#MOTOR CITY FIVE
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HEAD CULTURE MEETS MOTOR CITY MANIA AT ITS MOST BEST-DRESSED.
PIC INFO: Resolution at 1509x1766 -- Spotlight on a group portrait of American rock and roll/ proto-punk band, MC5 [MOTOR CITY 5], photographed by Raeanne Rubenstein, c. 1969.
PIC #2: The photograph was later repurposed for "MC5 Total Assault" (2018 UK/EU limited edition triple LP box set, released to celebrate the 50th Anniversary of the world's most dangerous band, comprising the "Kick Out the Jams" [pressed on Red Vinyl], "Back in the USA" [White Vinyl] and "High Time" [Blue Vinyl] albums, issued in picture sleeves replicating the original artwork complete with a double-sided insert containing photos & essay by Jaan Uhelszki of "CREEM" Magazine, housed inside the hype-stickered picture slipcase.
Sources: https://wct.live/app/10789/enter-to-win-a-trip-mc5/sign-out & Rare Vinyl.
#MC5#THE MC5#MOTOR CITY 5#60s#60s fashion#Head Culture#Michigan#American Midwest#Rock and roll#Proto-punk#Proto punk#60s Style#Rock and Roll#Rock 'n' roll#1969#1960s#Rob Tyner#Dennis Thompson#Michael Davis#Fred Sonic Smith#Americana#USA#Rock photography#Photography#Raeanne Rubenstein#MOTOR CITY FIVE#American Style#Hard rock#Wayne Kramer#Sixties
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Kick out the jams motor fingers.
MC5 in London
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Ford Adopts Five Day Work Week - Motor Cities National Heritage Area
On May 1, 1926, Ford Motor Company became one of the first businesses in the US to adopt a five-day, 40-hour week for workers in its factories. The policy would be expanded to include Ford’s office workers in August. The decision to reduce the workweek from six to five days had originally been made four years earlier. According to an article published in The New York Times in March 1922, Edsel…
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#Edsel Ford#Ford Adopts Five Day Work Week - Motor Cities National Heritage Area#Ford Motor Company#Labour#May 1st 1926
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Five people arrested after public order incident on busy street in Galway city | In Trend Today
Five people arrested after public order incident on busy street in Galway city Read Full Text or Full Article on MAG NEWS
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#Celebrities#Five people arrested after public order incident on busy street in Galway city#Money#Motors#Politics#ShowBiz#Sport#Tech#Trends#UK#US#World
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Five people arrested after public order incident on busy street in Galway city | In Trend Today
Five people arrested after public order incident on busy street in Galway city Read Full Text or Full Article on MAG NEWS
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#Celebrities#Five people arrested after public order incident on busy street in Galway city#Money#Motors#Politics#ShowBiz#Sport#Tech#UK#US#World
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SUMMARY: Despite the city’s fast-paced scene of street racing—in which you happen to be the name to be beaten at every race—getting to know Jeno is a steady, quiet affair. Breaking the mechanic’s walls between races and late-night rides, the two of you slowly grow closer, unknowingly surrounded by secrets neither of you are ready to reveal. Still, in a world that’s driven by speed and adrenaline like yours, surprises are inevitable—even those that end up breaking your heart before mending it. GENRE: Romance, fluff, action, street racing au WORD COUNT: 16k WARNINGS: Cursing, suggestive themes, implied sexual content, depictions of violence
NOTES: Yay to the official start of the NCU series with a Fast & Furious inspired Jeno fic! Please let me know what you think!! It’s gonna make my day!!
The atmosphere feels heavy with energy, the smell of motor oil and burned rubber lingering in the air as the hum of engines blend with the pounding bass of whatever music’s currently playing in the warehouse.
A row of neon-lit and vivid colored cars line up all the way outside, the buzzing audience placing their bets as they mingle with the racers and crew alike.
Despite its overwhelming chaos, the environment wraps you like a second skin with ease—laced with nothing but familiarity and comfort, race nights always feel like your personal sanctuary. Under the sounds of revving engines, roaring crowds and blaring music, you’d found your own twisted kind of peace, a vicious sense of belonging that only racing could give you through its unpredictability and adrenaline.
It also doesn’t hurt that you’re good at it.
After all, there’s a reason why your name currently holds the highest number of bets and has been for the last five races, no competitor coming close to dethroning your streak of wins.
While a handful of racers walk past your car, their wandering eyes occasionally lingering over the red Mazda RX-7 gleaming under the warehouse’s bright lights, anticipation slowly builds in your chest as you meticulously check the final details before the official start, brain already racing ahead through the layout until a familiar voice calls for your name.
Startled, you look up just as Gigi approaches with rapid steps. The pink-haired girl quickly intertwines your arms, pulling you closer with a grin that characteristically only means one thing, especially when knowing her antics.
“Oh, here we go,” you tease, raising an amused eyebrow at your fellow racer turned best-friend. “I wonder what piece of gossip I’m gonna have to roll my eyes at this time.”
“I mean, if you don’t want to know about the new guy from Neo Tech that just signed up to take you…” Gigi starts, offering a nonchalant shrug with a mock dramatic touch lacing her voice. “We can totally talk about something else, if you want?”
As the words hang in the air for a second, your amusement shifts to confusion as you scan Gigi’s face for any traces of exaggeration. “What?”
“You heard me, Cherry,” she continues, excitedly cozying up to your side as her grin returns with your peaked curiosity. “Jaemin says he’s been around for two weeks—”
“There’s a new guy at Neo Tech?” you cut in, furrowing your eyebrows before offering the racer an exasperated huff. “Also, why are you making it sound like I’m having sex with him? He just signed up to take me?”
Gigi bursts into a laugh, giving you a look as mischief takes over her eyes. “I’m not. You’re the one thinking of it!”
“I’m not the one who said it,” you argue, playfully rolling your eyes at her in an attempt to play off the curiosity suddenly gnawing at your thoughts. “Who even told you this?”
“Didn’t I just say Jaemin?” she taunts, holding back another laugh at your half-hearted glare. “Apparently, Taeyong’s short on crew since Mark and Hyuck are still in Seoul, so he’s been pulling in new blood.”
Although you don’t necessarily worry about your victory streak nor being challenged for it, the new information does sound… interesting. Since Neo Tech’s more than just a regular garage, the crew notoriously known for building damn near perfect cars for a few lucky racers in the city—a short list that includes you—it’s not unusual to find one of Taeyong’s mechanics listed up for a race every now and then.
Given their knowledge, it’s always fun racing with them, which you’ve already done several times against Mark, Jaehyun and Yuta specifically.
As you’re about to fish more details from Gigi, the low growl of a particular engine pulls your attention to the far end of the warehouse. A green Nissan Skyline GT-R turns a few heads as it crosses the lot, the car’s polished, pristine exterior looking nothing but sleek under the lights. It comes to a smooth stop just a few spots away from you, the driver’s door soon swinging open under the crowd’s attentiveness.
It’s almost impossible not looking at the guy, his tall figure turning as many heads as the car did. With a glance around the bustling place, holding a posture that looks entirely too relaxed for a first-timer, his dark eyes suddenly land on you, lingering for a second too long to be just a coincidence.
Instinctively straightening under his gaze, your curiosity doubles as he walks over to the corner where the Neo Tech’s guys are usually posted on, almost as if he’s done this a hundred times before.
“That’s him!” Gigi murmurs, oblivious to the blasting background music while gently elbowing at your side. “That’s the new guy from Neo Tech!”
You hum softly, finally breaking your gaze from him to shoot your best-friend an inquisitive look. “Do you know his name?”
“What for?” she asks, raising a suspicious eyebrow as a knowing smirk tugs at her mouth. “Why are you suddenly so interested? Don’t tell me that you actually want him to take you—”
“Do not finish that sentence, Gigi!” you interrupt, scoffing at her words as warmth spreads through your cheeks. “I just wanted to know who I’m racing against, that’s all!”
The pink-haired racer snorts, shaking her head as she gives you a side-eye. “I don’t know his name, sorry. Maybe Jaemin told me, but you know I can’t ever remember shit, so…”
Johnny’s voice suddenly echoes over the speakers, calling the racers to the starting line with one of his quick-witted remarks. Exchanging one last look with Gigi before she leaves to her bright pink Honda S2000, the warehouse’s mood has already significantly changed, a competitive streak flaring the audience into life.
Pulling your Mazda into position on the makeshift track marked outside the warehouse, your fingers tighten around the steering wheel as you exhale, ignoring the crowd outside calling out your nickname.
Still, you can’t help a brief glance as a certain green Skyline slides right beside you, catching Neo Tech guy’s gaze through the window. As a silent acknowledgement of the challenge set between both of you, he gives you a small, almost imperceptible nod as the corners of his mouth hint a tight-lipped smile.
It takes Johnny to break the moment, the man hyping up the crowd before starting his usual pre-race discourse, listing a handful of rules and warnings to the racers.
“You know the drill, folks!” he remarks, finishing the speech with a grin at the racers, though it seems somewhat too directed at you. “Our current five-win streak means five grand to whoever ends it!”
The words immediately light the audience into life, engines equally roaring as the sound reverberates into the night, the flag now in Johnny’s hands.
As you focus ahead, adrenaline settles on your stomach—whether you keep the streak or give five thousand to another racer, it doesn’t really matter. You race for yourself, not for the money, not for the praise, and most definitely not for anyone else’s ego or expectations.
Your hands tighten on the steering wheel, foot hovering over the pedals, waiting for the signal.
Johnny raises the flag high, his voice cutting through the roaring engines and the buzz of the crowd.
“Three!”
You inhale deeply, pulse racing as strongly as your car’s engine.
“Two!”
Your foot presses lightly on the accelerator, the cherry red RX-7 growling in anticipation.
“One!”
Johnny drops the flag.
The car launches forward, tires screeching against the asphalt as the racers surge ahead. Despite the force pining you back, your grip is steady, holding firm enough for the car to quickly take the lead.
As you pick up speed to a stretch of free road ahead, Neo Tech’s guy edges right behind you, purposefully touching the rear of your Mazda a few times. Despite your annoyance—it took Jaemin a long time to perfect the cherry tone you begged for—you can’t help chuckling at the attitude, definitely impressed with his skills.
The first turn comes fast, your hands moving with precision as the car makes a perfect curve, tight enough for you to accelerate further with the bend. With the new guy matching the move, it takes a second for him to hold the Skyline side by side with you.
You dare a brief glance at him, catching a glimpse of his focused, determined expression. It’s clear that he’s in to win it, instantly making you wonder what’s truly driving him to it—if it’s the money, the challenge or just the sense of triumph that comes from a rookie victory.
You do also admit to yourself that he’s… stupidly good-looking.
Once you barrel into the return stretch, both looking for an opening to overtake each other, your muscle memory takes you ahead with a slightly wider inside curve, foot heavy on the accelerator as the RX-7 takes the lead again. It’s not enough for the guy to give up, his GT-R somehow pushing harder as you approach the final section of the course. As you pour everything into the last seconds of the race, heart pounding against your chest, the finish line comes into view.
A blur of green and red cut through the finish line together, the audience erupting in stunned and thrilled reactions as Johnny waves the flag for a second time, signaling the end of the race.
As you slam the brakes, the car skimming to a stop into the swarming crowd, your breath’s still heavy as realization strikes—without the need for Johnny’s confirmation, you know Neo Tech’s new guy just broke your infamous five-win streak.
Once you step out of the car, adjusting your skirt with an eye-roll at Johnny’s mock astonished face, the dark-haired guy quickly emerges from his Skyline, his expression nothing but calm, almost unreadable. The mass of people around opens the way for him as he walks towards you, watching the scene with curious eyes.
Taking the lead, you reach out a hand before offering your name, a playful smile curling on your mouth as he frowns for a second, visibly skeptical of your light attitude.
“It was a cool race,” you start, smile widening at the way his eyebrows raise upon the words. “Neo Tech guys are usually fun to race against. Good to know you are, too.”
“It was a tough one,” he answers, pausing for a second before finally taking your hand with a polite nod, the tone of his voice neutral before introducing himself. “I’m Jeno.”
The simplicity of his interaction shifts something within you. As you’re left staring bemusedly at the calm, laidback confidence in the guy’s words and body language, maybe the loss should sting… for a little, at least.
It’s a known fact between the racers that you aren’t the type to obsess over winning, proving a point or whatever that comes with the territory of racing. That’s exactly what leaves most contenders sore about their loss whenever challenging you—while they’re racing specifically to beat you, winning has always been just a bonus for you, instead racing for the fun and your passion for cars.
Now, Jeno has not only beat your streak, but also has properly acknowledged you as an equal competitor.
Even though he did race to win, he’d raced with you, not against you.
So for the first time in a long time, you suddenly find yourself wanting the win, for whatever twisted reason your brain has fooled you into.
“Well, enjoy it while it lasts, Jeno,” you say, smiling mischievously before letting go of his hand, purposefully locking eyes with him. “I’ll take you for a rematch if you’re back next time.”
The corner of his mouth lifts just slightly, gaze unwavering from you as he nods firmly. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”
As you turn around to leave, heading toward Gigi and the rest of her crew, you can’t help glancing over your shoulder. Already surrounded by a few of Neo Tech’s guys and curious spectators, Jeno’s eyes meet yours for a second before you disappear into the crowd again.
Entering his third week at Neo Tech, Jeno has already grown accustomed to the garage’s bustling routine, the controlled chaos entirely familiar by now.
With Tayeong running the crew under a sharp eye, it’s not a secret that the place holds an unique energy that’s equal parts professional and chaotic—the exact reason why the garage is so sought after in the first place, besides the highly qualified crew that works on and off the streets.
After the race, the buzz of his win is yet to quiet down, especially with the stream of racers that stop by the garage for either routine check-ups or simply to scope out the new Neo Tech guy who’d taken a certain racer’s five-win streak. Despite the attention, Jeno keeps his head down, choosing to only acknowledge the crew’s interest every now and then and focusing on work instead.
Still, that’s not to say that he isn’t curious himself about you.
Even if he deliberately avoids the crew’s knowing glances towards him when your Mazda suddenly pulls up at the garage a few days later.
The familiar hum of your engine immediately pulls Jeno’s attention from his work, the RX-7’s contrasting cherry red easily catching his eye from outside.
