whispering to one another.

You spent the rest of the weekend with Yunho as you discussed and looked at places to move together to a bigger apartment where you both could build and start the new phase of your life together as boyfriend and girlfriend.

"You and I, love. Us against the world. Can't wait for the future to unfold." Yunho grins happily, taking your left hand and placing a tender kiss at the base of your fourth finger, hinting subtly to an unspoken promise he intends for the near future.

"Me too, baby. I want this future. Our future." You gushed, pulling Yunho's face to give him a loving and long kiss.

The weekend has gone and a new work week begins. Yunho pulls up into the parking lot with you, holding your hand as you both walk into the building together.

Every girl in the office gaped. You and him, in matching clothing and dressed sharp for work, striding hand-in-hand, greeted them with a cheerful smile and hello. Yunho had an arm wrapped around your waist, guiding you towards the reception, towards your department.

The two of you pressed the buttons of the elevator at the same time. It dinged, sliding open to allow you to board and ride up.

One by one, the ladies in your office filed in behind. It was so crowded now that some were forced to wait until the next round.

Then your group stopped at the floor that the Marketing Department was at. Your desk was further down, closer to Yunho's office and that was the best part of your day- being so close to him.

Everyone went to sit down at their respective desks, booting up their PCs and sorting files that were due at the end of the day.

And of course, this meant that there wasn't a moment to breathe once everyone realized that you had come into the building holding Yunho's hand, walking with him.

As soon as you parted from Yunho and sat at your desk, the girls from your team crowded your personal workspace with a giddy gasp.

"Team Leader! How did this happen?!" One girl squealed.

"Are you and Manager Jeong...?" Another began, before raising an expectant eyebrow.

"So? Tell us, please!" They chirped in a group.

"Manager Jeong and I..."

Just then, Yunho approaches your desk, his hand resting on your shoulder. He leans in, brushing a small kiss on your cheek. "Let's get lunch later, okay baby?" He spoke so tenderly that your heart fluttered and butterflies swarmed your belly.

You blush and nod shyly as his eyes and smile meet yours, watching as the others in the department can't contain their excitement and awe.

The way he talked to you, how he looked at you, his genuine sweetness and smiles he showed you...you knew that your days would get even better with him. And this wasn't going to end, no.

Yunho was the love of your life and he was very determined to keep it that way.

No, nothing was going to separate what you two had and the fact you and Yunho were boyfriend and girlfriend was not a secret anymore and neither would anything change- you'd be there for him and he'd always be there for you.

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