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diamjem · 2 days ago

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braver than me

pairing: sebastian sallow x f!mc

summary: sebastian is a coward. lucky for him, she’s not.

word count: 3.3k

warnings: fluff, friends to lovers, kissing, pining, no use of y/n, sebastian is a coward

a/n: there’s just something about writing sebastian being hopelessly in love. like yes yes pls brain more!! i think it’s all the angst i’ve piled up as wips in my gdocs. enjoy n have a good day my loves!

[ao3] [wattpad]

sebastian was by no means a bashful man.

he’s been called many things in his time, but bashful had never made the list—not like confident, brazen, or his favorite, audacious. better yet: arrogance with legs, as ominis often put it, though in his typically snide way. sebastian, for his part, didn't mind it. matter of fact, he wore it like a badge of honor, shiny and dazzling. to him, there was a certain satisfaction in standing out. if everyone else was scrambling to find their place, sebastian had already claimed his. carved it out of sheer determination.

so why—why in merlin’s name—was he suddenly so timid when she was near? why, when it came to her, did he suddenly lose all sense of the man he thought he was?

it wasn’t as if he hadn’t spent every waking moment in her company. their time together had become so familiar, so entwined in the fabric of his daily life, that he'd stopped counting the hours they'd spent laughing, bickering, teasing—just being. she had become a constant, more than a friend, really. though "friend" was probably the closest word, but now? it felt wide off the mark. especially since a friend didn’t become tongue-tied when talking to her. a friend didn’t feel his pulse race when her fingers brushed his in the corridors. and a friend certainly didn’t blush like a fool at the sound of her laugh.

and it’s not like sebastian wasn’t aware of it, of course. he wasn’t blind to his own shifting thoughts and feelings. he had enough sense to recognize the telltale signs: the quickened heartbeat, the constant wandering of his thoughts back to her, the way his chest felt too tight when she was near. schoolboy feelings—childish, ridiculous, and entirely beneath someone like him. yet here he was, drowning in them. but knowing didn’t make it any easier to deal with.

there were moments when he thought about just telling her outright. dropping the weight of his feelings at her feet and dealing with whatever came after. it seemed so simple in theory. but in practice? all that mettle goes flying out the window.

instead, he became an embarrassing, bumbling mess. words tumbled out of him awkwardly, half-formed and nonsensical, or worse, he’d overcorrect and lean too hard into teasing, only to feel an immediate sting of regret when her expression faltered ever so slightly. she deserved better than his idiocy, but merlin help him, he didn’t know how to be anything else when it came to her.

for someone who prided himself on his charm and quick wit, sebastian had never felt so completely, hopelessly out of his depth.

in fact, it had gotten so bad that he’d taken to actively avoiding her. hiding. the idea was absurd, really. he was sebastian sallow, for merlin's sake. avoiding her was something someone with far less nerve would do. but there he was, sneaking through corridors, ducking into alcoves. he’d even locked himself in his dorm on more than one occasion, feigning a headache or some other excuse when ominis inevitably called him out on it.

but eluding her was becoming a cruel joke—one hogwarts itself seemed eager to play along with. the castle, grand and labyrinthine, conspired against him in ways he couldn’t quite explain. it was as if every hallway, every twisting corridor, every hidden nook was designed to lead him straight to her.

sebastian was on his way to a secluded spot he'd claimed for himself—quiet, tucked away, the perfect refuge for the pages of a book that promised to keep his mind distracted. that was the plan, at least, but luck—his luck, at least—was as cruel as ever.

he turned the corner and, there she was. she sat on the wide sill of a stained-glass window, knees drawn to her chest, her chin resting on them as she stared out toward the lake. her hair caught the light just so, the golden afternoon sun casting a soft glow around her that made her look almost ethereal.

as if on instinct, his heart skipped in giddy betrayal at the sight of her. but even as his chest swelled, his mind betrayed him, blanking entirely—completely and utterly useless, as it always seemed to be when she was anywhere in his line of sight. if he didn’t move soon, she’d surely find him staring ridiculously at her. but he was rooted to the spot, staring like a fool. it's not too late to keep walking. he could just move past her, pretend he hadn’t seen her. it wasn’t like she’d spotted him yet…

“i know you’re there, sebastian. i can see your reflection in the glass.”

her voice shattered his internal debate, soft but laced with unmistakable amusement. she turned her head toward him, her lips quirking into the faintest curve, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

every plan of escape evaporated in an instant at the sight of her smile.

“where were you headed to?” she asked, tilting her head as if daring him to lie.

he swallowed hard, clearing his throat in an attempt to appear nonchalant, but his voice came out in a stammer. “i… uh, y’know, j-just around,” he mumbled, immediately cursing himself for how he sounded because not one single syllable of that had been nonchalant.

“by around, you mean away from me?” she accused, her tone light but sharp enough to cut through his feigned indifference. “you think i haven’t noticed how you’ve been avoiding me like the plague?”

his stomach dropped, panic bubbling to the surface. “w-what? no,” he blurted, far too quickly and far too loudly to even be remotely convincing. “why would i be avoiding you?”

she shrugged, one of her brow quirking upwards. “you tell me.”

“well, i’m not.” he insisted, gripping the leather-bound book in his hand like it was some kind of lifeline. he waved it slightly for emphasis. “i’m only… looking for a nice, quiet place to read my book.”

her eyes narrowed playfully, but there was something curious lingering in her gaze. “okay, prove it.”

“prove it?” he repeated, blinking at her as if she’d just asked him to duel her right there in the hallway.

“sit with me,” she said simply, shifting slightly to make room on the windowsill beside her. her smile widened puckishly as she patted the empty space next to her. “you know, i find this spot quite serene, nice for reading. there's even a great view of the lake, and the added bonus of my presence. isn’t that just what you're looking for? unless, of course, you really are running from me.”

sebastian froze, his mind racing as every excuse he could possibly muster flitted through his head. he could still walk away, couldn’t he? he could laugh it off, make some joke, anything to escape the situation before he made an even bigger fool of himself.

but the look in her eyes held him there, rooted in place, and something in him knew—she knew exactly what she was doing. she was testing him, waiting to see if he’d take the bait. and if he ran now, she’d never let him live it down. worse, he wasn’t sure he would.

gathering every ounce of composure he could muster (which, to be honest, wasn’t much), he crossed the short distance between them, his legs feeling like lead. slowly, he perched on the windowsill beside her, keeping just enough distance to keep himself from spiraling further but close enough that her warmth brushed faintly against him.

“there,” he muttered, keeping his gaze fixed firmly on the lake outside. “happy?”

her smile softened, though he couldn’t bring himself to look directly at her to see it. “very,” she said, her tone softer now, less teasing.

sbastian tried—really tried—to focus on his book, but it was pointless. her presence beside him was unbearable in the best and worst ways, every tiny shift she made pulling his attention away like a magnetic force. the soft brush of her shoulder against his, the faint scent of her perfume, the way her hair caught the light—it was maddening.

and just when he thought he couldn’t handle more, she scooted closer to him.

“sebastian, have i done something to upset you?” she asked, her voice gentle but tinged with an earnestness that made his chest tighten.

his fingers toyed with the edges of his book. “what makes you think that?” he asked, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

“oh, really?” she dragged the word, sarcasm biting in her tone. “you hide from me, you don’t talk to me, and when you do, you can barely look at me. it’s… quite unsettling.”

that sounded like a challenge, and if anything, sebastian never backed down from a challenge. so with a sharp exhale, he forced himself to look at her directly. his dark eyes locked onto hers, and though his intention had been to put her at ease, his intensity clearly had the opposite effect.

she blinked, recoiling slightly as a blush spread on her cheeks. “nevermind, that’s even more unsettling. merlin.”

her words threw him, his brow furrowing as his mouth twitched into something between a scowl and a smirk. “i-i thought you wanted me to look at you,” he replied, his voice coming out higher than intended.

“yes, look at me—n-not bore holes into my soul.” she argued, crossing her arms defensively.

sebastian let out a frustrated laugh, dragging a hand through his already disheveled hair. “i don’t understand what you want from me.”

“just—be normal!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “merlin knows you haven't been in a while!"

she huffed, turning her face toward the window, as if the act could somehow hide the deep crimson spreading across her cheeks.

sebastian, on the other hand, rather than feel chastised, found himself even more endeared. it only proved her right—he hadn’t been normal (whatever normal meant) in a long while. a normal sebastian would’ve jumped at any opportunity to tease her, to throw a cheeky remark her way that would’ve left her rolling her eyes or swatting at him playfully. he would’ve poked at her for being so flustered, delighted in the way she tried to mask it with her sharp wit. but now? now he felt utterly and hopelessly unarmed.

was it possible to be both terrified and thrilled at the same time? because that was what she did to him—tied him in knots while making him feel like he could take on the world. and yet, every time he tried to find the words to express even a fraction of what was going on inside him, they tangled in his throat, leaving him helpless and, frankly, hysterical.

she bit her lip as she traced invisible lines on the frosted panes. “i can't believe it’s come to a point where i have to say this,” she muttered. “but i miss you, sebastian. i miss my friend.”

that would have made his heart stop, if only she hadn’t said the word “friend.” it seems that word haunted him more than it should. reminded him of his place—of his cowardice.

he could feel the way his chest subtly deflated, the way his shoulders drooped just a fraction, as though the weight of her words had suddenly doubled. had she noticed? he hoped not. it was humiliating enough to feel the sting of disappointment so fiercely; he couldn’t imagine how much worse it would be if she saw it, too. because then she’d ask. and if she asked, he’d have to tell her everything because, merlin help him, he wasn't sure he had the fortitude to resist her charms.

he opened his mouth, determined to say something—anything to reclaim a shred of normalcy—but all that came out was a pitiful, incoherent, “i…”

she turned to look at him then. “what is wrong with you lately?” she asked, her voice softer now, though still tinged with a hint of frustration. “you're not… you. you’re quiet and… iffy. you're driving me insane, sebastian.”

you’re driving me insane, too. he wanted to scream, but, of course, he didn’t say that. instead, he swallowed hard, his hands fidgeting awkwardly at the pages of the book on his lap, as though they could somehow express the things his mouth refused to.

“i—i don’t know what you’re talking about,” he finally managed, though it sounded weak, even to him.

her eyes narrowed, locking onto his as though she was trying to see straight through him. for a long beat, she didn’t say anything, and sebastian swore she’d hit him with a petrificus totalus. he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think—he could only wait as she weighed whatever thoughts were swirling in her head.

she opened her mouth, hesitated, then closed it again. when she finally spoke, her voice was steadier. firmer. “oh, to hell with it.”

sebastian didn’t know she could scoot any closer, but she did. the small distance that had remained between them disappeared, and now their noses were practically touching. his pulse quickened, the heat from her proximity fraying every last one of his nerves. her gaze bore into his, and he could do nothing but sit frozen, utterly at her mercy.