You climb out of the car with a flair to your step, coming to a stop at the entrance as you briefly scan the space, exchanging casual greetings with some of the guys on the way. As soon as you spot Jaemin hunched over a rebuild project, a grin immediately spreads across your face.
Jeno discreetly watches as you sneak up behind him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders in a back hug that visibly startles the ever nonchalant mechanic.
“Hi, Nana,” you greet, teasing Jaemin with a gentle squeeze while pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Did you miss me?”
“Do you really want me to answer?” he says, giving you a dry look over his shoulder despite the warmth in his voice. “Took you long enough to show up this time, didn’t you?”
“I know you missed me, but I’m a very busy woman,” you quip, flashing him a grin before jumping up to sit on a workstation nearby. “Besides, you of all people should know I’d never let my baby unattended if something had happened.”
Jaemin shakes his head with a chuckle, side-eyeing you suspiciously for a second. “Then why are you here, Cherry?”
“Just thought I’d drop by to see you,” you answer breezily, shrugging as your fingers fiddle with the two red hearts locked to your car’s keys. “We didn’t really talk last time and Gigi’s crew left the race earlier than usual, so…”
With a hum, Jaemin raises an eyebrow in his direction before turning to you again, eyes gleaming with purpose. “I take it you’ve met Jeno, then?”
As the mechanic gestures towards him, Jeno can’t help the tension from spreading through his body, caught off guard over suddenly being pulled into the conversation. For a moment that feels too long, it almost feels like he’s being sized up as your gaze lands on his frame, sharp and assessing.
“Yeah,” you admit, a laugh escaping from your lips when catching the slight surprise on his face. “What’s up, Jeno?”
He nods politely, pursing his lips in a half-hearted, hesitant greeting. “Hey.”
“I bet you’ve had a lot of visitors dropping by to check you out after the race, right?” you ask, teasing him as your tone shifts to a mischievous one. “Are you sick of it enough for a rematch yet?”
Still holding your gaze, Jeno simply shakes his head. “They’re not here because of me.”
Despite his deadpan delivery, the way your eyes immediately flicker in understanding isn’t lost on Jeno, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as the implication behind his words settle between you.
“Taeyong sure knows how to pick a crew,” you muse, mostly chuckling to yourself before raising an eyebrow towards him. “Have you been racing for a long time?”
Turning his attention back to the engine in front of him, Jeno nods vaguely. “A while.”
As you watch him, maybe a little too attentively for his liking, a mix of amusement and exasperation take over your face. “You don’t really talk much, do you?”
Jeno doesn’t immediately respond, instead keeping his eyes fixed on the tools spread over his workstation. As he gives a half-hearted shrug, the silence instantly serves as an answer for you.
“Right,” you mutter, chuckling softly before curiously peering at his engine from your spot. “That’s a cool V8 you’re working on, by the way.”
He quickly glances up at your words, his hands pausing the screwdriver in his grasp as a hint of intrigue replaces the indifferent attitude. “You know your way around cars.”
“It comes with the territory,” you answer, an amused smile widening on your face at his reaction. “Also, I’ve had good teachers… Vic taught me a lot about it, too.”
The name catches Jeno off guard, a frown betraying the confusion on his face. “Vic?”
As the loud, unmistakable rumble of a Dodge Charger R/T suddenly resonates through the garage, heads turning to the entrance over the black, pristine 1970’s model stopping outside Neo Tech, the question stays unanswered.
For a second time, Jeno catches himself cautiously watching you—as the puzzled look on your face shifts to a smile of recognition over whoever’s arrived, you’re quick to jump off Jaemin’s workstation, hurrying outside with a demeanor he can’t quite figure out.
Behind the Charger’s wheel, sits a man that looks somewhat familiar, his appearance seemingly fitting around early to mid fifties given his rugged presence.
As you share a high-five with him, leaning against the window of his car for a chat, Jeno notes how the man seems to hang onto your words, a visible sense of camaraderie laced to the interaction. Despite your childlike excitement, it doesn’t take long until he playfully waves you off, a giggle escaping from your lips while you quickly climb into your Mazda, soon leaving right behind him.
It’s only when Jaemin clears his throat that Jeno breaks away from the scene, looking back to find the mechanic grinning knowingly at him.
“That was really interesting,” he starts, leaning back against a nearby tool cart before crossing his arms. “Cherry doesn’t usually have to work for it.”
Ignoring the insinuation of Jaemin’s comment, Jeno plays it off with an amused scoff. “Is there a reason for that nickname?”
“Everyone’s been calling her that for as long as I’ve known her.” Jaemin shrugs, chuckling fondly. “She owned up to it when she started racing, so we painted the RX-7 red to match her.”
Jeno hums, briefly shooting him an inquisitive glance. “You two seemed close.”
As he seems to understand the catch, the grin on Jaemin’s face grows even bigger. “Oh, it was a long time ago,” he explains, sounding annoyingly reassuring for no reason. “We mutually decided we’re better off as friends, so don’t worry about it.”
“I’m not,” he counters bluntly, frowning at the fellow mechanic before turning back to the V8 again. “Who was that in the black Charger?”
“That’s... Victor Torres,” Jaemin answers, seemingly puzzled at the question. “Vic’s a bit of a legend around the neighborhood. He’s been racing, mentoring a few racers around here for a while. Cherry’s one of his star pupils.”
Jeno pauses briefly, his eyebrows furrowing in thought over the memories from that night. “I don’t think I’ve seen him at the race.”
With a curious smirk curling his lips, the mechanic shakes his head. “The old man was out of the city for a dealership,” he explains, squinting his eyes in his direction for a second. “You’re settling in pretty quick for new blood.”
A half-hearted smile tugs at Jeno’s mouth, the answer measured with a nonchalant shrug. “Things aren’t too different from what I’ve done before.”
“So you have raced before,” Jaemin notes, an inquisitive edge to his voice despite the humorous gleam in his gaze. “I don’t think you’ve mentioned that when you signed up last time.”
“Nobody asked,” Jeno replies, looking up at the mechanic again with a taunting glance. “It didn’t seem important.”
Amused by the off-putting answer, Jaemin studies him for a beat before clicking his tongue. “Maybe you shouldn’t have raced against Cherry,” he says, shooting him a playful wink. “Winning against everyone’s favorite tends to draw attention.”
As Jeno stands up from his workbench, subtly signaling the end of the conversation, a touch of finality hangs to his voice. “I’m not here to impress anyone.”
“Fair enough,” Jaemin counters with a chuckle, backing off with a lazy shrug. “Just don’t think we’re not all wondering, though. People are paying attention.”
Though Jeno doesn’t react outwardly, the weight of Jaemin’s words linger over his head for the night.
Settling in at Neo Tech truly had been smoother than he’d expected—maybe a little too smooth, now that he thinks of it. Jeno knows he’s playing a careful game, but days like this make him feel like the pieces are shifting faster than he can anticipate.
Despite being as old as time, The Bluebird is considerably packed for a Friday night, the few worn-out tables of the diner all taken as you walk past through the door.
As the jingle of the bell announces your arrival, the smell of frying bacon and fresh coffee immediately surround you, welcoming and familiar as a childhood memory.
Nestled on the corner of the neighborhood’s busiest street, The Bluebird is the kind of place where the food is deliciously greasy, the coffee a little too strong and everyone knows your name even if you don’t. Though it’s not the case with Daria, one of the diner’s waitresses that has pretty much seen you grow up over your visits for their milkshakes and cheeseburgers.
She’s quick to spot you through the diner’s buzz, gesturing for you to sit by the vacant counter with a smile. You rush through the tables, softly returning the older woman’s smile.
“I didn’t know you were back, Daria!” you start, sliding into a stool with a curious glance at her. “How was your trip? Did you see your grandkids?”
“It was wonderful!” she says, her face lighting up with warmth before setting the menu in front of you. “The little ones are growing so fast, it won’t take long until they’re taller than me.”
Leaning against the counter, you smile at her between mischief and curiosity. “What about your boyfriend? Did he go with you?”
“You know that an old woman shouldn’t kiss and tell,” Daria jokes, though her face quickly shifts as she shoots you a knowing look. “What about you? Don’t think I haven’t heard about your little things with Taeyong’s boys.”
You quickly avert your gaze to the menu on the wall, feigning a cough under her amused scrutiny. “Oh, I think I’m ready to order?”
Daria chuckles, visibly unimpressed by your poor attempt to change the subject. “I’m sure you are,” she teases, pulling a notepad from her apron. “Let me guess. A cherry milkshake, cheeseburger and fries, like always?
As you nod eagerly, a grin tugs at the corners of your mouth. “You just get me, Daria.”
The older woman laughs, jotting down your order just about to head towards the kitchen when a familiar voice cuts through the chatter around you.
“Add it to my tab.”
The sudden intrusion makes you glance over, eyes instantly locking with Jeno’s as he sits a few stools away, casually holding a steaming mug of coffee. The faintest hint of a smirk plays on his lips as he notes your surprised features, having been oblivious to his quiet presence until now.
Daria raises an eyebrow at him, suspiciously glancing between both of you. She hesitates, tapping a pen against the notepad as if weighing whether to prod further or leave her curiosity alone.
With a playful shrug, you laugh reassuringly at the waitress. “You heard the man, Daria. I’m having free dinner tonight.”
She hums, looking nothing but unconvinced as she side-eyes Jeno for a second. “Alright, then,” Daria says, ultimately tucking the notepad into her apron again. “I’m watching you two. Don’t cause trouble, I’ll bring your food soon.”
As she heads towards the kitchen, leaving you two alone in the diner’s bustling atmosphere, Daria doesn’t resist smirking knowingly at you.
Shifting on your seat to face him, you regard the racer’s laidback posture with narrowed eyes. “I can pay for my own food, you know.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jeno answers, an unexpected hint of amusement lacing his voice as he shrugs lightly. “I’ve got five grand sitting in my bank account, figured some courtesy wouldn’t hurt.”
“Oh, we’re going there now?” you argue, a scoff escaping from your lips. “There’s another race in a few days, should I expect a rematch?”
He hums, taking a sip of his coffee before offering a teasing, small smile. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“I actually would,” you say, crossing your arms over the counter with a mock challenging glare at him. “Aren’t you talking a little too much for new blood? That entire race was mine.”
Jeno quirks an eyebrow, setting the mug down as the smile on his face widens discreetly. “Pretty sure I crossed the line first.”
“By a hair,” you counter, slumping back against your seat just as a deliberate, easy grin tugs at your mouth. “I might’ve lost but I know I made you work for it.”
“Yeah,” he mutters, the admission edged with a touch of honesty that catches you off-guard. “You really did.”
As he holds your gaze for a second longer than necessary, all traces of playfulness slowly shift to a more thoughtful mood, a touch too serious for the moment. The air seems to shift between you—somewhat charged with something you can’t pinpoint, though neither of you back down from it.
Before the sudden tension stretches for longer, Daria steps in, breaking the conversation’s lull with your order in hands.
She glances between you and Jeno with an amused frown, lips twitching for a grin. “Flirting or fighting?”
Jeno snorts. “Neither.”
“Fighting,” you fire back.
Answering at the same time, the coincidence draws a snicker out of Daria before she hurries away to another customer, quickly leaving you for a second time.
“So, Jeno...” you start, attempting to lead the conversation back into your own curiosity’s territory. “What’s your deal? Taeyong’s usually so picky about his crew, I was surprised to hear there was a new guy at Neo Tech.”
Jeno takes his time to reply, almost as if weighing what to say. “Not much to tell,” he says, shaking his head before exhaling a laugh that doesn’t reach his eyes. “He needed someone on short notice, I needed the job.”
You pick up a fry in between bites of the cheeseburger, twirling it between your fingers with a hum. “How’d you get into racing then?”
“I grew up around cars. My dad used to work on a few for fun, so I spent a lot of time in our garage with him,” Jeno explains, looking suddenly a bit nostalgic. ”I started tinkering around, learning a bit. Racing just felt like a natural step.”
As you nod, a small smile curls on your lips over the straw of the milkshake. “Sounds like me, except it was my brother.”
He raises an eyebrow, visibly surprised by the words. “Does he race?”
“Nope,” you quickly answer, glancing down at the plate in front of you to pick on the few fries left. “Not anymore.”
As if sensing something there, Jeno chooses to not press further as he nods. “If it’s worth anything, you’re really good at it.”
You blink, feeling warmth spreading through your neck for a moment before quickly recovering, shooting him a mischievous grin instead. “Why did you decide to challenge me that day, by the way?”
Jeno pauses, lips threatening a smile as his fingers brush over the edge of his mug. “I wasn’t going to,” he confesses, chuckling humorlessly. “I wasn’t even thinking about racing that day.”
Unconsciously leaning closer, your curiosity now piqued, you frown at him. “Then... why did you?”
“I heard some racers talking about you—how you don’t race for the money or actually winning,” he starts, his tone somehow caught between amusement and exasperation. “Doing it against someone like that just seemed... fun. Just racing for the sake of it.”
Your grin returns a little wider, mischief slipping back into your tone. “All I’m hearing is that you’re signing up for the next one.”
His lips twitch, Jeno taking a last sip of his coffee under your intrigued gaze. “If you get a ten-win streak, I’ll think about it.”
You snort, feigning a peeved glare. “Is that a challenge?”
He tilts his head, the corners of his mouth curving into a small, teasing smile. “I don’t know.” Jeno chuckles quietly, a hand casually running through his hair. “Is it?”
The sudden shift in his behavior—from the guarded, almost apathetic Jeno you met at the garage to the current playful, teasing Jeno from today—has definitely given you a bit of whiplash. The easy smiles, his gentle confidence and the way he’s been quietly coaxing reactions out of you are a stark contrast to the unreadable, aloof man from days ago. Leaving you to wonder what else he’s possibly hiding underneath his layers, the change only spurs you further.
There’s something there, a growing curiosity that you can’t ignore, making you eager to figure him out even if you’re not entirely sure why.
As your phone buzzes inside the pockets of your hoodie, Vic’s name flashing on the screen once you pick it up, Jeno’s face quickly changes to a more reserved expression, politely turning away in an attempt to give you a little privacy. The call doesn’t last long, Vic ultimately bidding you goodbye as the line clicks off.
You pocket the phone into your hoodie again, turning back to him with an apologetic shrug. “Sorry, I’ve gotta go.”
Jeno nods, his light-hearted demeanor now eased into something more neutral. “Guess I’ll see you around, then.”
“Yeah,” you reply with a small smile, lingering for just a second longer than you mean to before standing up from your stool. “Try not to miss me too much, okay? I’ll see you at the race.”
He doesn’t reply, instead only offering you an amused smile watching you skirt around the tables on the way to the door. You send him a quick, playful wink over your shoulder before finally stepping outside, holding back a smile of your own upon noticing the way he laughs.
Heading towards your car, the glow of The Bluebird’s neon sign fading through the street, you shake off the wandering thoughts.
Back at the warehouse again, surrounded by the roar of engines and the usual heavy atmosphere that marks race day, Jeno watches the bustling crowd with attention.
It hasn’t been long he’s arrived, parking his Skyline at Neo Tech’s usual spot as a few racers stop by every now and then, attempting to find out whether his name was at the starting grid for the night.
Though the crowd quickly turns his name into one of the most anticipated contenders once they clock his presence, Jeno knows better than racing tonight. After last time, unexpectedly battling with the scene’s most loved racer, keeping a low profile seems like the safest option for now.
As he leans against the hood of his green GT-R, taking in the line-up of cars over the warehouse, a familiar cherry red shadow easily catches his attention—except you aren’t the one behind the wheel this time. Jeno frowns, straightening slightly as he tries to recognize the figure through the windows of your Mazda until Johnny’s sudden call makes it impossible, the crowd erupting into chaos at his blasting voice.
Pushing off his car, he quickly weaves through the audience outside the warehouse, surrounding the starting line for a better view.
The pre-race procedure stays the same with Johnny listing the rules, giving a quick run-down on the night’s track before hyping up the winning prize, the crowd attentively hanging onto his words.
“We’ve got a bit of a twist tonight though,” Johnny adds, his voice laced with a cryptic touch despite the thrill on his face. “Two of our favorite racers have switched cars for today’s race.”
Before the crowd pieces it together, Jeno raises an eyebrow at his own realization.
“In the RX-7, we’ve got Gigi taking the wheel—” Johnny pauses abruptly, grinning at the sudden cheers and whistles of both surprise and excitement coming from the audience. “—and in the S2000, we’ve got Cherry in command tonight.”
“That’s new,” Jaemin says, chuckling as he steps beside Jeno, glancing between the two cars at the far end of the line-up with interest. “I don’t think Cherry’s ever done that.”
Following his eyes, Jeno finally glimpses your focused figure inside the pink Honda. “She seems to know what she’s doing.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” he replies casually, arms crossing over his chest as a grin slowly grows on his face. “It’s not about the car with her, but I am curious as to why she’s doing it tonight.”
Jaemin gives him a sharp glance, expressive enough that Jeno immediately gets the picture he’s painting.
Though he doesn’t respond, it feels like his silence speaks volumes.
As Johnny finishes his speech, the roar of the engines revving up adds to the building tension. The crowd surges forward once Johnny raises the flag, pressing closer to the edge of the track as it blazes under bright headlights.
The flag drops.
Despite being at disadvantage at the corners, you easily push through with Gigi’s Honda, tires screeching against the pavement as the car takes the lead.
At his side, Jaemin lets out an amused whistle. “Yeah, she’s definitely pulling it off.”
It doesn’t take long until the cars are doubling a corner after the first long straight, the blind spot simmering the crowd with anticipation for a few minutes. As a commotion at the outskirts of the grid catches Jeno’s eyes, his attention momentarily shifts to a familiar figure stepping into the chaos.
Victor Torres walks through the cluster of people, thoroughly scanning the place in the company of two broad-shouldered, stone-faced men right behind him.
Jaemin notices the shift in Jeno’s attention, curiously glancing around until a puzzled sound escapes his mouth. “Oh? Vic usually doesn’t show up unless he’s got a reason.”
Trying to keep his tone as neutral as possible, Jeno clears his throat. “So he doesn’t usually watch her race.”
Though the question sounds more like a statement, the mechanic still shakes head with a thoughtful hum. “Not anymore. He could be here for literally anything, though.”
As the sounds of running engines approach, getting louder by every second, the audience quickly flares up waiting for whoever’s currently leading the race. Jeno can’t help but grin as the S2000 makes a perfect curve into the final stretch, leaving you seconds ahead as the first racer to reach the last bit of the course.
The blur of pink easily blazes across the finish line, the atmosphere erupting with cheers and applause. Behind you, the cherry red Mazda follows close as Gigi skillfully holds the second place.
Jeno watches as you slow the car into the surging crowd, climbing out of the Honda with a thrilled glow on your face. Despite the swarm congratulating you, your attention seems to be on something else, eyes scanning the faces until unmistakably locking with his own. A grin immediately curls on your lips as you push through the handful of people, walking towards him with a poised stance.
You cast a mischievous glance at him as you approach, arms crossing over your chest. “Are you really backing out of our rematch?”
Jeno chuckles, holding a hand out for a surprise high-five. “Congratulations. That was one hell of a race.”
Jaemin clears his throat dramatically at Jeno’s side, watching you reciprocate the gesture with a frown on his face. “Oh, sure, don’t mind me,” he grumbles, rolling his eyes. “I mean, I wasn’t really here rooting for you the whole time, it’s fine.”
“Don’t be like that,” you coo at him, stepping closer before throwing your arms around Jaemin’s neck, hanging onto his figure with a laugh. “You know I love you, Nana.”
The mechanic hums, letting you go with a teasing side glance. “Do you?”
With a slap to his arm, an amused scoff escapes your lips. “You’re a menace,” you say, giving Jaemin a light, playful push. “You should go, Gigi’s probably wondering why you’re not hovering around her yet.”
Jaemin grins, ruffling your hair in retaliation before stepping back with an exaggerated bow. As he disappears into the crowd walking over to Gigi’s parked Honda, there’s a subtle change in the air now that you’re left alone.
Despite the hectic post-race, heavy music now echoing from inside the warehouse as Johnny takes the DJ stand, a few curious eyes are still watching both of you, conversations pausing momentarily to become hushed mumbles. Whether it’s about your win over Gigi, the fact that you’re openly engaging with him of all people or something else entirely… Jeno can’t really tell.
As you turn to him again, your expression shifts to a mix of confusion and excitement. “Why did you come if you weren’t racing tonight?”
“To watch you,” he replies, the blunt answer clearly catching you off guard as your lips twitch, resisting a smile. “I told you, I don’t really race that much anymore.”
“Well, maybe you should,” you argue, offering a light shrug with a coy glance at him. “At least it’d be more fun for me.”
Jeno regards you knowingly, lips pursing in a small smile. “I’m pretty sure you were holding back on the straights tonight,” he notes, huffing a quiet laugh at your guilty wince. “How long have you known Gigi?”
“We went to school together,” you answer, fondness suddenly lacing your voice. “If my brother and Vic taught me everything I know, Jaemin and I taught her everything she knows.”
“She had a good teacher, then,” he says, still smiling with a thoughtful nod. “Seems like you’ve got a lot of people in your corner.”
You smile in a way Jeno hasn’t seen yet, a hint of pride flashing in your eyes. “I’m the luckiest to have them.”
As he studies you for a second, your expression unexpectedly wavering to a sheepish one, Jeno can’t help a soft chuckle from escaping his lips. “I can tell.”
A beat of silence passes before you break it with a playful sparkle in your eyes. “So… where’s your car, anyways?” you ask, glancing over your shoulder towards the warehouse. “I’ve never driven a Nissan before. When are you giving me a chance to drive that beauty?”
Jeno raises an eyebrow, his lips curling into a teasing smile. “You sure you can handle it?” he asks, crossing his arms in a laidback gesture. “It’s not exactly a car for amateurs.”
“Are you calling me an amateur?” you provoke him, taking a step closer before playfully raising your chin at him. “If you think I can’t handle it, then let me take a ride to show you what I got.”
Though he laughs at the words, warmth slowly spreads through his body as Jeno leans closer to you, just enough to subtly tower over your figure. As his heart picks up, your dazed face just inches away from his, Jeno can’t help his eyes from dipping to your lips.
It feels like something snaps in his brain as he suddenly looks up, instantly finding Vic near the entrance of the warehouse, the man’s gaze fixed intently on both of you. His posture is tense, arms crossed as if he’s been watching for a while.
Jeno takes a step back, exhaling sharply at the way your expression falters, looking genuinely confused by his sudden attitude.
As his voice falls into indifference again, he offers you an apologetic glance. “It’s getting late, you should probably go home.”
You huff a short laugh, a mix of bewilderment and defiance crossing your face. “Right... I probably should.”
Before Jeno can say anything else, you quickly turn around to leave—not before giving him a final, lingering look with arms crossed over your chest. As he watches you cut into the remaining crowd, your name slips from his mouth before Jeno can consciously stop it.
“You’ll have to buy me dinner before I let you ride it.”
A grin slowly tugs at your lips before you offer him an eye-roll.
“We’ll see about that, Jeno.”
The streetlights cast dark shadows over the rows of cars parked outside Neo Tech, its large doors already halfway closed as you slowly come to stop, the engine of your Mazda humming gently in the silent neighborhood.
Inside, you can spot Jeno’s figure still moving around, his back towards the entrance as he seems to finish up for the night, clearing his workstation with a relaxed posture.
As your fingers tap the steering wheel, you debate with yourself for a second—you hadn’t exactly planned on stopping by the garage this late, yet you’re still there with a takeout bag ready to be shared, unpretentiously anticipating his reaction over the surprise.
After the race, Jeno had left you feeling something deeper than just curiosity, especially with a certain little moment lingering at the corners of your mind for the following days. Given how much he’s changed since first meeting him at the garage, you can’t help the growing expectation inside your chest, though you’d never be one to openly admit so.
Though before you can talk yourself out of it by overthinking, the sound of a door rolling open draws your attention.
While throwing a few goodbyes to the crew over his shoulder, Jeno steps outside, eyebrows instantly furrowing in surprise as he spots you. Closing the garage behind him, shrugging a black hoodie jacket on, he walks towards your car with a knowing smirk breaking into his face.
As he approaches, Jeno bends down to your window, holding an arm over the car’s roof. “If you’re here for Jaemin, he left a few minutes ago.”
“I’m here for you, actually,” you say, holding back a grin of your own at his bemused expression. “You said I should buy you dinner first, so that’s what I’m doing.”
His eyebrows shoot up briefly, the smirk widening into something caught between disbelief and amusement. “Dinner, huh?” Jeno repeats, tilting his head as if to get a better read on you. “Didn’t take you for someone who’d keep tabs on promises like that.”
“Well, I’m trying to keep things interesting for you,” you quip, starting the engine again before looking up at his figure, still leaning against your car. “I’ve got food and I know a place. Are you coming?”
Jeno just shakes his head, laughing softly as he steps back towards his GT-R. “Lead the way, let’s see what you’ve got.”
You can’t help the spark of satisfaction warming your chest as his car rumbles to life, soon pulling onto the neighborhood’s main street right behind your RX-7. Glancing in the rearview mirror every now and then, Jeno’s got the same expression from the day he’d raced you, serious and focused enough that you almost don’t resist suddenly pulling him into a challenge.
The road stretches out ahead to a highway shortcut, the city glowing in the distance as both of you escape from it for the night.
As the buildings and bright lights start giving way to rolling hills and open fields, you lead Jeno onto a dirt road, following it until a secluded, almost undetectable clearing. The space’s quiet, surrounded by trees, with a clear view of the stars above and the city’s skyline far ahead.
Jeno steps out of his Skyline first, looking around with attentive eyes. “Nice spot. How’d you find this place?”
“My brother,” you answer, the diner’s bag in hands as you join him with a small smile. “He used to bring me here when I was a moody, grumpy pre-teen.”
Taking a seat on the hood of his car, Jeno hums softly. “Not anymore?”
Debating with yourself as you watch him for a moment, the words slip from your mouth with surprising ease. “He passed away, so not really,” you say, snickering softly at the quick change in his expression. “It’s been a long time though, don’t worry about it.”
“I’m still sorry,” he starts, voice shifting to a quieter tone. “Can I ask what happened?”
You sigh wistfully, moving to sit beside him on the GT-R’s hood before starting to set up the food between you. “Would it be weird to say that I have no idea?”
Jeno frowns, visibly caught off-guard by the odd answer. “What do you mean?”
“I still don’t know what happened,” you repeat, humorlessly huffing a laugh as you pick up a fry to start. “He just… went out of town for a race one day and never came back. Vic was the one to break the news to me.”
A flicker of something you can’t read crosses his face, though he quickly recovers by offering a half uneasy, half reassuring glance. “I’m not sure what I should say—”
“It’s fine, Jeno,” you interrupt, deliberately lighting up the mood with a growing grin on your lips. “We should probably talk about how you’re letting me drive your car back to the city today.”
As Jeno chuckles, his gaze is steady but softer than usual. “You really don’t waste time, do you?”
“What can I say?” you joke, taking a sip of your milkshake with a coy shrug. “I’m a very focused person and right now my focus is exactly getting behind the wheel of your GT-R.”
Still not breaking eye contact, he shakes his head to resist his grin from growing. “So you win a few races and suddenly think that earns you the keys to my car?”
Your fingers are playing with the straw of the cherry drink as you smirk at him, tilting your head for added effect. “I mean, I did buy you dinner like you asked,” you counter, clicking your tongue. “The least you can do is uphold your promise.”
“Was it a promise?” Jeno asks, feigning confusion with a quirked eyebrow. “I don’t remember that.”
“Do you want me to remind you?” you shoot back, leaning just a little closer to taunt him. “You said that I should buy you dinner before you let me ride it. Remember that?”
As he huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head again, there’s a subtle hint of a blush dusting Jeno’s cheeks. “You’re relentless.”
You smile teasingly, leaning back on your hands against his car. “Well… you’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”
You barely finish the sentence before Jeno suddenly leans over your frame, closing the distance between you without hesitation. The kiss catches you completely off guard, your breath hitching as his lips meet yours. For a moment, your mind goes completely blank, overwhelmed by his unexpected action.