“since you don’t have the courage to acknowledge it,” she began, her voice quieter but no less pointed, “i will.”

she gulped. "something’s changed between us, sebastian. don’t try to deny it—i know you feel it too. otherwise, you wouldn't be acting like this."

feel it? of course he felt it. it was all he did these days—feel everything where she was concerned. every stolen glance, every unspoken word, every lingering moment that left his heart racing long after it ended. it consumed him to a pathetic degree. and yet, despite the storm in his chest, he couldn’t seem to find his voice. his hands clenched the edges of his book, knuckles white, as he stared at her in wide-eyed silence.

she took his lack of response as an invitation to continue. “the lingering stares,” she pressed, her tone softening as her cheeks flushed deeper. “the buzz when our hands accidentally touch… it’s unnerving for me too, but that doesn’t make it right to run from me.”

the words pierced straight through him, guilt and longing twisting like a knife in his chest. she deserved better—better than his awkward, stilted avoidance. better than his cowardice.

“what are you saying?” he managed to croak, though his voice was hoarse, and his heart felt as though it might burst from his ribcage.

her cheeks burned brighter—adorable, if only the situation wasn't so utterly terrifying—and for a moment, she hesitated. but then she squared her shoulders, inhaled deeply, and met his gaze with unwavering determination.

“i’m saying, sebastian, that i like you, and i reckon you like me too,” she said, her words coming out in a single breath, as if rushing to get them out before her courage faltered. she exhaled sharply, as though trying to steady herself, and added, “and it’s about bloody time we talked about it.”

sebastian stared at her, utterly dumbfounded. the confession was so unexpected, so raw and vulnerable, that for a moment, he didn’t know if he’d imagined it.

she liked him? she liked him.

the words echoed in his mind, each repetition making his chest swell just a little more. for a fleeting second, he was over the moon. but then, just as quickly, he came crashing back down to earth.

this wasn’t how he’d imagined this conversation going. not even close.

in his head (where he’d been stuck too often lately), he’d planned it all out—he’d bring her a bouquet of wildflowers he’d picked himself, maybe something with those little blue ones she seemed to love so much. he would give a heartfelt speech, every word meticulously practiced, rehearsed so many times in his mind that it could rival a monologue from shakespeare’s plays. not to mention, he would be the one to confess, not the other way around.

but no. his backbone—if one could even call it that—had failed him time and time again, and now here he was, caught off guard and utterly useless in the moment he’d dreamed of for weeks.

her voice cut through his spiraling thoughts. “well, say something, damn it!” she huffed, nudging him hard enough in the shoulder to make him sway.

he exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing as the reality of her words sank in. His lips twitched into a small, almost disbelieving smile. “you’re right,” he admitted softly. “something has changed.”

her breath hitched slightly, her expression a mixture of hope and uncertainty. “and?”

“and… merlin’s beard, i’m terrible at this,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his face in frustration. he took a deep breath, forcing himself to meet her gaze, even though it felt like his heart was doing somersaults in his chest.

“i do like you,” he admitted finally, his voice quieter now, more vulnerable. “i like you more than i can even put into words. that’s probably why i've been such a wreck lately. i kept telling myself i’d tell you eventually, but every time i got close, i just panic and ruin it.” he gestured vaguely at the space—or lack thereof—between them. “and now… now you’ve gone and done it for me.”

a smile twitched at her lips, though she tried to suppress it. “so, what you’re saying is, this is my fault?”

“well, if you’d just waited a little longer—”

“oh, shut it, sebastian,” she interrupted, rolling her eyes but stepping closer nonetheless. “i don’t think either of us would’ve survived waiting any longer.”

“still,” he said, his tone softening, “you deserved something better than my stammering and sweating and… all this.”

“i don’t need much,” she said, her voice gentler now, her gaze softening. “i just need you. preferably not running from me next time, though.”

"yes, well," sebastian let out a shaky breath, his lips quirking into the faintest of smiles. “i think i’m done running.”

and for the first time in what felt like forever, his infamous brashness finally roared back to life. without overthinking it, without letting his nerves take hold, he lunged forward. his hands found her face, warm and soft beneath his fingers, and he kissed her. the book on his lap tumbled to the floor with a dull thud, but he didn’t care. it was clumsy, a little too eager, but he didn't care. he didn't care because he was kissing her.

the world tilted, narrowed, and then disappeared altogether. there was only the gentle press of her lips against his, the faint intake of her breath, and the way her hands instinctively gripped the front of his robes to steady herself. it was messy, impulsive, and absolutely him—no, them.

when the kiss broke only slightly, her breathless giggle sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. she leaned just far enough back to meet his gaze, her eyes dancing with amusement. “i suppose this makes us friends again?”

sebastian groaned, resting his forehead against hers. “please, gods, no,” he muttered against her lips, his voice dripping with mock horror.

her laughter bubbled up, light and free, and she tilted her head slightly, her smile almost mischievous. “what, you don’t want to be my friend, sebastian?”

“not even a little,” he said, grinning despite himself. his thumb brushed over the curve of her jaw, his gaze flickering between her lips and her eyes. “no, i’d much rather be whatever this is.”

her grin softened into something more tender, her hands sliding from his robes to rest lightly against his chest. “i think i’d rather like that too,” she admitted softly.

sebastian chuckled, a deep, relieved sound, and leaned in again, pressing his lips to hers once more. this time, it was slower, deliberate, like he was memorizing every second. then again, and again, each kiss growing lazier, sweeter, as if he had all the time in the world to be here, with her, like this.

between the kisses, he muttered softly, his voice thick with emotion. “thank you…” a kiss. “thank you…” another kiss. “for being braver than me.”

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow fluff #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow headcanons #sebastian sallow fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfic #pining #hlhp #soft sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow oneshot #hogwarts legacy oneshot

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seravphs · 2 days ago

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sick in the head

Gojo and Geto try marriage counseling because the therapist is hot.

wc — 1.5k

tags — obviously this is not how therapy actually works, imagine clocking into work and these two supervillains show up I’d quit

“You need serious help,” Shoko says, somewhat kindly as she observes Gojo on the phone with his favorite criminal. He’s just started his twenty minute break from tracking his residuals all over the world, trying to minimize the harm he’s causing without actually being willing to kill him.

She’s either joking or completely serious. It’s hard to tell with Shoko. Maybe a little bit of both?

“Huh?” Gojo says, a little peeved she’s taking his attention away from Geto.

“I said, you need serious help. The professional kind. I looked up a therapist for you.”

Gojo’s expression clears with understanding - then annoyance. “I told you I didn’t need a shrink. Nothing wrong with my brain, anyway.”

Shoko loves her friends, she really does, but sometimes she walks a fine line between healing and the opposite of healing.

“Just try it,” she says. She’s smarter than to try and rationalize with him. “It’s a couple’s counselor. Maybe you could see Suguru more if you sell him on it.”

Hook, line, sinker. It was so easy to get them to cooperate when it came to each other. They were so convinced that they were unreadable to anyone but themselves, but they always forgot Shoko had been there too. All three years she had been on the outside looking in, watching the glances they cast at each other. Sometimes, she felt like she understood them more than they understood each other.

She had always been there, silently watching. Just because they didn’t realize it didn’t mean her presence was negligible. She loved them anyway, despite knowing she was a third, and thirds were always the leftovers tacked onto a pair.

That was how love worked. It didn’t really matter whether or not Gojo would Geto over her, or vice versa. They were her friends. She’d watch out for them.

“Here,” she says, handing Gojo a business card. “She’s a friend, so be nice, okay?”

Gojo whistled at the picture on the clean, embossed cardstock. “I can be better than nice.”

Shoko squints at him. “You’re disgusting. You’re going to meet her with your boyfriend.”

“Yeah, and?” He smiled wolfishly, with teeth. “I know Suguru’s type.”

Geto Suguru was in the middle of taking a bath when his best friend and mortal enemy appeared next to him, right when he blinked. Most people would’ve screamed. Geto was not most people. Most people were not that close to Gojo Satoru.

“I’m showering,” he said mildly. “Get out or pass me the soap.”

Gojo does neither of these things, because when has Gojo ever listened to anyone. “Look at this,” he said, flapping a tiny rectangle of paper on his face.

Geto sighed and lifted pruney fingers to the offending object. It had been a long day of scamming non-sorcerers and wreaking general havoc, but of course Gojo couldn’t let him rest, on top of working overtime to undo his work. He only let the bitterness of going up against a natural prodigy consume for a moment before he remembered where he was.

The epsom salts had been a gift from Mimiko and Nanako. No matter how irritated he was, they worked magic. His muscles could never stay tense while he soaked in the perfumed water, and he relaxed into the tub again.

The card was nicely made. It was clearly expensive, crisp black ink of thick white paper. What caught his eye, however, was the portrait on the front. The smile was sweet, sincere. He checked the business card again. A marriage counselor - that made sense.

“Why are you showing me this?” Geto frowned. “Is this a proposal? I’m not accepting this. You can do better.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Gojo says. “Isn’t she hot?”

Geto hums in agreement. “Yeah. Nice smile.”

“Should we…?”

“I don’t have time for games, Satoru.”

“Think about it,” he says. “It can be like the good old days. You and me, the dream team. When we worked together, no one ever said no to us.”

“She’s a marriage counselor. You shouldn’t be playing these types of games with her.”

“Don’t act like you’re such a goody two shoes,” Gojo said, rolling his eyes. “It’s just me. Drop the theatrics.”

Geto let a smile tug at his lips, feeling strangely pleased that he saw through him so easily. “Say I agree. Then what?”

They hadn’t worn suits in a long time, but Gojo insisted. He wanted to make a good impression and-

“Ladies love a man in a suit,” he said, unbuttoning his top two buttons.

“Slut,” Geto said lovingly. He leaned over to press a light kiss to the collarbones that now peeked out of the gape of his shirt.

Gojo flushed, the tips of his ears turning a pale pink. Geto reached up to tug lovingly at them, and then smooth down stray pale hairs. He was more relaxed than Gojo was about the situation, but he still wanted to look nice.

It had been years since they had done this. There was a part of him that wanted to prove that he still had it.

Gojo strode into the office like he owned. Geto followed after, trying his best to remember what it was like to look apologetic. There wasn’t much he was sorry for, nowadays.

You look up, startled. Your patients were sometimes early, but never this early. It was almost enough to make you worry that you’d gotten the time wrong, but you were meticulous with new patients. They had picked a good time - you didn’t have any patients scheduled before them, otherwise you’d have to kick them out immediately. As it was, you were still considering it.