Jeno’s hand firmly holds your jaw, anchoring you in place with the same intensity as he’s kissing you—almost as if he’s acting on an impulse after holding himself back. You can’t help giving in, something warmer and deeper quickly melting the surprise as you instinctively kiss him back, your fingers tightening around his hoodie.
As he pulls away, exhaling a laugh against your mouth, his forehead lingers close to yours. “Sorry, that wasn’t part of the deal.”
You blink at him, trying to pace yourself again as heat rushes through your cheeks. “Not really,” you admit, grinning softly with a light-hearted shrug. “I’m not complaining, though.”
Jeno rubs the back of his neck, the action laced with a hint of bashfulness that contrasts with his usual composure. “Maybe I shouldn’t have—”
“I hope you’re not implying I’m a bad kisser,” you cut in, squinting your eyes in mock annoyance before pulling back with an exaggerated gasp. “By the way, was that you giving your car to me or is this just an attempt to trick me out of it?”
He laughs, the sound coming off low and genuine, his eyes almost sparkling under the dim light. “What if it’s both?”
A grin immediately tugs at your lips before you lean forward, pressing a quick smooch to his mouth with a giddy laugh. “I’m racing your GT-R next time then, just so you know.”
Jeno shakes his head, holding back a smile as he purposefully looks away to the city’s horizon in the distance. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
Your laughter softens as you settle back against the hood of his car, attentively watching his profile. “So I’ve been told a few times,” you answer with a playful shrug. “I prefer to think of myself as ambitious, though.”
He smirks, glancing sideways at you with raised eyebrows. “Ambitious is definitely one word for it.”
“Oh, come on,” you tease cheekily, bumping your shoulder lightly against his with a smile. “I know you like me, it’s okay to admit it.”
Jeno hums, shaking his head as something akin to tenderness flashes in his eyes for a second. “I’ll admit you keep things… interesting.”
The weight of his words subtly change the mood, especially as your heart takes the lead by racing annoyingly fast for your liking.
As the night stretches on, the two of you fall into an easy rhythm of conversation in between bites of your usual order from The Bluebird, exchanging a few stories and memories here and there. The night air feels cool against your skin by the time both of you finish, momentarily falling into a comfortable, yet charged silence.
Jeno breaks the pause with a deep breath, glancing at his watch with a touch of reluctance. “It’s late,” he says softly, offering you a knowing glance. “We should probably head back before someone finds us here.”
Though you know that nobody’s going to find the secluded place so late, you hum softly before hopping off the hood of his car. Just as you’re about to take a step towards your Mazda, Jeno holds you back by the arm. You watch as he silently takes off his hoodie, draping the fabric over your shoulders with a satisfied nod.
Before you can thank him, he gently grabs one of your hands, pulling it out of the long sleeve with a chuckle.
Then—the keys of his green Skyline GT-R are in your palm.
Your jaw drops as you stare down at them, blinking in both disbelief and excitement. “Are you serious?”
Amused by your reaction, Jeno smirks challengingly. “You wanted to drive it, didn’t you?” he asks, leaning closer as his voice drops. “If you make it to the city in under 10 minutes, I’ll let you actually race it.”
You can only snort, tiptoeing to press another kiss to his lips. “We’re on.”
Driving his car through the highway as you head towards the city again, watching him closely follow behind with your Mazda, you can’t help but feel like the night has set something in motion—something you’re more than ready to see through now.
Looking around, Jeno can’t remember the last time he’s been in a conference room.
The place smells like burnt coffee, the hum of its fluorescent lights almost serving as white noise to mask the unnerving silence surrounding him.
As he sits in the large, secluded corner at the agency for the first time in three months, Jeno can’t help nervously clasping his hands over the table, waiting for Doyoung to arrive.
The walls, covered in bulletin boards that display very specific files and photos, are a twisted reminder of the reason he’s there in the first place. A folder lies in front of him, his jaw tightening at the sight of it every time he glances at the worn out edges and stained cover.
As the door suddenly clicks with a loud sound, Doyoung is quick to step inside, his sharp, intimidating features immediately softening upon seeing him in person again. Holding another handful of files, the oldest manages a brief side-hug, offering a pat to Jeno’s back before settling on a chair at the head of the desk.
“It’s good to see you in one piece,” Doyoung starts, leaning back against his seat with a knowing glance in his direction. “Sorry that we pulled you out on short notice, the order came from high-up—”
Jeno shakes his head, pursing his lips in a tight line. “It’s fine, I was probably up for a check-in anyway.”
The agent regards him for a second, humming in agreement despite the flicker of reservation in his eyes. “You were,” Doyoung admits, nodding curtly. “We’ve been looking into your intel, and it adds up with what we have so far.”
“I thought we’d already established that the last time we talked,” Jeno answers, glaring at his co-worker impatiently.
“We did,” the man agrees, resting his elbows against the desk before huffing a peeved scoff. “Except Victor’s not a middleman like we thought, he’s actually the head of the entire thing.”
Jeno leans back against his seat, the weight of the information settling in after a second. “You’re telling me Vic’s the one running the smuggling operation?”
Doyoung nods again, sliding a file over the desk. “Everything points back to him—the money trails, the coded messages, the shipments’ timing,” he explains, his expression seemingly hardening by each word. “He’s not just managing the cargo, he’s intercepting it and passing it forward internationally.”
His jaw tightens, eyes quickly scanning the pages. “What’s his deal with the races?”
“Recruitment ground, maybe? That’s what we gathered from your intel, anyway,” Doyoung clarifies, offering a shrug. “He needs good drivers, fast ones. What’s a better way to have that than making them yourself?”
The memories of his conversations with Jaemin instantly resurface in Jeno’s mind.
Despite the relationships you’ve built through your brother, most with the guys from Neo Tech, Victor has still played a key role in your life by guiding you, eventually molding you into one of the best racers in the city. The connection isn’t just a passing detail— now it feels deliberate, purposeful.
If Victor’s been intentionally shaping and recruiting racers, then his investment in you isn’t just about talent and skills alone.
Jeno exhales slowly, voice giving away a hint of stress. “What’s the next step then?”
“There’s new shipment coming next week. They’re planning to take it out of the city, so we’ll be looking out for that,” Doyoung starts, leaning back with an apologetic wince. “I know it’s not what you want to hear, but we can’t bring him in without solid evidence... we’re getting close, Jeno.”
“Can I join the team on that?” he asks, his expression hardening.
The agent raises an eyebrow, clicking his tongue at the request. “It’s risky but I’ll see what I can do,” he answers, hesitating for a second before shooting Jeno a meaningful glance. “I know I’ve asked before, but I just want to be sure we’re still on the same page about—”
Even though he knew it was coming, Jeno’s stomach still twists at the mention of your name. “She’s not a problem,” he firmly cuts in, body quickly growing tense. “She’s just there to race, nothing more.”
The oldest studies him carefully, visibly cautious despite the insistence. “Are you sure about that? Victor needs good drivers, and if she’s the best one in the scene—”
“I’m sure,” he interrupts again, his fists subconsciously clenching under the desk. “She’s not part of the operation.”
“You know that I trust you, Jeno,” Doyoung says quietly, though not looking entirely too convinced. “I hope you know what you’re doing. If you get too close, it’s not just you who could get hurt.”
“I’m just doing my job,” Jeno argues, glaring at the agent in a way that looks too forceful to feel genuine. “I’m undercover and she gets me closer to the scene, that’s all. I’m not about to compromise the investigation, Doyoung.”
The agent simply nods, sliding another file across the desk. “We’ve also got something new from the surveillance team. Do you recognize these names?”
Scanning the list of names printed on the paper, Jeno points at the last two ones. Shotaro and Sungchan. “I’ve seen these two race before… Vic’s drivers?”
“It seems like it, at least for the next shipment,” Doyoung confirms, regarding him with a knowing look. “If you can scout anything about them at the garage...”
He nods, closing the file before roughly pushing it over. “Sure, I’ll get back to you.”
As Doyoung gathers the files together, a deep exhale suddenly escapes from his mouth once silence settles in the conference room again.
“Now, I’m asking you as a friend, not as a co-worker or an agent,” he starts, almost sounding exasperated under his characteristic concern. “It’s been three months. Are you sure you can keep doing this?”
The agent watches him attentively, his cranky professional facade slipping for a moment as Jeno clocks a hint of apprehension on his face.
Doyoung has always been more than just a co-worker, having stepped into an older brother role from the moment he’d joined the agency as a fresh-faced, out-of-school rookie.
Over the years, the oldest had become a steady presence in Jeno’s building career as one of the top agents in the team—whether through a firm warning when he pushed too far on something or simply seeing his potential when no one else would, there isn’t a single doubt that Doyoung holds a significant place in his life now.
Still, Jeno can’t help hesitating over the question, ultimately nodding despite the weight behind his words. “I’m fine.”
The agent doesn’t answer right away, watching him as though waiting for something. “Well, you don’t really seem like it,” Doyoung counters, standing up from his seat with the files in hands again. “You look like a guy who’s starting to lose sight of what side he’s on. I’d know about that.”
As the oldest steps aside to leave, the silence feels heavier than before, settling between them like the unspoken truth that Jeno’s been tightly safeguarding. Opening the door, Doyoung squeezes his shoulder in reassurance, nodding firmly despite the softness in his eyes.
“You’ve got this, Jeno.”
The sound of tires crunching against the gravel outside your place immediately draws your attention, a familiar engine’s hum echoing through the quiet evening. A small smile tugs at your mouth as recognition settles in, the sound almost unmistakable by now. Peering outside the window, you watch as Jeno’s green GT-R comes to a smooth stop into your driveway, a quiet warmth blooming in your chest.
It’s been a couple of days since you last saw each other, both staying busy enough with work and life between race days.
In the three months since Jeno first challenged you, your relationship—or whatever that you can possibly call it—has slowly become something that’s been lingering in a space with no definitions or expectations.
Though neither of you are entirely sure of what to call it, even under the occasional teasing quips from Neo Tech’s crew, you’ve come to realize that you don’t really mind it. There’s a certain comfort in not overthinking it, trusting Jeno to exist in your life in the way he does—steady but gently, with an ease that feels very characteristic of him.
The evening chill rises shivers on your bare legs as you step outside, smirking at the way Jeno’s figure is sitting on the hood of his car, hands tucked into the pockets of a bomber jacket. His head lifts slightly at the sound of your quick footsteps, a groan escaping from his lips as you jump against him, arms wrapping around his neck in a tight hug.
“Hello to you too,” Jeno starts, sounding nothing but amused as you pull back, a hint of surprise giving him away for a moment. “Didn’t think I’d get this kind of welcome today.”
“Why? Did you think I’d only do that when we’ve got an audience?” you ask, your tone playful as you stand between his legs, arms now loosely holding him. “I’m a loyal girl, Jeno Lee.”
He nods solemnly, a sudden flicker of seriousness catching his eyes. “I know you are.”
“You could’ve texted me,” you argue, sighing dramatically as you give him a glare. “We could’ve gone out if I knew you were coming tonight.”
Jeno smiles, his hands lightly squeezing your hips before pulling you closer. “What if I wanted to surprise you?”
Rolling your eyes, a grin spreads through your face before you can stop it. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood today,” you tease, taking a step back again as you reach for his hand. “We can order some dinner then, I’ll know just the place—”
“I can’t stay tonight, Cherry,” he cuts in, gently stopping you with an apologetic glance. “I’m leaving town for a few days, I just wanted to see you before I go.”
As the words catch you off-guard, you blink confusedly at him. “You’re leaving? What for?”
“Family stuff,” Jeno answers, a heavy sigh escaping from his lips. “It came up suddenly but I’ll only be gone for a few days, a week at most.”
You frown, pursing your lips in a pout before giving him a playful curious glance. “Family stuff? That’s all I get when there’s probably gossip?”
Jeno laughs, shaking his head in amusement for a second. “Gigi’s been rubbing off on you,” he teases, voice soon dropping to a mix of reassurance and tenderness as he exhales. “It’s not that exciting, I promise. I’ll be back before you know it.”
“You could’ve told me earlier,” you mutter, your fingers playing with the zipper of his jacket, purposefully avoiding his gaze. “The next race’s gonna suck if you’re not going to be here.”
His fingers grasp at your chin, lifting your face up until your eyes meet. “You’re the main part of these races, so I doubt that’ll happen,” he counters, clicking his tongue with a sly, playful grin tugging his lips. “I’d let my car with you but I’ll need it, so…”
With a scoff, you half-heartedly swat his chest. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
He doesn’t answer, instead pausing the conversation for a moment with a soft brush of his thumb along your jaw, the warm touch contrasting against the evening. You lean closer first, but Jeno’s quick to capture your lips in a kiss that’s both tender and lingering, his hand moving from your face as he gently cups your neck.
In the comfort of his arms, you completely lose track of time—the sounds around you become white noise, fading into the background between his embrace and the softness of his lips, one kiss turning two, then three, and so on.
The loud rumble of a specific Charger pulls both of you from your shared bubble. Jeno’s arms drop slightly, though his hands remain resting at your hips as Vic suddenly comes into view on the street. The atmosphere instantly changes it, Jeno subtly tensing while watching the man pull up beside his Skyline.
You don’t seem to notice the skeptical look on Victor’s face, greeting him with a smile once the car comes to a stop. “Vic? What’s up with you guys surprising me tonight?”
“Great minds think alike, Cherry,” Victor says, glancing between both of you with a grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just came by to say goodbye before I head out for a job.”
As Jeno’s eyes harden at Vic’s words, the quiet shift in his demeanor isn’t lost on you. There’s something in the way the two men regard each other in that moment—not hostile, but definitely not friendly either, leaving curiosity to gnaw at you.
With a half-hearted huff, you ignore the edge in their interaction, instead glaring at both of them. “Great, I’ll just ignore the fact that you’re both suddenly leaving and just wish you a safe trip, then.”
The man’s eyes flicker to Jeno for a second, a look of subtle recognition in his gaze. “I’m sure we’ll be back soon,” Victor answers, eyes returning to you again in a sharp glance. “You and I’ll talk when I get back.”
Puzzled by the striking weight in his tone, you hum with a hesitant nod. “Take care, Vic.”
It doesn’t take long until Victor’s car disappears down the street, the red tail lights slowly growing smaller into the evening. Jeno remains quiet in front of you, his hands still resting lightly on your hips, almost as if he’s distracted. You glance up at him, noting the tension in his jaw and the way his gaze’s been fixed towards the direction Vic’s just headed to.