“Mr. Gojo? Mr. Geto?”

The one with white hair shivered a little. A strange expression crossed his face, almost delighted, if there was anything to be delighted about while sitting on the opposite of a marriage counselor’s desk with your significant other.

“Suguru is fine,” the dark haired one said.

“Call me Satoru,” the one with white hair agreed.

Suguru and Satoru. Even their names fit well together. You tried not to judge anything until you got the fuller picture, but you always tried to be optimistic unless you had reason to believe otherwise. People came to you to save their marriages after all. You hoped you could do the same for these two.

Satoru sits down in the armchair across from you. He’s the showy one, with that bone white hair and piercing blue eyes. Accordingly, he picks the emerald green velvet, as brilliant as a peacock’s feathers.

Suguru chooses the left hand chair, a little less eye grabbing. It’s a cool dove grey, the fabric soft to the touch.

Sitting like this, they look good together. They seem comfortable too, coming in together smiling and laughing. You wonder what they’re here for.

“There’s still twenty minutes until the session starts,” you tell them.

“Oh, I know,” Satoru says. “But I thought it would be nice to get to know the woman that’s going to be picking apart our brains. Look, I even brought a peace offering.”

He presses a box of expensive sweets in your direction.

“I can’t accept gifts,” you tell him regretfully. “And I won’t be doing anything of the sort to your brains.”

“I went through all this trouble to get them though!”

“Satoru, don’t be a baby,” Suguru says. “She clearly said no. I told you so, anyway. It’s not my fault you can’t listen.”

Satoru bristles. “Oh yeah? Why don’t we-“

“Please don’t fight,” you cut in. “I can’t take gifts these expensive, but once we get to know each other better, it’s okay to be more comfortable with me. Is that alright?”

“Fine, fine,” Satoru says with an easy going smile, pleased as if he hadn’t been irate just seconds earlier.

Suguru’s anger takes a moment to dispel, but the clouds clear from his face nearly as quickly. Scary. It seems like you have your work cut out for you.

You can already tell they’re the kind of people that’ll be hard to direct, so you accept the extra twenty minutes they’ll get out of you. Satoru seems like a Karen, and you’re not in the mood to deal with a back and forth right now. You’ll just lock your doors next time and let them in when you’re ready.

Against your will, you find yourself drawn into conversation with them. Satoru and Suguru play off each other so seamlessly it almost feels like they’re working as a team to disarm you, to make you feel at ease smiling and laughing along with them, but that can’t be true. They’re here for marriage counseling - surely they can’t be such a cohesive unit.

The alarm rings. You sit straight up, startled, and try to ignore the way Satoru laughs like he thinks you’re the cutest thing in the world.

This is going to be a long session.

#sera writes #gojo satoru x reader #getou suguru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader

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neocitylights · 24 hours ago

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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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fluentmoviequoter · 2 days ago

Text

Tim Through the Years - The Proposal

Series Masterlist (part 10)

Summary: Tim finds the perfect way to propose. 0.9k+ words

Tim has been trying to wrack his brain on how to propose. He found the ring because of Angela and now he doesn’t know how to ask the woman he loves to marry him. Because of the incident when he got the ring, everyone has an opinion on how he should propose, and it’s giving him quite the headache. Lucy has been talking non-stop since she found out and expressed all of the ideas she had. So here he is, hiding in the interrogation room, trying to think of the perfect way to ask. Tim’s phone starts to ring and he answers without looking to see who is calling.

“What?” Tim asks gruffly.

“Hey baby, is this a bad time?”

Tim freezes; it was you calling him and not Lucy as he thought. “No, not at all, what can I do for you?”

“We’ve been having issues at school of someone stealing other people’s lunches. Today they stole my whole lunch instead of a couple of things. Everything is just gone; would it be possible to bring me some lunch? I really don’t want to eat cafeteria food.”

“Of course baby, I’ll grab some food from your favorite place”, Tim replies softly. He can tell you’ve been having a rough day just by the sound of your voice.

“Thank you so much! I really appreciate it, I love you! See you soon.”

“I love you too.”

When your phone call ends, he sees he has a few texts he missed from you earlier. They were pictures of different drawings your students did and they all centered around you and him together. Tim knows that you love your students and they mean the world to you. You always boast about how much your students grow and how proud you are of them. That’s when Tim has the best idea ever.

You slump in your seat after your phone call with Tim. The kids were in the gym before they were going to head to lunch. There has been a lunch thief in the break room and even if you leave your lunch in your classroom, some of it gets stolen. You’ve never had your whole lunch stolen - matter of fact, no one has, so it looks like the thief has stepped up their game. You have your suspicions of who stole your lunch: your coworker Dennis has been causing all sorts of problems. He cheated on his wife with a student's mom, and now he blames his ex-wife for why his kids don’t want to see him. A rumor you were told was that he was a massive alcoholic who took out all his stress on his family, and he had a gambling problem. You want to make a super spicy meal for him to eat so he will stop eating your lunches since Tim puts a ton of effort into making sure you eat a balanced meal every day.

You check the time and see that it is time to pick up your class before lunch so they can grab anything they need. When you walk into your classroom with your students, you see Tim sitting at your desk with your lunch. The class all squeals and runs up to Tim, asking him all sorts of questions. Your class loves it when Tim visits and thinks he’s a superhero.

“Hey guys, I’m just here to have lunch with your favorite teacher.” Tim has a smile on his face while he talks to your students.

That’s when your class turns to you and declares they want to use their marbles to have lunch with the both of you. You use marbles as a reward system to encourage good behavior, and they can choose what they want within reason.

“How about instead of me taking your marbles, I’ll give you a free pass because you have been so well-behaved today.”

The class cheers and goes to get their lunch stuff, so you send a classroom aide to go with some students who need a hot lunch. Tim hands you your stuff and when the aide returns with your students, you tell her you are going to run to the bathroom and be right back. When you return to your classroom, all your students are suspiciously quiet. Lunch goes smoothly, with you and Tim talking about your guys' day and the students talking amongst their friends and asking questions here and there. Once lunch ends, the students say goodbye to Tim and you kiss Tim on the cheek before telling him you’ll see him at dinner tonight.

It is getting close to the end of the day when the fire alarm goes off, which is weird because there was no drill planned for today. You calmly walk your students outside and do a head count of your students. After a few minutes, police and fire arrive, and all the kids talk about how cool they thought the trucks were. That’s when you heard your name called from one of the police vehicles' microphones.

“Y/N Winchester.”

Everyone grows quiet, and all turn to stare at you. Your students run toward the vehicle, and you run behind them to try and stop them. You freeze because your students are standing behind Tim, who is on one knee.

“Will you marry me?” all your students shout together with massive smiles on their faces.

“Yes!”

#tim through the years #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford #winchester!reader #fluentmoviequoter

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minijenn · 3 days ago

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That feel when you spend the past several days drawing for a forgotten niche AU you created years ago that you've just been having severe brainrot for lately and you have to get it out of your system somehow so you just... draw.

Anyway, Thorn in the Gut AU! Perhaps the most angsty little AU my brain ever did create back in the old UF days, I'm still quite fond of it. Its just chock full of drama, conflict, existential crisises, all that good stuff! And so, for those of you not in the know, here's a whole dump of info about it to go along with the art! (copied most of this from Discord so excuse any wierd formatting)

The basic gist of Thorn in the Gut spawns out of RMD (Rifts/Memories/Dimensions) and basically starts when Bill lands a practically fatal blow on Stepper (instead of cracking his Gem) and Steven, realizing both he and Dipper won't survive this, essentially "poofs" (lets his physical body disappear) and sacrifices his gem over to Dipper to keep him alive. Anyway, Dipper winds up back in Gravity Falls alone, much to the alarm and anger of the Crystal Gems especially when they realize Steven is basically dead (not them blaming a literal child who had no say in any of this). From there, the following ensues:

The Gems are A Wreck but they are still deeply attached to that gemstone (because of Steven and because of Rose) and they really don't know how to interact with Dipper now as a result; eventually, they force him to move up to the temple because he very quickly starts showing he has Steven's powers now but he can't control them because he is also A Wreck with survivor's guilt and grief over losing his boyfriend (did I mention this AU is Stedip? Well its Stedip) and his heavy emotions are making them wonky

They also watch him like a hawk because they think Steven could somehow return at any moment; they're also just like, hella impersonal with him; basically any sort of warmth or goodwill they had toward him has completely evaporated and they just view him as "the reason why steven is gone"

Garnet probably just... never talks to him like ever. Pearl is a sobbing wreck but is also surprisingly the most sympathetic towards Dipper out of the Gems (bc she knows about Rose and Bill's history to a certain extent and also knows thats at least in part why Bill attacked Stepper so viciously and why all this happened in the first place). Amethyst is just mad and probably prone to verbally lashing out at Dipper in frustration the most.

Stan and Ford are Fighting obvs bc Ford thinks Dipper staying with the Gems is for the best (also not Ford also kind of lowkey starting to negate his own nephew as a "fascinating breakthrough discovery" because of how scientifically impossible what's happened to him should be; Stan, meanwhile, is furious at how both Ford and the gems are acting, he's one of the few people still entirely in Dipper's coner, along with...