Placing a hand on his shoulder, you raise an eyebrow as he glances back at you again, a touch of agitation in his eyes. “You okay?”
He blinks, expression softening slightly at your touch. “Yeah,” Jeno replies after a beat, his tone calm but not entirely convincing. “Just thinking.”
“About what?” you ask, gently hoping to pull him from whatever had him so lost in thought.
As he stands up from the hood of his car, moving both of you by a step, a half-hearted smile curls on his lips. “Nothing worth worrying about.”
“Everyone’s running off tonight,” you say, sighing in mock exasperation upon realizing that he’s leaving soon too. “Should I start taking it personally?”
“You should go visit Jaemin at the garage while I’m gone. He’s been missing you these days,” Jeno jokes, brushing his fingers against your cheek. “I’ll be back before you can even miss me.”
Not resisting the faint smile that tugs at your mouth, you roll your eyes. “Bold of you to assume I’ll miss you in the first place,” you taunt, though a little softer than intended. “Fine, I guess I’ll have to go bother him then.”
He’s the one to lean down for a kiss again, though it’s a gentle, soft one to your forehead first. It’s enough for you to tug him by his jacket, pressing your lips to his with a sigh against his mouth. When Jeno pulls back, he regards you for a second, almost as if he’s trying to commit your features to his mind.
You watch as he climbs into the GT-R, the engine roaring back to life in its familiar growl. Giving you one last look through the open window, a faint smile plays on Jeno’s lips.
“I’ll see you soon, Cherry.”
Crossing your arms, you smile tauntingly at him, the words slipping with a touch of fondness.
“We’ll see about that, Jeno.”
Outside the windows of his apartment, the city’s skyline is casted with a deep orange glow as the sun sets, drawing a picture that Jeno rarely indulges in whenever he’s at home.
Now that he’s back, the sight quietly tugs at the strings of his heart, especially after everything that has happened in the last few days. It sets a strange, confusing impression in his mind—one that makes him distinctively remember Doyoung’s words from last time.
The whiplash of feeling at home without really being at home rings several alarms in Jeno’s head, even if he’s been purposefully ignoring them for a while now. He still doesn’t know how to feel about the ease in which he slips in and out of… whatever this is supposed to be, having been toying so effortlessly with the line that draws his two personas.
Still, despite the noise in his head, you’re the one thing that Jeno’s felt recklessly sure about. He might not know what the mission can possibly mean to the future, but he knows what it means to him, at least for now.
The knock at the door leaves him anticipating something Jeno can’t quite tell.
It almost feels like he hasn’t seen you in months, his lingering eyes getting caught as you step into his place, walking past him with a smirk on your lips.
“Hi,” you say lightly, the familiar teasing touch in your voice pulling at his chest. “Did you miss me?”
“I don’t know,” Jeno counters, raising an eyebrow as an amused chuckle betrays him. “Did you miss me?”
As you pause for a second, your gaze suddenly hinting a mix of softness and apprehension, the last thing he’s expecting is to feel your arms wrapping him in a firm, almost distraught hug. The suddenness of it takes Jeno by surprise, his hands hovering in the air for a moment before settling reassuringly against your back.
“Hey, look at me,” he calls, pulling back just enough to catch your eyes as his voice drops to a concerned tone. “Is there something wrong?”
You’re quick to shake your head, offering a half-hearted smile in an attempt to brush it off. “It’s nothing,” you say, stepping back from his embrace with a glance around the place, expression shifting into something lighter. “What are we having for dinner today?”
Despite his hesitation at the moment, Jeno reluctantly moves on, the dinner eventually starting off easy enough with you raving over your love for the take-out menu he’s picked. It feels that way for a while as he listens to you recount updates from the crew at Neo Tech, your win at the last race that’s just marked your second five-win streak, a few tidbits about Jaemin and Gigi fooling around with each other.
Still, even through your laughs and the way you accept his touch every now and then, there’s a quietness about you today, an edge to the smiles that doesn’t reach your eyes.
The subtle pauses between your words, the heavy way your eyes linger on his figure whenever you think he isn’t looking—Jeno knows there’s something on your mind, even if you’re not saying it.
It isn’t until later, after the plates are cleared and the hues of oranges have faded to a blue evening outside the windows of his place, that your voice breaks the silence of his room.
“You’re not really a mechanic, are you?”
The soft flow of the bedside lamp casts a warm glow to your features, seemingly devoid of any emotion. With your head resting against his chest, your fingers have been idly tracing patterns against his skin, though it immediately stops as you feel his sudden tension.
The question hangs in the air for a second, Jeno’s heart beating hard enough that he’s sure you can hear it.
You lift your head to look at him, your eyes quietly searching for answers. “I mean… you’re good at it, you’re an amazing racer, but—” you pause, exhaling deeply despite the ease that you continue. “It just doesn’t add up, Jeno. I think you’re something else, and… I think I know that.”
It’s clear that you’re giving him a chance to deny, to tell you that you’re wrong. The tiny hint of hope in your eyes slowly fades away as his silence stretches, serving more than a spoken confirmation as it quietly tells you everything.
“Vic told me,” you say, voice barely a whisper. “He said you’re an agent.”
As you acknowledge the truth in the open, Jeno’s stomach sinks, a wave of unease crashing over him. He’d known that this moment would come, but not like this, not there or today or with you looking up at him like that.
“Is he telling the truth?” you ask, arms wrapping around knees as you sit up. “Is that why you’re here? Is that why you’re… with me?”
Jeno can’t seem to find the right words to answer, hating himself the longer his silence grows between you. It seems to be your breaking point too, leaving the bed to stand up a few feet away from him.
A look of exasperation settles on your face, sharp eyes glaring at him. “You’re not denying it, Jeno,” you urge him, your voice breaking for a second before you huff a bitter laugh. “Are you kidding me? Was any of this real or just part of your job?”
The answer is quiet, his voice almost cracking. “It’s not like that—”
“Right, then what is it like?” you snap, raising an eyebrow in a mock challenge. “I’m sorry, but it looks like you’ve been lying to me the whole time.”
Jeno exhales shakily, a frown set between his eyebrows. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“Didn’t have a choice?” you repeat, an ironic chuckle escaping from your mouth. “You had a choice to not approach me at all, you had a choice to lay me off ages ago, you had a choice to tell me the truth. How’s that for you?”
“It’s not that simple,” he argues, running a hand through his hair, jaw tensing for a moment. “I wanted to tell you, but… I just couldn’t. It’d put you in risk and I wasn’t about to do that.”
“So what? You just use me instead?” you start, anger crashing down as you suddenly grow quiet, your voice trembling. “Get close to me because it’d help with whatever you’re doing here?”
Jeno’s fists clench upon the tears brimming in your eyes, his breath turning shallow as he avoids your gaze. “No,” he mutters, firm enough to contrast against the flicker of dejection on his face. “This is not what this is.”
For a moment, he wonders if you’ve picked up the white lie, your expression unreadable as you simply watch him. He hates himself for lying to you, for letting you get close when he knew he couldn’t give you the truth. More than that, he hates how much he cares—how much losing you is feeling like losing something more important than his own job, than the entire investigation itself.
Shaking your head with a finality that’s almost meant to defy him, you harshly wipe the tears off your eyes. “Let’s just not do this anymore.”
Once the words click, Jeno can’t help but freeze for a moment before panic surges through him as you walk around the room. With shaky hands, you quickly gather your clothes, not sparing a single side-eye towards his direction.
“Look at me,” Jeno calls, voice raising to a rougher tone as he sits up, trying to get a look at your face. “Hey, look at me!”
Your movements remain frantic as you shrug a jacket on, continuing to ignore him as if you hadn’t noticed the hard change to his demeanor. Without a word, you head straight to the door, the tension between you thick enough to feel suffocating. Jeno groans, his chest twisting in frustration and regret as he scrambles off the bed.
Just as your hand reaches for the doorknob, his hand closes around your upper arm, pulling you back with a careful force.
You finally turn around to face him, hurt and anger laced to your features. “What?”
“I don’t want to see you at the next race,” Jeno orders, the weight of his stony eyes visibly surprising you for a second. “Don’t go.”
As you frown, your confusion is evident, body almost relaxing under his touch. “What?”
With a glare, he makes sure that the words are not a request, but rather a command. “Don’t come to the next race, Cherry.”
The anger in your gaze hardens into something more painful as you pull your arm from his grasp. “Fuck off, Jeno,” you say, the venom in your words cutting deep as you open the door, this time without hesitation. “I’m the one that doesn’t want to see you at the next race.”
The door closes with a simple click, sounding miserably loud to the silence of his apartment now.
Jeno’s fingers curl into fists at his side, a ragged breath escaping from his lips as he stares blankly at it. Though the thought feels just as hollow as his lies, Jeno tells himself that maybe it’s better this way. After all, the job does demand sacrifice—relationships, connections, anything that can possibly jeopardize his missions.
Now left with the company of his heavy heart, Jeno wonders how many times he’ll have to tell that lie in order to convince himself instead.
The night air feels thick with tension as Jeno comes to a stop outside the warehouse, parking in a spot away from the usual crowd and their curious eyes. The race’s just about to start, a few cars already lining up with the blasting music in the background as usual.
Race days are always charged with a raw energy that he’s grown accustomed to, one that never failed to make him feel alive—but today, it feels skeptically different.
Jeno can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong tonight, despite Doyoung having already warned him about the change of plans in the investigation after his cover was blown by Victor. For a moment, he wonders if that’s just his mind playing games. While keeping his distance from you, Jeno has been subconsciously waiting for the other shoe to drop, anticipating you to eventually expose him.
His arrival plays out as nothing out of the ordinary though, Jaemin and Taeyong waving off from a distance as he steps out of the car, walking through the swarm of people to scan the racers of the night.
A part of him knew it was futile to warn you off the race, no matter how much he didn’t want you anywhere near the place tonight, regardless of the operation falling apart or not. It almost surprises him to not spot your Mazda at the starting line until he sees you, standing a few feet away from the grid while talking to Gigi, both of you visibly bickering.
He knows that your presence’s probably making things a lot more complicated to him.
The frustration quietly builds in his chest, mostly out of his own impotence than your choice to disregard his instruction. After all, the more he thought about it, the more he realized—if Vic knows about him and has kept quiet the entire time except to turn you against him, Jeno can’t really protect you, not without giving himself away or ruining the investigation entirely.
Given they most definitely are getting too close to Victor’s home, it feels fitting for the man to pull his own strings somehow.
The man’s presence at the race today is a dead giveaway of that, standing by his black Charger with a few of his shady-looking guards, watching the audience with an air of stress to his face. Jeno can’t help noticing the way his eyes keep flickering through the lot and the racers, almost as if expecting something.
Not having enough time to prod further, Jaemin suddenly approaches with a pat to his back, eyeing him with a flicker of both curiosity and exasperation in his gaze.
“You should probably fix whatever happened between you and Cherry,” the mechanic starts, snickering almost bitterly. “If neither of you are racing, who’s going to make this entire thing exciting?”
A chuckle escapes from his lips, Jeno relaxing for a second as he shakes his head at the guy. “I bet Gigi would love to hear that.”
“Please, it doesn’t seem like it but Gigi worships her,” Jaemin discloses, the playfulness on his face quickly fading to a mock warning look in his direction. “Don’t tell Cherry that if you don’t want Gigi to fuck you up.”
Before he can respond, the cars roar to life with Johnny’s voice, revving engines interrupting the conversation as the usual procedure starts.
The crowd tenses once the countdown starts, flag up in the air.
Then, a sharp screech of tires breaks through, the sound of approaching sirens getting louder by the second, flashes of blue and red lights quickly surrounding the warehouse. The crowd scatters around in a frenzy, running off in panic while the racers attempt to break through the chaos through a few secret exits.
This is part of his job—the chaos, the unpredictability, the apprehension. Jeno knows better to keep it cool, keep the cover intact for as long as he can despite everything, even if it means keeping you out of it.
But you aren’t leaving.
With Jaemin hurrying off, shouting something about meeting at the garage and finding Gigi over the booming sirens, Jeno’s eyes easily find you in the havoc of people. You’re frozen in place, simply watching the commotion with wide, confused eyes.
“Get out of here!” he yells, shoving through the crowd as he rushes towards your direction, his outstretched hand waving you off. “Cherry! You need to fucking leave!”
You barely acknowledge him before staring at something else. Following your fixed gaze, Jeno finds Vic standing still at the same spot, unphased by the madness surrounding him.
Something about his calmness, his tranquility in the middle of the chaos doesn’t sit right with Jeno. It’s been long proved by the investigation that Victor Torres isn’t exactly on the up-and-up, but seeing him there, just watching the mess unfold in a way that feels almost detached makes a pin immediately drop in Jeno’s mind.
Whatever’s happening tonight was not an accident—it was planned.
As he approaches you, Jeno quickly grabs your arm, guiding you away from the commotion when a sudden bang echoes through the air. Over his shoulder, he watches your body suddenly lurch as something sharp seems to cross your shoulder. You stumble, your hand instinctively reaching for the spot as Jeno pulls you closer, holding you steady as his eyes frantically search for something.
The sight of blood running from your neck and down your arm surprises him, anxiety rushing through his body as he exhales shakily. “Fuck!”
“Jeno,” you call, eyes wide with shock as your shaky hands fist his jacket. “What the hell is happening?”
“I don’t know,” Jeno answers, trying to keep his voice steady in an attempt to mend the visible fear in your eyes. “You’re going to be okay, we’ll get out here.”
A burst of gunfire sends the place into mayhem again, both of you almost losing balance over your feet as Jeno half-carries you, shielding you with his body on the escape.
It feels like a lifetime until you reach his car, the way your body grows weaker by each second sending chills down his spine. He’s quick to help you onto the passenger seat, slamming the door shut and rushing to the driver’s side, barely managing to reach for his phone before emergency-calling Doyoung.
It rings once, the agent’s distressed voice coming off the speaker just as Jeno starts the engine. “What’s happening?”
“You fucking tell me, Doyoung,” he starts, the tone suddenly ragged in anger as he reverses out of the corner, picking up speed while expertly dodging the few stray racers still around. “Why the fuck is the police here? I thought the plans had changed—why the fuck are they here opening gunfire out of nowhere?”