Mabel, who while mourning Steven herself wants to be there for her brother so badly but can't be because the Gems and Ford won't let her be, claiming that its for her own safety when really its just to keep her out of the way of a very delicate situation; even so, the twins still try to see each other as much as they can and comfort each other however possible (potential eventual fusion between the two?? maybe)

Connie is fucking mad, mad that Steven would sacrifice himself like this, mad that he'd sacrifice himself for Dipper, mad that Steven is gone and she can't do a damn thing about it. As a result, she distances herself from both the Pines and the Gems for a good long time to grieve on her own (but even after she comes back around, things remain hella tense between her and Dipper)

Other characters: Lapis is fuckin squicked the fuck out by what's happened here, because something something its comparable to permenant fusion, but even so she tries her best to support Dipper even though its difficult for her; Peridot is kind of lost in the shuffle of all this, like Mabel, so I feel like that's where she's lending most of her support; Pacifica? ehhh I mean this AU works under the assumption that Stedip is kind of the only currently canon MK ship so she probs wouldn't have much to do here 😛

Fucking forgot to talk about Dipper himself you know like he aint the damn focus character; so he's in Shambles, emotionally distraught for a number of reasons; his boyfriend is gone and he can only speak to him in his dreams (and those dreams are usually sweet… until one certain triangle starts showing up in them); amidst still reeling from losing Steven, the way the others are all treating him leads him into an existential crisis, because to the Gems, he's Steven, he's Rose, to Ford, he's an experiment, to Bill, he's an obstacle in the way of a prize, to the diamonds (if this continued on into UF2 which it could), he's Pink, and with all that in mind he truly starts to wonder if there's anything really left of Dipper at all

And the bad guys; Bill is furious, obvs. it doesn't take him long to start showing up during Steven and Dipper's little dream chats, causing all sorts of chaos and being just a general bastard all around; but he wants that gem, he has a deal with White to make good on after all, and he's determined to do whatever it takes to get it, even if he has to guilt trip Dipper into ripping it out of his stomach himself (which may or may not happen); as for the Diamonds I mean they'd probably just think this is "Pink" playing another one of their silly games, like they think about Steven so not a ton changes on that front? (even still, I summed up that this boy is in Danger in the span of time that would be UF2 in that one art)

Oh and of course, Steven's status. He is… aliveish? Of course, he doesn't have a physical body anymore, kind of gave that up entirely when he "poofed" bc he's half human. At first he's only able to communicate solely to Dipper through his dreams (and like Stan and Mabel, Steven is completely in Dipper's corner and is fucking mad as hell about how the Gems are acting towards him). And eventually, he makes that frustration known by using his possion powers to take control of Dipper (which Dipper allows, god who cares about past trauma, anything to make the Gems see reason) to tell the Gems off, but he isn't able to do that for very long or very frequently. I'd like to think Dipper can also sometimes "hear" Steven speaking to him through his thoughts when he's awake too. Basically, Steven is always with him ^_^

After getting steven's gem, Dipper maintains Stepper's hair color and skin hue :3 and he also starts wearing Steven's shirts bc fuckin gay grief compells him to wear his BF's clothes and then the Gems, fucking freaks that they are are like "nah you should keep wearing them" even when he doesn't want to anymore. Oh! and another thing, Dipper doesn't see himself when he sees his reflection in the mirror, he sees Stepper (represented in the art).

Since Dipper has to stay in Gravity Falls (because how the hell is he able to leave with all of these newfound manifesting magical powers), Mabel ends up going back home alone with a spare memory gun Ford gives her in tow. She remorsefully uses it to erase Aaron and Allison's memories of Dipper so they won't ask questions she isn't able to give answers to :3 Also, Dipper is unaware that this happens until some point in UF2 when Mabel breaks down and tells him. Suffice to say it basically ruins whatever is left of his relationship with Ford (not that it was good at that point anyway because well, Ford is basically using him as a lab rat)

Basically, without Steven around, most of the cast is just... fucking not acting right bc steven was basically their moral compass so they figure why even try anymore without him around (the gems and hell even dipper included, he makes some pretty questionable decisions in this AU himself)

Just, its all about identity, really, about how the way others around you treat you can impact how you view yourself for better or worse (in this case, worse); it's about loss of agency and how grief can drive people to act in some... pretty terrible ways.

Anyway yeah that's a Lot but its my current obsession in the In Between time of S1 and S2 and I figured I need to chase my bliss (bc how else will I cope with The Horrors if I don't put my favorite blorbos through Horrors of their own. Expect something to be written from this AU... eventually idk man probs not anytime in the immediate future tho lol it's just a silly fun little side thing. Anyway enjoy the Pain! ^_^

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thedeafprophet · 2 days ago

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On Eurylochus, Mutiny, and Starvation

I've seen a lot of discussion around choices made by the crew, and especially Eurylochus that have often not felt to be quite hitting the point. I've seen quite a few things in passing of analysis that seems to downplay the actions with the cow and make a mocking of a starving man, making him out to be dumb and 'just wanting a burger' or jokes around those lines, or worse, saying that he 'deserved to die' for acts made in desperation. [For as foolish as a notion as a character 'deserving' to die in a tragedy.]

It wouldn't bother me as much, if i hadn't also seen people tend to be dismissive of Eurylochus' character anf struggles in general. I think that does a disservice Eurolcyhus, the severity of the situation, the difficulty of odysseus' choice, and the overall themes.

Hunger and food are a frequent theme and struggle right from the beginning, something we are put to think about from the get go. One of the first things we hear from Eurylochus in full speed ahead is concern over food, most especially with that of the crew and feeding that many people. it is that situation that leads them to polythemus' cave - it is hunger and the aim to fend off starvation that leads to the killing of the sheep. Perhaps it could be said that all this wrath of gods and monsters itself is against humans for daring to try and survive...

This theme isn't just there, we see it again with Circe's island, and her offering of food and that changing the men to pigs. One could say its a reflection of greed, but with the over all notion of the severity, that is not at all comparable in my view. The constant struggle and search for food is vastly important.

and, of course, we see it especially, at the end of mutiny, with Eury. It was illogical, wasn't it? of course he shouldnt have killed those cows, of course he should have known punishment would come. the logic was there, surely he can't have wanted it that bad? Why didn't he just think logically like Odysseus?

except, that's not how hunger works.

For some context, this is a topic that hits close to me personally, as before I had surgery to help mitigate symptoms, I deal with a condition that caused me to be unable to eat properly for 2 years, by the end point I was basically starving on a day to day basis. Hunger is *heavy*. Unless you've experienced it, you cannot fully understand what it does to the body and to the mind.

It affects more than just making you hungry - you become exhausted, your body unable to fuel itself. headaches, brain fog, complete inability to process and think as you're supposed to. Your emotions run haywire, anger and depression can hit you so heavily. Sleep becomes disturbed, everything becomes dizzy, as your body turns inword, destorying itself until there's nothing left.

You cannot function properly at all.

It's easy as a listener to a musical to dismiss hunger, but the reality is vicious, painful, and destructive. in that condition, how could Eurylochus keep strong? keep motivated? think logically?

Combined with all the other intense trauma and loss, Eurylochus and the crew had been pushed to extensive limits. In better times, they would have never made that choice, never turned against Ody that way. Just as Ody would have never sacrificed his men like that, had it not been for the event that had transpired previously. That is the crux of a tragedy, the fact that thingd could have gone differently, but they didnt.

Yes, killing the cows was a illogical choice.

But hunger has a way with you.

No, it wasn't a good choice. It was an action done in desperation, a burst of irrtionatity fuel by hunger and pain. But refusing to understand why that choice was made does the story and its characters a disservice.

#also im telling you out the front if you make a dismissive insulting joke towards eury on this post i am just blocking you 👍#i just want to talk about one of my favourite tragic characters and the suffering he went through okay bye #epic the musical #eurylochus #starvation cw #also just. gosh the switch to eury calling him 'ody' instead of captain in that last part. vs using 'captain' during thunder bringer AGH #i love tragic platonic relationships im never gonna be over the break down of eury and ody's friendship and the pain of the tragedy </3 #long post

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toastbaby · 23 hours ago

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Ficlet: After "real"

Summary: A couple of days after ”real” Katniss comes home from the woods and decides to finally tell Peeta something she’s been wanting to tell him for a while.

A/N: Sometimes it bothers me a little we don't get to see even Peeta say the 3 magic words in the books or the movies so that is kind of what inspired this

AO3

700+ words, rated t for references to sex, pure fluff.

...

Katniss swept her brow with her hand. It was a hot and humid day in District 12, and she was looking forward to having a glass of cool water, the liquid in her bottle warm from the day in the forest. She wasn’t expecting to see anyone for another few hours; Peeta was still supposed to be working at the newly opened bakery, and Haymitch was out cold in his house, as was usual for him during the daylight hours. However, when Katniss entered her house, she could hear clinking of dishes in the kitchen.

Peeking from the doorway, she saw the man to whom she had just admitted the depth of her feelings a few days ago. She still felt her face heating up when she remembered everything that had led to that moment (and also what had happened after), and she had to shake her head to get herself back to this moment. Peeta had yet to notice her, his back towards her and the splashing of water muffling any sounds she may have made. Katniss stopped to observe him for a moment. He seemed content, humming quietly while he was washing the dishes. A warm feeling spread through her, something she had learned to associate with Peeta’s presence.

Suddenly it occurred to Katniss what was so special about this moment. The domesticity of it all. It wasn’t that long ago that she could have never expected them to be so comfortable around each other that they would be doing each other’s dishes, sleeping together (both literally and figuratively now) and admitting their feelings for each other. But somehow, they had managed to find their way back to each other. And now… she was so happy they had.

And that is what inspired her to sprint towards him. Before he had time to even register her presence, she buried her face into his wide shoulders and hugged him from behind. “I love you,” she mumbled against his back, the words that she had kept inside her for so long finally begging to come out. She hadn’t said them aloud on the night she had told him “real”, instead letting her actions speak for themselves, but now she didn’t think it was enough anymore. He deserved to know. And she would let him know any time he needed to hear it.

At first Peeta was still against her, but when the words registered in his brain, he melted in her touch and slowly turned towards her so they were facing each other.

“I love you, too, Birdie,” he said against her hair. He exhaled loudly and then muttered: “I don’t think you fully understand how much it means to me to hear you say that. Because it does. So much.”

“I think I have an idea,” Katniss whispered and pulled away from him enough that she could see his face. “I’m sorry… for not saying it before, but I want you to know I truly, really mean it.”

“I know,” Peeta said. “You’re not a very good liar, remember.”

Katniss’ first reaction was to scowl at Peeta’s attempt at joking, but seeing the smile on his face, she couldn’t help but smile too despite shaking her head at him.

“Not the time for jokes, Mellark. Now, tell me, why are you here so early, anyway?”

“Thom told me I looked tired and that I had been working too much lately and I should go home to get some much needed rest. He can handle the bakery for a few hours. Good thing he doesn’t know what has actually kept me up lately,” he smirked.

Katniss pushed his shoulder playfully. “So that’s the real reason why you’re home so early. You just can’t keep your hands off of me anymore.”

“Can you blame me? I mean, have you seen yourself?” Peeta laughed, but then got more serious. “Katniss, in all honesty, these past few days, maybe even weeks, have been some of the best in my life, and not just because of what we've done in the bedroom. Seeing you so happy, so open is one of the best gifts I could have. I just need you to know that.”

“It’s the same for me. I’m happy that you’re happy.”

There were a lot of things Katniss still wanted to address: how grateful she was that he came back to her, how he’s the strongest person she knows, and how he brings her hope even on her worst days, among other things. But she hoped she’d have the rest of her life to tell him everything she wanted him to hear. For now, she thought as she rose to her tiptoes and lowered his face towards her for a kiss, this would be enough.