“The police’s there?” Doyoung asks, giving away his aggravation even through the phone. “We didn’t send anyone, the plans really have changed. Can’t you identify them?”
“There’s no time for that,” he bites back, hands tightening around the steering wheel as he takes a look at your unmoving, quiet figure. “She’s been shot, I’m taking her to the hospital.”
“Shit,” the agent curses, an uncharacteristic behavior that feels fitting to the sudden weight of the situation. “I’m calling the team, we’ll see what we can do. I’ll meet you at the hospital, wait for me.”
The call disconnects as Jeno takes a back exit inside the warehouse, acutely aware of your silence. You’re gripping the seat with loose fingers, breathing uneven as you stare ahead, eyes unfocused. As his Skyline reaches an empty alley on the way out of the lot, Jeno presses the accelerator harder, feeling as if there’s not much time left.
“Look at me,” Jeno calls, the words ironically bringing a bad taste to his mouth as he presses you, still not looking at him. “Cherry, look at me!”
As you turn to him, your eyes are looking far too unfocused and dazed for his comfort. “Where’s Jaemin and Gigi?”
“At the garage,” he says, rushing to answer with an ease that he isn’t currently feeling. “They’re fine. I’ll call them—they’ll meet you at the hospital.”
Jeno feels his composure crack the longer he looks at you, taking in the blood staining your clothes and the way your breath’s slowly growing uneven. The road stretches ahead as he speeds further, though all he can focus on is the time slipping through his fingers no matter how fast he’s driving.
Pulling into the hospital’s entrance, the tires of his GT-R screeching against the asphalt, Jeno doesn’t even bother parking properly.
As he hurries to your side, his movements grow increasingly desperate upon noticing you abruptly losing consciousness. Swinging the door open, Jeno scoops you into his arms, your head falling against his chest as your breathing slows down.
The staff immediately rush to him as he walks through the sliding doors of the ER, fast to take you from his hold. The sight of your unconscious figure on the stretcher feels crushing, leaving him to just stand there with clenched fists as a sense of helplessness seems to weigh him down on the spot.
It’s just when Jeno hears Doyoung calling for his name that he breaks out of the trance, turning around to find the agent’s disgruntled, but worried figure quickly approaching him.
“Hey,” Doyoung greets, the low tone not masking the urgency laced to it. “How’s she doing?”
Stepping back to lean against the hospital’s wall, he can’t help huffing humorlessly. “What the fuck was that, Doyoung?”
“I’m still not sure, our team’s still looking into it,” the agent answers right away, sighing tensely as he glances knowingly at the youngest. “It definitely wasn’t us… but taking a wild guess? I don’t think the police were part of it.”
Jeno’s jaw clenches, his eyes narrowing in annoyance. “Are you saying that was Victor?”
Doyoung shrugs, scoffing a dry laugh. “He’s got the means for it, that’s for sure,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest with an eye-roll. “With us pushing back the operation, he had more than enough time to plan something.”
With a frustrated exhale, Jeno runs a hand over his face, features hardening into a frown for a second. “Listen, I don’t think my cover’s blown—”
“Don’t worry about that,” Doyoung interjects, cutting him off with a firm, yet reassuring nod. “We’ll handle the fall-out, Jeno.”
Over the older agent’s shoulder, Jeno suddenly spots Jaemin hurrying into the hospital. The mechanic’s eyes dart around the room for a moment until finding him, suspiciously eyeing the scene before taking a few steps closer. Noticing the shift on Jeno’s face, Doyoung follows his gaze, raising an eyebrow as Jaemin stops beside them. The agent is quick to take the hint, clapping Jeno’s shoulder before leaving with a mumble about needing coffee.
Jaemin breaks the silence first, his usual playful features heavy with a mix of concern and exhaustion. “What happened? Is Cherry okay?”
Unsure of how much to reveal given his position, Jeno can’t help hesitating. “She got caught in the middle of gunfire,” he replies, pausing for a moment before glancing apologetically at the mechanic. “I got her out as fast as I could.”
“We’ve been safe for years, the cops have never bothered us before,” Jaemin argues, nervously running a hand through his hair, frowning in confusion. “Why today?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Jeno answers, trying to keep the tone as steady as possible despite the truth behind the words. “It didn’t seem like they were targeting anyone specific, if that’s worth anything.”
As Jaemin regards Jeno for a second, a chuckle escapes from his mouth, the sound coming off sharply. “She told me.”
He feels his chest tighten, taken aback by the unexpected twist. “What?”
“You’re a cop, right?” the mechanic asks, voice down to a quieter, solemn tone. “Cherry told me everything and made me swear I wouldn’t tell anyone, not even you or Gigi.”
Shaking his head with a deep breath, Jeno feels the weight of his persona pressing down on him heavier than ever. “I’m sorry.”
Jaemin shrugs, surprising him by huffing a short laugh. “I’m not the one you should be apologizing to,” he says, a flicker of something softer crossing his eyes. “Just… whatever you’re planning, make sure it doesn’t screw both of you over more than it already has.”
The nurse’s voice suddenly cuts the conversation, Jeno faltering for a moment as both of them look up at the same time, their shared tensions immediately replaced by a sense of relief with over words.
“One of you can go in and see her now.”
The soft beeping of the monitor fills the silence of the hospital room, contrasting with the lingering, annoying buzz still echoing in your ears. The bandage on your neck feels perfectly snug, covering the bullet’s graze almost down to your shoulder.
After the chaos of earlier, you can’t help but feel misplaced once the nurse leaves, unconsciously replaying the entire night in your mind—the loud, sharp gunfire, the panic in his voice during your escape, the detachment you’d fallen into. It doesn’t take long until Jeno slowly steps into the room, features guarded despite the softness in his eyes upon meeting yours.
There’s a sense of hesitation in the way he moves, almost as if he’s unsure of his own presence around you. Taking a seat by the chair beside your bed, the silence between you holds for a second, only for Jeno to break it with a tired sigh first.
“Hey,” he greets quietly, glancing at the bandage on your neck with a touch of attentiveness. “How are you feeling?”
You shrug instinctively, the stiffness in your movements betraying a light discomfort. “It wasn’t as bad as it felt,” you say, placing a careful hand over the bandage with a dry chuckle. “It was just a graze. I’m just bad at handling stress and blood, apparently.”
Jeno leans forward, elbows resting on his knees as he looks up at you, his features looking nothing but distressed. “I’m really sorry, Cherry.”
Your lips twitch for a moment, a bitter smile almost tugging at your mouth. “For what, exactly? The cops raiding us or the lies you’ve been telling me?”
“For all of it,” Jeno answers, the words firm and steady, willingly taking the bite behind your question. “I know it’s not an excuse, but my team’s not involved in whatever happened. We’re looking into it, but…”
At the sudden pause, you lean back against the pillows on your bed, letting out a weary sigh. “Why do I feel like I know what you’re going to say?”
Jeno chuckles humorlessly, shaking his head with a grimace. “I think… I should tell you the truth about me first, right?” he begins, taking a deep breath before locking his eyes with yours again. “I’m an undercover agent. I was assigned to this case a few months ago, to investigate Victor and his crew.”
You swallow hard, doing your best to keep yourself from reacting despite the weight of his confession, the implications subtle. “What does Vic have to do with this?”
“He’s the head of an international smuggling operation in the city,” he reveals, almost looking apologetic over the words. “Everything you can think of, he’s got it—money laundering, trafficking, weapon deals. We’ve been looking into his business for a while, but it’s… complicated. He’s careful, his crew’s good.”
“Is that why you got involved with me?” you ask, the tone of your voice thoughtful, yet not particularly soft. “Did you think I was working for him?”
As he frowns, Jeno’s gaze hardens for a moment. “I’m not lying to you anymore, so I won’t say that I didn’t.”
With a hum, the words are quick to slip out of your mouth, almost too casually for the situation. “I’ve been looking into him too, you know,” you admit, chuckling quietly at the surprise on his face. “After that night, I started digging a little. I’m sure you know how easy it is to connect the dots if you keep your ears open around the racers.”
Jeno sighs, his eyebrows furrowing apologetically. “Cherry—”
“I’m not working for him,” you interrupt, frustration and disappointment laced to your broken exhale. “I don’t know what you know, but I—”
Reaching over for your hand, Jeno gently stops you from fidgeting. “I know you’re not,” he cuts in firmly, his gaze locking onto yours, the heaviness in his voice softening. “I know, baby.”
The unexpected nickname hangs in the air, catching both of you off guard. As the surprise breaks through your frustration, Jeno seems just as much taken aback, his lips parted as if realizing the slip a little too late. For a moment, the weight of the moment shifts, leaving a charged silence between you.
“So, what are you going to do now?” you ask, clearing your throat as if to recompose yourself, looking away from him. “Are you keeping the cover and continuing the investigation?”
“The investigation’s compromised now so…” Jeno hesitates, huffing a peeved laugh before slumping back against his seat. “I’ll probably have to leave. Victor knows who I am and if I stay… it’ll be just dangerous for everyone.”
You nod slowly, heart aching in a way you hadn’t anticipated. “You’ve got to do what you’ve got to do,” you say quietly, managing a playful smile despite the tears burning in your eyes, threatening to fall. “For what it’s worth, I don’t regret any of it. It was nice trusting you, Jeno… even if only for a little while.”
He looks at you then, his expression pained as a shaky sigh escapes from his mouth. “Cherry—”
Shaking your head, you silently fist his jacket to pull him up, Jeno immediately following as he stands up with a step closer to the bed. As he leans closer, carefully holding himself over your figure, you cup his face gently. Your fingertips brush against his cheeks, moving to his lips before you close the distance, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his mouth.
The struggle in his eyes is clear as you pull back, though Jeno doesn’t say anything. Instead, he just nods, forehead resting against yours for just a moment more before he stands up.
With a long look at you, Jeno pulls a set of keys from his jeans, reaching for your hand and dropping them into your palm. A genuine, incredulous laugh escapes from your lips over the realization, immediately drawing a small smile out of him.
“You take care of yourself, Cherry,” he says softly, the nickname carrying more emotion than ever before.
You nod, a half-hearted, teasing smile slowly growing on your face despite the ache in your chest. “I’ll see you around, Jeno.”
As the door clicks shut behind him, you know that this the end of whatever it was you’d built together—but only the beginning of something you’ll have to build alone now.
“I can’t believe this is your first vacation since joining the agency.”
Stepping out of the elevator, Jeno lets out a soft laugh at Doyoung’s exasperation, the man walking beside him as they make their way through the lobby.
Despite the cool air conditioning of the building, the bright sunlight slipping through the glass doors hints at another warm, heavy summer day outside. Jeno tugs at the tie around his neck, loosening the knot before undoing the first buttons of his shirt.
“Taking days off under orders is hardly a vacation,” he replies, his tone dry but laced with humor.
Doyoung huffs, shaking his head as they near the building’s exit. “God knows you need some time off,” the agent argues, glancing at him knowingly. “Maybe you should go to the beach these days, you could use some vitamin D—”
As his friend continues the spiel, Jeno quickly glances outside, about to step through the glass doors when his attention’s caught by an unexpected, but familiar sight.
Outside the agency’s building, the green Nissan Skyline GT-R contrasts with the muted, neutral colors from the other cars driving through the same street. Sitting at the hood of the car, flipping a cherry red lollipop between your fingers, you look like a mirage to Jeno’s eyes, maybe a vision brought by the heat from outside.
“—not listening to me?”
He blinks at Doyoung after a second, startled by the agent’s hand waving in front of his face. “What?”
With a suspicious frown, Doyoung trails his eyes in the same direction, a sound of surprise instantly escaping from his lips. “Is that who I think it is?”
He nods, resisting the smirk tugging at his mouth. “Yeah.”
As recognition suddenly flickers in the agent’s gaze, a scoff escapes from his lips over the car, his tone laced with disbelief. “So that’s where the Skyline we gave you went?”
Jeno chuckles, offering a half-hearted shrug at his friend. “I paid for it.”
“She’s technically a criminal,” Doyoung starts, more playful than anything, giving him a mock indignant glance. “You do know that, right? It might not seem like it but street racing is illegal—”
“I’ll see you later, Doyoung.”
Jeno’s voice cuts the oldest’s teasing, moving to step ahead through the door as Doyoung snickers behind him, shaking his head in amusement.
It doesn’t take long for you to notice him approaching, your lips soon curling in a soft, somehow teasing smile. Despite his surprise, Jeno doesn’t hesitate stepping closer, moving to stand between your legs in a familiar move.
“Hey,” you greet, offering a pat to his chest in a coy manner. “Long time no see, huh?”
“Seven months, exactly,” Jeno answers, giving a firm nod before raising a curious eyebrow at you. “I’m not complaining, but what are you doing here?”
You sigh exaggeratedly, tilting your head at him. “You know words are quick to get around, right? I heard your first vacation ever starts today.”
“You’ve heard it right,” he says, smirking at your antics as if the past months hadn’t happened, a sense of familiarity settled between you.
As you smile, something softer flickers in your gaze. “So I was thinking… if you’ve got some time off, maybe you’d want to spend it doing something cool,” you start, shrugging lightly. “You know, like going for a drive or racing with someone?”
For a moment, Jeno can only stare at you, still taken aback by your abrupt appearance. Then, without thinking twice, he suddenly closes the distance between you, hands reaching for your face as his lips finally meet yours again. Smiling against his mouth, you lean back as your palms rest against the car’s hood, the kiss so unhurried and lingering that Jeno almost pushes you down against it after a while.
When you pull away, his lips still following you for a split second, a smile grows on your face.
“So,” you say softly, your voice laced with amusement. “Is that a yes?”
Jeno grins, hands on your hips as he pulls you off the Skyline, arms holding you closer as if you’ve never left.
“Let’s see if you’ve still got it.”