A/N: Nickname Birdie borrowed from the lovely post MJ fic give you my wild by melissaeverdeen13

#everlark #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #everlark fanfiction #thg

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cybershock24601 · 2 days ago

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A woman who openly dislikes you also being basically the only person who speaks up from you is absolutely brain breaking. Especially bc with Illario it's like, it would be easy to fit in his worldview if she was a conquest or in some way attracted to him or something but she is very much not. Everything about their relationship suggests that the best behavior he can expect from her towards him is bare minimum civility and that is shown in most aspects of their interactions so what's it mean that "bare minimum civility" is treating him better than most of the people in his life.

Rook and Illario's relationship is insane to me because as I've said before my Rook was the one who advised Lucanis to lock Illario up for what at the end of the day were political reasons and absolutely gives him shit when he deserves it but is also the only person in Villa Dellamorte to really have Illario's back in a lot of ways.

Lucanis and Illario's relationship is so defined by Caterina's treatment and abuse of them that Lucanis is never going to be able to speak up for Illario when he can't even speak up for himself and I can see a young child who sees the safety in being the favorite not really wanting to risk losing that favor by stepping out of line and also starts to subconsciously rationalize and internalize Illario's harsh treatment from Caterina as Illario just not being as good as Lucanis. So much of Lucanis and Illario's dynamic was solidified as children and as neither one of them really had anyone close to them aside from each other there was never anything to really shake up their dynamic or cause them to really question it because that's just the way things are.

Enter Rook, especially a Rook who is not a Crow, who through their relationship with Lucanis is drawn into the family and gets to have a real good look at what the fuck is wrong with House Dellamorte. Rook's probably really quick to pick up on how Illario is treated in the family and sure Rook is pissed at him for what he's done to Lucanis and thinks he's an absolute idiot for working with the Venatori like he did, they still extend Illario empathy and some basic human decency which is so much more then Illario is used to.

Sure Illario can be an idiot sometimes but that doesn't make the way Illario is treated by his family right. I also think Rook - or that very least my Rook who has some similar issues of acting like a fool to keep people's expectations low so as to not to disappoint them when she can't live up to said expectations - starts to see through the mask of the carefree philanderer Illario wears and how much of his behavior stems from just playing into the low expectations everyone has of him. Rook, who is generally a pretty kind and empathetic person, would take it upon themselves to start calling out Caterina and Lucanis when they're being overly dismissive of Illario both as a person and an assassin because their behavior towards him can be really uncalled for a lot of the time and that just isn't right and Rook is definitely starting to get why things played out the way they did between Illario and Lucanis. Not that Rook is giving Illario a pass at all but Rook can acknowledge that Illario's actions did not come out of nowhere.

Illario who has grown up never expecting anyone to have his back is floored. Yes, Illario could trust that Lucanis would always back him up on a job but Lucanis would never really intercede on his behalf with Caterina, or at least if Lucanis ever did that was an impulse that was killed long ago probably due to Caterina's cane. So the fact that Rook who clearly isn't a fan of him is speaking up to her is mind blowing and Illario cannot make heads or tails of why Rook would do that. Not just talk back to Caterina because Rook has likely been speaking up for Lucanis' sake already which is an insane thing to do in the first place, but the fact that Rook is willing to do so for Illario just doesn't make any sense no matter how Illario looks at it because Rook just being a kind person is not a motive Illario is capable of considering. Illario spends a lot of late nights puzzling over what 5D chess game Rook is playing and what she must want to be doing all this.

Rook calling out Lucanis is also something that would stump Illario because it is clear Rook is head over heels for Lucanis so why would she potentially cause friction in her own relationship just for Illario's sake. Even stranger is that after several late night conversations behind closed doors between Rook and Lucanis, Lucanis' behavior towards Illario starts to change. It really freaks Illario out because why the fuck is Lucanis being so nice to him, is he dying??? Illario would wonder if he was possessed but he knows Lucanis is and the demon hates Illario's guts so what is going on?? It would probably take Lucanis and Illario some time to find a good equilibrium in their relationship as they start reconciling and unpacking the hurts in their past that lead to everything that happened because what Illario did was wrong and he knows that by now but it's nice to have Lucanis acknowledge just how much constantly being sidelined and considered second best hurt.

I think the real turning point in their relationship would be that the first time Lucanis stands up to Caterina is for Illario's sake. Illario had thought that if anything would get Lucanis to talk back to Caterina it would be Rook so the fact that the first person Lucanis really took an actual stand against Caterina for was Illario is inconceivable to him considering how the entirety of their lives have played out. It also brings up some lingering bitterness with no real target that Lucanis couldn't have done this before everything that happened between them and told Caterina that he didn't want to be First Talon. Things are still complicated between those boys and they always will be but they are getting better and it's pretty clear that Rook was the instigator for a lot of it.

#the dellamortes are still fundamentally fucked up and they always will be but I do think they do have the potential to grow a little #except for Caterina #rook #illario dellamorte #lucanis dellamorte #caterina dellamorte #rookanis #dragon age #datv #dragon age veilguard

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maudie-duan · 2 days ago

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A/N: Hey guys! This chapter is kind of graphic in the sense that I wanted you to feel like "a fly on the wall" during Marlowe's day. I hope you guys enjoy it and have a lovely weekend!!

Tag List: Always Open

All Chapters<-

Word Count: 8.2k

Warnings: 18+, Language, Smut, Under Age Drinking, Eating Disorder, Body Dysmorphia, Mentions Of Pregnancy, Graphic Check-Up Scene, Mentions Of Abortion, Teen Angst, Emotions. (If I miss anything, let me know.)

I had every intention of going to school on Tuesday, but I panicked as soon as I woke up. I knew it was playing with fire to have unprotected sex with someone, but I did it anyway, and I knew the smart thing to do was to rush to Planned Parenthood and get the morning-after pill.

I know that emergency contraceptive isn’t a good form of birth control, but I had no intention of having sex with Trent after I got off the pill; I had no intention of having sex at all. I thought I hated it all together and could go a lifetime without it, but then Harry happened. Every time I was around him, my fucking sound judgment went out the door, this whole other me slipping in like a piece of me got to be free, like I finally got to be free. There was nothing to live up to, no goals to meet, or a specific appearance to keep up with—and I know there are bigger things, but this was my life.

When I stepped into the waiting room after calling ahead, I sat there, peering around at the people coming in and out—at the woman trying to console her baby, at the girl who looked the same age as me, smiling over at me as she stood when the nurse called her name, her belly rounding past her small frame. It made my heart sink. Even though I didn’t know her story, she was walking back alone, and something about it felt lonely.

It was the heaviest dose of reality I needed—A hard hitter as I sat there alone, wondering if I should have been honest with Harry about everything and if I had, would he be sitting here next to me now? There’s no better way to suck the fun out of a carefree moment than to slap it in the face with the truth.

And what about him? I had no clue what his sexual history was like; I mean, I didn’t need a specific number, but how many girls was he fucking with no condom? It seemed strange on both parts—why has neither one of us said a word, and is no condom such a regular thing for him that it doesn’t even cross his mind? Or is he just assuming that I’m on birth control since I’m not walking around with a baby on my hip after two years of sleeping with the same guy?

My mind kept returning back to the day I tossed those pills in the trash, making myself sick at the thought of ever getting pregnant because what would I do? Would they tell my parents? I never pictured a baby in my life; would I keep it? I’ve never been opposed to abortion, but could I follow through with it if the time came?

How would I tell Harry? Because without a doubt, it would be his—and then I’m whipping my phone out of my purse, scrolling back one month…a month and a half…almost two months since I had my period, and I thought my heart would fall heart straight through to my ass. Had it really been that long? I sat there trying to wrack my brain, thinking, when was the last time?

I can only remember buying tampons that week before I hooked up with Harry for the first time. I remember now because it was like a miracle from the universe that I had just gotten off my period, not even spotting, like my body was just getting back to normal.

Can Plan B fuck up your period? I honestly didn’t know anything about it. My sister just told me to take it in case of an emergency, and dammit, that was an emergency, just like now, and holy fuck, it is so hot in here, and that baby will not stop crying, and would it be okay if I cried? Would that be okay because suddenly I’m freaking out? I don’t want this responsibility; this doesn’t seem fair; why am I the one sitting here panicking, on the verge of spewing up my breakfast?

Should I text Harry, tell him what I’m doing, and hit him with the same menacing reality? Would he hate me? Would this be my fault for not speaking up sooner? Because I think this would ruin everything, and he is so good. I don’t want to let him go yet. Was this the moment I called my sister and told her she was right? That I should have waited to have sex because she was, in fact, right—it’s just as confusing as she tried to drill into my stubborn head before.

Marlowe Asher, the nurse, calls, breaking me from my prisoning thoughts; I drag my palms down my jeans, force a smile, and stand, trying to keep my tears at bay.

The nurse returns the smile, greeting me as I walk through the office door. “Hey there, I’m Hilary. I’ll be your nurse today,” she says, her friendly tone somewhat setting me at ease.

“Okay, we’re just going to get your weight,” she says, leading me to a scale, and I pull my purse over my head, planting my keys and purse in a chair close by.

“It looks like we have 115,” she says out loud, making my heart slam into my chest. The last time I weighed myself, I was 130lbs. I didn’t think I had lost that much weight—I wasn’t even trying this time.

“Wow,” I breathe, stepping off the scale.

Hilary is writing on her clipboard, unbothered by my shock, “And how tall are you she asks, glancing up at me, “5’4,” I tell her, collecting my things and following her to the exam room.

When I called ahead, I told them that I wanted to schedule a routine check-up and screen for any STDs. Before we even started, she handed me a plastic container with a lid. “So this is routine; we’ll need you to pee into this cup. We normally run a quick pregnancy test before we proceed with any forms of birth control if that’s what you end up choosing.”

I take the cup from her hand, familiar with their whole spiel because I’ve been here several times, and this always seemed like the easy part. Luckily, I had to pee, so I filled the cup, washed the outside of the container, then my hands, dried it off, and placed the cup in the assigned bin.

Hilary led me to exam room 8, and as soon as we stepped in, she had me sit for a few follow-up questions:

“So this is a list of questions we like to ask, you know, just to get a background on our patients. If at any time you feel uncomfortable and would not like to proceed with any further questions, please let me know, okay.” She says,

Easy enough, right?

“Okay, so we’ll start with the first question and move down the list, and it’s okay if you are unsure of any answer. They don’t need to be spot-on or super detailed. We just need a general idea.” She nods at me, eyes surveying my face, then looks down at her clipboard, the tip of her pen skimming down the page:

“When was your last period?

The first question seems the hardest because I know as soon as I say it, it’s going to sound bad, “I would say about a month and a half ago,” and Hilary peeks up then.

“Is that normal?”

“I’m not sure. It’s been kind of random lately.”

“About how long do they last?”

“I think the last one I had lasted almost a month. I just stopped taking my birth control.”

Do you ever bleed/spot between periods?

“Not lately.”

Do you have any unusual pain, itching, or discharge from your vagina or vulva?

“No.”

Do you have any other medical conditions?

“No.”

What medical problems do other members of your family have?

“None that I know of…”

Are you sexually active?

“Yes, recently,” I answer, my mouth going dry, and I swallow hard.

Have you ever had vaginal, anal, or oral sex?

“Yes, all three, but I’ve only done anal once.” and my heart is starting to race. I’m not sure if I needed to clarify that detail because now my face is beginning to burn.

What gender(s) of people do you have sex with, and what kinds of sex do you have?

“Umm…just males,” I tell her, then clear my throat, “And I think it’s just like normal sex…I’m not sure how to answer that.”

Is sex ever painful?

“With the current guy that I’m having sex with…it was more painful than before…I guess at first, but maybe that’s because it had been a while.” And Hilary must sense my nervousness because she looks up then.

“I think that can be normal, Hon. You’re doing great. Just a few more questions, and I’ll set everything up and let the doctor know you’re ready…Okay, so—” she starts again as I nod my head.

Do you bleed during or after sex?

“The first time I had sex, which I know can be normal, and the first time I had sex with my current guy…like after, I noticed it when I peed, but it didn’t last long.”

Are you using birth control?

“No.”

Do you think you might be pregnant?

“No, the last time I had unprotected sex with this current guy. I took Plan B, like that next morning. So maybe that’s why I haven’t started my period. Maybe it threw everything off..”

Do you want to get pregnant?

“Definitely not,” I tell her, a nervous laugh slipping past my lips.

“Perfect, and okay…last one,” Hilary says with a smile on her face:

What do you do to prevent STDs?

And I shake my head, pressing my feet to the ground. “I haven’t done anything with this current guys to prevent anything…”

Hilary is silent, jotting her last few notes, and my eyes shift to the ground, embarrassed that I’ve put so much faith in Harry, but if he does have an STD. Hopefully, it’s treatable, and moving forward, I will not be such an idiot. That’s what this is—One big scare to put me on the straight and narrow. I’ll get tested and get back on birth control, and all of this will be behind me, and I can move forward with my life. Happy and free of any burden.

Hilary rushes around the room, laying a dressing gown on the exam table. Then, she finishes setting up the exam cart with the various items she collected for the exam. “Alright, so I put the gown on the table. You’ll just need to undress from the waist down. The doctor will knock before entering; you should be set from there. Do you have any questions?” she asks, reaching for the door handle.

“No, you were very informative. Thank you for your time,” I answer, trying to sit up straight, like I’m not scared out of my fucking mind, hoping I’m not walking around with some kind of STD.

As Hilary exits, I peek at the clock on the wall. It’s 10:45 a.m., and I stand, unbuttoning my pants to prepare for the exam.

When 15 minutes pass, I don’t think too much of it. I saw that waiting room. There were a lot of patients waiting, and sometimes they were understaffed.

By 11:15 a.m., I lay back on the table, closing my eyes, trying to calm myself. I thought of everyone at school and how I should have just gone and put this off for another day. I was already dying to see Harry; just a glimpse would have been enough.

I pictured his eyes searching for me when he didn’t see me after my Biology Class, the one time a day that I got close enough to reach out and touch him when I could graze his arm, and no one would have a single thought. I couldn’t believe how amazing that weekend was. Aside from the emotional stuff, we seemed to hit it off, able to co-exist in one another company for days.

My first thought this morning was how strange it was, hanging with a guy, the most sleepovers I’ve had in a row. I had never stayed more than a night with Trent. I felt like a grown-up, wondering if this was what life would be like in college—and then a knock sounded on the door.

“Come in,” I say, sitting up. The doctor comes in, reading her chart, then glimpses up with a pleasant smile. She seems in good spirits, even though they’re obviously slammed because when my eyes flick to the clock, it’s 11:32 a.m.

“Hello, Miss. Asher, I’m Dr. Cooper. How are you this morning?” she starts.

“I’m not bad. I just thought I would have a little check-up. Make sure everything is sound. I leave this summer for school, so I might as well tie up some loose ends.”

She smiles, “Well, I like that you are taking the initiative with something as important as your health—”

Another knock sounds on the door, and Dr. Cooper turns to grant their entrance; Hilary peeks her head in with a smile and then says, “I did get those results—” She conveys.

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Cooper says, turning back to me. The lab was a little backed up this morning.” Then she stands to retrieve some paperwork while Hilary stands by reading over her shoulder.

Hilary doesn’t close the door behind her, so all the noise from the hallway is drifting in, a cold draft drifting over my bare legs hanging over the exam table, making me feel exposed, with only a thin paper gown covering my lower body.

The draft sends a chill up my spine, making my teeth clatter, and I clench my jaw and watch the two women. This time, Hilary reaches over Dr. Cooper’s shoulder, pointing to something on the page.

Hilary’s eyes dart to me, then back to the page, “I can stay—” she suggests, finally stepping back to close the door.

As soon as the door closes, my heart starts hammering in my chest, the loud thud, pounding in my eardrums, the chill turning into a noticeable shake as I wipe my cold, clammy hands over the paper gown, that continues to slip down, clinging to my hands, so I clutch them in front of me as Dr. Cooper pulls the rolling stool towards her, and takes a seat.

Hilary is standing behind her, hands clasped in front of her, sending me a faint smile when my eyes flit to her and then back to Dr. Cooper, and god, it is so cold in here because I can’t stop shaking—the shudder coursing through my torse, and I think I might be sick, I think that stomach bug is still lingering. I should open my mouth and tell them about it, but the way they’re looking at me now says otherwise.

Dr. Cooper clears her throat, and already my eyes are stinging with tears; then I shake my head, swallowing hard, and as soon as the tears spill over, she looks to Hilary. They don’t even exchange a word, and out of instinct, Hilary moves next to me.

“Is it okay if I put my arm around you?” she asks, and as soon as I look at her, my face crumbles. I am sitting here alone with two strangers who I know are about to tell me something that will change my life forever.

The wheels of Dr. Cooper’s chair sound as she rolls forward, the hard plastic effortlessly sliding across the shiny linoleum floor, concern etched between her brow, or is it pity? I can’t tell.

“Miss Asher, Before we can proceed any further, I want to go over the results of your pregnancy test—” And I hear every word that she’s saying, but every couple of seconds, she becomes a blur, tears running down my face uncontrollably, dripping past my chin, and into the cleavage of my tank top, becoming an irritating soggy mess of tears pulling between my boobs.

The same tank top I questioned wearing because when did my boobs get this big? And so sore? How I wrote it off, thinking I was about to start my period, you know, like that’s why I’ve been so emotional, pre-menstrual precursors; It’s all normal.

“So, I’m sure Hilary explained that we have to perform a routine pregnancy test, and looking at your results now—” And she scooches to the edge of her seat, handing me a piece of paper.”

My eyes skim the page until I find the word “results.” But I didn’t need the paper to figure it out; all she had to do was look at me. I didn’t say anything, mostly because I was in shock, but I didn’t think I knew what to say because I couldn’t even see the paper anymore. All I could see were the tears spilling onto the page, one by one, a foggy blur when a tear splats over the word “Positive,” and I shake my head.

Maybe I’m taking too long to reply because Dr. Cooper speaks up then, “Marlowe—” and she uses my first name now. “Do you understand what you’re reading?” And all I can muster is a faint whimper because my throat is aching, a knot so tight that it hurts to swallow.

I couldn’t look up; I just kept wiping my hand over the surface of the document, now creasing between my thighs—the once crisp paper rippling in small wet blotches across the page, and I am so fucking stupid.

I am so stupid and careless, and how could I be such an idiot? All I can think about is that damn Plan B pill, I took it, I took it, and then it’s spilling out of my mouth, “But I took Plan B,” announcing it like it’s going to change anything like the results aren’t exactly what they are.

“I took—I took it…right after, I swear,” promising because I feel like a fool, like a child being coddled with Hilary’s arm around my shoulders; I thought that was the right thing to do.

“I thought I did the right thing—” I tell them, “I did exactly what I was supposed to do. I thought I fixed my mistake—”

And now I feel crazy because what was the point of that, “I’m not allowed to make mistakes—Oh, god—” I panic then.

“Are you going to tell my parents—?”

Dr. Cooper puts a hand on my knee to calm me down, but I can’t breathe; I can’t breathe when every breath is a sob stealing my breath, and I am all alone—I’m that girl in the waiting room, all alone, her big round belly holding her future.

“Marlowe, try and take a breath for me—” Dr. Cooper coos, trying to console me, “Everything will be okay…you have options, Honey.”

And I suck in a hard breath, peering down into Dr. Cooper’s deep blue eyes as sobs shudder through my chest, then I’m holding my breath, trying to calm myself down, and when I close my eyes, all I see is Harry’s face, and I hold onto that image—every touch, the kindness he gives so freely, and it seems to be working.

I draw a small breath through my nose, my chest quivering in the aftermath of the fading sobs, “By law, we are not allowed to tell your parents. Now that you’re eighteen, whatever you decide moving forward is entirely your choice.” Dr. Cooper explains.

“I want an abortion—” I tell her, no thought, just decision because that is absolutely my only choice.

“Yes, that is an option, but maybe we can go over the rest so that you have a clear perspective on your decision.” She explains, but I know the other options and don’t have time for anything else. We have three months left of school, prom, and graduation—I’m moving away this summer. I can’t stay in the place another year, being this person, this fucking people pleaser, because I’m so fucking tired—I’m exhausted, and I need something to hold onto, something to look forward to.

“I don’t need time to think—” I tell her, straightening my posture, attempting to clear the whine from my voice, “Can we do it today?” I push.

Hilary squeezes my shoulder, then steps away to start resetting the space. “Marlowe, why don’t you take a few days to think this through? This is a huge decision that could majorly impact your life.”

“I don’t have any other choice…everything is already planned—” I tell her, waving my arms around, “Like my whole future for the next four years—”

Dr. Cooper interjects, “Trust me, I understand that, and we will support anything you choose. But why don’t you go home, take a day or two, and make the appointment if you still feel certain about your decision?”

“Here’s the thing—” she says, “If your period was a month and a half months ago, we still have plenty of time to make an adequate decision. Even if it feels like a rush, trust me, there’s not, okay? Whatever you choose, right now, you have plenty of time to make a sound, healthy choice. Listen—I’m a mother. If my daughter were sitting here today, I would hope someone gave her the option I’m giving you—”

She places her hand on my knee again, “I know whatever you're feeling is extremely scary—” And the tears are back, blurring her face. “But don’t make the mistake of not thinking it through. It sounds like you made the smart decision to take Plan B, and for some odd reason, it didn’t work, and I’m sure that feels scary, too, but in that moment, you made the right decision. Today, you made the right decision to come and take power over your choices in life. That was so brave and so smart, okay?”