MASTERLIST
TAGLIST: @saranghoeforanton @tywritesstuff
#lee jeno#lee jeno x reader#jeno x reader#nct fic#nct dream fic#lee jeno fic#jeno fic#nct fanfic#nct dream fanfic#neocitylights
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slava fetisov's brother died in a car crash. his teammate died in a car crash after fetisov begged viktor tikhonov for a safer car. slava kozlov never wanted to go to detroit until he was in a car crash and he had no choice. sergei fedorov came to detroit for the promise of a corvette. they were all supposed to be in the limousine. the limousine was only there because they were trying to take the safest cars. the crash happened on the oldest street in detroit where the cup parade was held. slava fetisov woke up in the middle of the night in the hospital and went to konstantinov's bedside and told him he had to live, because his brother died in a car crash, and his teammate died in a car crash after he begged tikhonov for a safer car, and
do you guys ever think about the russian five and car crashes and the motor city and lose your minds or is that just me
#AND IT ALL HAPPENED IN THE MOTOR CITY IN THE WINGED WHEEL. BTW.#too busy to make a webweaving just enough free time to watch a 1997 tv special about the russian five on youtube.#drw#rus5
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moodboard by @chennqingg | divider by @fictive-sl0th
Biker!Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader | No Outbreak AU
Warnings for this Chapter: alcohol, smoking, thirst, flirting? Daryl (yes, he's a warning and OOC), suggestive smut? brief mention of an accident and loss of parents
Word Count: almost 2.5k
a/n: Enjoy the kick-off into my new series! 🍾 I hope you're gonna love this as much as I do! 🙏🏼
Also, we got a few guest appearances of some familiar faces...
《M a s t e r l i s t》
《 Chapter Two 》
Chapter One...
... in which you stumble upon a handsome biker - twice - and discover a new side of yourself.
《 musical inspiration 》
I recommend listening to this song before you read this chapter - if you wish.
Get your motor runnin'
Head out on the highway
Lookin' for adventure
'Born To Be Wild' by Steppenwolf
Life on a ranch wasn't always easy.
Life on a ranch a day after a storm, which caused a lot of damage, was even less easy. It honestly sucked – at least that was what you thought. The whole day after was only spent with getting things right again, cleaning up, clearing fallen trees out of the way, mostly fixing fences, and catching eloped cattle and horses. It was exhausting and incredibly tiring. But once all the work was done, you often found yourself on a ride out with your palomino Mustang stallion Arrow in order to take some time off and relax. Just like on this pleasant Saturday in spring...
The surprisingly pleasant warm Montana sun was shining down on you, as you rode down the mostly untrafficked road; past endless meadows and fields - always following the Yellowstone River. It was quiet and peaceful; all you could hear were the sounds of nature and the click-clacking of Arrow's hooves - until a rather disturbing... noise cut through the air and urging to your ears.
Motorcycles.
It was a rare thing that even cars drove down that road; trucks even less and now bikes? You scrunched your nose and gently guided Arrow to leave the road and continue the journey through the meadow.
The sounds of engines got closer and closer, until you saw about five or six bikes pulling up beside you in the corner of your eyes.
Must be a biker group or something...
They slowed down; almost coming to an halt beside you. "Hey!" A voice called suddenly out, causing you to stop Arrow in his movements and look to your left. One of the bikers had pulled off his sunglasses and was looking up at you; both feet planted firmly on the ground beneath him. Muscular arms led to gloved hands, which held on tightly to the handle grip; sunglasses dangling between deft fingers.
You adjusted the cowboy hat on your head; looking down to meet the man's - admittedly - stunning blue-grey eyes.
"Uh, hey," you called back. "Can I help you guys out?" The biker nodded. "Hope so. We got a lil' lost on our way," he explained in a very thick southern accent; voice a little muffled by his black helmet. You shrugged your shoulders; smiling. "Well, I can try. Where were you guys heading?" "Planned ta go to Billings, but kinda landed 'ere." You nodded; still smiling. "Ah, I see. Should've took route 94. This one won't lead you to much. You need to circle back and drive past Miles City."
The man - most likely leader of the biker group nodded. "How far from 'ere ta Billings?" "About 140 miles. If you're lucky, you can make it in two and a half hours." "A'right," the man nodded and put on his sunglasses again. "Thank ya." You gave him another smile. "No problem."
He gave you a last look, before he revved the engine of his bike and signalled his group to circle back. They followed his command and off they went. Your gaze followed them for a moment, before you gently nudged Arrow's sides. "C'mon, buddy. Let's head home. It's almost time for dinner."
You and Arrow made your way back to the Willow Creek ranch - owned and run by your aunt and uncle. Having lost both your parents when you were small due to a car accident, you and your older sister - Tess grew up on the ranch and were working there. Well, Tess longer than you; given the fact that you finished college not that long ago.
After taking care of your animal best friend, you joined your family for dinner.
"You coming later with me, sis?" You swallowed down the remaining food in your mouth and looked over to your big sister. "Where to?" She rolled her eyes in return, but smiled. "You know where, Y/N..." You sighed; poking around in your peas. "Tess... How often have I told you that-" "This isn't your thing, I know... But you have to try it first, right? How can you say you don't like it, if you never tried?"
You grumbled under your breath. Unfortunately, was Tess right.
"Yes, you should really accompany your sister, Y/N," acknowledged your aunt suddenly; agreeing with her. "You barely leave the ranch, honey. It will do you good." You sighed, but for the first time gave in; tired of all the constant discussions. "Alright, fine. I'll go with you - but if I don't like it, I'll leave immediately!" "Yess!" Your sister cheered. "You'll love it, I promise - but yeah, fine." You scoffed. "We'll see about that."
Partying and alcohol had never been one of your high interests and certainly not on your bucket list - yet, here you were standing now in front of the best bar in Miles City - according to your sister; located at the outskirts of the city... 'The Rowdy Racoon'.
You sighed; eyes directed at the building, while Tess just giggled. "I can't believe I'm doing this..." You moaned; already regretting your decision. Your sister was quick to grab your hand, "C'mon, sis... Loosen up a little and have some fun! It's Saturday night, for God's sake!" before you were able to cop out. You groaned again, but let yourself get dragged towards the entrance of the bar; past several vehicles and over the large porch, on which several men and women stood with drinks and cigarettes in hands; talking, laughing and having fun.
Loud music urged to your ears as you stepped inside. 'Born To Be Wild' by Steppenwolf - and just in that very moment, you felt like there wasn't a more fitting song on this whole planet for the scenery you walked in...
The bar was almost filled to the brim with people. Some of them were sitting at the large counter in the middle. Others were seated on some tables all around the big room. The rest of them was dancing, playing pool or tried their luck at the Pinball machines. It was loud, wild and crazy.
You hadn't even the chance to look fully around, since your sister dragged you further on to the bar counter. "Time for a drink, sis!" She announced in a sing-song voice; ordering two Whiskey Cola's. "We'll start slow," Tess said with a smirk; handing you the glass. You gave her a small smile. "Thanks." She clinked her glass against yours and took a sip. "Here's to an awesome night!"
Your sister's so-called 'awesome' night started surprisingly good - like you had to admit. Sure, you had to get a little comfortable first and getting used to being at a bar; warm up a little, but at some point it was really okay. Unfortunately, though, the tables turned after an mere hour. Friends of Tess had decided to come around as well and in the end, you sat alone at the counter on the bar stool; staring at your almost empty glass of Whiskey Cola.
This definitely wasn't how it was supposed to go... Not at all. It caused your mood to drop, of course; feeling alone and kinda betrayed. Tess invited you; took you here and now she had run off with her friends. You couldn't even leave, because you took Tess' car and she had the keys and certainly wouldn't let you drive. Great...
You sighed; turning the now empty glass in front of you in a circle, until...
"Thought I wouldn't see ya again, 'n certainly not 'ere," a familiar voice suddenly urged to your ears from behind you. You frowned and turned in your bar stool, only to meet the same blue-grey eyes you gazed into earlier this evening. It was the biker - but this time, he wasn't wearing a helmet. Chestnut brown hair reached in soft waves his shoulders; paired with a black baseball cap he wore backwards on his head. His chin and a little bit of his cheeks were covered in a slightly grey goatee, which fitted him perfectly.
You swallowed; couldn't help but to stare at him for a moment. He was downright attractive.
"Y-Yeah, uh, same," you stammered out, but quickly got your shit together again. "Didn't find your way to Billings yet?" The stranger chuckled and shook his head. "Nah. We decided ta spend the night in Miles City 'n head for Billings tomorrow." You nodded; smiling politely. "Wise decision." "Yeah," the man said and lifted his hand to scratch his beardy chin as if in a thinking manner. You noticed the tattoo on the back of his hand... A skull and... stars? Then he nodded at your empty glass. "You gonna let me buy ya a drink? Some credit fer ya help earlier. 'S the least I can do. 'Nother Whiskey Cola?"
You felt a slight blush on your cheeks. "Um, yeah, thanks." He gave the bartender a sign, who immediately worked to replace your empty glass with a full glass. "I have ta thank you," he answered; then looked behind at a bar table to where a few other people sat. His group, you thought. "Wanna join us? Ya seem a lil' lonely." You giggled dryly. "Yeah, my sister dumped me for her friends." You gestured at the dance floor; the biker's eyes following. "Kinda rude if ya ask me... C'mon, join us."
You swallowed; hesitating for a moment. You were a cautious person. After all you didn't know these people.
The man could seemingly read your mind. "They ain't bitin', I swear. All of 'em are very nice." "I-I, uh... I don't even know your name." He smiled crookedly, "'M Daryl." and walked towards his group again. Only now did you notice what he was wearing... Dark, slightly ragged jeans with a red rug stuffed in the left back pocket, a black, washed-out shirt and a angel-winged vest. Leather, as it seemed. Admittedly, you had a really hard time not to stare.
You hesitated for another few seconds and threw a look over to your sister again as well; noticing that she was still completely ignoring you and instead partied with her friends. Therefore, was your decision made. You slid off the bar stool and made your way over to Daryl and his gang.
An hour and another Whiskey Cola later, you had learned that they were indeed a biker group - from Georgia - making a road trip through America. You got to know the whole group as well, of course. There was Rick and Carol, which were Daryl's best friends. Glenn and Maggie - a young, kind couple living on a farm had joined the gang as well, just like Negan - a slightly annoying, but funny gym teacher. It was a crazy, but also perfect mix - and they all shared one passion... Motorcycles.
For an absolute non-expert in this new territory, you were absolutely fascinated. The stories they told you; the things you learned - it was fun and exciting.
Daryl and Negan invited you to a round of pool then; Rick and Maggie joining in as well. It was the best evening you had in a long while - but when the alcohol you had consumed slowly started to course through your veins and the music and chatter of the people became suddenly so very loud, you knew you needed a break. You were definitely not quite used to this, after all.
Stepping out of the bar and onto the porch, you took a deep breath; inhaling the fresh, chilly night air.
Yeah, the alcohol was present. You definitely felt a bit tipsy, but you were still fully aware of your words and actions, which was a good thing - and a stop sign you didn't plan to ignore.
"Ya good?" There it was again. That voice out of nowhere. His voice.
You looked to your left; seeing Daryl casually leaning against the railing with a cigarette dangling between his lips.
You nodded. "Yeah, just needed a break and some fresh air." The man took a deep drag; puffing out a cloud of smoke mere seconds later. Your eyes were still fixated on him - and you swallowed.
Hot... Why was that so hot? Him smoking?
"Me too. Needed a smoke." Daryl took another drag and stepped closer; hand fumbling in his trouser pocket. "Want one?" He asked then; fishing out a slightly squashed box of cigarettes and holding it out to you. "Um, I, uh..." You stammered; cheeks already turning red. "I dunno." "Ya ever had one?" You shook your head; biting your lip. The biker stepped even closer to you then; his body barely inches away from touching yours. "Ya wanna try?" Daryl took another drag, then held his cigarette in front of your face.
Hesitatingly, you leaned forward and took the little mouthpiece between your lips to take a drag. Feeling the smoke fill your lungs, you immediately started to cough and back up. A small smirk tugged at the corners of Daryl's mouth as he watched you; taking the cigarette back between his lips. "'S a normal reaction. Once you'll get used ta it, it won't happen again."
A short moment of silence passed, while you replaced the smoke in your lungs with fresh air and Daryl's eyes travelling up and down your body.
"Hey, uh, ya wanna get outta 'ere?" The man opposite you boldly asked with a charming smile; hands grasping the wooden beam above him. It caused the black shirt he wore to ride up and reveal some skin of his stomach; alongside a dark patch of fine silken hair.
For the second time this evening, you had a hard time not to stare and instead to focus on his question - which left you just as breathless; given the fact that you knew exactly what he insisted.
Before your brain was even able to ponder thoroughly over his question, your mouth answered with a quick, determined 'Yes' - which kinda shocked you yourself. Usually you weren't the one who gave in so easily and willingly to a one-night-stand with a 'stranger'; and yet here you were. Was the way he made you feel the reason? Or was it his kind, flirty and charming personality? Perhaps it even was his good looks. You didn't know; couldn't put a finger on it. All you knew was that he attracted you like a damn magnet. You weren't thinking about your sister or the others in that moment. The tall, handsome biker with his rough redneck edges was all you had in mind.
Daryl's smile widened at your consent. He took a last drag of his cigarette, before he stubbed it out in the little ashtray on the railing. "C'mon." The man walked past you, down the few steps and towards his bike.
Elegantly swinging one leg over to sit down on the vehicle, he replaced his baseball cap with his helmet. His fingers worked to start the engine. "You comin' or wha'?"
Tags: @dixons-sunshine @angelwings-crossbowstrings @bigbaldheadname @making-the-most-0f-it @rh1nestonecowg1rl @mischief-dream @noldorinlady @imadisneyprincessiswear @fictive-sl0th @jbbsizzler @loz-3 @erebus-et-eigengrau @i93jjk @belitoxx @charlottewatkinsblog @coleigh-1205-blog @li-da-savage @chaoticevilbakugo
Tagging you other guys from my Daryl taglist as well, just in case you missed the teaser...
@marvelcasey05 @whore4romance @stitchintimefan @km-ffluv @0-aubrie0 @sweetz1919 @mikaela-granger @secretsicanthideanymore @dilfdixon @txtttttttttttttt @stiveroon @mayday2007 @cakesandtom
If you want to be removed or added from/to the taglist, please let me know! 🤗
#love in the rearview mirror#biker!daryl#biker!daryl dixon#no outbreak au#the walking dead daryl dixon#daryl dixon the walking dead#daryl dixon x female reader#daryl dixon x you#daryl dixon x y/n#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon fan fiction#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl dixon#the walking dead#the walking dead fanfiction#the walking dead fic#the walking dead fanfic#twd#twd daryl#twd fanfiction#twd fic#spotify
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Hobbies they like to share with you (Maedhros, Caranthir, Fingon, Turgon)
A/N: haven’t been on tumblr in a hot minute, damn. I come semi-back presenting you some hcs!