And all I can do is nod because I just want my mommy, “And Marlowe, we have a great support team. We are here for whatever you need or have questions about, and Hilary will set you up with some helpful brochures that can guide you in making the best choice possible; it’s entirely up to you and whatever you choose. This is a safe, judgment-free zone. We’re here to support each other in one another choices—”

Hilary gives me a sympathetic smile, but I believe what Dr. Cooper is communicating, so I nod and draw in a deep breath, stretching my spine so that I can take in more air, “Do you have any questions?” she asked as Hilary handed over a few brochures.

“Nope…” I say, pushing out a deep breath, “Thank you for your time.”

Dr. Cooper pats my knee and stands, giving Hilary a slight nod. “Alrighty, Hon. Why don’t you go ahead and get dressed? If you have any questions before you leave, we’re happy to answer them. Go ahead and take your time; there’s no rush, Sweetie.”

As Hilary finishes resetting the room, I wonder if she’s ever been on the opposite side of her role, sitting in a spot similar to mine. Or was she smarter, always playing by the rules like I was supposed to?? I thought I did everything right before this, so why is this happening to me?

I didn’t take my time getting dressed; I shoved my legs through my jeans in a furry, pushing the stupid pamphlets to the bottom of my purse, forcing my foot into my boots, readying myself for the walk of shame, knowing I’d have to walk past all these people. Would my face give it away? I was so thankful I didn’t wear make up this morning, could you imagine the mess?

As I stepped through the exam room door, I pulled my oversized flannel around my body. I walked at a pace that wouldn’t draw attention, trying to remember the route we took. I held my breath every time someone peered my way as heat rose to my cheeks, the shame almost unbearable. Was Hilary the kind of nurse to walk out of the exam room and gossip to the fellow nursing staff?

Keep your eyes forward was all I could think, walking down an empty hall, pushing my way through the door into the waiting room, don’t make eye contact with anyone—don’t focus on the baby crying, try and avoid the toddler running out in front of you on your way to the exit, oh shit, did this little fucking kid drop his toy in my path? Do I pick it up?

The toy rolls to my feet, and I bend down to retrieve it, “Here you go…” and I crouch down, reaching out with the toy. His tiny fingers wrap around the toy hesitantly, his big green eyes so innocent. He grabs the toy and then runs back to his mom as my eyes follow. She sends me a gracious nod, rubbing a hand over her protruding belly. She looks tired, like she’s already spent all morning chasing that tiny kid around, and I smile, eyes dropping to her belly, a brief nod of recognition.

Then I’m out of the waiting room doors into the chill of the morning, the fog of my breath drifting past my vision, forcing myself with every step to keep it together long enough to make it to the car.

I went straight home, knowing my parents would be at work—well, at least my dad. My mom has a strict workout schedule throughout the week. Today was water aerobics, a class that she usually takes with my grandma, but I knew she wouldn’t miss a day, even if my grandma was out of town.

I run up the stairs, huffing and puffing as soon as I reach the landing, and bound to my room. I went straight for the trash can and fell to my knees, reaching for it, but the trash can was empty, and I fell to my butt. My heart beat thudding in my chest, a rapid whoosh filling my ears, vibrating out. My lungs ached with every breath that I took in, the realization hitting that my mom emptied my trash and yet another stupid move.

My eyes dart around the room, looking for any changes, then they land on my perfectly made bed, and there lies the empty Plan B packaging, waiting in a neat pile—waiting for me to stumble upon it because, of course, this is the one time my mom wants to be passive. Why didn’t she just call me? The gesture confuses me, but it’s the least of my concerns right now.

I pace over to the bed and swipe the empty box off the bed, flipping it around in my hands until I fumble across the date—Expired—the fucking pill was expired by two years. Had I really had it in my drawer that long? Does medicine really expire? I thought it was just a suggestion.

How many times can one person read and reread the same label? with the same expiration date—ignoring my phone buzzing in my back pocket because whoever is calling can wait?

Whoever it was had tried to call three times, and on the fourth attempt, I pulled my phone from my pocket and flipped it open. “What, Sienna?” I blurted into the phone.

“Jesus, Marlowe—Chill—” My sister snaps back, “What’s your deal?”

I exhale, pulling the phone away from my mouth, attempting to decompress the onset of rage filling my lungs. “Nothing, I’m sorry. I was in the middle of doing something, and you kept blowing my phone up.”

“I’m sorry—mom said you didn’t go to school today…”

“You talked to mom—?”

“Yeah, why? What’s going on? She said you’ve been distant lately—”

“I haven’t been distant—” I tell her, raising my voice, “I’ve just been house-sitting for grandma—”

“Marlowe—chill, dude, I’m not coming for you. I’m just checking in. I know I’ve been busy, but usually you call. Is everything okay?”

I roll my eyes, still on the defense, “I’ve been busy, too—” and I try and keep my voice calm, but I can hear how it’s still coming out, and I can’t control this mood swing; it’s like it’s taking over me.

“Okay…?” Sienna says, and I don’t respond because she’s the one calling me. If she has anything to ask, then she should just ask it.

“Lowe—” She nudges, of course using my nickname, the name she gave me since birth, when “Marlowe” was too hard for her three-year-old brain, and decided she hated it, and even though that’s changed, she’s never stopped calling me “Lowe.”

“Did mom tell you?” I ask flatly, clearing my throat.

“Of course, she told me, but why didn’t you tell me?” Even though I should probably have felt freaked out, a sense of calm washed over me because, at this point, the worst had already happened.

“She left the Plan B package on my bed…” I tell her, rolling my eyes.

She clicks her tongue, “Dammit, I told her not to do that. She thought it would be like an open invitation…in case you wanted to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about—plus that shit is passive as fuck. It makes me want to do the opposite, actually—”

Sienna’s laugh muffled into the phone, “I know! That’s what I told her…”

“She should have listened to you,” I admit.

“I mean—that’s what I’ve been telling you guys for years—”

“Shut up—Sienna, don’t be annoying…” And I roll my eyes again, falling back onto the bed.

“That isn’t all she told me…”

“Okay…” I say, pausing for her response.

She clears her throat, “That there was a weekend that you didn’t come home, like didn’t even call—which is strange, by the way…and she told me that you came home in a hurry—Mom said she heard you while cleaning the kitchen—anyway…she said you came home in Harry Styles hoodie…like the one you had that major crush on in Junior High—”

“I know who he is, Sienna—”

“I’m just clarifying for details because you haven’t breathed a word about him since then.”

I sigh, “I don’t tell you everything—”

“Bullshit—you haven’t even said anything, and I know you’re about to lie to me.” She starts.

“Was that the same weekend you took Plan B? Because that’s what mom thinks, and that seems pliable?”

I snap then, “What are you guys working together or something? What the fuck, Sienna, whose side are you on?”

“I’m on your side—but it’s hard to be on your side when you’re not talking to me.” She retorts, then goes silent.

“You guys always—”

“Don’t say always, Lowe, because you know that isn’t true.” she interrupts.

So, I sit there, trying to think of a way to rephrase the sentence, “I just feel like, most times…instead of just asking me…it seems like you go straight to each other, and I told you how that makes me feel.”

“I promise it wasn’t like that. I swear Mom only called because she was worried…we were not trying to gang up on you.”

I ponder her words for a moment, trying to decide what I should tell her, but instead of confessing to everything. I start projecting all my life problems onto her.

“Listen, Sienna, I’m sorry if Mom bothered you. I know how busy you get, okay? I know that you have a life outside of me; you’ve told me plenty of times—” I spit.

“Marlowe—”

“No—Seriously—I feel like it’s always going to come down to whether or not Marlowe is living up to Sienna’s potential…because heaven forbid, I step out of line for one fucking second—”

“Mar—”

“Seriously, Sienna—” I continue knowing that every word that falls from of my mouth is just to hurt her, and I don’t know why I’m doing it because, really, I just want to confess to it all; because I know she wouldn’t judge me, she would have the perfect advice because she’s such a good person.

“Did mom get scared? Call you thinking—god Marlowes about to ruin it all, Sweetie, please make some time in your busy schedule to call your pathetic sister??”

“Was that it? Sienna, was I slipping? Was one of my million flaws showing because I’ll never be as perfect as you!” I yell, I fucking yell, and then everything around me goes silent, except for the sounds of the whooshing still pulsing through my ears.

Sienna’s sniffle fills the line, and I hate myself the second she opens her mouth, “Marlowe, one day—” She croaks out.

“I hope one day you see that all those years you thought I was outshining you—I was just trying to give you space to be you—you know, the opportunity to just be yourself, that all those years that mom and dad were riding my ass, you were the one that got to explore yourself, make the friends, go to the concerts, date the cute boy because you liked him. My whole life has been a show, Marlowe. Have you ever thought that maybe I wanted to be like you?

“I’m nothing—” I force, tears streaming.

“You’re everything—but what you just said hurt me, Lowe…”

“I didn’t mean it…” I cry out.

“I know—listen—I’m here for you always. I’m never too busy for you…I don’t know what’s going on, and clearly you don’t want to talk about it—”

“I just—” I try.

“No—Marlowe, it’s fine. I’m here, okay? And if you need me to come down this weekend, I can shift some things around. I love you.”

“I love you too, Sienna, I’m sorry.”

“Just call me, okay? I have to go—” Then she hangs up, and I crawl under my blankets and sleep until I open my eyes and the room is dark, except for the glow of the moonlight, casting a shadow of the window frame across my bedroom floor, and then I roll back over, and closed my eyes.

The following day, I woke to an empty house and a note on the table. My mom telling me she was out running errands, which normally meant getting her hair or nails done.

When I checked my phone, I found two missed calls from Harry and a text message from him checking in on me since I had missed two days of school now—Want to take a guess at how many messages Trent sent—zero.

I gathered some more clothes and drove to my grandma’s house, wanting to be totally alone and isolated from the world around me. I didn’t know how many hours I had just slept, but all my body wanted to do was sleep, so I crawled into my grandma’s bed and hugged her pillow—her scent still lingering in her bedroom, and I drifted off to sleep.

The doorbell woke me, and I slumped down the stairs. When I peeked through the side blinds, Skylar was standing on the porch waving when she spotted me, and I opened the door.

“Hey—what are you doing here…” I ask squinting my eyes, the world a little too bright.

She shrugged nonchalantly, as if this was already boring her. I hate this side of her. Sometimes she can be extremely present, and others, she’s a self-absorbed drone, moving through the motions of our friendship, a lot like Trent.

“Just checking on you,” she says, looking around, “I forgot how cool your grandma’s house is…”

“Yeah—” I breathe.

When I push past her on my way to the kitchen, she follows. “I brought your homework…” she tells me, and I glance back, catching sight of the strap slung over her shoulder.

“That was nice of you…Thanks,” I say, forcing a generous smile, placating her a little. I feel like Skylar’s up to something, a weird twinge in my gut. Things have been off between us lately, so this feels a little off-putting.

“You want a soda?” I offer.

Skylar shakes her head ‘no’ then slings the bag onto the counter, “I’m shocked they’re still giving homework to be honest,”

“I mean—when you’re in all honor classes…it would make sense,” she combats with a laugh.

“I guess…” I agree, bringing the can to my mouth, eyeing her every movement. She seems nervous, barely making eye contact, and when she feels my gaze on her, she looks up.

“Why are you being weird?” she accuses.

I match her indifference, “I’m not—”

“Mmmm…” she hums, reaching for my can. Then she takes a drink. Actually, I changed my mind…” she laughs.

“I do want a drink.”

I raise a brow, “Take it, I’ll get another…” I say, rolling my eyes, and as I turn to the fridge, she says:

“So, are you going to tell me what’s wrong? You’ve been acting really strange for the last couple of weeks…and you ditched my party—”

“I didn’t ditch your party—I was sick—” I lie.

“Marlowe, you were fine most of the night—”

“And then I wasn’t—” I voice, my tone sharp.

This shuts her down, her eyes moving to the label on the can, “And what about all the text and calls? You haven’t been messaging me back…it’s just weird—”

“I told you I was sick over the weekend…”

Her voice raises, “It’s not just this weekend, Marlowe—”

“Look, Skylar…I don’t know what you want me to say…I could say the same for you…” And she shakes her head.

“That night of the party. I tried talking to you so many times, but you kept blowing me off, and then you and Trent were up each other’s ass…”

And her eyes whip to mine, “Oh come on, Marlowe like I want to steal your boyfriend. If I wanted your boyfriend, then I could have had him—”

“I never said that…and what the fuck does that even mean?” My eyes roam her face then, taking in her stiff posture, searching for clues. My eyes dart to her throat as it contracts, a slow, shallow, her lips parting, and when I shift my gaze back to hers, she looks away.

“I wasn’t accusing you of anything. I know that you two are friends. I’m just saying I have tried talking to you…”

She shrugs her shoulders, visibly uncomfortable by this conversation. She keeps fidging with the can, scraping a fingernail over the cuticle of her thumb. I know her, and this is what she does when she’s nervous, “Okay—whatever—let’s just drop it—”

I pop the tab on the new can and bring it to my mouth, pulling my phone from my back pocket. Harry messaged again, asking if he could see me tonight, and I bit back my smile, sending him a quick text, telling him I’ll call once Skylar leaves.

When I glance back, Skylar is watching me, “Trent text you?” she questions.

“Yeah—” I mumble, shoving the phone back into my pocket.

“So things are good between you two?” She asks.

I shrug, “Yeah—I don’t know why anything would be wrong…” I tell her, fainting ignorance. Then she turns, looking out the window, and I glimpse a hickey on her neck. when she turns back, my eyes move back to her face as her hand comes up to her neck.

“You never told me you were hooking up with someone…” I pry.

She smiles then, “I don’t know…It’s nothing serious…just like casual. He’s kind of preoccupied…” and I arch an eyebrow.

“Plus—He doesn’t go here—” she quickly adds.

“So he has a girlfriend?” I push.

Skylar rolls her eyes, “Not everything is so black and white, Marlowe.”

I just stare at her because she has a point, I’m in a messy enough situation; I have no room to cast judgement.

“Anything good happening at school?” I ask, trying to find some commonality because this conversation feels like pulling at teeth.

She lights up then, “Oh—! Yeah—dude—yesterday, Harry Styles came to school with the biggest hickey on his neck….and now everyone is trying to figure out who the mystery girl is…like no girl is coming forward—”

“Hickey’s must be a trend…” I say, scowling, thinking about the hickey on Trent’s neck, the one he claims is a “rash” I call bullshit.

“I guess…” she says, checking her phone and smiling.

“Harry’s probably seeing some girl from another school…” I tell her, but she’s typing away on her phone, not acknowledging a word I’m saying.

“What did you say?” she finally asks.

“Nothing—”

“Hey, I have to jet. I was just dropping by to give you your homework,” she explains, grabbing the empty bag and leaving her can on the counter in her wake. She must be in a hurry and she’s out the door before I can even open it for her, and I watch her get into her car, peer down at her phone grinning, then I shut the door and call Harry.

I know this is how I got myself into this mess, but as soon as Harry walked in, my worries went out the door, if only for a short while, long enough for me to grab his hand and lead him to the guestroom, and that’s how easy it was to forget everything.

How easy it was to take off my clothes and get into bed with him, to feed on his carefree energy as his playful hands groped my body. When he pushed his way inside of me and whispered, “I missed you,” I closed my eyes, breathing in his familiar scent, while he pressed his mouth to mine, kissing my cheek, my nose—a kiss on the neck, kissing everywhere his mouth decided to roam.

And when I came, he came with me, that easy because now it didn’t matter, now he could come inside me every day until I rid myself of this leech sucking away at my life; because this would all be over soon enough. Everyone will go their separate ways, and I’ll never have to see any of these people again.

I didn’t have to tell Harry anything because why burden him with this? He deserves to be happy; he deserves to be as happy as he makes me, and I can do this. I don’t need to burden anyone with this, not Harry, not my sister, definitely not my mom because I don’t think she could handle this. A pregnancy would be too much for her.

“What are you thinking about?” Harry asks, stroking my cheek with his thumb, my head on his chest.

“I don’t know—everything…” I answer.

He laughs, “Everything?” and the rasp of his voice echoes through his chest, and I press my ear against him, listening to the rhythm of his slowing breath.

“Yeah—everything—” I tell him, closing my eyes because the sound of his heartbeat is lulling me to sleep, and he lightly pinches my cheek.

“Don’t go to sleep yet…I haven’t got to see you in two days…”

I laugh then, “Two days, Harry?”

“Yeah, two school days,” he clarifies, and his chest rattles with laughter, and I lift my head.

“My mom told me to go to the doctor—” And I sit up, crossing my legs in front of me, still facing him.

Harry traces a line across my calf, “And how was that?”

“I don’t know—” I shrug, “Exactly what it is. A stomach bug.”

He looks at me then, “Luckily, it hasn’t hit me…”

“You are very lucky—trust me…” I tell him, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips.

“Hey—” he says, pushing himself up on the bed, “Can we talk? I just thought we haven’t really talked about anything—”

And my heart drops then, “Like what?” I ask, clearing my throat.

“Like—I don’t know—” and he scratches at the back of his head, a nervous grin spreading across his face.

“I don’t—I’ve been like thinking about it, and I just wanted you to know that you’re like…the only girl I’ve ever, like, not used a condom with.”

My eyes dart to his, “Really?”

“Yeah…I promise, and maybe it’s shitty, but I figured Trent was the only guy you’ve slept with?” he says, but it rings like a question.

I smile then, “Well, Trent, and now you…”

“And you’re like on Birth Control?” he asks, nerves creasing at the brow, but all I can do is stare at him.

“Marlowe?”

“Harry—I lied to you—” I blurt.

“When? I’ve never asked you…” he straightens in the bed, all ears now.

“Today—just now—I lied?”

He laughs, “About which part? Who you’ve slept with? Marlowe, I don’t care—”

“No—about the doctor’s appointment—” Then his face falls.

The lines between his brow deepen, “What about it?”

“I really went to Planned Parenthood…”

“You did? by yourself?” He asks, reaching over to grip my leg. I draw a deep breath through my nose, trying to get it all off my chest before the tears start coming because my throat is already growing tight, and the worry growing on his face is scaring me.

“I think I need to start from the beginning, and if you hate me after all of this, I’ll understand—I just…”

“It’s okay…take your time…” he says, leaning down to look into my eyes, and I nod my head.

“Before we had sex—I guess you should know that I stopped having sex with Trent, and since I wasn’t having sex with Trent anymore, I stopped taking my birth control…”

Harry nods, swallowing hard, but lets me continue, “I just want to be clear that the first time we hooked up, that was not my intention—”

“I know—” He tells me, and he squeezes my leg to resume.

“That day when you dropped me off at home. I ran straight to my room and took the Plan B pill that I stashed away for emergencies because that was definitely an emergency…

And Harry nods his head up and down, the muscles along his jaw tightening, “I took the pill; everything was cool. I didn’t think anything, then I saw you at the party—”

“Marlowe—I know that part—” he says, impatience tugging at his tone.

“I’m sorry—I’m sorry—” I tell, him taking his change in demeanor like a scolding, feeling the emotions simmering at the surface.

“No—Lowe—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound rude,” He apologizes, cupping my cheek.

“Why did you call me Lowe?”

He shrugs, a shy smile playing at the corner of his mouth, “I don’t know…it’s how I saved your contact in my phone…I just thought it was cute.”

I smile, “Only sister calls me that…”

“Do you want me to change it?” He asks lowly, his voice like a warm hug.

“No…” I whimper out because I was such a bitch to my sister earlier, and all of this is a fucking mess, and he is so kind and sweet, and now our time is over, and I’ll never have this with him again.

“Hey…don’t cry okay…I’m not mad, I’m just nervous—because I think I know what your about to tell me.” I bit down on my lower lip and nodded my head.

“Are you pregnant?” And I nod my head again as the tears cascade.

Harry blows out a shaky breath, tears filling his eyes. “I bet that was scary, huh?” he says, forcing himself to blink away the tears.

“Yeah—” I whisper.

“I’m sorry that you had to do that alone…” And everything he says is so genuine, and it hurts even more to watch him try to keep it together for me.

“Listen, I need to take a little walk—” he says, rubbing his palms over his eyes. I just need to clear my head…I promise I’ll be back. I just need a little air.” He tells me, pressing a long kiss to my forehead. Then he stretches past me, dragging the sheets with him.

I don’t turn around. Shame is roaring its ugly head, and I don’t think I could look at him. I don’t want to see the pity, the look in his eyes, when he no longer sees me the same or feels the same feelings as before—See the look on his face when reality sets in, and everything changes—where we change from who we are in very this moment because it’s inevitable.

“Lowe?” he calls from the doorway, but I don’t turn to face him.

“I’ll be back okay—?” and I nod my head, listening as he lingers in the doorway. Then the door clicks shut as darkness engulfs me, and I press my head into the pillow and close my eyes because as soon as I open my eyes again, everything will change.

A/N: Okay...so that's happened...now what?

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