Maedhros: strategy games
Maedhros is an excellent strategist, and he greatly enjoys games that challenge this skill. Board games or card games, either is fine with him.
Unconquered chess grandmaster of Arda.
He’s a gracious winner and would never dream of making you feel bad for losing. Instead, he’ll try to encourage you, so you keep up your motivation.
He has patience for days (perks of being the oldest of a dozen grandchildren) and nothing can make him lose focus. Good luck trying to distract him.
Has zero tolerance for cheating and is quite perceptive, so he’ll call you out at the slightest suspicion.
Since he’s good at reading others’ expressions and body language, he’ll quickly notice if you’re becoming stressed or impatient and will offer to take a break, if necessary.
His unending patience makes him a great teacher and he’s more than happy to share his strategic knowledge with you. Maybe afterwards you’ll have a chance of actually winning. If he lets you.
Caranthir: cross stitching
Caranthir seems to have inherited his grandmother’s talent when it comes to all things sewing.
It’s a good meditative method to clear his head and it’s his go-to activity after a lot of stress.
Often incorporates elements of Míriel’s designs into his work, as a way of honouring her memory.
Since cross stitching is quite easy to learn, he won’t hesitate to invite you to join him. He’ll draw you in with motives like your favourite flowers or animals and once you’ve gotten the hang of it, the two of you have a lot of fun coming up with designs together.
He enjoys the companionable silence cross stitching together can bring. Sometimes the two of you sit together for hours not speaking a single word and it’s never awkward.
Fingon: cooking
Fingon is a damn good cook and proud of it.
He was prone to starting food fights during cooking when he was young, but his parents scolded that habit out of him very quickly, teaching him instead to not be wasteful.
As a result, he can somehow still make five-star meals out of leftovers.
Even if you’re not a good cook yourself, he’s somehow able to enlist your help in a way that makes you feel productive and helpful. Leave the fine measurements to him, you just worry about the basics like chopping ingredients.
Loves trying out different cuisines. One of his early methods of befriending the Sindar was exchanging recipes. Sometimes it’s that simple.
Very enthusiastic about taste testing. If you have kids, he’ll definitely make them participate to hone their palate early on. You best believe his children are going to be the best cooks in the west.
Turgon: miniature city building
If there’s one thing that fascinates Turgon, it’s tasks that require a lot of meticulous planning and fine details.
He’s fascinated by architecture and incorporates many different styles into his projects.
Is Gondolin really based on Tirion or is it one of the cities he designed back in Valinor? Only he knows the answer.
Once the cities are done, you better don’t touch them! Little Aredhel once thought they were toys and played out a “historically accurate reenactment” of an early Elven settlement getting raided by orcs … she hasn’t been allowed in Turgon’s workshop ever since.
Like Caranthir, he’s a big fan of companionable silence, though in his case it might not necessarily be intentional. He’ll invite you over to work on a project together, thinking it’s a great way to talk to you more and get to know you better, only to end up so deep in the zone you’ll have to do most of the talking.
His workshop is his little hideaway from the outside world and letting you in shows how much he trusts you. Doesn’t matter if you’re not gifted at fine motor tasks and can’t really help him, your presence is more than enough for him.
#tolkien#silmarillion#reader insert#fingon#fingon x reader#maedhros#maedhros x reader#caranthir#caranthir x reader#turgon#turgon x reader
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At the Lafayette Motor Inn in Atlantic City, August 30, 1964. Photos © Mirrorpix.
If you’re familiar with the fan memoir A Date With A Beatle, you’ll recall this place and date… “The police took me downstairs to the lobby and the policeman was just livid. He read me a rash of charges and as I put my soggy wet beehive down in between my soggy wet knees, I heard a ding. I looked up and the elevator door opened and there, not five feet away from me, with me never looking worse in my entire life, was the man of my dreams. […] I thought, ‘My God, this man is so beautiful.’ There was a light shining behind him, and his hair was so shiny. Initially, I was probably making dolphin noises. He wanted to know what was going on, and I think what really sealed it for him to decide to help me was when the police officers said I was in trouble thanks to him and my bad taste in music. He asked me what happened and handed me a handkerchief that had the initials G.H. It was so beautiful and elegant, and I was blotting at my face and when I went to hand it back it was a mass of black Egyptian eyeliner. You can imagine what my face looked like. He said to keep it! […] George actually made the officer run down my list of relatively innocent charges, and then asked me if I was going to get into any more trouble. Of course I said no. My goal was achieved, no matter how it happened. The officer just gave up and allowed me to walk free—fly was more the word for it.” - Judith Kristen, “10 Questions with Judith Kristen,” SJ Magazine Be sure to read Judith’s book for the full story of her Beatlemaniac adventures and the moment she met George.
#George Harrison#The Beatles#quote#quotes about George#George and fame#fan recollections#fan recollections: 1960s#1964#1960s#fits queue like a glove
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THE MC5 MAKE PREPARATIONS FOR THEIR FIRST PERFORMANCES OVERSEAS.
PIC(S) INFO: Spotlight on front page coverage of American rock and roll band, the MOTOR CITY FIVE, from the "International Times," a.k.a., "it" issue #82. 3-16 (today is July 16) July 1970.
"After lengthy negotiations, Phun City organisers have arranged for the legendary U.S. revolutionary band, MC5, to make their first-ever European appearance. Negotiations are also in progress to finalise the first UK appearance of the entire GRATEFUL DEAD package show..."
-- "INTERNATIONAL TIMES," c. July 1970
Sources: http://denimdisco.blogspot.com/2022/05/the-rock-n-roll-revival-part-two.html & X.
#it international times#Wayne Kramer#MC5#MOTOR CITY 5#MOTOR CITY FIVE#Cover Page#IT#it#International Times#Rock and roll#Rock and Roll#Rock 'n' roll#Rock n roll#MC5 Back in the USA#Back in the USA#it International Times#Counterculture#international times it#international times#Super Seventies#Counterculture Press#60s Underground Press#1970s#70s#Cover Art#British Underground Press#American Style#Back in the USA 1970#The MC5#UK Tour
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spring, april 1 -- @jegulus-microfic -- 619 words
They’d slept with the window open last night.
It was partially Regulus’ fault; the clocks had turned forward an hour, and he’d been up late, perched on the sloping roof watching the stars pass by, without realising twelve o’clock had turned into two, bypassing one am completely and hurtling Regulus into the next day without a moment’s breath.
One of the best things about living in a small village, in the middle of rural England, is that the light pollution staining the sky from distant cities doesn’t touch here, and Regulus can stare up at the sky and see stars twinkling back.
He’d climbed back inside shortly after, drowsy, completely forgetting to close the windows and curtains as he’d fallen back into bed with James.
Now, as Regulus is pulled from sleep by the sounds of birds chirping, the full onslaught of the sun hits him square in the face as he opens his eyes. Squinting, blinking away bright impressions on his irises, he lifts a hand up to block the light as he leans over to check the time.
Nine o’clock.
Spring is definitely here, and it’s not holding back.
James is still sleeping, on his stomach, his face turned towards Regulus, one arm curled up underneath the pillow to bunch it closer to his cheek. The bedsheets are gathered around his waist—clearly, he got too hot in the night and kicked them off—and the sunlight plays across the surface of his back, ducking between the divots of his spine, smoothing over the slope of his shoulders.
Regulus stares at him, James’ lips slowly parted as he breathes, eyelashes dark against his cheeks. Rays of sunlight dance between the strands of his hair, and he is a Greek god sleeping after a weary battle, Achilles or Apollo, racing with his chariot to pull up the sunrise, every muscle and bone sculptured from pure gold.
“I can feel you staring,” James murmurs. He doesn’t open his eyes, nor move, but he inhales deeply, his back rising and falling with his breath.
Regulus presses his lips together and doesn’t even try to stop his blush of embarrassment. “Can I not stare at my husband whilst he sleeps?”
James cracks open his eyes then, just one, to grin at Regulus before closing it again, snuggling further into the pillow. His voice comes out soft, tired. “Bit creepy, don’t you think? Stalker-ish.”
“We’ve been married for two years,” Regulus reminds him.
With a noise of contentment, one of James’ arms comes out from under the covers to drag Regulus over to him, pulling him into his body. Regulus is all too happy to settle there, tucking his face under James’ chin, breathing in the smell that is just purely James that he can’t describe to anyone else. James, in turn, presses his cheek into Regulus’ hair, his fingers moving to slightly trace lines down his back. It makes Regulus shiver.
“Oh, the window’s open,” James comments, voice still laced with sleep. “Did you leave it like that?”
“Yeah, I forgot to close it.”
One of their neighbours outside starts mowing their lawn, the repeated growl of the motor infiltrating into their bedroom for a few seconds before it purrs to life.
“It’s nine o’clock, you know,” Regulus tells James gently.
James hums, still running fingers along Regulus’ back. “So?”
“So,” Regulus continues. “Don’t you want to get up? It’s sunny out today.”
Neither of them move. James just sighs, pulling Regulus closer. “Five more minutes.”
It’s around one in the afternoon when they both finally get out of bed.
#frost's microfics#frost writing fluff for once?#who is she???#james potter is a greek god confirmed#james x regulus#jegulus fic#jegulus microfic#james potter x regulus black#marauders#jegulus
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So many "car people" argue about engine oil. Everyone has an opinion on what weight, brand, sub-brand, synthetics package, and filter to use. If you use the wrong $80-a-jug stuff for even five seconds, they shriek, your engine will be irreversibly damaged.
Part of this is because the internet exists. Back in the day, I am told, people with strong opinions on what motor oil to use would have very limited opportunities to speak about those opinions. It isn't polite, for instance, to hijack a city council meeting's public comment session to speak about how Fram oil filters are the devil. Now, all those widely-dispersed weird assholes can be concentrated in a single forum, where they yell at each other for free.
Personally, I've never been too much of a snob about it. Sure, there's oils that I won't put in my car. That's usually because a lot of modern oils are too thin to quiet a disintegrating 1970s engine made mostly out of pig iron and regret. Sure, they still lubricate, but try telling that to the guy in the McDonalds drive-thru who is having some kind of traumatic flashback to The War when he hears the state of your rod bearings. Better just put in the thick stuff.
When you go through as many engines as I do, it's hard to get anxious about the particulars of a maintenance routine. Sure, if the previous owner had put in something nice instead of sand and sawdust about fifty years ago, this engine would have about three-and-a-half psi more compression by now. I'd still be struggling to get up hills and clattering every time I start the car while facing east. That's why I hang out behind the oil change place in the middle of the night and run their "waste oil" tank into a couple milk jugs in my back seat. Like wine, this stuff only gets better with time.
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Bifur headcanons
(read the Bombur ones for some background)
(Uncle Thorin, part 1, part 2), (Dwalin), (Óin), (trans Dwarves)
Bifur is already nearly an adult, when his little cousins are born and so, he babysits them all the time and takes them on little adventures
before the axe head, he's an outgoing, well-spoken and charming Dwarrow, who comes up with songs and is very well-liked by his community
he is dedicated to his craft (=asexual), which is a tragedy according to some, due to his charm and fine beard
in his youth he is a toymaker in training, but he has to work as a miner instead, to help to provide for the family
he's ambitious. For decades he doesn't just work as a miner during the day, he also goes through extensive training in the evening, until he finally manages to join the City Guard of Thorin's Hall. His family is incredible proud of him. He also receives a much higher wage than as a miner
after a few decades an Orc raid hits the city. They manage to break through the city wall. Bifur fights bravely side by side with his fellow guards, until he is hit by an axe. He somehow survives
the years after the raid are very fuzzy. He barely remembers them. He only knows what his cousins tell him. Most of it is tragic, like the fact that nearly all of his friends turned away from him
he might look severe most of the time, but he isn't. He has issues to control his face and also a chronic headache due to the axe
because of his injury he lost a lot of his fine motor skills and can't really craft toys anymore. He doesn't like to speak about it, since it's breaking his heart, even after decades
he loves his cousins very much and doesn't know what he would do without them
he receives a small pension, since he was injured on duty, but it's barely enough, and so he starts to work in the mines again, though he mostly works in the higher levels as a carrier, due to his ailments
he keeps his focus on the little things in life, like sunshine on his face, laughing with his cousins, picking flowers and collecting pretty stones and such
Bifur doesn't really expect the quest to be successful, but he still joins, since his cousins want to go, and also he hears that Thorin takes young lads like his nephews and Ori with him and as a former guard, he wants to try and protect them
since most people are put off by the axe head and his issues with speaking, he keeps to himself and his cousins. To his surprise, Fíli joins him one day, when he's collecting stones during some downtime. Turns out, Fíli is a gem cutter by trade, who loves to collect quartz and such in his freetime. They become fast friends and since Fíli deems him alright, Kíli (who was spooked in the beginning) warms up to him. Bifur spends a lot of time with the two lads and enjoys their youthful energy
after losing the axe head during the Battle of Five Armies, his headaches get a lot better, though his other ailments don't change much
after the quest (in an "Everybody survives"-AU), Bifur wishes to rejoin the Guard. At Fíli's request, Bifur becomes the personal guard of the Crown Prince of Erebor (and keeps sneaking him snacks and such)
he also keeps working on his motor skills, and even if he can't craft the same toys as before the injury, it is still balm for his soul to sit in his workshop
(there are also rumors that he and Óin are sometimes seen holding hands. But that's nobody's business, isn't it?)
#the hobbit#bifur#bifur the dwarf#i love the idea of oin and bifur having a queerplatonic relationship#the idea of the two holding hands and cuddling is too heartwarming#i also love the idea of fili and bifur being friends#he probably becomes an honorary uncle to him and kili at one point#kili is actually really spooked by bifur in the beginning and also very flustered since he has a hard time not staring at the axe#as always he sends fili ahead to nose out the new situation#and when fili says he's alright kili becomes fast friends with him too#bifur deserves some more love in my opinion#he has so much potential to be a really interesting character#headcanons#my stuff#fili#oin#kili#bombur#bofur
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